Rating:

Not Rated

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Hayden Pike, Cliff Marlow & Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Hayden Pike, Cliff Marlow, Yuna Hollander, David Hollander, Alexei Rozanov | Andrei Rozanov, Grigori Rozanov, Rose Landry, Svetlana Vetrova, Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Kip Grady, Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros Team Ensemble (Game Changers), Boston Bears | Boston Raiders Team Ensemble (Game Changers), Jackie Pike

Additional Tags:

Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hockey, Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Possessive Ilya Rozanov, Possessive Shane Hollander, Mutual Pining, Major Character Injury, Domestic Fluff, Good Friend Cliff Marlow, Good Friend Hayden Pike

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-01-21 Completed: 2026-02-19 Words: 69,731 Chapters: 24/24

Equal and Opposite

Summary

Ilya knew he had fucked up the moment he'd said it. But he hadn't been able to help it.

He had known earlier that day when he had double checked his refrigerator to make sure the Canada Dry ginger ale he had bought the day before hadn't sprouted wings and flown away. And he had known when he had researched easy recipes of things he could make that fit Hollander's strict performance diet earlier that week that they were playing a dangerous game.

The two of them were Rozanov and Hollander, and that was all they could ever be. Ilya knew that. They were Hollander and Rozanov to the public, to the media, to their teammates, to their coaches, and they were supposed to be that to each other as well.

But Ilya had called him Shane. And then Shane had left.

Or:

What if after the tuna melt scene when Shane runs, Ilya is the one who gets a public girlfriend. They say every action has an equal an opposite reaction... or in this case, maybe an overreaction.

Chapter 1

November 2016

"Oh God, Shane-"

Shane can still hear the way Ilya- no, Rozanov breathed out his name as he came, panting with short, bated breaths as he rested his forehead against Shane's own. He could still almost feel the ghost of Rozanov's touch as they held each other and waited for their hearts to stop racing so fast.

Except, Shane did not think his heart would ever stop racing, and it hadn't from the moment he walked out of Rozanov's house. His heart hadn't stopped racing on the 45 minute walk back to his hotel, and it hadn't stopped racing all the while he jogged up twelve flights of stairs to the hotel room he was sharing with Hayden.

Hayden Pike, his best friend, who could read him better than anyone else- well, almost anyone else. His parents and Rozanov were probably just slightly ahead, but Hayden knew him pretty damn well. Shane couldn't even begin to imagine what Hayden would think if he found out where Shane had gone and shit, he couldn't even begin to think of a plausible reason to give to explain why his heart was beating out of his chest.

Shane was sure he must be as pale as a ghost right now, and he was sure that his heart was beating so loud that Hayden must be able to hear it, even through the thick hotel door. Shane was especially sure that Hayden would be able to sense something was wrong with him when he remembered the way he had responded.

"Ilya," he had breathed out in a whisper. And then Ilya had kissed him in such a raw way that could have been an apology, or a promise. Shane wasn't sure, and he hadn't stayed to find out. Especially not when he pulled back and saw the shock on Ilya's face and the slight downturn of his lips. He wouldn't- no, couldn't sit there and listen to Ilya tell him it was a mistake. Not when it meant... nothing. It meant nothing.

Because rationally, Shane knew it was a mistake. Rationally, Shane knew all of the reasons that him and Ilya- Rozanov could never work. He had them all meticulously written down in a journal that he kept locked in a shoebox hidden in the back of his closet among the boxes of all the other Reebok shoeboxes he had gotten from his partnership with them.

Except every single time he met with Rozanov, planning to finally put an end to whatever this weird thing was between them... he just couldn't.

And he sometimes hated himself for it.

Because he planned out every little thing in his life, from his schedule and gameday routine down to every bit of food he put in his body, but Rozanov was his one variable. Rozanov was the one uncontrollable part of his life. And sometimes late at night when Shane had trouble sleeping, which wasn't very often but usually coincided with the nights before Boston came to town- or Montreal flew to Boston- Shane thought that the only time he ever felt truly alive, besides while he was playing hockey, was while he was with Ilya.

He could barely even remember what he'd said after. But he could so clearly remember the way Ilya had said it.

"Hollander."

And there it was, his last name. His last name that he had never hated so much than in that moment. His last name that he had never really hated before until it felt like a broken promise. Until it felt like regret.

And Shane just had to leave. He just had to. So he did.

Because that Hollander brought him back to the ice. With that Hollander, he didn't hear Ilya, he heard Rozanov. He heard Hayden, and JJ, and Comeau, and Drapeau, his Coach, the media...

And like a thousand tiny little shards of glass, he heard the things that people would say about him- say about them if they ever found out. And he knew, of course he'd known all along about these things. But for some reason, when he looked into Rozanov's striking icy blue eyes, this time it was different.

He could not stay.

No matter that we wanted to. No matter the fact that each step he took away from Rozanov left a tiny little shard of glass in its wake covered in tiny little pieces of his heart. He had run away.

Shane took a deep breath that did little to calm the racing of his heart and opened the door.

Hayden's head snapped up as Shane entered the room. "Man, I really was not expecting you to be back here tonight," he laughed as Shane stepped further into the room, but as the light washed over Shane's face, the laughter seemed to have died in Hayden's throat. "Dude, are you okay?"

A million thoughts raced through Shane's head at once, the most prominent one being how does he know? And he tried, he really did but he couldn't stop his eyes from welling up with water, threatening to overflow as all of the sudden I made a mistake flashed to the forefront of his mind.

But then Hayden was up and immediately with his arms around Shane, and he just couldn't hold it in any longer. The tears flowed from his eyes as he let his best friend hug him, let Hayden comfort him in the way he wished Rozanov could. And he let himself cry harder knowing that Rozanoz never could, or probably would, do that. He struggled to inhale a breath as Hayden guided him toward the bed and they sat down.

"Shane- what happened?" Hayden asked softly. So soft, so gentle, almost as if Shane would break if he spoke too loud, and maybe he was right. Maybe Shane would break, maybe he already was.

And as Shane's brain raced through the possibilities of things he could say, ways he could explain what was happening without explaining, panic surged through him and his breath quickened. How could he have been so stupid? "I- I can't, I can't talk- It's too much-" he stumbled through his words and he wondered if this was what Rozanov sometimes felt like trying to find the right words that he didn't know, the words that just didn't exist in his vocabulary at the moment and maybe wouldn't ever.

"Did something happen with Lily?" Hayden asked gently, and God if that didn't make Shane cry harder. It seemed like that was all the explanation Hayden needed as he mumbled, "Man what a bitch. The night before a big game? Cold as ice."

Shane wanted to protest, he wanted to argue that no- it wasn't Lily, it was him. Or maybe, it was neither of them, or both. Maybe they had just been doomed from the start and he was such a fool for letting it get to this point. But Hayden seemed content to take that for an answer, and Shane didn't want him to press anymore so he let it be.

At some point, Hayden had put on a movie, Shane guessed. They sat and watched the movie in silence. Hayden had moved back over to his bed, and Shane had gotten under the covers of his own, checking his phone to see no new messages from Lily because of course there wasn't. There was one from his mom in the family groupchat wishing him a good night of rest before the game tomorrow. He responded with a quick thanks before plugging his phone into the charger and shutting off the lamp beside him, falling into a restless sleep.

Chapter 2

Chapter Notes

Ilya knew he had fucked up the moment he'd said it. But in the moment, he hadn't been able to help it.

He had known earlier that day when he had double checked his refrigerator to make sure the Canada Dry ginger ale he had bought the day before hadn't sprouted wings and flown away. And he had known when he had researched easy recipes of things he could make that fit Hollander's strict performance diet earlier that week that they were playing a dangerous game.

It was a game that had been fun at first, of course. Since they were so competitive with each other, neither of them had wanted to tap out first. But sometimes games are dangerous, and Ilya knew very well that this had not really been a game for a long time.

The two of them were Rozanov and Hollander, and that was all they could ever be. Ilya knew that. They were Hollander and Rozanov to the public, to the media, to their teammates, to their coaches, and they were supposed to be that to each other as well.

But Ilya had called him Shane. And then Shane had left.

And God, Ilya was mad. He was mad because he didn't want to feel anything else but anger, wouldn't let himself feel it.

He wouldn't let himself remember the way Shane had panicked. And it wasn't that Shane panicking was unusual, if anything it was rather unusual for him to not. But this time, it was a different kind of panic.

And fuck, he must have known. He must have seen the pathetic way Ilya looked at him and said his name and known that it was no longer a game. But it could be? Ilya could still take it back, he thought. Maybe he hadn't heard.

"Hollander."

He had said, his voice lower and accent thicker than normal.

"I... uh, I shouldn't stay. I can't. We can't. This is..."

The words were burned into his mind. And he heard it in the silence, he knew what he'd meant.

A mistake.

He thought they were a mistake. And maybe they were. But Ilya liked-

No.

He wouldn't think about it any longer. He couldn't afford to. They were on the cusp of playoff contention and Ilya needed to focus on that. He needed to focus on beating Shane Hollander and the rest of his sorry ass Voyageur team.

And the way that he felt about all of this could wait. It could wait and be dealt with at a later date when hopefully Ilya didn't feel like curling up into a ball and letting all of his emotions consume him.

Ilya did not text Jane before the game. And he was pretty sure that Hollander probably did not care. He convinced himself that he did not care. And that was why he didn't text.

When he played like shit in warm ups, he convinced himself that it was just an off day and he would be okay in the game. And when Marlow clipped his shoulder on a drill because maybe Ilya wasn't fully paying attention, or when he missed an easy backhand into the goal- he still convinced himself it was just an off day and had nothing to do with Shane Hollander and his stupid freckles.

He sat in the locker room before the game, staring at a random spot on the wall opposite him.

"Roz, you good?" Marlow asked from beside him. Cliff Marlow, his partner in crime, esteemed wingman, and probably his best friend from the Bears wanted to know if he was good.

And of course, Ilya convinced himself he was telling the truth when he replied, "Never better. We are going to fuck Montreal."

When he skated to center ice to take the faceoff against Hollander, he schooled his features into a neutral expression and refused to make eye contact with him.

"Good luck, Rozanov." He heard Hollander whisper, and God- he hated him. So polite. So damn polite all the time, even after he had basically ripped a hole into Ilya's heart the night before- no. He would not think about that right now.

"Yes. You will need it." Ilya replied shortly. The puck dropped, and Ilya won the face off.

By the start of the third period, the game was tied 2-2. Ilya was playing like shit, and so was Hollander.

Boston's two goals had both come from Hammersmith off of assists by Marlow, and Montreal's had been scored by Comeau and Pike.

And Ilya hated that Pike had scored this game and he had not.

Since their faceoff at the beginning of the game, Hollander had not attempted to speak to him. For that, Ilya was grateful. He wasn't exactly sure what the two of them really could say to each other right now, and he didn't really want to find out either.

It had been pretty clear last night when Hollander had practically run out his front door that things were over between the two of them and- well, Ilya would deal with how he felt about that later. In the meantime, he had a hockey game to win. He stretched out his shoulder as best he could in the bulky pads they wore, watching as the second line danced an intricate push and pull with Montreal, waiting for his opportunity to hop back in the game.

Montreal always hit hard, but for some reason he felt like tonight they were hitting harder than usual. Especially the few times he had come into contact with Pike. And while he knew that of course Pike didn't know anything- because Hollander would never tell him. And at this point was there even anything to tell?

He was definitely going to be sore tomorrow, and he was definitely going to curse Pike for that last hit into the boards.

The Bears finally caught a break with Ilya back out on the ice when he stole the puck from none other than Pike, obviously in the middle of some elaborate play the Voyageurs had schemed because there was no one in Ilya's path toward their goal- except Drapeau, of course. He took off racing down the ice, and as he pulled his stick back to take the shot, found it odd he had gotten to this point.

Because yes, he was a great hockey player- a really fucking great hockey player. And yes, he had been drafted first overall. And yes, he had won the MVP and the Stanley Cup just two years ago... but Shane Hollander was just ever so slightly faster than him. Only because he was slightly smaller and quicker on his feet, of course. But 99 times out of 100, Hollander would have caught him and been there to make his shot just ever so slightly more difficult. But he wasn't there.

And after taking the shot, and the buzzer blaring. Ilya turned to realize Hollander wasn't even remotely nearby. And it almost made him smile knowing that Hollander was just as off his game as Ilya was.

There were no more goals scored, and so the game ended, 3-2. Bears win.

It was the type of win that Ilya normally loved. Because a game where he scored more goals than Hollander was maybe not entirely rare, but always special. Yet, for some reason, Ilya didn't really feel like a winner.

He didn't feel like a winner when Hollander just barely grasped his hand, muttering an obligatory, "Good game," and he didn't feel like a winner when his team celebrated in the locker room after... and okay, maybe he felt a little bit like a winner when he had seen the murderous glare on Pike's face as he had shaken his hand earlier...

He honestly felt like a whole lot of nothing, but he wanted to try and feel something, so when Marlow asked him if he was coming out with the rest of the single guys on the team to one of their usual spots-

Despite the fact that maybe, just maybe if he hadn't called him Shane last night... maybe he would be texting Jane to come over for a bit before the Voyageur's flight headed out the next morning. Despite the fact that he really didn't feel too much like celebrating. Despite the fact that if he found someone to hook up with that night, he knew he would be picturing those stupid freckles the whole time, Ilya said yes.

Chapter End Notes

hope you guys are enjoying so far... let me know if you any suggestions, feedback, or questions! xoxo

Chapter 3

"Let's get the fuck out of here," Marlow said when they had been at the club for about an hour, and Ilya had already turned away three girls. And of course, he hadn't been rude about it... he had bought them drinks and sent them away to go back to whoever they had come there with.

He just hadn't really been interested.

And so Ilya nodded, though he felt bad that Marlow was going home without anybody, and maybe Marlow was a better friend than Ilya really deserved.

Marlow called them an uber back to his place, and Ilya took in the view of the city. His city, he supposed, though it hadn't really ever felt much like home. But Ilya also couldn't say that Moscow had ever felt like home either, at least not since his mother had passed.

Ilya sat down on Marlow's couch as the man himself rummaged through his liquor cabinet, making a satisfied grunt as he pulled a bottle out from the back. It was a bottle of Russian vodka Ilya had brought back for him the last time he'd been in Moscow. Marlow brought it over, along with two lowball glasses. "Guest bedroom is clean, you can stay if you want." Marlow grumbled as he filled their glasses.

They settled into a comfortable silence as they took in the view from Marlow's penthouse apartment. It almost made Ilya miss his old apartment, the one he'd rented when he first joined the Bears.

The one he moved out of when he decided that an apartment was too public. When he decided he wanted a space that was more private to be alone with his thoughts, at least he told himself that, but deep down he knew that it would add a level of comfort to his encounters with-

"Roz, talk to me man." Marlow breathed into the silence. "First, you play like shit. Then you pass up on three hot as shit girls to do what? Stare at your drink all night? Not to mention, you look like shit."

"Oh thanks, Marly." Ilya snapped, annoyed but not at Marlow. Annoyed in a way he couldn't even really explain.

"You know what I mean, Roz." Marlow replied, snapping right back at him. "Tell me what the fuck is up, dude... I just want to help." The last part came out softly, and suddenly, Ilya felt bad.

"Is nothing." He replied neutrally, waving his hand in the air in some sort of gesture as if to emphasize that it was truly nothing. And he wanted to talk to Marlow, he was sure Marlow would understand. In fact, he was willing to put money on it- hell, he would bet one of his fancy sports cars that Marlow would understand. But Ilya could not tell him.

He simply could not.

Because Hollander would be so angry at him if he ever found out that Ilya had told someone, and selfishly, Ilya wasn't ready to say it out loud yet. He wasn't ready to acknowledge that he and Hollander were done. He wasn't ready to acknowledge the stupid game that he had started- and lost. He wasn't ready to acknowledge that the only contact he may have with Hollander from now on were the fleeting moment at the games were they lined up to take those sacred faceoffs against each other. And he certainly wasn't ready to acknowledge that when Shane Hollander had run out of his apartments just 24 hours ago, it felt kind of like goodbye.

Marlow sighed, and Ilya felt terrible.

"You can always talk to me, you know-"

Marlow was cut off by a long vibration. It was Ilya's phone, face down on the coffee table. The two men exchanged glances.

There were very few people who could break through Ilya's do not disturb. He could count them on one hand.

His brother, and given that it was barely 8 am in Moscow currently, his brother was likely still asleep from the events of the night before.

His father, who for entirely different reasons was probably still asleep.

Jane, who Ilya couldn't imagine could possibly be calling him right now.

And that just left two. His coach and his agent.

He picked up his phone hesitantly as Marlow shot him a look of confusion. It was his agent.

Ilya picked up the call. "Hello?"

And then the floor dropped out from under his feet.

"Ilya, TMZ has contacted me for a statement. They have pictures of a man leaving your house. It's blurry, and you can't quite tell who it is, but you can kind of make out the Voyageur's logo on-" And Ilya stopped listening to the rest of whatever his agent was saying because this was Hollander's worst nightmare. 

And sure, of course it could have been fine. There were many hockey players in the league on different teams who were friends. 

But Ilya knew how crazy hockey fans were, and he knew that visibility be damned, there were people out there who would be able to connect that it was Hollander by build and height referenced by trees or some shit and- oh, they were so totally screwed. Because sure, maybe nobody would figure it out. It would be a huge jump to assume that just because Shane Hollander was spotted leaving Ilya Rozanov's house that they were secret lovers having a years long affair. But if the reporter was contacting Ilya's agent, there must have been something pretty damning about the photo.

And if the story leaked, every interaction between the two of them from then on- hell, probably even some of their past interactions- would be under strict public scrutiny. And Shane would lose it. And Ilya just couldn't have that.

"No." He whispered, nearly dropping the phone, standing up and walking to the sanctuary of the guest bedroom as Marlow shot him a concerned, questioning look.

"Look, Ilya. I'm not here to question what- or who- you do with your personal life, I'm just here to fix things. And thankfully, I've been able to maintain a working relationship with the reporter who bought the photos and-"

"So they can fucking go away?" Ilya questioned roughly, interrupting his agent.

"I-" Ilya heard a sigh, "Not exactly."

And his head was rushing and spinning and scenarios were dancing through- Hollander was totally going to kill him.

"We can... bury the story per say, but it's going to cost us." His agent informed. It was a gentle voice, no- not gentle, but informative maybe.

"How much? Whatever it is, I will pay." Ilya said dismissively.

"It's not quite that simple, Ilya." His agent sighed on the other line. "I'm lucky this reporter knows you as one of my clients and reached out to me first, so we can get ahead of this, but... the only way he'll scrap this story is if we give them a ... bigger one."

And God, it was too much English for Ilya to fully understand what any of this broad language meant, and Ilya had half a mind to bring Marlow in to help him decipher it. He took a deep breath and- ok, they needed something to cover this up? But it still didn't fully make sense to him because-

"Ok. What story is fucking bigger than Montreal player leaving Boston player's house?" Ilya sighed into the phone. Suddenly, he was glad that he had switched from a Russian agent to an American agent this year. And suddenly, he was extra glad that he probably overpaid the shit out of his agent. And he was especially, incredibly glad when he thought about the devastated way Hollander would have reacted if he had woken up to a fucking TMZ article depicting him leaving Ilya's house- he would have maybe died, and he certainly never would have spoken to Ilya again.

"Have you heard of a pap walk?" His agent asked. And suddenly, there were details and elaborate explanations and a time and a place which Ilya was glad that his agent texted him to confirm because most of it had gone in one ear and out the other.

Tomorrow afternoon, O Ya, 7 pm.

The restaurant was apparently the place where some famous people named Blake and Ryan - whoever they were- had their first date, and Ilya thought it was kind of ironic that it was a Japanese restaurant but he didn't dare say that out loud.

And when Ilya walked into the living room where a concerned Marlow sat expectantly, and the only thing he could think to say was-

"What the fuck is a pap walk?"

Chapter 4

Chapter Notes

Shane was late.

Just a little bit late, no more than five minutes, but he hated being late, and he most certainly was. And he knew his parents wouldn't blame him, they probably wouldn't say anything about it, but it bothered him. It was the type of almost irrational bother that he couldn't quite explain. But when he parked his car and turned off the ignition, he sat for a moment because- he was already late.

Hayden hadn't said a word after the game, not that Shane had really let him. He had basically gone straight from the locker room to media- where they asked him in both French and English to talk about what went wrong tonight and how he felt that Ilya Rozanov had scored more goals than him. Shane had to bite his tongue to refrain from saying that Rozanov himself had only scored one goal, and as a matter of fact, it wasn't just Shane who had played like shit tonight. And then he'd gone straight to bed once they got back to the hotel.

So no, Hayden hadn't said a word. He had just given Shane that sort of downturned smile, laced with pity before he'd turned out the light and gone to sleep. It was the type of smile that you give to your friend when they're going through a bad breakup except Shane wasn't going through a breakup because him and Rozanov had never really been together- they never would- and that was painfully clear after tonight.

Rozanov had barely even looked at him the whole game, and the only words he'd spoken?

"Yes. You will need it." Shane remembered.

It wasn't so much the words as it was the tone. It was his usual smug, cocky, asshole voice that he'd use when he was chirping the other Voyageur players. The hard edge of it was the same as if he were speaking to Hayden or JJ. And Shane had never realized it before, but he kind of understood how Rozanov was able to incite so many fights with players across the league just by speaking to them. It was because his voice was cold, it was grating, and it was so smug that it filled Shane with rage. Especially when Shane realized that it was different than the way he normally spoke to him-

Fuck.

He couldn't deal with this right now. He was back in Montreal, and his parents had driven all the way up here to meet him for dinner, and now he was ten minutes late.

He walked into the restaurant his parents had chosen, an upscale seafood restaurant with private dining spaces so they could talk without fear of being overheard and plenty of food Shane could eat. It was a nice place, and Shane was excited to see his parents even though he really didn't have much of an appetite.

Yuna and David stood to hug him when he joined them at the table, his mom already beginning to run him through the next month's schedule of brand shoots, promotions, and posts he would need to make on his social media. She smiled at the sight of his Reebok shoes even though Shane felt rather silly wearing sneakers with his slacks and button down shirt. He was so lost in thought, replaying moments from last night's game, replaying moment's from Rozanov's house when-

"Shane, honey. Are you listening to me?" his mom asked, her face pinched with concern.

"Yuna, maybe just let him breathe for a second." his dad said kindly, placing a comforting hand on her forearm, "He's had a long stretch of away games, and I'm sure he's tired."

His mom smiled slightly, placing her hand on top of his dad's and squeezing slightly before saying, "You're right, you're right. I'm sorry, Shane, honey- how are you feeling?"

He had appreciated his dad, at first, for getting his mom to stop momager mode, but now he was kind of cursing his dad for doing so. Because that was really the last question he wanted to answer at the moment. For as much as Shane hated being late, he hated lying to his parents even more, and there was no way to explain how he was feeling to them without lying a little.

Confusion. Anger. Regret.

Sadness.

It wasn't fair. It really wasn't fair, but he knew he'd made the right decision when he heard how cold Rozanov had been on the ice.

He didn't care, because of course he didn't care. It was simple to him, just sex. And yes, he had said Shane's name, but Shane was almost 99% sure at this point that it hadn't really meant anything, and he just couldn't have his fears confirmed, so of course it had made sense to run.

"Fine." He lied through his teeth, subtly flexing his jaw. He thought he'd said it rather convincingly, but the knowing look his parents exchanged immediately after betrayed that just a bit. "I'm just frustrated about the game." He added and saw his parents relax their shoulders a bit. He knew that would work. Because what else could he possibly be so wound up about except the game?

"Well, at least you weren't the only one off your game last night." His mom remarked offhandedly, and she had said it in the kind of breathy way that almost made it seem like a joke, but what was that supposed to mean?

"What do you mean?" Shane asked quickly, maybe too quickly by the look his parents exchanged once again.

"Just that Rozanov also played below his usual standard last night," his mom said carefully, evenly almost. Her careful, perceptive eyes watching him, searching for a reaction.

"Oh." Shane had replied, "Right, of course." Of course. Because of course his mom hadn't meant it in any type of way. Because of course, his mom was probably the biggest hockey fan he knew- hell, she had ESPN alerts on all the time... So, of course, she had noticed after years of watching the Bears and the Voyageurs play that Shane was playing way below his usual standard, and so was Rozanov.

Sensing that there was something up that Shane maybe wasn't up for talking about, his dad stepped in as he usually did exactly when Shane needed him to and began talking about his current project at work.

The food had just arrived, a plate of a beautiful baked cod with a double side of sauteed garden vegetables for Shane along with a refill to his ginger ale, when Yuna's phone buzzed. It wasn't an unusual occurrence, but the way her eyes widened in surprise before she schooled her features back into neutrality- was.

"Well," she exclaimed, letting out a somewhat breathy, surprised laugh. "Maybe that explains why Rozanov was off his game last night."

And Shane's stomach dropped to the floor. He felt his body go ice cold as adrenaline flooded through his veins and the worst possible scenarios ran through his mind- except, no.

It couldn't be. Because his mom hadn't mentioned anything about Shane. "What is it?" he asked, using all of the energy he had left in his body to sound calm, neutral, unbothered even. But nothing could have prepared him for the way his stomach dropped even further when his mom handed her phone to him and narrated as he read the headline.

"Apparently, Rozanov has finally settled down."

And Shane could vaguely hear his mom and dad laughing and theorizing if this would provide a distraction enough to affect his play for the foreseeable future. And Shane wanted to believe it was fake, after all, he'd been with Rozanov not even 48 hours ago. But staring him right in the face alongside the headline 'Boston Bear's Superstar Hockey Player Ilya Rozanov and X Squad Franchise's Starring Actress Rose Landry Spotted On Date Night In Boston' was a picture of Rozanov, hand in hand with none other than Rose Landry... and they were both smiling.

He scrolled through the five photos that had been captured and was almost disgusted by how absorbed in each other they appeared to be. Suddenly, Shane felt like he was going to be sick, but he forced it down and handed the phone back to his mom. He finished most of his dinner and laughed at all of his dad's jokes and responded to all of his mom's inquiries. He kept on a brave face and told his parents he loved them before they drove off, but when he got into his car, it all finally hit him.

Shane hated the way his brain was racing, wondering all of the stupid little details like how had they even met and what did she see in him which, if he was honest was more like what did he see in her?

And God, fuck the performance diet. Shane could not be alone with his thoughts tonight, not when the one person who could quiet them-

He wouldn't finish that thought.

When he finally got back to his apartment, he left his shoes by the front door and went straight to the back of the pantry where he kept the leftover alcohol from all of the team parties he had hosted at his house- brought, and left, by other people of course. He picked out a decent looking bottle of vodka and grabbed a can of ginger ale from the fridge. And when a little voice in his head told him that Rozanov would yell at him for ruining the vodka by diluting it- well, he told that voice to shut up.

And then Shane drank. He tortured himself by putting on a replay of the previous night's game. He tortured himself by watching the stupid mistakes he made, mistakes that in the end had cost them the game and potentially a higher seed come playoffs. He went through can after can of ginger ale, mixing it with the vodka until his head was fuzzy and he stopped being able to make out the numbers on the jerseys on the screen. And he liked it better that way when he couldn't immediately tell which one was Ilya even though he really still could because he had basically memorized his build and the way he glided so effortlessly across the ice.

He liked that he could use the excuse that his vision was blurry because his head was spinning because he'd drank way too much vodka and not because there were tears forming in his eyes threatening to fall. And he didn't really know why, because he honestly didn't really even like Ilya that much, he just liked hooking up with him and the way that nobody else quieted mind quite like Ilya did and he liked that Ilya had stocked ginger ale at his apartment because-

Fuck.

Shane had decided to drink tonight because he thought it would quiet the thoughts, not make him deal with the truth. And suddenly, he was pulling up his phone and drafting a text to Lily.

'Does she make you happy?'

His thumb hovered over the little blue arrow that would send the text.

But Shane was a coward. So instead, he called Hayden.

Hayden picked up on the second ring, and fuck, when did the tears start falling?

"Shane?" Hayden mumbled, his voice low and rough with sleep.

"Hey Hayd," Shane managed, though even in his drunken state, he could tell his voice sounded wet with tears.

"Oh shit, dude, are you okay?" Hayden asked sounding more awake now.

Shane thought for a moment. And then another moment. "No." he whispered.

"I'm on my way buddy."

Shane didn't deserve him.

Chapter End Notes

oh sweet baby shane... i hope it kills you guys too how it's rozanov until shane is drunk and in his feelings and then it's Ilya. i've been trying to write their perspectives so that their voices are slightly different, but idk if i'm accomplishing that goal or not hahaha.. anyway, hope y'all are enjoying :) xoxo

Chapter 5

Chapter Notes

Shane woke up with a pounding in his head as the night before came back to him in flashes and-

Shit.

He'd called Hayden. He stood up, as quickly as his body would allow, and fighting down a wave of nausea, he made his way down the stairs. And he honestly had no idea how he'd made it up the stairs. The night was coming back to him in bits and pieces, but he hadn't quite gotten to that part yet. As soon as he stepped off the last stair, he was almost tackled to the ground by two little ... kids?

"Oh fuck, sorry Shane," Hayden cursed as he ran over to grab Jade and Ruby, the two little kids who had just collided with Shane's legs. "Jackie and the kids are here by the way." Hayden explained as Shane finally processed the smell of eggs, bacon, and coffee coming from his kitchen, and fuck, he felt like an asshole. They were back in Montreal for the next four days before flying off for their next away game and of course, Hayden didn't want to miss out on crucial time with his family.

"Hi Shane," Jackie spoke warmly from the kitchen, "There's advil and a glass of water for you on the counter."

Shane managed to walk the few steps from the bottom of the stairs to the counter without his world completely spinning out. He swallowed the pills quickly and then chugged the rest of the class. "I'm sorry Hayden," he said weakly, "And Jackie, I'm sorry to you too. I know you guys don't get much family time during the season, and I'm sorry for messing that-"

"Hey, hey, hey," Hayden soothed quickly in total dad mode, "Don't worry about that, bud."

"You're part of the family," Jackie added sweetly, reminding Shane again just how lucky his best friend was.

Hayden and Jackie exchanged a look and uh oh. Shane had no idea what that look meant, but he was sure he was about to find out.

"Breakfast is done. Why don't I take the kids outside to get their wiggles out while you two eat?" Jackie suggested, picking Arthur up from the floor where he'd been toddling at her feet and calling for the girls.

"Great idea, babe" Hayden replied enthusiastically, walking over to give Jackie a quick peck.

Shane couldn't help feeling like he was in trouble with his parents. In the moment it almost felt like he was the Pike's fourth kid, and Jackie was taking the rest of them on walk so they didn't hear their older brother getting scolded. Shane's mind raced with the possibilities of what Hayden might be about to confront him about. He remembered very little from after he'd called him to come over.

He had opened the door when Hayden had knocked, and even then in his drunken state, he'd been sure he'd looked a mess. It had been confirmed when as soon as stepping into the foyer, Hayden said, "Dude what the fuck happened to you? You look like shit."

"Swear jar," Shane remembered muttering as he walked back to his Shane sized indent on the couch where he'd thrown off his blanket to open the door. The game had finished twenty minutes ago and auto played some Voyageur fan podcast doing an in depth analysis of their scheme and addressing what had gone wrong. The pieces Shane was able to process honestly sounded like a load of bullshit, and for a second he had felt like tweeting a challenge to those stupid podcasters to try and even score an unmanned goal on ice, but even drunk, he knew that was both a terrible idea and a PR nightmare.

When Hayden had seen the state of the coffee table, littered with empty cans of ginger ale and a bottle of vodka that Shane had drank a significant amount of, he sighed. "Oh you're so fucking lucky we don't have practice tomorrow morning."

Shane had just mumbled something intelligible even to himself and waved his hand in the air inconsequentially.

Shane guessed that sometime after that, Hayden had helped him up from the couch and into his bed, and probably slept in Shane's guest bedroom. Hayden, who was now staring at him expectantly with some mixture of pity and confusion in his eyes.

"Now that you're, uh, sober," Hayden started, laughing slightly though it died out quickly. "Shane, you know I'm always here for you, right?"

Shane nodded.

"And you know that Jackie and I love you, right? I mean, you're like my brother, and I care about you a lot, but... I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on." And the las part, God- the last part, it almost pained Shane the way Hayden was basically pleading with him, begging almost just to tell him what was wrong so he could try and help.

And he knew Hayden wouldn't judge him, he'd known that the whole time he'd been keeping this secret. It wasn't just that he was afraid, it wasn't just that he had never told anyone else before that maybe, just maybe he might not really like girls... There was a part of him that was embarrassed, and a part of him that was still protective over Rozanov. Because of course Hayden wouldn't care that Shane was- well, not straight. But Hayden would care if he felt like Rozanov had played Shane, which at this point Shane wasn't even really sure where he stood about that whole thing, because obviously Shane had been in Rozanov's bed two nights ago, and now it seemed as though Rozanov had some epic love affair with Rose freaking Landry... And if Hayden knew that Rozanov had ... affected Shane so deeply, he was sure Hayden would start some sort of fight with him at the next game, and then of course Marlow would get involved which would mean JJ had to get involved which would get Hammersmith involved and it would just end up in a huge Bears-Voyageurs mess that would let Rozanov know that Shane wasn't as unbothered as he wanted to appear.

"I-" Shane started, not even really sure what was about to come out of his mouth.

"And please, don't lie to me, Shane. Because you're terrible at lying, and I would really rather you just say nothing if you're going to lie." Hayden interjected quickly, "Sorry, I'll let you speak now."

And God, Hayden was a really good friend, and Shane really, really did not want to lie to him, so he told him so. "I really, really don't want to lie to you, Hayden," he admitted, he tried to keep his voice low and steady, even and neutral, but- "I just don't know how to tell the truth about this." And he knew his bottom lip was trembling slightly and his voice wobbled a bit at the end, and from the way Hayden had gone slightly out of focus, he knew his eyes were slowly welling up with tears, and he really, really didn't want to be but-

Fuck.

Shane was scared.

Hayden rushed over to Shane and wrapped his arms around him, "Hey, whatever it is, buddy. You can tell me, or not tell me. I promise I won't look at you any differently, and I told Jackie to bring a shovel- it's in the trunk of the car. Just in case we need to bury a body for you." Hayden joked.

Hayden and Jackie, who had never judged him. Hayden and Jackie, who had him over for dinner at least once a week during training. Hayden, and Jackie who put up with his bird food. Hayden and Jackie, who apparently were ready to bury a body for him. And suddenly, before his brain had even processed the words coming out of his mouth, Shane's lips were moving and he was saying, "I think I'm gay."

And shit, that was a big step. Shane had barely even really admitted it to himself in his own head that he had never really been interested in girls, at least not in the way where he could picture ten, twenty years down the line. Not in the way where he could picture inviting them to his cottage for the summers, or over to Jackie and Hayden's for dinner during the year. Not in the way where he wanted to learn every single little thing about them, and he certainly could not picture them in the bedroom.

And probably what scared him the most was that he could not picture a girl meeting his parents, but he could picture someone meeting his parents. It scared him almost to death that when he thought about his greatest, deepest desire in the world- it was him, his mom, and his dad sitting at the dinner table in the cottage where they had spent every summer growing up. It was them, sitting at the table with Ilya Rozanov.

But that wasn't a possibility for Shane, because Ilya Rozanov was dating Rose freaking Landry. Of course he was. The two of them made so much sense together, the biggest star in hockey and the biggest female movie star since... Shane didn't even know. It wasn't a possibility, and it wasn't even one of his pressing, major concerns right now because as much as it stung, he was sitting in front of his very real, very present best friend, who he had just admitted to being gay to.

"Okay." Hayden replied slowly, his eyebrows raised in questioning as if he expected Shane to continue, and of course there was more to the story, but Shane wasn't sure if he was ready to get to that part yet, so he shrugged his shoulders. "Is that it?" Hayden asked.

Shane shrugged his shoulders. It wasn't quite a yes, but it wasn't a straight up lie either, and that was all of what Shane could manage at the moment, at least without totally freaking out.

"Oh," Hayden sighed out a long breath as if he'd been expecting something far more scary. "Well, you know I love you no matter what, so..." And as if the gears were turning an clicking into place in his head, Hayden cocked his head to the side and said, "But, Lily then... is she a he? Or is she a she and that's the problem? Or is she a-"

Shane cut him off with a burst of laughter, shaking his head. "She's a he, but please don't ask me any more questions. I'm not ready- when I'm ready to talk about Lily, I will. But it's just- too soon." And there it was again, Shane was balancing so carefully between the truth and a lie.

"Thanks for telling me, Shane." Hayden whispered quietly. And even though Shane knew that it wouldn't be a problem, he couldn't help but smile at how nonchalant and yet perfectly supportive Hayden had been.

They sat in silence for a couple moments before Hayden broke it by saying, "Now let's eat before breakfast gets cold, I'm fucking hungry."

"Swear jar," Shane muttered under his breath with a smile as they filled their plates and began to eat.

Chapter End Notes

okayyy we're going back to ilya's pov next briefly and then staying in our nervous baby shane's pov for a bit ;) xoxo

Chapter 6

Chapter Notes

From what Marlow had described to him about what a pap walk entailed, Ilya had expected it to be entirely unpleasant. Bright flashing camera lights in your face, not to mention some random girl on his arm, tasked with controlling his facial features to appear "infatuated" or- at least, not completely bored out of his mind.

Really, Ilya had expected it to be a quick thing. They would walk into the restaurant and sit in a private dining room on their phones until a respectable amount of time had passed for them to leave, and then they would do it all over again with the lights, cameras, and the flashing all the way back to the 'getaway car'.

What Ilya hadn't expected was to have none other than Rose Landry on his arm. And even more surprising, he kind of liked her.

Whatever her agent had told her about why Ilya was really doing this, or if they even had told her anything at all. She was the perfect picture of grace and humility despite her broad fortune and notoriety. She was an actress after all, but Ilya got the feeling that she wasn't putting on a show.

Her car had picked him up from his apartment and on the ride there, she had thanked him, genuinely thanked him, for doing this with her. And when they had gone into the private room of the restaurant, she had set her phone face down on the table and asked him questions about himself. As if she actually wanted to get to know him.

She had grown up in Detroit with a pair of brothers who'd played hockey all throughout their high school years, so she understood the intricate rules and exceptions of hockey which Ilya found intriguing. And of course she was beautiful, she was a world famous movie star after all, but it didn't feel like she expected anything from Ilya besides a desire to learn about his life.

And Ilya found that kind of refreshing, and he found himself kind of liking her company because he couldn't really remember the last time he'd met someone outside of the hockey world who had cared to get to know him just for him without wanting anything from him in return.

Before the night had ended and they'd left their private dining room, Rose Landry had held out her hand and given his a firm shake. "Pleasure doing business with you," she commented with a slight smirk on her face, "I have a feeling you and I are going to be very good friends, Ilya Rozanov."

And so they were.

Rose was renting a penthouse in downtown Boston while she finished up filming a couple reshoots for her latest project. It was a historical drama film that Rose described as 'Oscar bait' whatever that meant.

On days when the Bears had home games, Ilya would wake up and go to morning practice or walk through. Then he'd go home and eat lunch before driving back to the arena for the game. After the game, which Rose would attend, wearing his #81 Rozanov jersey, they would go out to dinner or he would come up to her apartment to kill some time before exiting.

And for two weeks, it was a nice routine. For two weeks, Ilya was so busy between nonstop traveling for away games and brief stops home, he was so busy having wine nights at Rose's apartment and learning all about stupid American pop culture from her, that for a little bit, it was easy to forget about what happened the last time the Bears and the Voyageurs played each other.

At least, that was what Ilya liked to tell himself.

The truth was that in the past two weeks, Rose had become a very close friend of his. Because of her genuinely curious nature and somewhat annoying persistence, Ilya had told her things that very few people in his life knew.

But even though he had fun with Rose, and even though it definitely wasn't like that and neither of them wanted it to be- sometimes, it was really nice. And sometimes, Ilya wished he could have something like that but for real.

And even though logically he knew he could have something like that but for real... there were probably hundreds, if not thousands of women in Boston who would be very willing to have something like that with him. Deep down, Ilya knew he didn't just want something like that.

But he didn't let himself think about that because every time he did, he felt like someone was closing their fist around his chest and squeezing hard and all of the sudden it would get hard to breathe.

He didn't let himself think about that because he always played shitty hockey when he was sad and thinking about that night two weeks ago made him sad.

He just couldn't ever let himself think about it ever because it wasn't a possibility. Shane had made that very abundantly clear when Ilya had practically begged him to stay, and he'd still left. And maybe if he just didn't let himself think about it, it would eventually stop hurting so bad.

That's what he told himself at least.

"Oh fuck off, Rozy" Marlow exclaimed in the grumbling way he normally did when he was both pissed and amused at the same time. They had a rare day off after a gauntlet of games, and their coach had given them the day for some rest and recovery. "Pick a different color."

Rose had suggested a game night with wine, and Ilya was somewhat surprised by the realization that he actually liked wine even though he already protested.

"Oooh! You should invite your friends and we can do a wine night with games at my place!" Rose exclaimed.

"Why is it always wine night? It makes me feel like a boring fucking American with two car garage and three kids." Ilya replied, feigning annoyance.

"Well, I'm not drinking straight vodka with you because no matter what you say, that is disgusting. Plus you know you love our wine mom nights so stop pretending to complain," Rose sighed. "And don't forget to bring Svetlana!"

So Ilya had brought Svetlana and Marlow, his two closest friends in Boston, who also both knew about his contractual arrangement with Rose, to her place for game night. They were currently playing a very competitive game of Uno where Ilya had just changed the color to red, and he hadn't even used his +4, so he wasn't sure what Marlow was so heated about.

"I'm not going to fucking pick another color. I play color change card, and I chose red, so color is fucking red." Ilya replied, and okay- maybe he was getting a little heated too, but in his defense, it had been a long game.

Every time one of them got close to winning, the others collaborated to change the color, reverse the order, or play a devastating +2 or +4 card.

"You literally fucking changed it to red last time," Marlow groaned as he began picking up cards, growing his deck of 2.

"Yes. Because I have a lot of fucking red cards, Marlow." Ilya explained, elongating the words as if Marlow were a toddler.

"Okay guys, calm down," Svetlana soothed as Marlow finally put down a playable card after drawing eight. She laid down a red skip card with a wink which skipped Rose's turn and added, "Uno, by the way."

Rose rolled her eyes and exclaimed, "You've got to be kidding me!" while Ilya and Marlow cursed under their breath.

"Okay Marly," Ilya started, "what color do you need, I can probably change it?"

"I can't do anything to stop her!" Marlow sighed.

"What do you mean? You just pick up eight fucking cards and they all suck?" Ilya asked exasperatedly. He was trying not to be a sore loser, because after all it was just a game, but he had one color change and one +4 left in his hand and he had also been about to win and now they had to try and change the color to one they were certain Svetlana didn't have. "Whatever," he grumbled as he laid down a red 2.

Marlow laid a blue 2 on top of his card as they all waited with anticipation to see what Svetlana would do.

A smirk spread across her face as she put down a blue 4. Ilya congratulated her and tried not to be upset. He did a good job. Mostly.

He lounged back on the couch as Svetlana and Marlow started bickering about what their next game should be. Rose was smiling softly as she watched them, and Ilya was really glad they all got along so well. He'd been sure Rose and Svetlana would love each other, and he'd been right. They had clicked immediately the first time they'd met and honestly had Ilya questioning if he had been a ghost for how little they'd acknowledged him.

Svetlana and Marlow had met briefly a few times when he'd brought her along to team banquets, but this was the first time him and Rose had met and the first time they'd all hung out together as a group.

"Your friends are very cool," Rose hummed softly, glancing at Ilya with a relaxed smile.

"I am glad you like Marlow, he was very nervous to meet you." Ilya replied, raising his voice slightly on the last part to get Marlow's attention. He received an elbow in the side which he kind of deserved, but it was worth it. And clearly Marlow wasn't upset with him given that he went right back to arguing with Svetlana.

Rose gave a small smile to that and added, "He is very funny, and you already know I love Svetlana."

"Yes." Ilya spoke thoughtfully, "I think sometimes you are going to fake break up with me to fake date her instead."

Rose threw her head back in laughter, "Imagine what a scandal that would be," she joked. For a second, Ilya did. It seemed Svetlana overheard what they had been saying because she added in to the conversation.

"Here probably not so much," she shrugged, "But I would probably not be able to go back to Russia."

For a moment, a contemplative quiet settled upon the group. Ilya knew that. Of course he did. And he could only imagine how much bigger the scandal would be with the history that he had with Hollander-

But there was no point in thinking about that. There was no point in wasting time fearing over something improbable- no, impossible. Hollander had made that very clear. And suddenly, there it was again. Somebody had reclaimed his heart in their fist and this time they were squeezing harder than they ever had before.

Ilya vaguely registered Svetlana making some joke about how she would be honored to be Rose's fake girlfriend even though the two of them had ranted many times to both Ilya and each other about the pains that came with being straight women. He vaguely registered Marlow's joking "Oh God, get a room," as the two of them began to jokingly flirt with each other. But his mind was still stuck on a very boring Canadian with very stupid freckles who would make it very impossible for him to go back to Russia if anybody found out even a fraction of Ilya's feelings- No.

Ilya took a long swig of his Merlot and tried to redirect his brain to think about their upcoming games. Home vs Buffalo, then Home vs Tampa Bay, then away at Toronto, then away at Montreal and fuck, this wasn't helping. He took another long swig of Merlot and Rose bumped him with her shoulder.

"Seems like someone is thinking about a two car garage and three kids," she murmured under her breath.

"Fuck off Landry," Ilya groaned because now he was thinking about that and God, maybe he hated being wine drunk.

"You know, even though you're telling me to fuck off, I feel kind of honored you used my last name." Rose said brightly.

"Oh you should," Marlow nodded seriously, "That's how you know you've made it in the hockey world."

Fucking finally, Marlow and Svetlana had decided they were going to play some long board game called Catan next. And even though Ilya thought the premise honestly seemed kind of stupid and very American, he gladly accepted the distraction of the multiple hour long game because he needed to distract himself better. And it worked. A little bit.

An hour later when he was yelling at Marlow to stop being a greedy motherfucker and trade him some stone so he could build a city, he was so focused on winning the stupid game that he barely thought about the stone well at Shane Hollander's cottage in Ottawa that he'd seen in that stupid documentary that had released last week.

Chapter End Notes

ahh sorry for not updating yesterday but i finished a big interview today and should have sooo much more free time now! hoping to get some good content for y'all tomorrow and the rest of the weekend too! let me know what you're thinking so far, hopefully you're all enjoying xoxo

Chapter 7

Chapter Notes

December 2016

The Voyageurs were on a losing streak, and Shane didn't know how to fix it.

He was playing like shit. He hadn't scored more than one goal in each of their past four games and people were definitely starting to notice. And by people he meant his teammates, his coach, and all of the stupid fucking hockey podcasts that he couldn't resist turning on when he wanted to feel especially bad about himself. After one especially devastating loss to Buffalo who was at the bottom of their division, Shane couldn't help but yell in frustration as he threw one of his gloves across the room.

He was acutely aware of the tense, worried glances his teammates had exchanged between each other because Shane never acted like this. He sat on the bench with his head in his hands. It wasn't just that Buffalo was awful. It wasn't just that Shane was off his game. It wasn't just that they'd lost to Buffalo by four fucking goals which would have been embarrassing even if they hadn't been so horribly awful.

It was that for once in Shane's life, hockey felt off.

Sure, he'd been on bad teams before growing up, and sure, he'd lost games by worse scores than this before. It wasn't even like they were on a losing streak. They had managed to win their game before this against Ottawa.

Hockey was just off, and Shane was sure there was something wrong with him because he'd never, ever felt like this before. It was almost as if his skates were the wrong size the way he felt unsteady on the ice. His stick felt foreign in his hands, his gloves were suddenly too loose and his jersey and padding were too tight. They were so tight they were almost suffocating him and making it hard to breathe and oh, fuck-

Shane was actually having trouble breathing when-

"Hey bud, why don't you go hop in the shower," Hayden swooped in because he seemed to have some sort of sixth sense that went off every time Shane needed him. "I'll go out to media, you just shower and try to relax a little bit." Hayden squeezed his shoulder firmly and went off to intercept the coach to let him know that Shane wouldn't be talking to the media today.

And really it was for the best because he knew exactly what they were going to ask him.

Because he knew exactly who their next game was against and he really, really needed to figure out what was wrong with him before then.

The shower did little to calm him down once he realized who they were playing next. At least it was at home. Shane had always loved the home crowd. He played better with their fans cheering him on, and he just hoped that it was the away game gauntlet they'd just been through that had been affecting him. He really hoped that sleeping in his own bed would fix everything even though he was pretty sure he was kidding himself.

His phone buzzed with a text from his mom.

'Nice goal tonight honey, you'll win the next one.'

Shane knew his mom well enough that he could read between the lines. He knew his mom well enough that there was a difference between 'nice goal' and 'good job'. His mom hadn't told him he played well because they both knew that would've been a lie. In fact, even calling his goal nice was a bit of a stretch since it came off a power play. He sent back a quick 'thanks mom' and shut his phone off before he could be tempted to click on the ESPN article that had just popped up on the top of his screen.

'Bears Win Big in Toronto Due to Hat Trick from Ilya Rozanov'

He just couldn't handle reading another article about how Rozanov had been playing some of the best hockey of his life since he started going out with Rose Landry. It killed him that the articles weren't wrong either. Rozanov was a fantastic player and always had been, but in the past, those types of articles had always released after Boston - Montreal games.

'Bears Hold On at Home in Electrifying OT Thriller Against Montreal'

'Voyageurs Clinch First in the Atlantic with Two Goals from Hollander'

'Boston Montreal Game Ends in Intense Shootout'

'Do Hollander and Rozanov Play Better Against Each Other?'

And suddenly, those articles were a distant memory.

'I just have to ask you Rob, what is going on with Shane Hollander lately? Is he playing on some sort of undisclosed injury or-'

'You know, I've actually been starting to wonder the same thing, Joe. You see the way he favors his left side on this play? It almost kind of looks like he-'

Shane groaned. He wasn't sure why he'd put it on in the first place, maybe some kind of torture. In his rookie year, he'd listened to the live analysis by the MontreAll The Updates podcast religiously after every game. He knew they would notice something was up with him, and he was honestly embarrassed that they thought he was playing injured.

'-starting to question if he'll even be invited to the NHL Allstar game this year.'

'Don't be ridiculous, Rob. He's Shane Hollander. He could go scoreless the rest of the month and they'd still select him-'

The words were interrupted by an incoming call from Hayden. Shane picked up on the first ring. He shouldn't have been listening to that podcast anyway.

"Sorry, sorry, I was just able to get away from media and changed and into the car, but I wanted to check in." Hayden spoke hesitantly, softly, almost as a question.

"I'm, uh, I'm fine, thanks. And thanks for taking media for me." Shane replied, hoping he didn't sound too upset.

"Anytime, bud. You know I love hearing myself talk." Hayden joked and Shane mustered a small laugh. He could almost hear the hesitation in the silence before Hayden continued, Look, uh, some of the guys were talking about going out tonight and maybe having some drinks. I think it could be good for you to uh, cheer up a little bit."

Shane opened his mouth to respond.

"And before you just say no, Jackie's sister offered to watch the kids tonight, so we can both come out with you. It'll be me, and Jackie, and your boys, and -"

"Look, Hayden.. I know you're trying to help, but I'm really fine, I-"

"Shane, don't lie to me. Please." Hayden sighed, "You're not fine. You haven't been fine since whatever happened with Boston Lily- or whatever his name is- happened. The guys are starting to worry, and I think it would be really helpful for us to hang out as a team right now before whatever has been going on gets worse. And who knows, maybe it'll make you feel better."

Shane sucked in a quick breath. He knew that he wasn't exactly hiding what had been going on with him well. He hadn't imagined that his poor play and poor... attitude had been affecting the team, but maybe Hayden was right. "Okay, yeah. Yeah, you're right. I'll come, just text me the address."

It was a dive bar. A hole in the wall kind of place and maybe Hayden was right, maybe their team just needed a good bonding night and that would fix everything. Maybe not everything in Shane's head, but maybe it would help their on ice chemistry. Shane ordered three pitchers of beer and carried them over to the few tables his team had taken over. "What's up guys?" He asked, setting down the pitchers as the men cheered.

"Holzy!" JJ exclaimed, throwing his arm around Shane. "It's been a fucking minute since you came out with us."

"Yeah," Shane nodded with a smile, "Don't get used to it, but I'm here now."

"Good shit, mate" JJ said as he poured himself a pint.

Shane exchanged greetings with the rest of the team as he nervously glanced toward the entrance of the bar, waiting for Hayden to appear.

He didn't have to wait long before Hayden was waltzing in like he owned the place with Jackie on his arm. "Pike!" JJ exclaimed and Shane was pretty sure JJ was going to have a nasty hangover the next morning based on how drunk he already was.

Hayden greeted the rest of the team while Jackie pulled a chair up next to Shane. "Hey Jackie," Shane greeted warmly.

"Hi Shane, it's good to see you," She said kindly and pulled him in for a side hug. Her eyes were kind but also worried, almost searching for something hidden in his face, something Shane didn't want her to find.

"I'm okay, really. I promise," he assured her, trying to sound as earnest as he possibly could. He felt a pair of hands on his shoulder.

"Come on Holzy, me and you versus the Pikes." JJ challenged animatedly as he gestured toward one of the empty pool tables. And well, Shane couldn't think of a good excuse to say no, so he grabbed the half drank beer he'd been nursing for the past thirty minutes and followed JJ over to the table.

JJ leaned in closely as if he was conspiring something top secret as he whispered to Shane, "Let's make this fun, shall we?" and JJ announced that the losers of the game would have to buy tequila shots for the winners which honestly kind of made Shane want to lose, but of course Jackie and Hayden accepted good naturedly and the game began.

It was close but mostly because of JJ and Jackie because for as good as they were at hockey, Shane and Hayden both kind of sucked at pool which meant that every turn they took kind of just screwed things up for their partners and the only time either of them were able to sink a ball in the pocket, it was normally not their own and completely on accident.

"I suck at this," Shane groaned as Hayden celebrated when he accidentally pocketed one of their stripes.

"I think we'll take Patron when you buy us those shots by the way," Hayden said all too cockily as he accidentally hit a solid ball in. "Fuck."

Shane threw his head back in laughter as Jackie scolded Hayden, and maybe he was actually having a little bit of fun. He handed the stick to JJ and was only knocked slightly off balance when Comeau threw his arm around Shane's shoulders. "Look!" he exclaimed, thrusting his phone into Shane's hand, and yeah he was definitely drunk.

Shane squinted to make out the words on Comeau's phone but was stopped by the picture. He almost dropped the phone.

He almost dropped the phone because Rose Landry was in Montreal and all of the hockey new sites were reporting that she was going to be at the game in two days. Shane could vaguely hear JJ cheering as he sunk their last ball and Hayden cursed as he walked to the bar to order them a round of shots. And Shane really hadn't been planning on actually taking the shot of tequila, but when Hayden handed it to him, he threw it back.

He realized he hadn't said anything to Comeau and it probably wouldn't have been odd, but Comeau had already drunkenly moved to showing the phone to the rest of the team, excitedly gesturing about Rose Landry being at their game.

Shane was vaguely aware of walking toward the bar and ordering another round of tequila shots, this time with two for Hayden and Jackie. He was vaguely aware of taking the shot, the way the room kind of swayed for a second, and the quick look Jackie and Hayden exchanged with each other. And he was entirely aware of the fact that he hadn't yet said anything. But words were too much right now.

Words were especially too much when he realized that the cameras would be showing Rose Landry all night. Every time Rozanov did something good which would probably be a lot of times. And shit, Shane's head was spinning now and it wasn't just because of the alcohol.

Shane's head was spinning because he hadn't seen Rozanov in a month, hadn't texted or talked to him since then either and this was uncharted territory. Because Rozanov would be somewhere in Montreal all day tomorrow before their game, probably with fucking Rose Landry and they had never not texted when they were in each other's cities.

Tequila. He definitely needed more tequila. But as he started to walk toward the bar, he felt a hand on his chest and suddenly Hayden was telling him he was cut off for the night.

"Trust me man, you'll thank me tomorrow," Hayden said as he gently pushed Shane back toward the group.

"No, Hayd, you don't understand," Shane pleaded and God, he sounded so pathetic. "I'm fine, okay? I'm fucking fine. Just let me-" And even Shane could tell he was slurring his words slightly as Hayden interrupted him.

"Shane," he said, his voice dangerously low. It felt as if Hayden's eyes were piercing through him, straight into his soul. "If you don't wanna talk about him, that's fine," he whispered lowly and Shane could almost kill him for mentioning that so close to everyone else, "But I am not going to let you drink to forget because that won't help you get over Lily."

It was the way he said it. The way he said the name like it almost disgusted him coming out of his mouth that sobered Shane up with the realization- no, the fear that maybe Hayden knew. Except he didn't say anything else to confirm or deny, in fact, he smiled and clapped Shane on the shoulder as he led him back to the group.

Maybe Shane was imagining things, because it would make sense for Hayden to dislike Lily, right? Of course he would dislike Lily... right? Hayden wasn't dumb, but he was painfully oblivious sometimes, so it would be pretty crazy if he knew.

Shane tuned back into the conversation his teammates were having and almost cursed when they started talking about Rozanov. Just his fucking luck.

"Rozanov is playing on fire lately, no?" JJ asked as Drapeau and Comeau made noises of dissent.

"Ahh just wait until he faces us. He will not be playing so well then." Drapeau replied.

"Maybe he will play so poorly that Rose Landry will be too embarrassed to cheer for him," Comeau mused and Shane nearly winced at that.

He had convinced himself there was no way Hayden could possibly know, but then-

"Knock it off guys. No point in talking about the enemy. We'll end that little winning streak of his soon." Hayden said, and there was a hard edge to his voice and he gave Shane a brief sideways glance after which- yeah, Hayden definitely fucking knew something, or at least he suspected, but that was a problem for later because Shane was definitely a light weight and he had drank just a little too much to really deal with this tonight.

"Who's up for another game of pool?" Shane asked as JJ threw his arm around him to, for some reason, claim Shane as his partner again.

"Drapeau, Comeau, come on. We will destroy you!" JJ yelled grinning widely.

There were problems- many problems- to deal with tomorrow, but for now? Maybe Hayden had been right about the whole bonding thing. Shane just hoped it would translate to the ice.

Chapter End Notes

and so begins the writing marathon... will have at least one more out tonight!

Chapter 8

Shane took a deep breath. And then another one.

He blocked out the noise as he stretched out on the ice before the game. He let himself get into his gameday mindset, his winning mindset as he visualized scoring goal after goal after goal. He ignored the fact that he had immediately clocked Rose Landry in one of the suite boxes. He did not think about how she even go a fucking box in Montreal wearing a number 81 Rozanov jersey. And he definitely did not pay any attention when the Boston players skated out onto the ice to warm up.

He was cool, he was indifferent, and he would not let this uncertainty at seeing Rozanov fuck up his game. His team had bonded the other night, and yes, Shane had woken up with a pretty bad hangover, but it was all worth it. Practice the next day had gone smoothly and they were finally firing on all cylinders again, clicking like they had a couple years ago when they'd won the cup.

He felt a steady, calming presence next to him and glanced to the side to see Hayden stretching near him. "You good, Hollander?" he asked, and Shane noticed that Hayden's eyes were not on him despite the question being posed to him. Hayden's eyes were- well, looking toward the congregation of Bears players across the ice.

"Hayden, I'm fine." Shane stressed, "I mean it." He emphasized.

They hadn't talked about it. Shane guessed Hayden had decided to afford him the small mercy of not bringing it up until Shane was ready. Shane wasn't sure he'd ever be ready though. But he knew he'd have to face things sooner rather than later because all too soon, he was skating out to center ice to line up for the faceoff.

He skated up to Rozanov, and his stomach was doing weird things. This was weird.

Normally, Rozanov would have texted him before the game. Normally, they'd already have a plan set in place to meet after. Normally, they would exchange brief looks during warmups. And suddenly, Shane was face to face with Ilya Rozanov for the first time in a month, and he had absolutely no idea what to say.

Nothing had really changed about Rozanov, except maybe his hair was just the slightest bit longer which Shane hated that he noticed. And Shane kind of thought he could see dark circles underneath his eyes as if he hadn't slept well. As they leaned down to face each other and the ref skated up, Shane braced himself, mustered up all his courage and then as evenly as he possibly could acknowledged the man before him, "Rozanov."

He wasn't prepared.

He'd heard it so many times, but he still wasn't prepared for the low, gravelly way Rozanov's voice sounded, his Russian accent thick as he replied, "Hollander."

The puck dropped. Shane won the faceoff, barely.

The game was fast paced, even more so than normal. Shane and the Voyageurs, rejuvenated from their team bonding night were clicking in a way they hadn't in a long time. And Shane? He was moving so fast he was practically flying across the ice. Nobody from the Bears could keep up with him when he intercepted a pass meant for Marlow and took off down the ice with a purpose.

He baited the Bears goalie as if he were about to take a straight on slapshot before nudging the puck with his stick toward his backhand. The swish the puck made as it landed in the back of the net was without a doubt one of Shane's favorite sounds. That would show Rob and Joe from the MontreAll the Updates podcast what was up.

His enthusiasm didn't last long though when Rozanov scored a goal less than five minutes later. Shane groaned as he saw the big screen cameras pan to Rose Landry who turned to flash the Rozanov on the back of her jersey.

He skated to center ice to take the faceoff. "Your fans are not happy I scored." Rozanov commented in his normal cocky way, and Shane hated that that was the first real thing he'd said to him in a month, but he refused to let Rozanov get under his skin.

"Yeah well your girlfriend won't be happy when you lose." He replied as nonchalantly as he could, and it seemed to have worked because Ilya looked at him with a mixture of shock and protest as if he were about to say something else, but the puck dropped. And Shane won.

The game was a nail biter. An epic thriller, back and forth. Montreal would score, Boston would score, and so on. The fans who had paid to come see them tonight were definitely getting their money's worth.

Shane kind of hated that after the game, the media would run yet another story about how well Ilya Rozanov played when his girlfriend was in attendance. Montreal and Boston were tied 4-4, and Rozanov had scored three of their goals. Shane had only score two of Montreal's goals, but he had assisted the other two to that had been scored.

There was 4 minutes left in the third period, and as well as they had played tonight, Shane really didn't want the game to run to overtime. Rozanov had just scored is third goal for Boston to tie it up and he met Shane in the middle for what could be the final faceoff of the night. Rozanov had not won a faceoff against Shane yet tonight, and Shane had no intentions of making this one any different.

He made eye contact with Rozanov as they bent down ready for the puck to drop. Rozanov's eyes looked contemplative, as if he were debating whether to say something or not. "Last time we were this close you ran away from me." Rozanov said quietly, so quietly that Shane almost didn't hear him. And there was something in his voice that Shane couldn't quite place, and he was still trying to figure it out when the puck dropped and Rozanov skated away with it easily.

In fact, he almost felt glued to the spot until he heard the booing from the crowd as Rozanov raced down the ice, the Bears falling into a formation around him as they moved into their offensive territory. Shane skated after the puck almost half-heartedly as it was passed between the teammates. Boston, it seemed, was in total control and- fuck, were they so cocky that they were trying to kill time off the clock?

Shane's head was racing, trying to figure out exactly what Rozanov had meant and what emotion had been in his voice. He knew his real world processing of what was going on around him was slow which was one of the worst things to be in hockey, and so it took him a second to notice Marlow passing the puck back to Rozanov, and Hayden horrifyingly checking Rozanov into the board.

It was a slightly dirty hit, even Shane could admit that, but Hayden was smaller than Rozanov and it didn't seem to have hurt him even if the ref whistled. It looked like Hayden was saying something to Rozanov as he pressed him against the boards which also made Shane flush with embarrassment and horror wondering what Hayden could possibly be saying.

And shockingly, it seemed like both men had forgotten about the puck and what they were doing as the ref announced a penalty against Montreal of 2 minutes that Hayden would have to serve in the box. Rozanov shoved Hayden off of him and shouted something back at him that Shane couldn't hear from the distance. Hayden seemed to yell back at him and would've skated up to shove him, but JJ arrived just in time to intercept. Boston was already about to be on a power play and they couldn't risk jeopardizing their position any more, especially when there was so little time left in the game.

Distantly, Shane was aware of Marlow skating up to Rozanov to check on him with a menacing look thrown toward Hayden and JJ as play reset and the countdown of Boston's power play began. Shane shook his head, he really needed to get back in the game.

With a clarity he hadn't felt all season, he weaved between Boston players. He studied their schemes on tape all the time, and he had almost as good a feel for how they played as for how his own team did. So when he noticed one of Marlow's classic fake out shots, it was all too easy to steal the puck right out from under him and quickly get it off toward JJ.

Shane flew down the ice, he wasn't sure if he had ever skated so fast in his life. He felt the pass from JJ coming without even having to look for it, and he so missed this feeling. He hadn't realized how much the team really had needed that bonding, and how it had gotten them back into a flow. He took the shot. It went in.

MontreAll The Updates could suck a fat one. Shane Hollander had just scored on a Boston power play.

The Bears did not score another goal that night and so Montreal won the game 5-4 with three goals each from Hollander and Rozanov. Shane found himself almost kind of wishing for another one of those articles talking about how the two rivals pushed each other to play their best hockey.

The locker room was buzzing in a way it hadn't in months. Shane barely got his gear off before JJ was lifting him onto his shoulders. Everyone was celebrating except Hayden who looked a little bit sheepish.

"Sorry I kind of almost screwed us there," Hayden said to Shane when JJ finally put him down.

"It's fine because we won... but don't do it again" Shane said with a light punch to Hayden's shoulder at the end to let him know he wasn't mad, "Umm, what was up with uh, Rozanov?"

Hayden's jaw tightened and his eyes went dark. "Don't fucking worry about it, dude." He said in a low voice that Shane had never heard him use before.

Shane was about to press for more info when his coach grabbed him and sent him for media.

Shane ran his hands through his hair a couple of times to try and fix the sweaty mess as he walked toward the media room. He tried not to be nervous about the fact that the Bears were probably in media at the moment and-

The door opened and Ilya Rozanov walked out. Their eyes met almost instantly. Shane had not gotten the opportunity to shake his hand after the game because Rozanov- like the asshole he was, had skated off the ice before shaking his hand. But now, in the narrow hallway in which they could not fit past each other without turning to the side, Rozanov could not ignore him.

Shane held his hand out and said "Good game."

He watched Rozanov glance down at the hand, and then at Shane, and then back at his hand. For a second, he thought Rozanov was not going to take it, but then he did. Shane's knees almost buckled. Electrifying sparks shot through his hand in the places where it made contact with Rozanov's and they shot down his elbow. He glanced up from their hands to Rozanov's eyes almost in shock.

But Rozanov was not looking at him in the mischievous, cocky way he normally looked at Shane, like the two of them had a secret between them that was so big and so scandalous that nobody else knew. A secret that was all theirs. No, Rozanov was not looking at him like that at the moment. His jaw was tight, his eyes were cold and hard, and Shane instantly thought he had been stupid to expect anything else. Of course Rozanov was looking at him differently, he was dating Rose fucking Landry.

Rozanov broke eye contact quickly and dropped Shane's hand, turning his body to the side and quickly moving past him. He didn't say a word.

And for some reason, a reason Shane was all too aware of, something in him felt incomplete. It felt like the thousand tiny little shards of glass were back, except this time they were worse. Because the universe was cruel sometimes, and here it was dangling Rozanov in front of Shane so carelessly. Shane let out a small laugh. He had to laugh so he wouldn't cry. Because he had to walk into that media room. He had to walk in there and put on a brave face and probably answer a million different questions about Rozanov.

He had to answer those questions and not focus on the fact that he knew Rozanov in a way none of them ever had, or ever would. He knew him in a way he probably never would again because unlike Shane, Ilya was not gay, and he was dating one of the world's largest celebrities who had been at the game tonight wearing a jersey with his last name on the back of it.

Shane closed his eyes and let himself have one moment of longing. One moment of longing and pretending that everything was back to how it had been. That after he finished media, he would drive to his condo- the secret one- and meet Rozanov there. For one moment, he let himself think of what it might be like to wear a number 81 Rozanov jersey.

He opened his eyes, back in reality, and pushed all of that into the back of his mind. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

Chapter 9

Chapter Notes

bit of a longer one, but uhh i'm sorry in advance xx

They were tied. 

Ilya's limbs were burning white hot from how hard he'd been pushing to keep up with Hollander all night. Hollander was playing fucking insane hockey, and as much as Ilya was hurting, there was no way he was getting off the ice and maybe letting the Voyageurs score again. 

He had just scored another goal despite Montreal's best efforts, and he took a second to gloat, skating around the rink before returning to center ice to faceoff against Hollander for what could be the final time tonight.

At their last faceoff, Hollander had said 'Yeah well your girlfriend won't be happy when you lose,' and Ilya had wanted to scream at him and call him a fucking idiot because how could he think that Ilya was actually dating Rose Landry? How could he think that Ilya could move on so quickly? Especially after Ilya had asked him to stay the night, and Shane had been the one to leave Ilya. Ilya wondered if Shane Hollander really thought that little of him.

There were so many things Ilya wanted to say when they leaned down to face off each other. Among those being 'I'm fucking doing this for you, you asshole', 'It's not real', 'You are playing so well tonight, is turning me on', but most of all, 'I miss you'.

But Ilya kind of a coward, and obviously and asshole, so instead he said 'Last time we were this close you ran away from me.'

He was definitely an asshole, but an observant one, and he didn't miss the way that Hollander's face fell. And when he won the faceoff, he hadn't really felt like he'd won at all.

Ilya had never felt bad about a chirp before, that was like his whole thing- getting under people's skin. Normally, he reveled in it.

But as his teammates around him fell into position, the beginning of a play they'd been preparing for the past couple weeks to use against Montreal, Ilya didn't really feel all too much like winning. They were skating around, effortlessly passing the puck between each other whenever a Montreal defender got too close, and Ilya couldn't help but notice Hollander skating around in a daze.

Fuck.

Had he done that?

He was still focused on Hollander, and maybe that was why he didn't see it coming when he accepted a flawless pass from Marlow almost like an extension of himself and was suddenly crushed against the boards from behind. He managed to half spin around, and there was Pike with dagger eyes staring at Ilya as he shoved him.

"Don't fucking talk to him again. Ever." The words were spoken dangerously soft so nobody else could hear them, so soft that Ilya barely heard them. A white hot fear ran through him as he looked alarmingly into Pike's eyes. He knew? He couldn't possibly know because Ilya knew for a fact that Hollander would never tell him.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Ilya replied, shoving Pike off of him.

Time slowed down as he heard Pike's reply, "You fucking know what I'm talking about, Lily."

Ilya could kill him. And he would do it right then, no matter what the consequences would be for him, in that moment he would do anything to protect Shane. Fuck, he was already dating a fucking movie star to protect him, having his entire past and life choices scrutinized by all of the media outlets who adored Rose and hated her new bad boy partner.

He was in the process of dropping his gloves as Hayden skated closer to him when all of the sudden, JJ Boiziau was in between them with a hand on Pike's chest pushing him backward, and Marlow was there menacingly pushing Ilya behind him.

"Do that again, and you're fucking dead, Pike" Marlow spat as if the last name disgusted him. Ilya put his hand on Marlow's arm and pulled him back as Boiziau escorted Pike into the penalty box.

"Is fine, Marlow. I'm okay. Let's focus on the power play."

They lost the game, and Ilya wasn't even mad about it. Watching Hollander intercept Marlow and take off with the puck, racing so fast that Ilya couldn't catch him even though he was embarrassed to say he'd tried, was incredible. There were so many things Ilya wanted to say to him, but as the game ended, he felt Pike's hard glare on his back. 

And it wasn't that Ilya was scared of Pike because he was smaller than Ilya and nowhere near as good at hockey, but he was also Hollander's best friend. And after a month of not talking to each other, he was certain that Pike knew something he didn't. Maybe Hollander hated him. Maybe Hollander had come clean about the thing between them, whatever it had been to him. Maybe him and Pike laughed about Ilya.

Maybe they would go to the locker room and laugh about the embarrassing way Ilya was sure he'd stared when Hollander had scored that last goal. Or maybe... maybe Hollander had told Pike that he never wanted to talk to him again.

The thought of Hollander hating him was unbearable. He was mad at himself- no, pissed. Why had he called him Shane? Why had he asked him to stay? Why couldn't he have just been satisfied with what they had.

More, more, more.

He always wanted more when he was around Shane. And that wanting more was exactly what had lost him Shane. He skated off to the locker room without shaking anybody's hand, and he was sure they would run a story about how much of a sore loser, and an asshole, he was for that.

He nodded grimly at the reporters as he stood up, finishing the mandatory post game media. It was after losses like this where he was glad that he had pretended to the press since he was drafted that he didn't speak English as well as he actually did. Sometimes, there truly were times where he wouldn't understand specific words, but for the most part, Ilya's English was pretty fucking good. But pretending it wasn't gave him the ability to answer stupid press questions with stupid one word answers.

'Ilya, with a plethora of expectations placed upon you as the Bears longtime captain. How does it feel to go into battle with Shane Hollander, playoff spot in contention and fall short?' 

He hated questions like this. What did they expect him to say?

'Wonderful.' He had replied flatly and a couple chuckles had broken out across the room. 'Next question.'

The next question hadn't been any better.

'Rozanov, it's a story I know you've heard time and time again. Every time Montreal and Boston meet, it's like the clash of the golden boy and the bad boy. Tonight you almost got into a fight with the golden boy's right hand man and then walked off the ice without shaking anyone's hand. Can you speak on that interaction with Hayden Pike and why you walked off the ice early?'

'No comment.' Rozanov had said with a wink because he knew it's what they'd all expected from him.

As he opened the door and stepped out to walk back to the visiting team locker room, he was suddenly face to face with Hollander. He could see a few emotions pass through Hollander's brilliantly readable eyes quickly. First, surprise. Then, confusion. Then, annoyance. Then... Ilya wasn't sure.

He looked good. A little bit sweat still, his flushed cheeks emphasizing the presence of those stupid fucking freckles that Ilya hated.

'Don't fucking talk to him again.'

Ilya clenched his jaw as he remembered Pike's words, and braced himself to walk straight past. He was stopped by Hollander's outstretched hand. 

"Good game." He heard. The voice so neutral, it refused to give anything away. He glanced at Hollander, and then down at his hand, and then back at Hollander. and God, Ilya really didn't want to take it. He didn't want to touch him, didn't want to feel Hollander's skin on his when he knew he wouldn't be able to touch him the way he really wanted to.

But he took his hand and shook it anyway, because Ilya was sure that Hollander had been meaning to do this on the ice, and even if there weren't cameras to capture the moment, Ilya would not deny Hollander this part of his routine. He would listen to Pike, he would not say anything, but he would not- could not- be so much of an asshole that Hollander would think he didn't care.

So Ilya shook his hand, and walked away quickly before Hollander could see how bad this was hurting him.

He walked into the visiting locker room angry. It wasn't fucking fair. None of this was fair.

"Good game tonight, Captain. It was not your fault." He heard Marlow say as he furiously began packing his stuff.

"Shut up, Marlow." Ilya snapped as he began shoving stuff in. Tonight was not a night to be patient and fold things.

"Hey," Marlow said softly, too gentle even though Ilya had just yelled at him, and for some reason that made Ilya more angry. "What's going on, Roz?"

"Fuck!" Ilya shouted, "We just lost fucking game! That is what is going on." 

He threw his helmet at the wall on the other side of the room. He knew he was making a scene, and the rookies were looking at him with wide eyes. He zipped his bag up and hoisted it over his shoulder. "We play like fucking shit," Ilya knew that wasn't true, they'd kept up with Montreal all game and just barely lost by one goal from the best hockey player in the league. "We are fucking embarrassment to Boston."

He slid his feet into his shoes, not bother to tie them as he stormed to the door of the locker room. He knew he was being unfair. He knew he was being an absolute grade A asshole, but he just couldn't help it. All he wanted was to text the one person he could not text, see the one person he could not see, but instead he was contractually obligated for an appearance at some downtown Montreal restaurant with Rose.

He left his helmet laying on the ground on the opposite side of the locker room as he stormed out, he was sure one of his teammates would grab it- probably Marlow, because even when Ilya was an asshole, Marlow never seemed to hold it against him. 

In fact, he could hear faintly hear Marlow telling the rest of the team that of course Rozy hadn't meant what he'd said, tensions were just running high after a rivalry game, and reassuring one of the rookies that Rozanov was not mad at them.

He felt the corners of his eyes prick with tears that he immediately blinked away as he took a deep breath. The night was not over yet.

"I'm sorry about the game tonight, Ilya. It really could have gone either way." Rose comforted softly as she strategically placed her hand on his. They were walking into some Italian restaurant in downtown Montreal, and Ilya was vaguely aware of the camera flashes that went off. He tried his best to smile at Rose, but he was sure it came off as more of a grimace.

Once they were inside and in private, she dropped her hand. Ilya guessed she had rented out the restaurant because there were no other customers in sight, and he knew that was the type of thing you could do when you were Rose Landry. They sat down across from each other at a table in the center of the restaurant, and Ilya immediately asked the waiter to bring him two glasses of whatever their top shelf vodka was.

"So," Rose said brightly, clapping her hands together as if she were trying to lighten the mood. "Hat trick tonight, that was awesome! Keeps you as the top scoring leader for the season."

Ilya tilted his head in acknowledgement as he accepted both glasses from the waiter and immediately took a sip of one. He let Rose talk his ear off for a few minutes about a new project she'd been talking with a director about. He ordered the first thing he saw off the menu when the waiter came by, and spent most of the time staring off to the side at nothing in particular and thinking about how fucked everything was right now.

"So Ilya, umm Svetlana and I were thinking of coming for the Allstar game since it's in Tampa and you and Marlow will both be there. It could be fun?" Rose suggested.

"I have not made Allstar game yet. Neither has Marlow." Ilya replied flatly, and he knew it wasn't the reaction Rose was hoping for when her face slightly fell.

"Right, but you both definitely will. I mean, you're both on fire this year." She said, recovering quickly.

"Sure, maybe." Ilya said shortly. His mind flashed back to the first face off earlier that night, and the way Hollander had said 'Rozanov'. 

"Svetlana and I were also thinking a trip this summer after the season ends, maybe Italy?" Rose asked cheerfully.

"Okay." 

Rose sighed exasperatedly, "Ilya, I feel like you're not even really paying attention."

"Well, you are being boring, so." He knew it was the wrong thing to say. He said it to be an asshole. He said it because he was pissed off, an everybody already thought he was an asshole anyway, especially Hayden fucking Pike and Shane fucking Hollander so might as well prove them all right.

"Don't be a dick, Ilya." Rose replied, her nose scrunched up in frustration.

Ilya was angry, and he knew he shouldn't take it out on Rose because she had done nothing wrong, but that didn't stop him from saying, "I'm not actually your fucking boyfriend Rose. We did the fucking pictures, we don't have to talk now."

He could see the hurt on her face immediately. "I know that, Ilya." He saw her inhale a deep breath as she stood up. "Look, I get that you're angry about losing, and honestly I think this is about way more than just the loss. You have a right to feel however you feel, and I know this PR relationship wasn't your choice, but don't take that out on me."

Rose rarely ever acknowledged the reason that Ilya was doing this fake relationship with her. He still wasn't entirely sure just how much she knew. He was sure she had to have known there was some benefit he was getting out of it. 

She had told him the night they met that she was starring in a biopic about Sonja Henie, one of the most famous female figure skaters ever, that would be announced later that year, and her team thought dating a hockey player was a great way to increase engagement from a new market. However, they never talked about what he was getting out of their arrangement.

"Look you're my friend, one of the only real ones I have. Let me know when you're ready to start fucking acting like it." Rose said softly before she walked out of the restaurant.

Ilya was sure there would be articles the next day about their relationship being on the rocks. He was sure their agents would yell at them, and they would be trotted out for another pap walk in a few days to ease the rumors, but he didn't really care.

He would text Rose and apologize the next morning.

But for tonight, he wanted to wallow in his misery. He was an asshole and everybody knew it. That had been the story since before he was even drafted.

Shane Hollander, Canada's golden boy.

Ilya Rozanov, Russia's rough around the edges playboy star. Which was a more appropriate way of basically saying asshole.

He had fucked things up with Hollander. He was an awful captain, and he was sure his team would be walking on eggshells around him in the next few days. And he couldn't even push aside his problems for an hour to be pleasant to Rose, who had never been anything but kind to him.

Hayden was right, he shouldn't fucking talk to Shane Hollander. He didn't deserve him, he didn't want to corrupt him anymore than he already had. Not that Hollander even wanted to talk to him because, right-

Hollander had walked out on him. He had probably finally seen what everyone else saw. He had finally seen what Ilya had known he eventually would. Ilya was an asshole, and Shane Hollander was way too good for him.

Chapter End Notes

i'll try to have another out for you guys sometime tonight. i love marlow he is so precious to me.

Chapter 10

Chapter Notes

'Rose Landry Spotted Storming Out of Downtown Montreal Restaurant'
'Is Rozandry On the Rocks?'
'Superstar Rose Landry and MLH Ilya Rozanov Spending Christmas Apart?'
'Is this it for Rose Landry and Her Hockey Player Boyfriend?'

Shane definitely hadn't been actively keeping up with all of the gossip site articles that had been coming out all of their five day hockey break for Christmas about the potential Rose Landry and Ilya Rozanov split. It wasn't his fault that the first time he'd opened Instagram in months to repost a Montreal Voyageur's post about him making it to number 5 on their all time point scorer list, a post about it had popped up on his timeline.

He relaxed onto the couch at his parents cottage. He was spending the holidays with them home in Ottawa. He opened his phone and something in him navigated to Lily's contact. He typed something simple.

'Happy holidays'

He deleted it. Too weird, even if they had broken up.

Of course, there was a part of him that wanted to ask if it was true, if him and Rose Landry truly had split. His question was answered on Christmas Eve when photos dropped of the two of them holding hands walking past a Tiffany & Co in Boston. Shane turned his phone all the way off after he saw that.

He was sitting at the dinner table with his parents. They were eating something that Shane was pretty sure they were only eating because they loved him, and Shane really should have been more appreciative, but he had been pretty silent ever since he saw those pictures.

The headline had been even worse. Some people were speculating a proposal on New Year's Eve.

He pushed a piece of broccoli around on his plate. His parents filled the room with meaningless chatter. They had gotten pretty good at reading him over the years, and he was thankful they weren't forcing him to talk when he clearly didn't want to.

"So Shane, I ran into a friend from college at the grocery store the other day, and she has a daughter around your age. A real nice girl. I was thinking maybe I could give you her number and the two of you could plan something some time," his mom suggested. Okay, maybe his parents had room for improvement when it came to reading him.

"No thanks mom, I'm really busy with hockey and... stuff." Shane replied with a tight smile. He knew his mom just wanted him to be happy, that was all she ever wanted, and he didn't know how to tell her that something like that wouldn't make him happy. That he couldn't be happy with... a girl.

A small part of him objected that maybe he couldn't even be happy with a man unless it was-

"Shane, you know I just want you to be h-"

"I know mom! And I am!" He interrupted, his fork clattering loudly against his plate as he dropped it. He hadn't meant to yell. "I'm sorry, I am happy. I'm just really focused on hockey and everything. I'm a free agent at the end of the season, playing for an extension and all." He waved his hand in the air in some kind of gesture, looking down at his plate. He was too embarrassed at his outburst to look his parents in the eyes right now.

"Shane, your mother and I just worry about you sometimes." His dad interjected. He managed a glance up. His parents were sitting before him with concerned looks on their faces. Concerned, but soft. He saw the love shining in their eyes, and for a moment he was tempted to just tell them.

He was tempted to just tell them why it wouldn't work out with any of his mom's college friend's daughters.

"I know, I'm sorry. But I really am happy. I have Jackie and Hayden, and the rest of the Voyageur guys." Shane assured, and he was pretty sure the smile he was giving them was more of a wince by the way their expressions hardly changed. It really wasn't a lie, Shane was pretty happy for the most part.

How could he not be?

He was getting paid a stupid amount of money to play the game he'd loved since he was a kid, and he was really fucking good at it too. When they had a stretch of home games, he usually joined the Pike's for family dinners and movie nights. He was so lucky that he played only two hours from where his parents lived and they made the drive for every home game, and they were present every time Montreal played Ottawa too.

He was the captain of a team that had won the Stanley cup two years ago, and he'd been named Most Valuable Player in the league. What could he possibly be upset about?

Sure he had a ton of pressure placed on him by the fans, the coaching staff, his teammates, and himself to win another cup. He had the almost crushing weight of representing a whole demographic of people who weren't normally seen in the sport at such a high level. He had his golden reputation to live up to that made it nearly impossible to ever react to a chirp or let anything get under his skin. He'd been fucking his archrival for the past nearly eight years which caused an insane amount of paranoia that had literally led to him purchasing a secret fuck condo. And that same archrival had also kind of made him realize that he was the thing kids used to call you as an insult in the locker room growing up playing hockey.

And he was already 'a pioneer' for Asian players in hockey, he surely didn't want to be the first gay hockey player too.

He felt his dad's hand on his shoulders and heard his mom telling him to breathe before he'd even processed anything was wrong. It was as he finally began to breathe again that he noticed his dad had moved from his seat across the table and was now comforting him while his mom had gone to the kitchen to refill his glass of water.

He hated himself when his eyes began to well up with tears as his parents crouched on either side of him, his dad rubbing soothing circles on his back as his mom held the water glass up to his lips for him to drink. He hated the tear that rolled down his cheek as he gulped down the cool liquid. Something about the iciness of the water helped him center himself and he was able to take a breath and unclench the fists that he hadn't even realized had closed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, looking from side to side between his parents as they wrapped him in a group hug like they used to do when he was four and would cry after any time he fell on the ice.

"Don't be sorry for showing your emotions, honey" his mom soothed as she cradled his head.

"Never sorry for that," his dad added in a quiet emphasis as he patted him on the back.

"It's just a lot sometimes." Shane quietly said as he let his parents hold him. 

They stayed like that for a couple minutes before Shane leaned forward and they released him. Yuna and David circled the table to sit back in their chairs and finish the meal.

"Thanks for umm, you know" Shane didn't finish the sentence, and he didn't have to. Because he knew his parents knew what he meant.

January 2017

A couple days had passed since New Years and there hadn't been any new articles coming out about an engagement. Shane hated that he noticed that, and he hated that in some sort of twisted way, it made him happy. Obviously him and Rozanov weren't anything anymore since they hadn't texted in a month and a half, and Rozanov had barely spoken to him at their last game. And deep down, Shane knew they could never be anything, which was the whole reason he had run out of Rozanov's house in the first place. Because things had gotten a bit too real and the lines had gotten a bit too blurry.

Shane and his parents sat in their cozy living room with healthy snacks and ginger ales and the tv tuned into the MLH Allstar game selection show. They went through team by team, selecting which player had been chosen. Obviously, Shane had been selected from Montreal, and Hollander had been selected from Boston. There were a couple other givens like Scott Hunter from New York, and unfortunately, that asshole Dallas Kent from Colorado. After they finished that, they went straight into the fan selections where Shane was hoping he would get at least one other Voyageur player so he wouldn't be alone on Allstar weekend.

Last year, JJ had been selected alongside Shane, but this year, Shane was hoping it would be Hayden. He'd been on a hot streak the past few weeks and was second behind Shane in Montreal's point scoring leaderboard but first in assists.

Shane bit his lip nervously when he saw that Marlow had been selected, though it wasn't much of a shock, but he nearly fell off the couch with joy when the last fan selection was announced and none other than Hayden Pike's picture popped up on the screen.

He immediately texted him.

'Congrats dude!'

And the reply 'Thanks Holzy' came almost instantly. He was busy checking the Voyageurs group chat and reading all of the congratulatory messages for him and Hayden while occasionally listening in to the commentators assessment of the selection and making preliminary guesses for whether Team North America or Team Europe would win. They'd been doing those sort of gimmicky divisions ever since Shane had entered the league and part of him suspected it was to amplify his rivalry with Rozanov.

'Wait a second, Jim.' Shane suddenly heard. 'These numbers don't line up.'

'What do you mean Christina?'

'There's no way the Allstar game would be so lopsided right? I mean, Team Europe has seven less players selected this year than Team North America-'

'Well let's bring in MLH commissioner Roger Crowell to clear things up.'

Shane's attention snapped up to the tv screen as the MLH commissioner appeared on the screen in a Zoom next to the announcers.

"Very astute observation Christina that the selection looks a little different this year." Crowell said with a wink, "That is because we will be reverting back to our old Allstar game system and playing conference versus conference."

Shane's heart nearly stopped. Conference versus conference. That meant for the first time in their careers, him and Rozanov would be playing on the same team at the Allstar game. What great fucking timing.

It seemed that was the first thing to cross the announcers minds as they thanked Crowell for making the time to join him and immediately began discussing implications for the game. It seemed his mom had thoughts about it too.

"This is absolutely insane!" She breathed, her voice filled with glee as she nearly clapped her hands together in excitement. "The Eastern conference is going to sweep."

His dad, always the more subdued one, seemed almost equally thrilled as he mused, "I wonder if we'll see Shane on a line with Hunter and Rozanov for the power play."

His mom's eyes lit up as if she were just now considering the fact. "They're fucking crazy for putting the three of you altogether."

"Mom!" Shane exclaimed in surprise. It was rare that he ever heard his mom curse unless she was actively watching a hockey game.

"What? I'm right. You're the three best players in the league!" She laughed with a shrug.

His mom and his dad continued to discuss all of the possibilities of the game while the announcers on television immediately jumped into a story with the chyron switching from 'MLH Allstar Game Selection' to 'Hollander and Rozanov Finally On the Same Team? Magic In the Making or Disaster Waiting to Happen?'

as Shane finally began to full process that Eastern conference vs Western conference meant him and Rozanov on the same fucking team. Him and Rozanov playing together, working in tandem, hanging out at the team dinners where Rozanov would probably bring Rose Landry- he was going to be sick. A year ago he might've been excited for this to happen, but all he could think now was that he was so completely and utterly fucked.

Chapter End Notes

... and not in the way he wanted to be ;)

you'll have to pry the italics from my cold dead hands.

shane hollander, i love you so much

hope you all enjoyed xoxo

Chapter 11

Chapter Notes

Ilya had called Rose a week later after he'd calmed down and stopped spiraling about everything the media had been saying about him.

"I'm sorry." He had said.

"I know." She had replied easily, as if she understood the difficulty of admitting fault and didn't feel the need to draw it out. They had gone on to talk about the project Rose was currently in the third audition for, the crazy goal Ilya had scored in his last game, the irony of all the articles speculating they had broken up when they weren't even really together, and plans for what they would do in Tampa during the Allstar game.

On their most recent pap walk down a random street in Boston on their way to dinner where Svetlana and Marlow were already waiting for them back in the private dining room, neither of them had even realized what they were walking past. And Marlow had nearly choked on his water when the news article popped up on his phone.

"Holy shit Roz, when's the proposal?" He had asked once he'd finally stopped coughing and had calmed down enough to speak again.

"What the fuck are you on about Marly?" Ilya had asked.

Marlow flipped his phone around to show Ilya who groaned in annoyance, grabbing the phone to read the content of the article.

"Total bullshit," he sighed before passing the phone to Svetlana and Rose who started cackling with laughter.

"I'm almost embarrassed they think things are that serious after a month," Rose managed between her giggles.

"Well," Svetlana spoke, as she began quoting the article, "The two seem to have been caught up in a whirlwind romance, and it's only fitting they start the New Year engaged."

The two of them had laughed even harder at that. Ilya rolled his eyes.

Marlow clapped his hand very seriously down on Ilya's shoulder. "I better be the best man, Rozy."

"Fuck off." Ilya muttered.

It was no surprise in January when the Allstar game selection was announced that Ilya had made it, but he was elated to see Marlow had also been voted in. His mood was immediately ruined when Pike was the last candidate announced.

"Fucking bullshit." He had muttered under this breath and flipped the channel to ESPN2 where of course the Shane Hollander cottage documentary was playing. And even though he'd already watched it at least three times, Ilya let it play all the way through like he did every time he randomly stumbled upon it. He thought about texting Jane but then Pike's stupid face and his stupid words flashed into Ilya's mind again and he shut that thought down.

He didn't even really know why he was listening to Montreal's 15th best player anyway. It was extremely out of character for him, and honestly Ilya considered maybe he should talk to Hollander just to fuck with Pike. But he always dismissed that thought because the one thing Ilya knew he had in common with Pike was that they both cared about Hollander. And Ilya guessed, if Pike was telling him not to talk to him, regardless of what or how much he knew, Ilya would begrudgingly listen.

There had apparently been some kind of big snow in Vancouver that prevented them from being able to fly into Boston for their next game, so it was cancelled. This left Ilya with an unprecedented amount of free time as the Bears now had four days off until their next game which was conveniently in Boston.

Svetlana was out on a business trip, and he knew Rose was very busy with 16 hours shooting days for the next week finishing up her latest project, which just left him and Marlow.

He invited Marlow to his house, warning him not to bring any of his bullshit American alcohol because Ilya had plenty of the good stuff. Marlow greeted him with big bear hug which of course Ilya pretended to hate.

"How are you doing Roz?" Marlow asked as he shrugged off his coat and hung it up on Ilya's coat rack.

"Better now that you are not assaulting me any longer." Ilya grumbled as he followed Marlow who was making a bee line straight for the liquor cabinet. Marlow made himself right at home every time he visited Ilya's house, and Ilya had to suppress a smile at that.

"Oh fuck off Rozy, you know you love me." Marlow replied, humming in excitement as he grabbed Ilya's favorite Russian vodka from the cabinet and two lowball glasses. He handed one to Ilya.

"Mmm, maybe but only sometimes." Ilya replied, plopping down on his couch.

Marlow stole the remote from him and started flipping through the channels, immediately settling on some random Christmas romance movie. "So, did you see the Allstar game selection?" Marlow asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Yes. Not sure why they voted you with your terrible passing." Ilya replied, hiding his smile as a pillow hit him in the face. "Hey! You cannot throw my own pillow at me!"

"Don't be a dick then!" Marlow retorted, throwing yep, another pillow, at him.

Ilya set his glass down on the coffee table before chucking the two pillows back at Marlow. "You are an asshole, Cliff Marlow." 

"Learned from the best." Marlow said with a wink.

When the two of them finally settled down, Marlow put on an animated display imitating the thinking man before he asked, "So who's gonna center who?"

Ilya knew that he was, of course, referring to who would center between him and Hollander, but he chose to play dumb. He also ignored the fact that the phrasing of the question sounded oddly sexual. "I have been Boston center since I was rookie." He said shrugging nonchalantly, "Unless you know of some big plan for that to change?"

"You played right wing a bit back in Russia, right?" Marlow pondered, ignoring Ilya's exasperated grunt. "I don't think Hollander has ever played anything else, wouldn't want to break his perfect little routine."

Ilya feigned annoyance, "So you mean to move me to right wing so Hollander can center?" He rolled his eyes, "Some fucking teammate you are, Marly."

"Hey, Roz, you know I think you're the better center a thousand times over. And we have enough wingers to have multiple lines anyway, but you have to admit... you and Hollander on a line together would be pretty sick." Ilya knew Marlow was waiting for his response, waiting for his agreement, but he would not give it to him.

It was something he had been thinking about since the alignment for the game had been announced. It was something he had been thinking about for a very long time. Just two months ago he would've immediately jumped at the chance to switch to wing to play with Hollander as his center. But now? He wasn't sure if he could handle that.

"Mmm I think we are not drunk enough for a night off." Ilya said in reply as he walked over to his liquor cabinet to find something a little less expensive for them to take shots of.

The two boys went shot for shot which was of course a terrible idea. A bulky Russian who had been drinking since he was twelve years old was a worthy opponent, but so was an even bulkier former frat bro. They had originally been considering going out, but that possibility had been thrown out the window when the two of them were so drunk they were falling all over Ilya's living room and giggling.

They facetimed Rose and Svetlana who took probably a thousand facetime photos of the two of them, but they couldn't bring themselves to care. Rose couldn't stay long but asked Svetlana to text her updates if anything interesting happened.

"You guys are so fucked up. How did this even happen?" She asked them through laughter that had almost brought her to tears.

"Ask him," Marlow groaned, pointing in a random direction that Ilya guessed was supposed to be at him.

"Marlow thinks he can keep up with drinking Russian." Ilya said shrugging, "Marlow thinks wrong."

"Oh you have no room to talk, Ilya. You are just as fucked up." Svetlana scolded, "You two need to drink some water and order some food."

They talked for a little bit longer before she hung up on them with a text direction to order some food that Ilya was kind of ashamed he had to ask the phone to read out to him since his vision was blurry.

While they waited for the food, Marlow suggested they play a game of truth or dare. Ilya went first and picked dare, of course. Marlow dared him to let him post something random on Ilya's Instagram story, and that was the reason that Ilya now had a reposted 'my spirit animal is' with an image of Rainbow Dash on a sparkly background from my little pony picture on his story.

Marlow picking dare also explained the reason why their Boston Bears groupchat was now blowing up in response to an especially spicy photo from Marlow's Calvin Klein photoshoot  from last year that Ilya had sent from Marlow's phone with no context.

'jesus give a warning next time'

'hot'

'smash'

'christ marly'

'raw, next question'

The two of them fell into a fit of laughter after listening to the neutral voice of the phone lady reading out the messages. After embarrassing each other on social media, in groupchats with their teammates and friends, and challenging each other to physical competitions got boring, the game transformed to more of a truth or truth.

Ilya found himself admitting things he wasn't sure he'd really ever told anyone else. And not deeply personal things about his family, like what had happened to his mom or about what was going on with his father- but personal still in the sense that well, he wouldn't have admitted some of these things sober.

"What is your biggest fear?" Marlow asked.

Ilya paused. It was kind of a loaded question, one that had many possible answers. There were more practical fears like deadly animals, natural disasters, or freak accidents. There were irrational fears like the one Ilya had had of needles since he was a kid. And then there was- "Having to go back to Russia." He hadn't really meant to say it, it had kind of just slipped out before he could stop it. That last shot of vodka had maybe obliterated his filter.

Marlow didn't say anything, he looked at Ilya inquisitively as if he knew he wasn't done.

"Not like in the summers or anything, that is okay. After hockey is done- over. I will have to go back to Russia." Ilya finished.

Marlow was silent for a moment. "You know, you could go for citizenship here, Rozy."

"Maybe." Ilya replied, quiet for a moment. "What is your proudest moment?"

Marlow sat quietly, thinking for a moment. "Losing the college hockey championship" He finally said. "I was never great at school, and I dreamed of playing hockey professionally, you know, but I didn't think I was good enough. For a long time, I went to scouting events every weekend and- nothing. I promised myself if one team took a chance on me, I was going to work so hard and make it worth it for them."

"You led your team in goal scoring senior year, yes?" Ilya asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I did." Marlow said fondly, a smile on his face. "It was our first appearance in 32 years. And we lost, but I couldn't stop smiling the whole time, even when the game ended because... I thought about how excited my high school self would have been to even make it to that point."

The two of them were quiet for a long time, Ilya clapped his hand down on Marlow's shoulder and squeezed.

"Have you ever been in love, Roz?" Marlow asked.

"I- " Ilya paused. He could lie, he could easily lie. Marlow knew his reputation, everyone in Boston knew his reputation. Honestly, it would be way more of a shock if he said yes than if he said no even if he would turn 26 this year. "I think so yes, maybe." He replied softly.

Marlow's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Shit, Roz, really? Why aren't you together?"

Ilya took in a deep breath. This was the moment of truth, or it could be. Cliff Marlow was a bit of an idiot sometimes, but he was also Ilya's best friend, and Ilya did not want to lie anymore. At least not in ways that didn't matter.

So Ilya took another deep breath and then said, "Because he does not want to be."

And suddenly there was a big heavy arm around his shoulder and Ilya was fighting the wetness in the corner of his eyes. He knew Marlow wouldn't care, but it still felt good to have it confirmed. "Well he sounds like a fucking idiot."

Ilya laughed wetly at that, "No, he is sometimes perfect. Smartest guy I know probably." 

Marlow's retort about how he couldn't be that smart if he couldn't see what a beautiful hunk of man Ilya was got caught off by the ringing of the doorbell, and the two of them looked at each other with wide eyes for a split second before racing to the door to get the McDonald's they'd ordered nearly an hour ago.

Ilya woke up in an awkward position half on the couch and half on the floor with a half eaten quarter pounder still in his hand. He groggily glanced to the side and saw Marlow snoring and curled up in a ball on the ottoman, clutching his empty mcflurry cup to his chest. His head was pounding, and yet he felt lighter than he had in a long time now that somebody knew at least the partial truth.

He released his grip on the quarter pounder, setting it on the coffee table, threw one of his throw blankets over Marlow's hulking sleeping form, and trudged to his bed to get some more sleep. He was definitely still drunk, and that was definitely the only reason that he scrolled through his old texts with Jane as he laid down in his bed. He was totally still drunk, and that was exactly why right before he dozed off for the second time he sent-

'you will switch to wing for allstar game?'

Chapter End Notes

time to buckle in babes, we're about to get to the good part (well....)

ANYWAY, love y'all, uh! xoxo

Chapter 12

Chapter Notes

little surprise at the end kind of!

February 2017
Tampa, Florida

'will you switch to wing for allstar game?'
sent at 4:24 am

Shane was staring at the text again. He hadn't responded, obviously. 

He hadn't responded, but he had looked at the text every day in the month since Rozanov had sent it. It was the ultimate mockery, the ultimate 'fuck you', but sometimes Shane liked to imagine it meant something different. He let himself get caught up in the fantasy, almost to the point where he would draft a reply.

Maybe Rozanov thought about Shane as much as Shane thought about him. Maybe Shane hadn't been the only one hurt that day.

And then he would see another one of those damn articles that reminded him that Rose Landry existed. And fuck, Rozanov had to be doing it on purpose, right? Or maybe Rose Landry really was just that famous that she had paparazzi following her around everywhere.

Hayden lifted his head off Shane's shoulder, jostled awake by the bumpy landing of the plane. He blinked his eyes groggily, looking around as if he were trying to remember where he was.

"Hey Hayd," Shane greeted softly.

"Sorry, did I fall asleep on you?" Hayden asked, stretching his arms up above his head.

"It's fine," Shane replied.

They were two of the first to get off the plane and were ushered to the car that would take them to the hotel. They rode in a comfortable silence for once, which Shane was thankful for. Lately, he'd been spending all of his free time at the Pike house where Jackie or Hayden were constantly talking to him about something. They even occasionally left Shane at home with their kids while they went on date nights, but never for very long because they knew how freaked out he got taking care of them alone. Shane had felt a lot like their bonus child lately with the way him and Hayden had even started carpooling to some practices since they were both going to the Pike house for dinner anyway.

They dropped their stuff off in their respective hotel rooms, and then made their way downstairs to the hotel bar where the rest of the team surely was. Considering the theme of the weekend, the MLH had the two teams staying in separate hotels to keep with the competitive spirit.

Before they walked into the hotel bar, Hayden grabbed Shane by the lapels of his coat and pulled him to the side. "Shane," he said seriously, "Remember this is just a stupid weekend, most guys are probably just gonna be fucking around and-"

"Hayden, I know this- I've been to these every year since I was drafted." Shane cut in.

"I know that, Mr. Humble," Hayden laughed slightly, his face immediately turning serious again, "Look- just, I don't want you to like spiral again. You know when we see-"

Shane shoved him. It was completely accidental, a total reflex, and he immediately apologized for it. They still hadn't talked about what Shane was pretty sure Hayden already knew, but that didn't mean he wanted to have the conversation now.

"Chill, dude. I wasn't gonna say it." Hayden said, lifting his hands up with innocence.

Shane fixed him with a knowing look that could maybe also double as a glare. He felt his palms begin to sweat and his heat start to race a little bit as he looked toward the entrance to the bar. He could do this. He was totally ready for whatever was inside that bar.

The first time it happened, Shane thought maybe it was a coincidence.

There were a bunch of small groups of players, those who'd been at these things before, those who hadn't, those who knew each other from college, or were from the same country. Shane hadn't been expecting his eyes to immediately zero in on Rozanov the second he walked in the door, but of course, they did. Rozanov looked relaxed, laughing at the bar and having a beer with Marlow and... Scott Hunter and Carter Vaughn?

Shane certainly hadn't been expecting that with as much as Rozanov bitched about Hunter.

He let Hayden guide him over to a group of guys that welcomed them in easily and promptly decided that there was no way he was getting through the night drinking ginger ale. "I'll go to... the bar and get our drinks." Hayden whispered, squeezing Shane's shoulder. "What do you want, bud?"

"Umm, a Corona would be great, thanks Hayd." Shane replied with a tight lipped smile. He'd noticed Hayden had brought them to a table where they'd be deliberately facing away from Rozanov and Shane hadn't yet decided if he appreciated that or not. He engaged in light, pleasant conversation with the other guys and decided he especially liked the quiet, perceptive goalie from Ottawa, Wyatt Hayes. Even though Ottawa was pretty terrible, Hayes was by far the best goalie in the Eastern division, and Shane appreciated that Hayes reminded him of home.

"Hey, do you mind if I get a selfie for my niece? She's kind of your biggest fan." Hayes asked him after they'd chatted for a bit, and Shane happily obliged.

"Give me her address, I'll send her a signed Hollander jersey." Shane told him, the alcohol flowing through his veins and making him feel less awkward than usual. It was kind of nice. He was able to relax and just be one of the boys in a way that normally felt like hard work for him, he felt less wound up, less boring, less... in control.

"Trying to help me be the favorite uncle, huh?" Hayes responded with a wink, "I think I like you, Hollander."

Shane tried not to glance behind him too much, he really did, but guys kept going up and ordering more rounds and before Shane knew it, he'd had more beers than he'd planned. And every time he seemed to glance behind him, Rozanov was always looking away. But he did make eye contact with Cliff Marlow a few times, who always seemed to be staring at him with his head turned to the side slightly as if he had some sort of unanswered question. 

When Shane emptied his fourth beer, whether it was liquid courage or the desire to be a good person and go get the next round, he found himself standing up and asking the table for their drink orders. 

Hayden grabbed onto his forearm with a nervous chuckle and said, "Why don't you rest those legs for tomorrow, superstar? I'll go get the round, I don't mind."

Shane shrugged Hayden off, "No, it's fine, Hayd. I can do it." Shane didn't want people thinking he had some injury he was hiding, or at least that's what he told himself. So he got up, and he walked over to the bar, right next to where Scott Hunter and Carter Vaughn and Cliff Marlow and... Rozanov were gathered, to order the next round for his group.

He wasn't sure what possessed him, but he greeted the four animatedly, "Hey guys! Ready for the weekend?"

Hunter shook his hand and clapped him on the shoulder in somewhat of a bro hug, Vaughn fully pulled him in for a hug, Marlow gave him a friendly smile and a nod, and Rozanov finally met his gaze. They stayed like that, staring at each other, for what could have been seconds, minutes, days... Shane wasn't sure.

Rozanov's eyes were unreadable but not cold.

"Rozanov," Shane said, nodding to the Russian man before him.

"Oh shit!" Vaughn exclaimed, throwing his arm around Shane's shoulder and then reaching out to grab for Rozanov. "The two of you on the same team, let's hope you don't kill each other or something!" Rozanov batted Vaughn's hand away in a somewhat playful gesture that still sent a clear message to Shane. He did not want to be any closer to him than he had to be. Something in Shane maybe died a little even though it made perfect sense.

"Yes, I think we will manage." Rozanov replied somewhat gruffly in that joking voice of his that he normally used in his post game press conferences. Shane noticed that Rozanov still had not directly acknowledged him and wondered if it was some kind of weird power move.

"Remember guys, only kill shots on the line tomorrow... and not at each other," Hunter said with a laugh. Shane turned to him inquisitively.

"The line?"

"Right, the starting line." Hunter said. As elected captain of the Allstar game, Shane supposed Hunter would be making a decent bit of the decisions regarding the lineup, "You'll be centering me and Rozanov, Hollander."

Shane's eyes immediately shot to Rozanov who was looking down at something on the ground, averting his eyes.

"I- what?" Shane asked in shock, grabbing his card out of his wallet and handing it to the bartender who had just finished pouring all of their drinks.

"Yeah, Rozanov volunteered to switch to wing this morning," Marlow piped up helpfully, grunting when Rozanov elbowed him in the side. Shane heard Marlow mutter "Bitch," faintly under his breath.

"Congrats, rook." Hunter said, patting him on the back again. Shane's head was swimming with confusion and suddenly another Corona didn't seem like such a good idea. Or maybe it did? Shane was pretty sure there was a lot to unpack here, but he was having a hard time concentrating on what exactly it was when- What did Hunter just call him?

"Rook?!" Shane spluttered in astonishment, "Hunter, I've been in the league for like eight years!"

"Still a baby compared to me," Hunter replied, faking a yawn.

"Well you are like hundred years old after all," Rozanov muttered, and there it was. For a second, Shane smiled as the Rozanov he was familiar with, the Rozanov he had kind of come to adore appeared.

"Fuck off, Rozanov." Hunter said.

Shane opened his mouth, he was about to reply- and say what exactly, he wasn't sure- but he was saved from doing so by Hayden. "Let me help you get these drinks back to the table, Holzy." Hayden said with a pointed look as he grabbed Shane's wrist and pulled him away from the inviting arms of Carter Vaughn and nodded toward the group of guys.

"Actually, why don't we come join you!" Scott Hunter exclaimed, his voice booming joyously. Shane was still stuck deciding whether it was a good thing or a bad thing that Rozanov would be joining their table, sitting mere feet away from Shane for the next however many hours.

He was saved from deciding when Rozanov excused himself, "I should go probably. I have to-" he paused as if he were searching for the right English word, he waved his hand in the air before settling on, "-go. I have to go."

And then all of the sudden, he was gone- and that was the first time it happened.

The second time was at the pool. Wyatt Hayes had begun complaining about the poor weather in Ottawa and how it affected the pallor of his skin, suggesting they all move out to the pool. Shane, though still tipsy, had been surprised to see Rozanov racing in the pool with some of the kids of the guys who had brought their families with them. Something in his heart twisted, and he looked away before his face was consumed with what one might call fondness.

"Damn, I should've brought Jackie and the kids." Hayden cursed as his eyes tracked Rozanov through the pool. Shane elbowed him to stop staring as Hayden commented, "Wow, didn't realize Rozanov had a heart."

Shane supposed Hayden hadn't realized how close they were standing to Marlow who overheard them, "Well, he's kind of just an oversized kid," Marlow joked, "But you'd be surprised how big his heart actually is." Shane realized Marlow was staring at Rozanov with a sad sort of frown.

"Oh my god, Shane Hollander!" Shane heard one of the little kids in the pool exclaim, and suddenly there were a group of children paddling over to him. Shane bent down and sat on the side of the pool, sticking his legs in the water.

"That's me!" He said and tried to manage a cheery smile. The Corona's were definitely starting to wear off and he could tell by the way he almost cringed at himself.

"You are so cool!" One of the kids, a little girl who looked to be around nine or ten years old said.

"Well, you seem pretty cool to me too," Shane replied grinning.

"Will you come play with us?" One of them asked. Shane turned his head to look up at Hayden who had surprisingly struck up a conversation with Marlow. He turned back to the kids and nodded.

"Sure," he said with a smile. It fell a little when he looked up and noticed Rozanov getting out of the pool. Maybe the first time had been a coincidence, but this time definitely felt like he was avoiding Shane.

The third time was during dinner. The MLH had gotten them catering set up in one of the conference rooms in the hotel lobby, and while it wasn't particularly great, it was free and most of them were either slightly hungover or still too drunk to drive anywhere else. Plus this way, they could stay in their pool clothes and didn't have to be worried about looking like bums online if they ran into any fans.

Shane and Hayden were sitting at a table with Hayes, Hunter, and Vaughn when he saw Rozanov and Marlow walk in laughing. They both grabbed food, and it almost seemed like they were about to head for Shane's table when all of the sudden Rozanov pulled his phone out of his pocket.

It was like time slowed down as Shane could so easily read the one word that came out of his mouth as he answered the call, "Rose?"

And suddenly everything from earlier mattered too much and not at all, all at the same time. Rozanov had texted Shane at an ungodly hour after a night where one of Boston's games had been cancelled to ask if he would switch to wing. Rozanov had then volunteered to Scott Hunter to switch to wing for the game, so he could play on a line with Shane. Rozanov had also walked out of the bar earlier rather than go sit down at a table with Shane, and he had similarly gotten out of the pool after the kids had asked Shane to join.

For all of the time Shane had spent staring at that stupid text and remembering the fear he'd felt when Rozanov had said his name- his first name- and then looked like he was about to take it all back... Shane was stupid, so utterly stupid because of course it meant nothing to Rozanov. Not when Rozanov had Rose Landry.

He felt his bottom lip quiver, and he couldn't even blame his emotions on the Corona anymore. He could feel Hayden's stare burning holes into the side of his face as Shane stared at Rozanov. For one fateful, blissful second, Rozanov looked up and his eyes locked with Shane's.

There were what felt like a million things flashing through them at once, but Shane couldn't figure out exactly what those things meant. Rozanov hung up the phone and his hand dropped to his side, Shane noticed the way his lips parted softly just as he noticed almost everything about Rozanov. He was so focused on Rozanov, that he didn't see her until her hand was on his shoulder and then she was hugging him, interrupting their brief connection.

"Holy shit, is that Rose Landry?" He vaguely heard Vaughn say, but Shane was staring down at the table now. He felt Hayden kick him softly a couple times under the table.

He looked up at Hayden. Hayden stared back at him. "I think I need another drink." Shane heard himself saying.

"Good fucking idea, Hollander," Hayes said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Back to the bar, boys?"

Shane felt like a zombie. A zombie who could laugh and joke and put on a brave face even though he felt like fucking dying inside. A zombie who was watching Rose Landry and Marlow yell at each other over a game of pool while Rozanov and a beautiful woman he could only imagine was one of Rozanov's friends stood by conversing animatedly in Russian.

Hayden kept his drink full while also trying to strategically stand in the way of Shane's view of Rozanov, and Shane really didn't know how he was supposed to play hockey with Rozanov the next day when all he'd done was ignore him and flaunt his moviestar girlfriend around. Not that Rozanov was really flaunting her, the most the two of them had done was hug and talk to each other since Rose had arrived, but Shane didn't care.

His number one priority at the moment had been keeping a smile on his face, so the rest of his teammates couldn't tell how absolutely wrecked he was.

He kept up with the conversations happening around him passively before excusing himself to the bathroom. It was a small bathroom with one stall and two urinals, but Shane mostly went to splash some water on his face and give himself a pep talk in the mirror. The man looking back at him was unusually calm and so far from how Shane felt at the moment. He looked normal. Fine. A little flushed if anything, but that could definitely be attributed to the alcohol. He was gripping the edges of the sink, steeling himself to go back out into the bar when the door flew open.

There was no way he still looked fine or normal when Rozanov walked in.

Rozanov looked caught off guard, as if he hadn't expected to see Shane in the bathroom. As if he hadn't been subconsciously tracking Shane's presence and all of his movements throughout that night like Shane had been doing with him- and he probably hadn't, because unlike Shane, he wasn't a psycho.

Shane couldn't help it. "Why are you fucking avoiding me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Rozanov replied.

"Yes, you fucking do. Don't be like that." Shane said, rolling his eyes.

"Be like what? I am being like nothing." Rozanov shrugged, acting as if he were completely unbothered by all of this. He was a liar. Shane had seen the alarmed look flash across his face when he'd walked in.

"You're such an asshole. I can't believe I was actually kind of excited to play on the same team as you."

Rozanov was silent at this.

"You're not gonna say anything? You've been running away from me all day and-"

"You ran away from me first, Hollander!" Rozanov exclaimed. His voice was frustrated and a little bit angry, and he immediately looked like he wanted to take it back, like he hadn't meant to say it.

"I- I'm sorry, I-"

"No, I don't fucking care. Is fine." Rozanov sighed and leaned his head back against the wall staring at Shane with his jaw flexing.

Shane stared back at him for one long moment. "Whatever," he muttered under his breath, walking toward the bathroom door. He stopped right before pulling it open. Rozanov was a mere foot away, maybe slightly less. Shane looked into his eyes once more to see if he could gather anything. "It doesn't matter because you have Rose now, right?"

Shane was sure his eyes were vulnerable, watering even. He was sure he looked pathetic, but he couldn't really bring himself to care.

Rozanov hesitated, then simply said, "Yes." 

And it was all Shane needed to hear to know that Rozanov had never really cared about him that much at all. There was no way. Because he was so unbothered, and stoic, and fucking beautiful, and Shane was absolutely not any of those things. He let out a sort of self deprecating laugh as he walked out the door.

Hayden glanced around the bar. Shane had wandered off to the bathroom nearly five minutes ago and wasn't back yet. And fuck- where was Rozanov?

He took a deep breath. It was fine, surely it was fine. Shane was a big boy, he could take care of himself-

Oh, who was Hayden kidding? It was a fucking dumpster fire disaster waiting to happen.

But then, there was Shane, nearly running out of the bathroom. Hayden willed him to look up, and Shane did. After being his best fucking friend for the past almost ten years, of course Hayden could tell when Shane was and wasn't okay, and this was definitely a not okay moment. He rushed to meet him halfway through the stupid hotel bar, muttering half hearted goodbyes to the dudes he'd been talking with.

"Let's get out of here, bud." Hayden said, guiding Shane to the elevators.

Hayden wasn't stupid. He'd noticed Shane glancing over at Rozanov and Rose fucking Landry all night. He supposed it was some sort of blessing that they were the least PDA couple Hayden had ever seen. He'd noticed Shane chugging his drinks practically all day and especially since Rose had shown up.

He had wished on multiple occasions that Rozanov wasn't so fucking good at hockey, normally when they were playing Boston and he was trying to keep up with the guy, but he had never wished it more than he had tonight. Things would have been so much easier if Rozanov wasn't at this stupid Allstar game.

In fact, things really would've been a lot easier if Shane hadn't gotten somehow involved with Rozanov. He still wasn't even really clear how that had happened. He knew Shane knew that he knew, but Jackie had told him to wait until Shane brought it up first, and Shane hadn't done that yet. 

It hadn't been hard to figure out once Hayden realized that Shane's Boston girl always seemed to be in Montreal too. Especially when Shane had come out to him and refused to talk about Boston Lily. Hayden was ashamed to admit it hadn't dawned on him until that night how similar Lily and Ilya were. Obviously something had gone wrong between them, probably Rozanov being a fucking asshole. Which was why Hayden had told him not to fucking talk to Shane in the first place.

He walked Shane to his hotel room. Shane was totally spaced out, a complete blank slate, and his eyes looked hollow. Fuck.

Jackie would forgive him, but Hayden couldn't take it anymore. "Shane, we have to talk about it eventually." Hayden whispered softly in case anyone else in the hallway could be listening.

"There's nothing to talk about, Hayden. He acts like I don't fucking exist."

Shane sounded miserable, and it wasn't until then that Hayden started to feel like maybe he fucked up a little bit. Or maybe not because the asshole was dating Rose fucking Landry after all so what did it matter if he talked to Shane or not.

"Shane-" Hayden tried.

"Please just, not tonight, Hayden. Not this weekend, and maybe not ever." Shane sighed sounding utterly exhausted, "I just need to get through this, and I can't do that if I have to talk about it because... then it's real."

Hayden nodded. Shane slipped his hotel keycard out of his pocket and opened the door. "Goodnight, bud." Hayden said softly.

"Goodnight, Hayd," Shane replied weakly as he slipped into his room. 

Hayden walked slowly down the hallway, past his own room. His head was racing with thoughts and he needed to walk some of it off so he could actually fall asleep that night. He walked all the way down the hallway and then up a flight of stairs, going back and forth, zig-zagging and repeating until he reached the top floor of the hotel. He was about to walk back down when he heard two voices from around the corner.

"God, I'm beat."

Wait, was that?

"A long day of flying and looking beautiful will do that to you," A light Russian voice replied.

Two laughs. Hayden was pretty sure he'd seen enough pop culture movies to recognize Rose Landry's voice. But that didn't make any sense. The players and their families were specifically confined to three floors of the hotel, and Hayden was very sure this was not one of them.

"Get some beauty rest, Sveta. Marly promised he would go shopping with us tomorrow morning before the activities start, so we have to wake up early."

"Ilya is so boring and annoying for saying no." The Russian woman again. "He is in such a bad mood lately."

"Ugh, tell me about it. You didn't have to deal with him after the last Montreal game." What?

"I still can't believe you forgave him so easily. He can be such an asshole." 

"Well, I knew he didn't mean it. Plus, our agents would've killed us." Another laugh at that. "Anyway, see you bright and early, Sveta." Huh?

"Goodnight, Rose."

What the fuck?

Chapter End Notes

okay so this is definitely the longest chapter so far. i hope you guys like it mwahaha...

Chapter 13

Chapter Notes

just pretend the part in italics between ilya and svetlana is in russian. most things in quotes in italics this chapter are meant to be in russian.

Ilya groaned as he snoozed his alarm for the third time that morning. Unfortunately, he could not snooze the banging on his door that followed.

"Rozanov, get the fuck up or you'll miss breakfast." He heard a deep voice that seemed to have an edge of a smirk in it from outside. "Captain's orders."

Fucking Scott Hunter.

He threw on a Boston Bears tee that was lying at the foot of his bed as he envisioned different ways he could kill Scott Hunter and make it look like an accident. He brushed his teeth quickly, pulled on his favorite pair of Adidas sweatpants, slipped on his sneakers and walked out the door where Hunter looked like he was abut to know again.

"Oh, good. You're up," Hunter said, looking slightly surprised.

Ilya leaned in close as if he was about to tell Hunter a shocking secret. "Fuck you," he whispered in his ear and then walked down the hallway toward the elevator.

"Oh haha, very funny Rozanov." Hunter called from behind him.

Ilya flipped his middle finger behind him in Hunter's general direction.

He hadn't slept well last night. After his run in with Hollander in the bathroom, he had gone to the hotel gym and a secret part of him had hoped maybe he'd see Hollander there too like he had all those years ago on draft day. Instead, he was faced with a very empty, very sad looking hotel gym. He had run on the treadmill until he was too tired to keep going, showered, and then sat awake in his bed haunted by the sad look on Hollander's face and his watery eyes when Ilya had told him he didn't fucking care that Hollander had run out.

Which was probably one of, if not the biggest lie Ilya had ever told. Of course he cared. But Pike had been staring him down all night, and Hollander had been fucking drinking all night which was so unlike him, especially in season.

And it wasn't fucking fair because Hollander was the one who had run at the end of the day, but Ilya was the one who had fucked things up by calling him Shane. And maybe Ilya would always fuck things up, maybe he was destined to do that. Just like he'd fucked up when he'd yelled at Marly for no reason and when he'd snapped at Rose just for trying to talk to him.

Ilya had known since the moment he'd met Hollander, ever since he'd still thought of him as the awkward Canadian boy who was really good at hockey and had beautiful freckles, that he was not good enough for him. He'd known it when he had made him drink from his water bottle on draft day. He had known it when he'd suggested they do that CCM shoot together. He had definitely known it in the shower after the shoot, and especially when he'd knocked on his hotel door. But it hadn't mattered- none of it- the second Ilya had kissed him, because he was already gone after that.

He grabbed and apple and a protein bar and hesitated before making his way over to a group of guys that were sitting around even though he didn't really feel like talking. Thankfully, Hollander was nowhere to be found.

He laughed and smiled when it was appropriate, but didn't contribute anything of substance to the conversation. After finishing his breakfast and chugging two glasses of water and a cup of coffee, Ilya excused himself to go walk around on the beach. There was an hour to kill before he needed to head back and pack up his stuff to get in one of the SUVs heading to the arena.

Ilya wasn't sure why, but something about the tumultuous roaring of the waves brought him a sense of peace and made him feel closer to his mother. He rolled up the legs of his sweatpants so he could walk along the shore. He looked out across the horizon, listening to the lapping of the waves on the shore, the seagulls squawking, and the distant laughter of children in the background.

"Mama, I wish you were here to help me make sense of everything in my mind." Ilya muttered softly in Russian, "I have been so lost for so long without you."

Ilya sighed. He had been excited to see Rose and Svetlana last night, he loved them both of course, but they were a lot sometimes and especially together. Svetlana had tried to convince him to go shopping with them the previous night.

"Ilya, you must come with us. We came all the way down here for you." She had stated plainly, with a slight annoyance in her voice.

"I have so many clothes. I do not need more." Ilya had replied with a shrug.

"That is not the point of shopping an you know it." Svetlana had replied with a pointed glare.

He had fixed her with a look.

She raised her hands in defeat, "Fine, fine. If you want to be boring and sit around alone sulking about who the fuck knows, be my guest."

"Tell me about your travels," He had said as a peace offering, "How was Russia?"

He walked out along a short pier and watched the way the waves crashed against the rocks surrounding it. He spent a long while standing there and simply watching.

"I am so angry lately, because I am sad. And I am taking it out on the people who love me." Ilya whispered into the salty breeze. "I wish I was soft and gentle like you. Instead I am cold and hard like Papa."

"I don't know sometimes why they all put up with it. Marlow most of all. He sees me everyday nearly for eight years, and yet, he is not tired of me yet." Ilya let out a low chuckle at that. "And there is this one who is much smarter than me- and almost as fast- and he makes me very confused. I think probably I should leave him alone. I only make things harder for him, but he is like-"

Someone cleared their throat behind him. Ilya turned.

Fucking Scott Hunter.

"Uh, hey Roz. Hayes mentioned he thought he saw you come out here. The bus is leaving soon, so you should probably come back in." Hunter said somewhat awkwardly. He had the decency to look slightly embarrassed for interrupting whatever he thought was going on.

"Right," Ilya said gruffly, sent a brief nod to the sky, and then turned to follow Hunter down the beach and back to the hotel. He raced up to his room to grab his gear bag and then outside where the last of the SUVs was waiting. Just his fucking luck he was sharing a car with Hollander. Thankfully, he didn't have to sit next to him. He was somewhat comically sandwiched in the middle seat of the middle row between Vaughn and Hunter.

The drive was no longer than twenty minutes to get to the arena. He hopped out and grabbed his bag from the back, immediately racing in to find the locker rooms so he could change and get on the ice. Even though it wasn't really Scott Hunter's fault, the interruption to the very rare peaceful time he got where he felt he could actually connect with his mom had put him in an even fouler mood than he'd been in before.

He changed quicker than ever, heading out to the rink and beginning to stretch and warm up his body. He met Marlow, who had arrived there separately after shopping with Rose and Svetlana, around center ice. He simply grunted a hello and thankfully Marlow got the hint that he wasn't up for talking at the moment. 

After skating around a bit, they all headed back to the locker room where they had a bit of a team debrief with Scott Hunter going through the different lines. They would have another hour to warm up before the skills competition at noon, then a few hours break before the Allstars scrimmage started at 8 pm. Quiet chatter broke out around the locker room as some guys headed to the gym, some headed back to the rink, and some stayed hanging around the locker room.

Ilya could feel Marlow's presence, quiet but steady. Since Ilya had arrived, Marlow had stayed within five feet of him. Ilya shrugged off his jersey and pads and headed to the weight room to warm up his arms a bit. This year, he was competing in hardest shot and the speed challenge, but he didn't feel the same competitive fire to really win the competitions that he'd felt in years past.

Maybe it was because of his bad mood, maybe it was because he had realized these stupid competitions didn't really matter, or maybe it was because for the first time since he'd entered the league he was finally competing with- not against- Hollander and they were entered in different events. They fell into an almost steady rhythm, biceps curling perfectly in sync, Marlow's eyes flicking over toward Ilya every minute or so as if to make sure he was still there.

Ilya groaned, "What is it, Marlow?"

Marlow looked away, shaking his head immediately, "Nothing!"

Ilya set his weights down on the rack and turned his body 90 degrees to fully face his teammate and longtime friend. He raised his eyebrows at him and gave him the sort of look that he hoped conveyed talk.

Marlow set his own weights down and faced Ilya, he sighed, "It's nothing, I swear."

Ilya pursed his lips and nodded slowly. He picked up his weights- Marlow did the same- and they resumed their passive aggressive in sync bicep curls.

"It's just-" Marlow started.

"Jesus, fuck, Marlow. You're fucking with me." Ilya groaned, setting his weights down and walking toward the door of the weight room. He could hear Marlow not far behind, jogging to catch up.

"Roz, it's just Svetlana, Rose, and I have been a little worried-"

Ilya spun around to face him. They were in the hallway now. "I'm fucking fine. No need for worrying." Ilya replied exasperated, throwing his hands up in the air before spinning to continue his journey down the hallway, he wasn't quite sure where, but definitely away from this conversation.

"Rozanov." Marlow said.

Ilya kept walking. He couldn't deal with this right now. He couldn't deal with his friend's worry, or Scott Hunter's stupid scrimmage line even if he had volunteered moving to wing, or Hollander's stupidly sad eyes, or...

"Rozanov." Marlow said, louder this time, more firm than before.

Ilya continued down the hallway, refusing to look back as everything he was feeling inside started to turn to anger. Obviously, he wasn't in the mood for talking. He didn't understand what the point of the whole stupid weekend was other than being a huge money grab for the league, making fans subscribe to some random streaming platform for the opportunity to see one hour of professional hockey players fucking around and having fun while trying to win and not get injured for the rest of the season.

"Rozanov!" Marlow was practically shouting this time, but Ilya still kept going. "Ilya!"

He froze.

'Ilya'

Marlow's voice rang out, echoing throughout the hallway, but all Ilya could hear was the way Hollander had whispered his name nearly two and a half months ago right before Ilya had kissed him to stop from saying something he would regret, something that probably would have freaked Hollander out a whole lot more than Ilya saying Shane had.

Ilya felt frozen in shock, and it was almost as if he had forgotten to breathe. All of the sudden, there were hands on his shoulders, and Cliff Marlow's annoying face was blocking his view of the empty hallway before him. And then, Ilya was shoving him off. "Fuck off, Cliff." He said lowly, and that must have gotten the message through because Ilya was walking through the hallway and there was no one calling out his name, no one following him.

He couldn't stop the moment replaying in his mind, over and over in flashes. His phone call with his dad, his phone call with his brother, Hollander laying on his chest, the kiss he'd subconsciously pressed to Hollander's head, Hollander's face as he hovered over Ilya, the sloppy way Hollander had kissed him as they'd both gotten close... He remembered his sense being overloaded with Shane Hollander and how he couldn't help himself from looking into his eyes as he'd whispered, 'Shane'.

Ilya was burning up and constrained by his stupid long sleeve shirt and it's tight neck that was almost choking him. He nearly ripped his shirt as he hastily pulled it over his head before he slammed through the locker room door to get to the shower that would hopefully cool him off and help him calm down. And-

Hollander was standing there half dressed in the middle of the locker room with Hayden. Both of their eyes had shot over to the door after Ilya had slammed it open. Ilya felt like a deer caught in headlights, standing there holding his balled up shirt. His eyes were locked with Hollander. 

Hollander had at first looked alarmed by the loud noise, then shocked to see Ilya, then... something else.

Ilya broke eye contact first, noticing the way that without his shirt on, Hollander looked somehow leaner and slightly smaller than he had a couple months ago as if he hadn't been eating as much. His eyes slowly trailed back up to see the way his cheeks were slightly flushed, whether from whatever he'd just been doing or from seeing Ilya, Ilya wasn't sure. After his moment of shock, and moment of checking Hollander out, Ilya decided that being in the locker room with Hollander would certainly make just about everything in his life worse, so he turned around and walked right back out the door. He was sure it was confusing but he didn't really have the capacity to care too much because-

"Rozanov!" 

He was back in one of the stupid, long hallways of the arena, but this time it wasn't Marlow calling his name. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath rolling his eyes. His heart was still beating fast, and now instead of burning hot, Ilya was ice cold. He spun around, "What do you want this time, Hollander?"

Hollander looked slightly nervous and a little bit concerned, his shoulders folding in slightly as he asked weakly, "Are you ok?"

Ilya could have laughed- he did laugh. It was a dark, throaty chuckle that he was sure sounded slightly maniacal. His past two months had been fine at times, but also a complete and utter shit show. Hollander had walked out on him, he had essentially been extorted into a PR relationship with a movie star, his personal life- past and present- was under a microscope at all times by said movie star's fans, his father was getting worse and worse by the day, his stupid brother called him nearly everyday asking for more drug money, he was pushing away his best friends who were only trying to help because he couldn't deal with his fucking emotions, and to top it all off, now he had his- whatever Hollander was to him asking if he was ok.

"Stop fucking pretending to care." Ilya said harshly, his voice came out in a way he didn't recognize, and it kind of scared him how much he sounded like his father.

Hollander looked like he had been slapped as he stuttered, "Rozanov, I-"

Ilya kind of hated himself for it, "We are not anything." This time he had the decency to lower his voice, enough that it didn't echo throughout the hallway, enough that you would've had to be standing right there next to them to hear. "This-" he gestured between the two of them, "-never meant anything." It was a flat out fucking lie and Ilya knew it. He was sure if he'd stayed a moment longer, Hollander would've seen the lie plain written all over his face. He turned quickly and walked purposefully down the hallway, turning only once he reached the corner to glance back, and only for a second. Hollander was standing there frozen.

By some miracle, Ilya won the hardest shot, firing one into the net clocking at 108.7 MPH. He was sure the only reason he won was because of the pent up frustration at himself for how he had behaved earlier. It had taken him all of five minutes standing like an idiot, shirtless outside in the Tampa breeze to realize how little he had meant what he'd said and what a complete asshole he had been. None of what had happened was Hollander's fault, and it had actually been really sweet of him to approach Ilya again after their interaction last night.

Because he cares about you. Some small voice in the back of his mind said, and Ilya had actually begun to maybe believe it.

He had, however, done absolute shit at the speed challenge. He hadn't even been in the top five after coming in second by milliseconds to Hollander just last year. In fact, his time this year was a full second and a half slower. Marlow had clapped him on the shoulder after, and Ilya had leaned into the touch.

After getting some fresh air, he'd put his shirt back on and bought a can of coke and a can of sprite at the vending machine inside. He'd found Marlow sitting in the stands and had quietly sat next to him, silently handing over the sprite as a peace offering. Ilya had sadly stared down at the players skating drills down on the ice, "I'm sorry," he said so quietly, he hadn't been sure Marlow heard him.

A few seconds passed, Marlow patted his knee, "I know, Rozy, I know."

Ilya had looked for Hollander, but it was almost as if he'd disappeared. He wasn't anywhere. And by the time Ilya saw him next, they were surrounded by other players, and this was an apology that needed to be given in private. And that was going to be nearly impossible because Pike had not left Hollander's side except to compete in events. After everything was done and scored, Ilya left his bag in the locker room and headed outside with Marlow where he knew Rose and Svetlana were waiting in a rental car for them. He'd noticed Pike had been staring at him as he'd left the locker room, but without the any of the intensity or fury he normally did. Hollander had been avoiding his gaze ever since he yelled at him though.

Squished into the backseat of the Mini Cooper with Marlow, Ilya stared out the window, trying not to get carsick from Rose's crazy driving. She had insisted upon being the one to drive as she normally never got to, but Ilya had thought that was exactly a reason she shouldn't have been allowed to. They played mini golf (Ilya won), raced go karts (Ilya won), and got in these weird mini water boats that sprayed water (Ilya was only the most soaked because they all ganged up on him).

"Are you guys getting hungry?" Rose asked while Ilya and Marlow used up the last of the tickets they'd bought playing skee-ball.

"Starving," Ilya and Marlow mumbled in sync, laser focused on trying to beat the other.

"Great!" Rose said, clapping excitedly, "I was thinking we could meet up with your team at the restaurant they rented out."

"How do you know about that?" Marlow asked and Ilya echoed the question with a grunt. Marlow's next ball rolled out of the 50 and fell into the 10, Ilya smirked.

"Carter Vaughn invited us last night," Svetlana replied, her voice teasing.

Ilya rolled his eyes. He really didn't care where they went, he was just hungry. Except maybe he did care if it meant that he would run into Hollander. He really needed to talk to him.

Chapter End Notes

ilya you are such an asshole i love you.

random thoughts of the day: hudson williams is trying to kill me with the wonderland shoot, i can barely look at him. i really love writing again which is making me happy, i used to write a lot in high school but fell off throughout college.

also, this chapter got longer than i expected so i'm splitting things up. expect another chapter sometime between 12:30 and 1 am est <3

Chapter 14

Chapter Notes

It was a surreal feeling, sitting in a restaurant surrounded by the best of the best in your sport, knowing you were hours away from going on ice on the starting line. It was especially surreal that despite all of the bromance happening around him, Shane felt like his world was ending.

He had accepted that he was gay a long time ago. He had been fine with it. His best friend had been totally fine with it, and he knew deep down that his parents would be too. All of the people that mattered most in his life didn't care about the one thing that for so long he thought would lose him everything.

Maybe it was just because he'd never truly experienced heart break before, because he'd never truly been with someone he could fully love... But Shane was starting to think he could never be with someone like that. Not that he loved Rozanov, because that would be ridiculous, but he certainly felt something for him. He felt something so strong for him, and maybe he had for the past almost ten years. Maybe it was because this had been going on so long that he couldn't even begin to fathom ever feeling this way about someone else again.

Rozanov had made it so absolutely crystal clear that they had never been anything, never would be anything, and Shane didn't matter to him at all.

Maybe it would be a good thing if he never felt this way about somebody ever again, because then he could never feel this level of absolute devastation, absolute pain, absolute hurt- ever gain.

Shane leaned over to Hayden, "I'm gonna go to the restroom." 

"Do you want me to come with you?" Hayden asked almost immediately.

Shane gave him a look. 

He heard a few cheers as he stepped into the bathroom which was thankfully a single serve with a locking door. He took a few deep breaths in the mirror, pulled his phone out of his pocket, and called his mom.

She answered on the second ring.

"Shane!" She exclaimed as soon as she picked up, "How are you, baby? Are you ready for the game?"

"Mom, can you talk about something that's not the game right now?" Shane asked as he closed his eyes, leaning against the wall and trying to breathe deeply and purposefully.

"Umm, sure honey!" His mom replied, her voice laced with confusion. "Reebok emailed yesterday, they're sending you shoes from their new collection. I've been going back and forth with Rolex about a new campaign, they were thinking maybe bring in one of their other partners and have it be a double shoot. I talked to your agent about just preliminary contract stuff, you know, trying to figure out what you would be valued at across the league and how we should go into negotiations with Montreal."

Shane nodded, his heart rate slowing slightly as his mom talked through all of the different brand deals and contract stuff that he normally tuned out. His mom had always been so good at that stuff.

"Do you need me to go on, honey?" His mom asked after she finished the updates on that end.

"Yes please," he whispered, clutching the phone in his hand like his life depended on it.

His brain was replaying scenes from earlier that day and last night. Nothing. They were nothing.

It had shocked him so much that he hadn't even had it in him to be upset that Rozanov had said it in such a public space where anyone could have overheard.

"Your dad and I slept in until ten this morning. We went on a long walk through the neighborhood and then had a late brunch, it sort of messed up our eating schedule and we ended up having a late dinner too. Now we're watching old reruns of Big Bang Theory- well, your dad is asleep. But he loves you very much, and I do too. Don't worry, I'll wake him up when... I'll wake him up in a bit."

Shane gradually felt his heart rate return to normal as the sensation in his chest turned from a sharp stabbing pain to a dull ache.

"Thanks for talking, mom." He said, "I should probably get back to Hayden before he starts looking for me."

"Okay, baby. Are you ok?" She said hesitantly.

"I will be." Shane replied, surprising himself with the confidence in his voice that didn't necessarily match how he felt. "I love you, mom."

He splashed a bit of water on his face before walking out the door and-

The universe had to be playing a sick prank on him. Mere feet across the hallway, walking out of the bathroom opposite his, was none other than Rose Landry.

Their eyes connected and hers immediately flashed with recognition. "Shane Hollander." She stated, her eyes wide and jaw hanging slightly open as if she were awestruck by him.

"Um, hi." Shane replied softly, managing a smile. Here was the woman dating the man that he- well, felt something for. He felt like he should probably hate her, even though she hadn't really done anything wrong, and maybe a part of him kind of did.

"Wow, I mean obviously I knew you'd be here, but I- wow." Rose breathed out, "My brothers would kill me in jealousy if they knew I was talking to you right now."

Shane was sure the confusion was clear on his face as he quickly looked side to side to make sure he wasn't being pranked. "But you're dating Rozanov?"

Rose pulled a face that looked somewhat like a mixture of annoyance and indifference, "Yeah, but they love the Voyageurs, and especially you." She almost gushed, "Oh my god. I'm being so weird, I'm sorry. Do you wanna get a drink? I was just headed to the bar."

Shane wanted to say no. He wanted to say fuck no actually, but Rose hadn't done anything wrong and her eyes were so wide and excited almost like a puppy, and if Rozanov were there, he could just subtly excuse himself. "Sure," he found himself saying and then he was following her through the restaurant toward the bar. He began sending telepathic messages to Hayden to come get him after five minutes and hoped that his friend got them loud and clear.

Rose ordered a vodka soda with a lime from the bartender before turning to ask Shane what he wanted.

"Just a ginger ale would be great." He said with a nod and a tight smile as he sat on the barstool next to Rose.

"So, how do you like Tampa?" She asked, eyes wide and earnest.

"Uhh, it's fine. Warm. A lot different from Montreal." Shane replied, "How do you like it?"

"It's been great. A welcome break from constant shoots, god I feel like I'm reading a new script every day lately, but I put everything off just for the weekend to just relax with my friends." Rose replied, "I don't remember the last time I went on vacation."

"Wow, a new script every day sounds insane," Shane replied, "I can't imagine shooting all day and going home to read a full movie. I get burnt out filming my 20 second ad campaigns."

"Oh my god, did you know my oldest brother bought a Rolex because of you?" Rose asked, grabbing his arm as if she were letting him in on a huge secret. "He denied it was because of you, but my mom swears she saw 'Shane Hollander Rolex Watch' on one of his computer tabs."

Shane found himself laughing, and he kind of hated that he understood what Rozanov saw in the girl. Her laugh was contagious, her smile was magnetic, and there was no need to worry about going back home to Russia dating her. 

"You'll have to tell that story to Rolex so they keep me on as an ambassador." Shane joked.

Rose laughed lightly, "You know," she said, "Ilya talks about you all the time."

Shane almost choked on his drink. "I- he does?"

"Yes!" Rose exclaimed, graciously ignoring Shane's coughing fit. "It's always 'Hollander scored two goals tonight I need to score more' or 'Hollander has so many sponsorships, why is he always on my tv even when he is not playing' and Hollander this and Hollander that." She shook her head. Her mock Russian accent was so good that Shane wondered if she would be booking any Russian roles. He was almost so distracted by how good it was that he barely noticed the fact that Rozanov talked about him.

Who was he kidding? 

His mind was yet again going a thousand miles a minute wondering if Rozanov actually brought him up that much.

"That's- wow, I didn't expect that," he replied, and he was sure his voice sounded as shell shocked as he felt.

"Well you should be flattered, because he's always watching your games too-" she started.

They were interrupted by the arrival of two figures. Shane loved and hated Hayden in that moment for the same reason. His rescue had arrived, but he honestly kind of wanted- no, needed to hear more. The other figure was the beautiful woman Rozanov had been speaking to in Russian the night before.

"You are not having fun without me, are you?" The woman asked Rose, she turned to him, "Hello Shane Hollander," she said, her voice was almost a purr.

"Um, hi." Shane said somewhat shyly.

"So sorry to interrupt ladies, but I have to steal Hollander away. We've gotta head back to the stadium." Hayden finally jumped in.

Shane turned to Rose, "It was great to meet you Rose Landry," he said with a smile that wasn't as forced as it could have been. He held his hand out for her to shake. She looked down at it in an appreciative surprise and shook it. He turned to the Russian woman, "It was nice to meet you too, umm-"

"Svetlana" She cut in, "Ilya's childhood friend."

Shane nodded, "Svetlana, then. Great to meet you." He shook her hand and then let Hayden drag him outside by the crook of his elbow. "Thanks for the rescue, dude." He said when they were outside and well out of earshot.

"Of course, bud." Hayden replied earnestly, patting him on the back, "Where the fuck did they come from though? I didn't see Marlow or Rozanov anywhere."

Shane shrugged his shoulders, "No idea."

Shane skated out to center ice to face off against Dallas Kent, the starting center from the Western conference team. Kent sneered at him as they lined up before each other but didn't say anything.

Shane had successfully managed to avoid Rozanov all throughout warm ups, only interacting briefly in the team meeting before warm ups had started. He felt Rozanov's eyes on him through most of the warm ups, but he never met his gaze. He stayed close to Hayden and the goalie, Wyatt Hayes, and Rozanov seemed content to just burn holes in the back of Shane's head with his staring.

Shane glanced to his left. Hunter was already leaning forward as if he were itching to get the game started, honestly a lot like he had something to prove. A quick glance to his right showed Rozanov, slightly more relaxed as if this were child's play. In a way, it kind of was. Nobody would be playing defense that hard in the game as not to get injured.

Shane took a deep breath. The puck dropped, and Shane won the face off. He kicked the puck back to Vaughn who immediately slapped a hard ringing pass to Hunter who accepted it cleanly without breaking stride as he began racing down the ice. Shane supposed that was the beauty of having a pair of teammates on the same line of an Allstar game. They brought a certain chemistry that most other players would have to build throughout the game.

Shane burst down the center lane, weaving between two other players as he tried to position himself where Hunter might need him. Hunter feigned as if he were going to shoot, drawing the goalie up slightly before shooting a lateral pass toward Rozanov who was waiting patiently. He held the puck just long enough to draw one of the defenders near Shane toward him before fluidly sliding the puck to Shane.

It was less of a clear cut shot and more of a redirection of momentum as Shane hit the puck into the top left corner of the goal. The buzzer sounded. The first goal of the game had been scored in less than thirty seconds off an assist from Rozanov to Hollander. The crowd was going wild, and Shane was sure the announcers, his parents, and hockey fans watching at home were too. He felt an arm thrown around his shoulder and turned to the side to see Hunter, "Good shit, Rook!" he shouted over the noise.

Shane groaned, "Enough with that."

"Score another few goals and I'll think about it." Hunter replied with a wink, skating over to congratulate Rozanov. 

Shane skated back to center ice to line up for the next faceoff, "Fucking showoff." Dallas Kent spat at him as they got set against each other. Shane had never liked Dallas Kent, definitely not after the allegations against him had come out and been swept under the rug by the league.

Shane decided not to engage him with a response. Instead, he won the faceoff again.

The momentum of the game shifted back and forth as shifts switched out, but it was always in their favor when Shane's line was on the ice. Scott Hunter, Carter Vaughn, and Liam Casey, the defenseman from Pittsburgh, were fantastic players. Wyatt Hayes was an even more fantastic goalie. He had already had many insane saves to add to his highlight reel, and partly because of him, they were up 4 goals. Ilya Rozanov, however, was on a whole other level.

Shane had always known he was good. Obviously, he'd been the number one draft pick over Shane, led his team to a cup before Shane had, and beaten him in World Juniors back when they were still kids. But Shane hadn't truly appreciated just how good Rozanov was until he had the opportunity to play with him. It was like Rozanov had a sixth sense, in addition to his scary accuracy, that tracked Shane across the ice. He always knew exactly when Shane was open or had a good match up, and he placed the puck perfectly every time.

Plus, he was electric to watch on the ice. He had always had a more physical play style than Shane, but in the Allstar game where there was less physicality, his technical skills were really on display.

Shane waited on the outskirts of a quick scrum against the boards. The puck got pushed out by a defender's stick and Shane was on it before anyone was able to see where it had gone. He pulled the puck toward him and took off down the ice. He felt a presence skating parallel to him an knew without looking that it was Rozanov. He was one of the only players fast enough to keep up with Shane at full speed. The opposing defenders ahead began collapsing his gap for a clear path toward the net. He pulled his stick back as if he were about to unload a slapshot attempt at a goal before snapping his wrist and perfectly executing a no look pass to Rozanov.

Rozanov didn't hesitate to lean his entire weight into the shot, sinking it easily into the corner of the goal. Shane pumped his fist in the air, "Let's go!" He shouted, his momentum carrying him over to where Rozanov panted, a smile on his face. That made six goals for Rozanov and four goals for Shane on the night with just under 10 minutes left to play. The score was currently something crazy like 26 - 21, but that didn't stop them from celebrating every single one. "Nice goal, Rozanov," Shane said as he stopped in front of him.

"Nice pass," Rozanov replied, grinning widely. He looked kind of like a kid, with pure joy radiating off of him, and for a second it made Shane forget everything that happened earlier. But only for a second.

Shane's smile faded, and he made a move to turn and skate back to the center when-

"Hollander."

Shane stopped his movement and spun back around to face Rozanov. Rozanov's smile had faded, and a somber look had taken its place.

"Look, earlier I-"

Rozanov was interrupted by a big smacking kiss placed to the side of his helmet by Vaughn. Their teammates had finally caught up to them. An identical kiss was placed to the side of Shane's helmet by Hunter. Rozanov's eyes darkened as he looked at Hunter, and if Shane didn't know any better, he'd think he were jealous.

"Guess I gotta stop calling you Rook now," Hunter joked as he patted Shane on the back. 

"Good shit, Roz." Vaughn said, giving an exaggerated round of applause. "The league would be so screwed if you two were ever on the same team."

Shane wondered what Rozanov had been about to say, but the moment was over, and he had a face off to get to. He lined up once again across from Dallas Kent, this time feeling good enough to maybe chirp back.

"Cute." Kent commented, voice dripping with sarcasm, "Letting Rozanov outscore you, huh?"

"Maybe if you stop talking so much, you'll know what it feels like- you know, scoring." Shane replied.

Kent's eyes darkened, "Fuck you, Hollander."

Shane won the faceoff, again.

He kicked the puck back to Casey who immediately shot it off toward Rozanov. It was intercepted by Kent who took off toward their goal. Shane watched as Vaughn checked him slightly, working on getting the puck back when Kent passed it off to his teammate, Sullivan. Sullivan skated with it past Hunter before shooting it back to Kent who then flicked it toward the Eastern conference goal. Hayes blocked it with his stick and Shane watched the puck slide across the ice back toward the neutral zone.

Shane started skating toward it, setting himself up to be in a good position to accept a pass as Hunter reached the puck and circled around with it. Hunter managed to sneak off a weak, slightly off target pass as one of the Western defenders charged for him and the puck slid slightly away from Shane.

Shane reached out, his stick an extension of his arm, trying to hook the puck before the other defender could get it. He extended in a way that he might not have in a normal game where he knew he would be leaving his side exposed in a vulnerable position. The mutual agreement between players not to check each other hard at all made him feel comfortable making the play for the puck. He never quite reached the puck.

A gloved hand pushed hard against his chest, sending him stumbling backwards. He had no time to be angry or focus on the puck as Kent barreled into the spot where Shane had been extended just milliseconds ago. He arrived like a freight train, catching Ilya awkwardly, sending him airborne for a few shocking seconds before his body crumpled sickeningly against the boards. Ilya's stick clattered to the ground beside him.

Ilya who had read Kent's intent, seen the dirty, blindside hit coming from a mile away, and somehow made it quick enough to get Shane out of the way with no time to brace himself. The ref's arm shot up to signal a penalty immediately and Shane distantly heard the whistle.

Shane felt as if everything around him stopped as he stared at Ilya's unmoving body. He was distantly aware of Marlow hopping over from the bench, dropping his gloves and socking Kent which started a full on brawl between the teams. He was frozen in place staring at Ilya as the medics sped onto the ice with the spinal board. His blood ran cold, colder than the ice around them as he watched in pure horror as the medics checked for a pulse.

Scott Hunter had skated up at some point, talking with one of the many medics standing by Ilya. It seemed medics from both teams had sprinted out onto the ice to help get him strapped in to the board as quickly as possible.

Shane had never felt a panic like this. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to skate over and scream at everyone, he wanted Dallas Kent's head on a platter, he wanted to make sure Ilya was ok. He needed to know he was okay, because Shane wasn't sure what he would do if he wasn't. He was frozen in fear, and in shock.

Ilya's hand twitched as they were moving him onto the board. Shane sucked in a breath quickly, terrified he had imagined it, but then he saw his lips moving as the medics tried to calm him down. That spurred him into action, he skated over to the outside of the medical circle by Scott Hunter. He needed to see him. He needed to see his face, see his eyes open, and see his lips moving close up.

"Hunter, Hollander, please get back to your bench. We need space." The referee said as soon as he skated up.

"But-" he was sure his voice was weak. Shane could hear the way it wobbled and he could feel the tears that were threatening to fall as the ref placed a hand on each of their chests and started skating, pushing them backwards.

Shane's eyes were locked on Ilya, following his body all the way until they had gotten him off the ice and Shane could no longer see. He took in a deep shaky breath and felt a pair of arms wrap around him immediately. Hayden.

"Shane, buddy, Shane. Are you okay?" Hayden asked as Shane spun around to face him. He could hear the panic in Hayden's voice, and could vaguely sense it on his face, but Shane was replaying the hit over and over in his head.

The hit that had been meant for him.

It had been a nasty, dirty hit, and it would've rocked Shane thoroughly, but Shane almost would've preferred that to what he had just seen. Shane let Hayden guide him to a sitting position on the bench as Scott Hunter skated up to talk to the lead ref. He was back within a minute, telling the group of them gathered around the bench that the game was over. Somewhere in the time that Shane had been frozen on the ice and pushed back to the bench, the fight had been broken up and Kent had been ejected and escorted from the game.

"Listen up, we're fucking done. I told the ref to cancel the game or we fucking forfeit." Hunter spat, anger rolling off of him in waves.

Shane let Hayden guide him to the locker room as the hit replayed in his head over and over. He tried to keep his breathing steady and even because he refused to have a panic attack in a locker room full of grown men. He took note of Marlow's brand new shiner and brilliantly bloody knuckles as he pulled off his hockey gear as quickly as he possibly could. It was suffocating him.

Hayden watched him as if he were a ticking time bomb. As soon as he pulled on his Reeboks, Hayden was saying, "Shane, let's go back to the hotel. I'll call an Uber-"

Shane looked up in panic. "Hayden, I can't-" he whispered.

"Yes, you can. Breathe." Hayden said firmly back, his voice low enough that only Shane could hear. Thankfully the locker room was full of loud, angry men cursing Kent's name and speculating about what type of punishment the league would give him. 

"He was saying something. I saw his mouth moving, he was saying something," Shane repeated, his breaths come quicker.

"Shane, let's get out of here," Hayden said, grabbing his arm and moving to help him stand.

"He was saying something, Hayden. Did you hear it? What was he saying-"

"'I didn't mean it.'" Scott Hunter's voice cut in, interrupting Shane's panic.

"What?" Shane asked, his eyes looking in confusion at Hunter who had apparently overheard what Shane had been saying.

"He kept repeating it. 'I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it. Tell him I didn't mean it.'" Hunter replied, chuckling miserably as if he still couldn't believe what had happened. "At least that's what it sounded like."

Shane barely had time to process what it meant before his whole world began to sway as if Hunter had just kicked the floor out from underneath him. He would've fallen if not for Hayden's steadying grasp on his arm. Hayden grabbed Shane's bag, then his own, and dragged Shane out of the locker room. They went out the back exit of the arena where Hayden was already furiously typing on his phone.

Shane's eyes began to well up with tears as he remembered.

"We are not anything. This never meant anything."

"Tell him I didn't mean it."

Ilya had been staring at him all throughout warm ups and had been trying to talk to him in between almost every goal they scored. Shane was an idiot sometimes, but he wasn't stupid. Even if he was totally off base here, which he was pretty sure he wasn't, he would never forgive himself if he didn't go see him.

"Car will be here in 2 minutes," Hayden said, looking up from his phone screen.

"Hayd, I can't go to the hotel, I have to see him." Shane pleaded.

"Fucking obviously." Hayden replied, rolling his eyes. "They took him to Tampa General, that's where we're going."

Shane felt a rush of gratitude mix in with his overwhelming sense of fear. So that's what Hayden had been doing on his phone. He had no idea what they were gonna do once they got to the hospital, but Shane wouldn't be able to breathe unless they went there and tried.

Ilya had to be okay, he just had to be. 

Chapter End Notes

please don't be mad, i am very sorry for ending things this way tonight. i will be back with more content tomorrow. hugs

xoxo

Chapter 15

Chapter Notes

The first thing he noticed was the steady, electronic pulse echoing throughout the room. It was whiny and droning and Ilya kind of hated it. 

The next thing he noticed was how dry his mouth felt. Normally, Ilya was a big fan of coke, Powerade, vodka... but all he could think about in the moment was how nice it would be to sip down an ice cold glass of water.

The steady ache in his ribs came next. And then the sterile, yet somewhat stale smell that Ilya recognized with a wave of unpleasantness. Right, the hit. And now the hospital.

He managed to open his eyes, wincing slightly as the bright light assaulted his vision. There was a figure sleeping somewhat uncomfortably in a chair in the corner of the room. Marlow.

"Marlow," Ilya managed to rasp out, his throat scratchy and his voice low and garbled.

His eyes immediately opened as he bolted upright in the chair, his eyes widening in surprise and then softening with fondness as he noticed Ilya awake. "About fucking time, Roz. You had us all worried as shit."

"Us?" Ilya managed to ask, possibilities flashing through his mind.

"Me, Svetlana, Rose..." Marlow trailed off and Ilya was sure his face fell. "I think the whole team was here at various points throughout the night, but the doc wouldn't let any of them in until you were awake to okay it."

"Oh," Ilya replied. Did that mean Hollander had been there? It had to have if Marlow had mentioned the whole team, right?

"Visiting hours ended about thirty minutes ago, they practically had to have security kick Svetlana and Rose and some of the other guys out." Marlow said softly, "You know, I think Svetlana is going to kill you when you get out of here for making me your emergency contact over her."

Ilya managed a weak chuckle. He had almost forgotten he had done that. He obviously hadn't put his brother or his father down because for one, he didn't want to, and for two, there wasn't really anything they would be able to do for him in Russia. He ended up choosing Marlow because they traveled together so often, if something happened to him on one of their away games, Marlow would be there.

"You know, you don't have to stay." Ilya said earnestly, but from the way Marlow erupted in laughter, it may have seemed to an outsider like Ilya had just told a grand joke.

"Fuck off, Rozy. I'm staying." Marlow assured with a sort of finality in his voice that left Ilya no room to argue.

He managed a weak smile in return. "Okay, give it to me straight. How long am I out?"

"4 to 6 weeks. Probably 6 to err on the side of caution." Marlow replied, looking at Ilya seriously now. "You have a concussion, bruised ribs- not broken, thankfully- and a dislocated shoulder. Honestly pretty lucky for an exposed hit like that."

Ilya laid his head back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. "I guess I should feel lucky I am not out for season, yes?"

"Very." Marlow replied, "I don't know what type of punishment Kent will be facing from the league since it technically wasn't a real game, but..." Marlow eyes darkened, "He plays us, the Admirals, and the Voyageurs within the next couple of weeks, and I can't imagine it will be fun for him."

It was then that Ilya noticed the bandaged wrapped around Marlow's hand, and his heart swelled. "I am not so sure the Voyageurs will defend my honor like you have." Ilya replied with a cocky grin.

"Maybe not, but everyone could tell that hit was meant for Hollander. And there's no way Pike or Boiziau are gonna let that go."

And there it was. Ilya could tell from the way Marlow's eyes met his warily that he wanted to ask. Ilya wasn't even quite sure he had it in him to make up a believable lie for why he had done it. He held Marlow's gaze, almost daring him to ask. If Marlow asked, Ilya would tell the truth.

Marlow said nothing, and Ilya almost wondered if it was because he didn't need to. Maybe Marlow didn't need to ask because he already knew. Ilya sighed, "What are they saying about me?"

"Oh, Rozy. You might have to start some fights when you get back because your bad boy reputation is absolutely trashed." Marlow grinned devilishly as he pulled out his phone, "Rozanov Melts Hearts Around the League: For years now, Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander have been a part of the MLH's most heated rivalry. The two titans have led their teams through numerous playoff games, but one thing has always been clear. They play hard against each other. This weekend gave them the opportunity to play together for the first time, and the result may not be what you expect. Their opening goal in the second period was a masterclass in complimentary hockey, displaying a level of telegraphic chemistry that led to a comfortable lead in the game. It honestly kind of makes sense," Hayden Pike, Hollander's teammate from the Montreal Voyageurs said to a reporter in the break between the second and third period. "They've spent years competing against each other, studying each other to try and beat the other one out. Of course that would translate to playing together." The most shocking and heroic part of the whole night though was Rozanov pushing Hollander out of the way of a dirty blindside check delivered by Dallas Kent. In an incredibly uncharacteristic blow for an Allstar game, Kent lost his cool and made to take it out on Hollander, but Rozanov got in the way. Fans around the league are applauding Rozanov for intercepting what could have been a devastating, potentially career ending hit for Hollander while also wondering if maybe the MLH's favorite bad boy isn't as bad as he seems? In other-"

"Okay Marly, I get it." Rozanov cut him off, sighing.

"Wait no, Roz. You gotta hear this part. You've jumped up to the favorite in odds for the Sportsmanship award. Isn't that fucking crazy?" Marlow asked, practically giggling. "I mean come on, Ilya Rozanov winning the Sportsmanship award?"

"Fuck off, Marly." Ilya muttered under his breath.

Marlow continued to laugh, scrolling through different headlines from news articles and reading out the funny ones to Ilya. They had fallen into a comfortable silence, Ilya's eyes closed and resting when Marlow piped up again, "If you don't want to talk about it, feel free to tell me to fuck off here- I mean, you never have to explain anything to me, but I think Coach and the team doctor are gonna be a little bit confused and maybe... upset at you." Marlow trailed off.

"Yes, I figure this." Ilya sighed. "I don't know what to say, Marlow. I am confused too."

Marlow looked at Ilya sympathetically, "You know, Hollander and Pike were the first two here. They beat me by a couple minutes, and Pike was yelling at the front desk, but they wouldn't let them back. I think Pike had to drag Hollander out when visiting ended. They rode back to the hotel with Rose and Svetlana I think."

Ilya's stomach did something funny, he felt a longing pang in his chest, and he knew it had nothing to do with his bruised ribs. He had been such an asshole, even more than he normally was, and every time he had tried to apologize for it, he'd been interrupted. But still, according to Marlow, Hollander had been there. Ilya was suddenly struck with two things. One was utter confusion of Marlow's recount of the events with Pike of all people yelling at the receptionist to try and see him. Hollander's expression after Ilya had told him they had been nothing was enough for Ilya to know that he was hurt, upset for some reason. Ilya was ashamed at the brief satisfactory feeling of knowing he could make Hollander feel the same hurt that Ilya had felt when he'd walked out on him.

The second thing however, was an intense feeling of longing. It was the same longing that had gotten him to ask Hollander to stay those months ago in the first place. It was the same longing he felt when he was at the store, stocking up on ginger ale. It was the same longing he'd felt every time he played against Hollander, ever since they were rookies. And it was the same longing that had taken over his brain and bodily functions when he had whispered "Shane."

Ilya let his brain filter through what he could tell his coach, the team doctor, and probably the media as an excuse. That he would have done it for anybody? Except that made him seem like somewhat of a liability, and it was so far from the truth that he wasn't even sure he could say it convincingly. That he'd only had a split second to react and had make the wrong decision? Again, liability and just completely wrong.

"Maybe I tell them the truth." Ilya finally settled on, "That I knew hit would be much more devastating for Hollander than for me."

"That's pretty good." Marlow replied after thinking contemplatively for a moment. "That's not the compete truth though, is it?" There was a hidden question in there, one that Marlow wasn't going to scare Ilya off by asking directly, but Ilya knew what he meant all the same.

"Yes," Ilya confirmed, "Is right, Marlow. What you are thinking, it is correct."

"Well, I think you may have more of a chance than you realize then, Roz." Marlow said softly.

The nurse came in not long after to do a couple checks, seemingly presently surprised that Rozanov was awake and talking already.

"You took a pretty hard hit there, Mr. Rozanov. You're lucky it wasn't worse," She scolded him, frowning almost. "What you did was very admirable," Her face pulled up in a half smile, "But as your nurse, I have to advise you not to do it again."

The nurse left after giving Rozanov a new dose of pain meds, and after a bit of back and forth, Marlow finally let himself be convinced to leave.

"Is no point in you spending the night in that tiny chair, Marly. Go back to the hotel, tell everyone I am fine, and then you can come back in the morning." Rozanov had argued after threatening to never pass him the puck again had failed.

"Fine, fine." Marlow finally said, throwing his hands up in surrender. He stood, lingering by the door as he went to leave. "I'm glad you're okay, Roz." He finally settled on before closing the door.

It was just after midnight, and the uber to the hotel was quick due to the empty streets. Marlow wondered how many of his fellow players would be in the hotel bar, and how many had already retired for the night. He got his answer right when he walked in, noticing almost all of the players there without their wives and families sitting around a table. As he walked closer, he noticed some of them were making light hearted attempts at conversation, while most others refreshed their phone screens every so often, no doubt waiting for any news on Rozanov.

Vaughn was the first to notice him, "Marlow!" He exclaimed, and a bunch of heads swiveled around to stare at him, most notably Shane Hollander, who Marlow was pretty sure had red rimmed eyes.

Marlow gave the guys a warm smile, immediately saying "He's okay, guys. Concussion, bruised ribs, dislocated shoulder, but... he'll be back for playoffs." Marlow watched the way Hollander's shoulders defleated as if he were finally letting out a breath he'd been holding for hours.

It had been a couple years since he'd noticed the weird way Rozanov had acted about Hollander. Roz was one of the biggest chirpers in the league, always something negative to say about other players whether it be criticisms about their age, gameplay, or personal lives. But the most he'd ever said about Hollander was that he was boring. In fact, before Montreal games when the other guys would shit talk Hollander and hype up Roz, he'd never disagreed, but he'd never said anything in agreement either.

For a while, Marlow had figured that it was just some sort of mutual respect between the two that stopped Rozanov from saying anything about Hollander. He hadn't paid any notice to Rozanov's schedule pre or post game as he always seemed to be hanging around with someone new for the first few years they played together. However, for the past year, he'd noticed Roz spent a lot more time in their shared hotel room during away games. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Roz pick anybody up on a night out.

Well, except for when they were in Montreal. There was always some excuse about having something to do, and then Roz would come back in the late hours of the night that really could be categorized as early hours of the morning with a stupid smile on his face that stayed plastered until Marlow called him out about it.

Marlow had suspected for a while that Roz had a secret lover. He had suspected that Roz was way less of a playboy than the media made him out to be, or at least he had been for the past year. But it really hadn't clicked that it was Hollander until a few weeks ago during truth or dare when Roz confided that there was someone he wasn't with because they didn't want to be. The pieces had all clicked the next morning once Marlow had been sober again and thinking clearly, and he'd honestly kicked himself for not realizing it sooner. 

He would never admit it, but he had gone home that day and watched old game film, pausing and zooming in on faceoffs between Hollander and Rozanov, comparing Roz's facial expressions there to other faceoffs from games not against Montreal. Marlow had determined that he had to have been blind for not noticing the way the two of them looked at each other sooner.

The men before him seemed to breathe out a collective sigh of relief with the news that Rozanov was okay.

"Dallas Kent deserves whatever is coming to him in his next few games," Vaughn said darkly.

"It's such bullshit that the league won't do anything to punish him because it was just the Allstar game," Hunter spoke up complaining, "It was one of the dirtiest fucking hits I've ever seen."

There were murmurs of agreement, but Marlow noticed Hollander remained silent, eyes staring blankly at the table and mind somewhere far away.

"Well, get some sleep guys, there's nothing else we can do tonight." Marlow encouraged, "I'll be going back to the hospital at 8 when visiting hours open if anyone wants to come with." He nodded his goodnight and then walked toward the elevator. He supposed he should head up to the top floor where Svetlana and Rose were probably still awake and check on them even though he'd already texted them that Rozanov was fine.

The elevator doors were about to close when a hand pushed in between them. Hollander appeared before him, slightly flushed as if he had run from the bar to the elevator to catch up. "Hey, um, Marlow. Would it be cool if I ride with you to the hospital tomorrow?" Hollander asked, his eyes wide and shifty almost as if he were nervous Marlow would say no.

"Of course." Marlow said immediately, smiling to himself.

Hollander nodded in an appreciative thanks, stepping onto the elevator and pushing the button for the fourth floor. They rode up together in silence until the elevator dinged to let Hollander out. 

As he stepped off the elevator, Marlow couldn't help himself from saying, "I think he'll be happy to see you."

Hollander spun around quickly, his cheeks flushed pink. "Oh, uh, good!" He managed to get out. Marlow winked at him as the doors closed.

Marlow wasn't sure exactly what had happened between the two of them. He wasn't exactly sure why Roz was pretend dating Rose either, though he didn't complain much about that because he liked Rose. What he did know though, was that Roz was a big fucking piece of work sometimes. After being his best friend for the past nearly eight years, Marlow was pretty sure he knew that better than almost anybody.

He was also pretty sure that whatever made Rozanov think Hollander wanted nothing to do with him was absolutely incorrect, especially from the way Hollander's cheeks had just flushed. His best friend was normally and awful fucking communicator, but Marlow wanted him to be happy more than anything, so if he had to drop a couple subtle hints to help him get there, he sure as fuck was going to.

He walked up to Rose's door and knocked. She answered quickly, dressed in her pjs and a gooey looking face mask. Marlow made a face.

"Don't look at me like that, they're good for your skin." Rose frowned as she stepped aside to let him in the room. Svetlana was sitting on one of the beds wearing an identical face mask.

"We saved one for you!" She said in a sing-songy voice and Marlow groaned, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Marlow reluctantly let them put the face mask on him, updated them about what the nurse had mentioned about Roz's condition right before he left, and debated very carefully whether he should tell them what he'd discovered or not. It wasn't a secret between the four of them that Roz was into both men and women, it was just the Hollander of it all... Fuck it.

"Guys, I have something to tell you, and I kind of need your help with it..."

Chapter End Notes

after doing hayden's pov, you know i had to do one for my boy too...

everybody say thank you marlow!

Chapter 16

Chapter Notes

Shane tapped his fingers mindlessly along the arm of the chair he was sitting in. It was only 7 am, but he had woken up an hour ago from fitful sleep and decided there was no point in continuing to try. He'd barely even been able to fall asleep in the first place. Every time he closed his eyes, he replayed the image of Ilya sprawled on the ice motionless.

Dallas Kent was a fucking asshole, and Shane was going to punch him when they played in two weeks. And then he would gladly serve his time in the sin bin and revel in watching his teammates relentlessly check the dude into the boards all game. He would have to make sure to tape the Boston Colorado game to watch after because he was absolutely certain that the Bears were going to give Kent absolute hell, that was if Marlow didn't kill him first during the game.

Shane nervously sipped his orange juice as he waited for Marlow to come down so they could uber to the hospital. It didn't really matter to Shane that the hospital was only a ten minute drive away, or that since visiting hours didn't start until 8 am, they would just be waiting outside until then. Regardless of what they were or what they had or had not been, he needed to see with his own two eyes that Rozanov was okay.

He was so lost staring off into space, he hardly noticed when someone sat down, occupying the space next to him.

"Hey," the voice softly said, and he turned to see Rose Landry looking at him with a faint smile. Shane felt a little bit like an asshole.

"Hey," he replied with a nod, his fingers continuing to tap along the chair. He realized he should probably say something else. The optics definitely were not good, there wasn't really a reason Shane should be so concerned with his arch rivals health. For all Rose knew, it wasn't like they were anything more than that. Rivals.

"Dallas Kent is such a fucking asshole." Rose said and Shane couldn't help barking out a laugh.

"Yeah," he sighed out, "He's the worst." Again, he felt like he should have said more, but he couldn't find the right words.

"It's sweet, how worried you are about him." Rose commented with a smile.

"I- what? I mean, it's just-" Shane sputtered.

"No, I mean!" Rose interrupted, "You two came into the league together, you've been compared your whole careers. It would be surprising if you guys hadn't formed some sort of connection, right?"

"Uh, yeah." Shane affirmed. It was definitely just that, mutual respect between rivals, yup. "Umm, you must have been really worried last night too." Shane offered.

"Oh, yeah, totally worried, I mean Ilya is like one of my best friends." She shrugged, "But he's gonna be fine. He'll be back to terrorizing us all soon."

Shane took another sip of his orange juice. He'd always heard his mom call his dad her best friend, and he'd always wanted that kind of love for himself. He'd always wanted to be so close with his person, that they were not just lovers, but friends too. It was sweet, even though it hurt him, that Rozanov had found that with Rose.

"Definitely hope he heals up quickly. It won't feel as good, beating Boston without him playing." Shane joked. 

Rose laughed, "He would probably love to hear you say that. Classic Rozanov, getting hurt and making the whole weekend about him." Rose sighed, "I mean come on, when am I gonna be surrounded by this many hot, talented hockey men again? And now I have to go spend my day at the hospital?" She rolled her eyes.

Shane's head turned to the side a bit as he thought over her statement. It didn't necessarily sound like the loving, worried girlfriend he'd been expecting. "I mean, you're always hanging out with Rozanov and Marlow, right?"

"Ugh, Cliff and Ilya? As if."Rose pretended to gag, "I mean, don't get me wrong- they're hot, sure. But they're also... them."

Now Shane's head was really spinning, more than it had been before. Because from the way Rose was talking about Ilya, it didn't seem like she was all head over heels in love with him. In fact, it didn't seem like she was romantically into him at all. She was talking about Rozanov the way that Shane had heard the Montreal WAGs talk about the boys they weren't dating or married to. A certain level of fondness overpowered by a large level of annoyance.

Suddenly, Shane was flashing back to things Rose had said before.

'I put everything off just for the weekend to just relax with my friends.'

'I mean Ilya is like one of my best friends.'

'Ilya? As if.'

And then there was the matter of the face Rose had pulled last night when Shane had referred to her as Rozanov's girlfriend.

But it couldn't possibly be... right?

"You and Rozanov though," He said slowly, gears turning in his brain, "You're together?"

Rose's eyes flashed in alarm and she quickly clapped a hand over her mouth, "Shit. I can explain."

Rose began to tell him about the biopic she had filmed last year about a famous European figure skater that was coming out later that month.

"And so my agent thought it would be a good idea to date an athlete to try and, you know, get my name out there with an audience who might be into that sort of thing. The movie is a lot different from my usual stuff, it's more serious, and it's about something that really matters, so I really want it to do well. I want to prove to people that I can be more than just the girl who gets kidnapped, or the romcom star, or the silly superhero movie girl." Rose sighed.

Shane's mind was overloaded. This whole time... it had been fake.

"You can't tell anyone. I mean, I'm sure there's some people suspecting it's a PR relationship anyway, but please just, don't tell." Rose finished, looking at Shane with wide puppy dog eyes.

"I won't." He managed to say as his brain worked overtime. This whole time he'd spent thinking he'd fucked things up with Ilya so badly, and he hadn't. Or, maybe he had, but it had been a fake relationship from the start, and Rozanov had pushed Shane out of the way to take a hit meant for him.

'Tell him I didn't mean it.'

And according to Scott Hunter, everything he'd said to Shane yesterday- he didn't mean. It was too much yet not enough, and God, Shane just really needed to see him. He stood up from his seat as soon as he saw Marlow round the corner with Svetlana, his phone immediately unlocked with the Uber app opened. He kind of noticed the inquisitive look Marlow sent Rose and the wink she returned at him, but all he was focused on was getting to the hospital. He had a lot of questions.

It felt like hours that it took to get from the hotel to the hospital and to get signed in with their visitor badges even though in reality it was probably only twenty minutes. Shane paced the waiting room floor nervously as one of the nurses went to tell Ilya who his visitors were and ask if he wanted to see them. What if after all of this, Ilya didn't want to see him?

Shane had just taken in a deep breath, fully prepared for the worst when the nurse called them back. She led them up the elevator to the fourth floor and down the hallway to room 424.

"We can wait out here if you wanna go in first," Svetlana said boldly, and Marlow and Rose immediately backed her up with eager nods.

Shane took a deep breath, calming his racing heart, and pushed the door open. He wasn't prepared to see how small Rozanov looked in the hospital bed, and pale.

"Marlow?" He mumbled the question with his eyes closed.

"Umm, no. But I can get him if you want." Shane replied softly.

Rozanov's eyes snapped open immediately. "Hollander." He whispered.

"Hi," Shane replied with a tight smile. "Umm, how are you feeling?"

Rozanov quickly blinked away the shock on his face, "I am fine." He said, wincing slightly as he tried to sit up a bit.

Shane rushed toward the side of the bed in case he needed help.

"You are here." Rozanov stated plainly.

"Yeah, is that okay?" Shane asked, holding his breath. What if Rozanov told him to kick rocks and get lost?

"Is fine." He said indifferently. Shane eye's wandered across his face, marking the light bruising around his eyes from hitting the impact of his helmet hitting the ice. He let his eyes trial slightly to the right where Rozanov's arm was in a sling to prevent another dislocation and then back over to his chest where he knew the bruised ribs were, thanks to Marlow.

Suddenly, Shane was angry. He was angry at himself for provoking Kent, and angry at Rozanov for taking the hit meant for him. But most of all, he was angry that Rozanov hadn't told him everything with Rose was fake. He was angry at Rozanov for not texting, not reaching out. He was angry at him for the way he'd looked at him after he called him Shane. Because what he thought had meant nothing to Rozanov, had scared him off. Most of all, he was angry at himself for being angry at the injured, slightly broken boy laying on the bed before him.

"Why did you do it?" He heard himself asking before he could stop it.

"Do what?" Rozanov replied, his brow furrowing in confusion. Shane was angry at himself that his first instinct was almost overwhelmingly to kiss the confusion away.

"You know what. The hit. Why did you push me out of the way?" Shane clarified.

Rozanov hesitated. "I was being good teammate, yes?" He decided on, the words coming out of his mouth somewhat unseriously and stoking the flames of Shane's anger.

"Why did you do it?" Shane asked again, his voice firmer and more serious this time.

"Why does it matter?" Rozanov replied indignantly.

"Because I want to know! Just answer the question." Shane replied, trying not to let himself get too worked up. Ilya could never just make things easy for him, could he?

"I did not realize you would care about this so much," Rozanov huffed, avoiding eye contact with Shane, and that was it- that was the last straw.

"Obviously I fucking care!" He exclaimed, he felt a small sense of betrayal at the tears he could feel threatening to fall in the corner of his eyes. "You're laying in a hospital bed for fuck's sake. I saw you crumple onto the ground last night, motionless. I watched them strap you onto the spinal board, and carry you off the ice. So stop being an asshole, and please just tell me why you did it." He was immediately ashamed of his outburst. He inhaled a shaky breath and turned to face the window, letting one stray tear fall down his cheek.

"Wait, Hollander. I am sorry," his voice was immediately softer. It was almost gentle as if he were talking to a spooked animal. "Come here, please."

Shane turned back, wiping at the tear track with the corner of his sleeve as he faced Rozanov once again. "Why did you do it?" He whispered, and his voice sounded weak and shaky.

Rozanov lifted his hand slightly, as if gesturing for Shane. Shane immediately stepped forward and grabbed for his hand, nearly jumping at the shock he felt when their sin touched. "You know why, Hollander."

"I don't," Shane replied just as softly, he could feel his bottom lip trembling, and he was scared, fuck- he was so scared. Of what? He wasn't exactly sure.

Maybe it was the cold, slightly clammy feel of Ilya's hand that felt so unlike his normal loud, boisterous, warm self. Maybe it was shock still from everything he'd just found out from Rose. Maybe it was the gravity of the situation and the enormity of the feelings he had been suppressing for months thinking him and Rozanov would never be anything again.

"I couldn't see you hurt." Ilya whispered in a rare moment of vulnerability. He was looking down at their intertwined fingers, his voice was soft and careful, nervous almost as if he were afraid Shane was about to run, but Shane couldn't imagine being anywhere but exactly where he was in the moment with Rozanov looking at their hands like it was precious glass that could break if the wind blew too harshly.

He felt another tear slide down his cheek as he replied, "But now I have to see you hurt."

Ilya's eyes snapped up to his quickly, marking the tear on his face and the shaky way he'd said it. His mouth parted slightly in surprise, as if he were shocked by the words. As if he were shocked that Shane cared. 

Shane felt an almost overwhelming urge to kiss him, though it might have been a bit confusing since Rozanov still didn't know Shane knew the relationship with Rose was fake, and he might've kissed him anyway, but a soft knock sounded at the door and then Marlow, Svetlana, and Rose entered. Shane pulled his hand back to his side quickly as the three of them walked into the room.

"Hey, Rozy!" Marlow said cheerfully, "How are you doing?"

"I am fine, Marlow. Get me the fuck out of here." Rozanov said, his voice deadpan and serious, but the slight curl of his mouth gave away the joke.

Svetlana said something to him in Russian which he responded to somewhat shyly.

Rose walked right up to him and punched the arm not in the sling.

"Ow!" Rozanov exclaimed.

"That's what you get, you idiot. Don't scare me like that again or I'll fake break up with you early." Rose scolded. Shane watched as Rozanov's eyes shot over to him quickly as a slight hint of pink spread across his cheeks. "Oh relax, I slipped up talking to your boy Hollander earlier this morning and just told him the truth."

It was Shane's turn to blush.

Rose turned to look at him and noted the awkward distance he was standing from Rozanov's bed, his hands shover awkwardly in his pocket. "Look, I'm gonna go see if there's any edible food in the hospital. I'll be back in a bit, Ilya."

"Oh, uh yeah! Me too!" Marlow added, non suspiciously.

"And me!" Svetlana added with a wink toward Shane. As she followed Marlow and Rose out the door, calling something out in Russian again before leaving Shane and Ilya alone together.

They looked at each other as if they were both unsure what to do next. Shane's head was still pounding, and his heart was swelling with different emotions. Ilya looked smaller than usual laying in the hospital bed, he also looked pale and slightly beaten up, but he was still beautiful. He reached his hand toward him slowly, and Ilya immediately took it.

"I'm mad at you." Shane whispered as he moved closer.

"I'm sorry." Ilya responded immediately, his eyes drinking in Shane's face like he was water in the middle of a desert.

"I'm mad at you for not texting-" Shane started.

"I didn't think you wanted to hear from me." Ilya murmured.

"I'm mad at you for what you said yesterday-" Shane continued.

"I know, I was so stupid. I did not mean any of it, I promise." Ilya apologized, his eyes worried and sad as if he weren't sure Shane would accept.

"And I'm mostly mad at you for getting hurt." Shane finished, certain his eyes were showing all of the signs of fear and hurt he had experienced in the past 24 hours.

"I'm sorry." Ilya whispered. "I am so, so sorry." It was then that Shane noticed they had gradually leaned toward each other. He could see the layers of blue in Ilya's eyes and was shocked as he was reminded once again how beautiful they were. For a second, his eyes dropped down to his lips.

"Don't do it again." Shane whispered back, and he hoped that everything he felt was conveyed in those words. He didn't just mean not to get hurt again, he meant not to stop texting, not to stop teasing him before, after, and during games, he meant not to stop being them.

"I promise." Ilya replied, his voice just as equally shaky as Shane's had been, and Shane couldn't help it any longer. 

He leaned the rest of the way down and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to Ilya's mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly so no more stray tears could escape as he relished in the feeling he had been missing for months. It wasn't rushed, or desperate unlike many of their other kisses, and there was nothing behind it but sweetness and tenderness. Shane let out a small sigh into Ilya's mouth as their lips moved softly and familiarly against each others. 

God, he had missed this.

After a few seconds, he pulled back resting his forehead ever so gently against Ilya's own.

"You know, I heard blow jobs make concussion better." He heard Ilya say seriously, and then he was throwing his head back and his shoulders were shaking with laughter. He had missed this, missed him so much.

Shane knew he was an absolute goner.

"Talk to me when we're not in a hospital room where a nurse, or worse, Marlow could walk in at any second." Shane replied, laughing still. He opened his eyes to see a grin spread wide across Ilya's face.

"Holding you to that, Hollander." He said with a wink.

Chapter End Notes

ugh, finally! right???

i hope you all have a lovely friday. I will try to make tomorrow another double chapter day for you again.

xoxo

Chapter 17

Chapter Notes

Lily: What are you up to ?

The text came in just as Shane had finished his morning run. He couldn't stop the giddy smile that spread across his face, and if anyone saw him he would blame his pink cheeks on the physical activity and not the text.

Shane: Just finished my morning run.

He was already pretty sure he knew what Ilya was going to say, and so he wasn't surprised when he received.

Lily: Show me.

Shane: Fuck off

Shane had spent the better part of the day in the hospital even though the Russian had slept through most of it despite trying desperately to stay awake. But his flight back to Montreal had been that evening and Rozanov had convinced him that he would be fine with the perfectly capable team of Svetlana, Rose, and Marlow taking care of him. Plus, Shane had practice the next morning and even though it was optional, he had only ever missed when he was deathly ill.

So Shane had flown back to Montreal and left Rozanov in Tampa, but he checked in on him daily.

Lily: Hollander.

Lily: I take brutal hit to protect you from stupid American.

Lily: Least you can do is send me sweaty selfie

Lily: ;)

And, okay... He had a fair point there, but Shane was feeling a little bit difficult.

Shane: Say please?

Lily: Oh my god Hollander

Lily: You are so boring

...

Lily: Please

Shane smiled to himself as he pulled up his camera app, flipping it around to see his flushed, sweaty face staring back at him. Fuck. He had taken selfies before, certainly he had. He sent them to his mom all the time before games on the road. But this selfie was not going to his mom.

Should he smile at the camera? Was that too goofy? But was a serious face too unfriendly and... boring? He was sure Rozanov was a lot better at this part than him. He probably wouldn't second guess it at all, he would just take the selfie quick and send it. Shane finally settled on a selfie holding the phone up slightly above his face angled down with a soft, half smile.

Shane: [sent a photo]

He sent it to Ilya and thirty seconds passed by with no response. Then a minute. Then two. Maybe the photo was stupid? Maybe Rozanov had decided he didn't actually like him after all and regretted pushing him out of Dallas Kent's way. Finally about five minutes after he'd sent the photo, Rozanov finally responded.

Lily: Freckles

Shane had just about had a panic attack, and here was Rozanov responding with just one simple word. Classic.

Shane: Yeah, they're genetic

Lily: They are beautiful

Shane flushed a dark red at that.

Shane: Aren't you supposed to like

Shane: Not be looking at screens?

Lily: Is true.

There was a brief moment of still, and Shane wondered if that was going to be the end of the conversation until he received a call from Lily. He fixed his hair and ran the back of his hand along his cheeks to try and rub some of the sweat away before hitting the green button to accept the call which was a little bit ridiculous since it wasn't like Rozanov would be able to see him.

He pushed the speaker button and set his phone down on the kitchen counter before answering in a slightly breathless, "Hey."

"Hi," he heard Ilya's reply from the other end.

"You, umm, called me," Shane stated plainly and obviously and he immediately wanted to stick his foot in his mouth. God, he was so stupid.

"Yes." Rozanov replied, his voice was strong and confident as ever, but Shane felt like he could maybe hear just the slightest tremor in it, as if he were a little bit nervous. "I hope this is okay."

"Yes!" Shane exclaimed immediately, before blushing at his eagerness, this was off to a terribly embarrassing start. "Umm I mean. It's uh probably good to, you know, talk and not look at the screen."

"Mmm yes. I think so." He could practically hear the smirk on Rozanov's face in his reply.

"So, how are you feeling? How is Boston?" Shane asked curiously. It had been a week since the Allstar game, and if Shane remembered correctly, there was still about four or five weeks left before Ilya would be able to return to practice.

"Ehh, Boston is very boring. I sit on Marlow's couch all day, I get up and sit in guest bedroom bed. And then I go to sit on the couch some more." Rozanov sighed on the other end.

He knew Rozanov was staying with Marlow just for the initial two weeks it would take for his concussion symptoms to die down, just in case anything went wrong or got worse. Shane was glad for it, though he'd much rather have Rozanov staying here in Montreal with him, but that thought kind of scared him and was honestly pretty impractical, so he kept it to himself.

The two of them still hadn't really talked everything through since their sort of reunion in the hospital, but Shane figured he would wait until Rozanov was no longer concussed and dealing with headaches to bring it up.

"Tell me something interesting." Rozanov commanded from the other line, and Shane felt that in that moment he would have done whatever he asked him to do.

So he spoke, he told him about the things he'd seen out on his run, about how practices had gone this week. He talked about the game he'd played and barely won two nights ago, going through his critical game analysis of himself and what he could improve on. He talked about dinner with his parents after the game and when he'd babysat the Pike kids during Hayden and Jackie's anniversary dinner. He heard Rozanov's noises of acknowledgement and reveled in them.

He kept talking until the noises were few and far between. "Roz?" He asked softly.

"Mmm, sorry. I am so -" He trailed off slightly, voice laced with exhaustion.

"You should rest." Shane said with a fond smile blooming across his face. It was probably for the better. Shane was still sweaty from his run and needed to make his smoothie and he was probably going to run late for a campaign he had to shoot in an hour that his mom had scheduled without asking him and notified him about last night. Or maybe she'd told him a month ago, and he'd simply forgotten.

"I'm sorry," Rozanov murmured sleepily, "Call later?"

"Yeah," Shane said, his smile fully taking over his face now, "Yeah, for sure."

The weeks flew by quickly. Every day, Rozanov would text Shane something and Shane would yell at him for looking at his phone, and they'd end up calling. Shane was pretty sure Rozanov had been cleared from concussion protocol a few days ago, but Rozanov hadn't argued with Shane about the screen thing yet and Shane figured he'd just keep saying it until he did. Sometimes if it got a bit late in the day, and Shane hadn't yet heard from Rozanov, he'd text him first.

The texts were usually innocent and usually had to do with hockey, but there were a couple times where Rozanov would call him and just ask him to talk about something from his life that didn't have to do with the sport, and Shane found it surprisingly easy to open up. He had gotten so used to the good luck text he received before every game, that when he didn't get one before they played Columbus, he began to wonder that something was wrong.

In the break between the second and third period, he checked his phone and still nothing. The last text he had from him was from yesterday night. They hadn't called at all today or yesterday because Shane was on the road, and even though Hayden kind of knew what was going on, Shane was focused on the mental preparation for the game which Ilya understood.

Shane decided to send a text to check in.

Shane: Hey, you okay?

He stared at the text, waiting for the Delivered to pop up beneath it, but it never came. Shane set his phone down in the visiting locker stall by his bag and frowned as he headed back onto the ice. By some grace of God, he managed to score a goal in the last minute of the third period that went unanswered to give them a 3-2 win. It was kind of an ugly one, but a win was a win at the end of the day. 

As soon as they got back to the locker room, Shane unlocked his phone and pulled up his text thread with Lily. The text remained undelivered. Shane's head immediately began racing through all the possibilities starting simply with 'his phone is dead and he's asleep' going all the way from 'he blocked me' to 'maybe he's been kidnapped and they turned his phone off so no one can ping the location'. It ended up being that Shane didn't have to wonder long because he got the answer right as he was getting out of the shower.

"Shit," he heard JJ exclaim in his usual loud post-win locker room voice, "Rozanov's father is dead."

Shane maybe should have been a little embarrassed at the speed in which his head snapped up, "What?"

"It was announced two hours ago. He was spotted at the airport boarding a flight to Moscow." JJ said solemnly. The Voyageurs still hated the Bears with a burning passion, but a lot of them had grown soft spots for Rozanov since seeing the way he'd protected Shane at the Allstar game.

"Oh my god." Shane whispered, his shoulders folding in as he felt the walls of the locker room seem to shrink in around him.

Ilya had seldomly talked about his family. The last time Shane could remember him really saying anything was that day months ago when Shane had run out of his apartment. He'd gotten a call from his father in the middle of them sitting on the couch, gravitating closer and closer toward each other. He had told Shane after that his father was sick, but Shane hadn't realized how bad it was. He pulled his phone back out.

Shane: Shit

Shane: I just saw the news

Shane: I'm so sorry Roz

He was sure the texts wouldn't deliver until he landed, but Shane would probably be asleep by then and he wanted Rozanov to know that he wasn't alone. He debated texting him again before he went to sleep, but he wasn't sure what else there really was to say. There were other things he could think of that he wanted to say to him, but he knew those probably weren't the type of things he should be sending him right now, especially being in Russia even if his name was saved as Jane in Rozanov's phone.

He woke up in the morning to one simple text.

Lily: Don't be. I am not.

Shane wasn't sure exactly what to do with it, or how to respond. He typed out a few texts, 'I'm here if you need me', 'I wish I was with you', 'I really care about you' but none of them seemed right, so he settled on nothing which was definitely the coward's way out.

He was laying on his couch two days later, watching the highlights of a couple games that had happened over the weekend when he got the call. He answered it almost immediately, but was too worried to be embarrassed.

"Hi," he breathed into the phone.

Ilya was silent on the other end for a while. "Hi," he finally replied, his voice thick with tears, and Shane had never wanted to hug him so badly.

"Talk to me." Shane said in a way that came out pleading.

"My brother is so terrible. And English is so hard." He heard him say roughly on the other line.

"Then tell me in Russian, I won't understand, but it might help." Shane suggested softly.

So Ilya did. Shane soaked in his words, listening with great interest despite not understanding anything. Rozanov's voice was so strong and confident, he spoke evenly and quickly. It was similar in ways to how he spoke English, always confident and strong, but he spoke in Russian at a much quicker pace. His voice was nuanced, fast and angry, slow and regretful, it was beautiful. Shane decided in that moment that he wanted to learn Russian because Ilya sounded so beautiful speaking it, and despite the pain in his voice, he sounded somewhat comfortable. Shane would probably do anything to make Ilya comfortable.

He listened and listened while Ilya spoke and got everything he needed to say off his chest.

"Okay, am done." He heard him say, and almost wished he wasn't.

"How do you feel?" Shane asked carefully.

"Better. Very, um, full of umm. Like when you win lottery?" Ilya searched for the right word.

"Lucky?" Shane suggested.

"Yes! That." Ilya exclaimed, "Sorry, my English is not very good right now. I feel very lucky to have you listen."

Shane blushed. "I'll always listen," he said shyly.

They talked a little bit longer about nothing that really mattered before they hung up. Ilya would be back in a couple of days, he would be able to return to some parts of practice soon. Mostly only conditioning, and some non contact skating. Shane was only a little bit sad knowing that they would have a lot less time to talk with both of them resuming their careers as full time professional athletes, but he knew that Ilya breathed hockey just like he did and certainly missed it, so he wasn't that upset.

They could still text, of course, in between practices and other commitments, but Shane felt himself longing for the one thing they'd never had much of. More time.

March 2017

In the middle of March, Shane received a letter in the mail with no return address. He opened it to see a handwritten letter alongside an invitation to the premiere of Unbroken: The Life of Sonja Henie. He smiled to himself as he unfolded the letter.

Shane,

I would be so honored if you would attend the premiere of my movie. Here's my deal: You post about my movie on your social media, I make sure you're sitting next to Ilya during the screening. Also, follow me back on Instagram you jerk.

Much Love,

Rose

Shane felt himself unable to contain his smile as he pulled up Instagram on his phone and searched Rose's Instagram. He clicked the blue 'follow back' button and reposted a promotional post of hers for the movie on his Instagram story. He was sure it was going to make at least a couple waves, given that he rarely posted on his Instagram story. He hoped it would generate some positive press for Rose's movie.

He also hoped it wouldn't come as too much of a surprise given that people were starting to speculate that despite his and Ilya's decade long rivalry, maybe they had a secret friendship or some sort of mutual respect for each other given the events of the Allstar game. He went back to Rose's profile and clicked the 'message' button.

He sent her a dm that said 'Terms accepted' followed by a handshake emoji, and closed the app with the cheesy smile still plastered across his face. He took a photo of the letter and texted it to Ilya.

Shane: [sent a photo]

Shane: I think I like your girlfriend

Lily: Please take her off my hands then

Lily: She is so annoying

Shane laugh reacted to the message, and then set his phone down. From an optics perspective, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, if the two of them were photographed sitting next to each other, it would probably break a story on ESPN that would really reach the hockey audience. Shane picked his phone back up, shooting a quick message to his stylist about his need for an outfit for a premiere event next week.

He debated maybe sending Rose some sort of gift basket or bouquet of flowers for organizing an opportunity for him to see Ilya in the middle of the season. He hadn't thought he would see him again until sometime in playoffs depending on seeding probably late April or May. But now here he was with the chance to see him in March, and Shane couldn't be more excited.

His body desperately missed Rozanov's, and as much as he was excited for that part, he was also excited for the mundane parts like seeing him face to face or sitting next to him during a film screening where they would have to keep their hands to themselves and pay attention. He guessed that was probably why Ilya called him boring all the time, but he couldn't think of anything more exciting than doing boring things with Ilya.

Ever since he'd found out at the Allstar game that the relationship with Rose was fake and ever since he'd seen Ilya lying motionless on the ice, it was like a switch had been flipped in him. He was still terrified of the public finding out about it, but now Hayden knew, kind of, they still hadn't fully sat down and discussed the timeline of everything. Shane was also pretty sure Marlow, Svetlana, and Rose knew, and he was pleasantly surprised that he didn't really care. He still deleted all of the pictures he sent and received from Ilya, especially the couple from the few times Ilya had gotten him especially worked up and convinced him to send pictures of the aftermath, but he was tired of being so scared he would delete texts from him, especially when he sent sweet ones.

He scrolled up in their messages to see his favorite that had been sent a week ago at this point.

Lily: You left your shirt here back in November

Lily: It still smells like you

He had blushed for twenty minutes straight after receiving that text. 

He had been terrified when he had run from Ilya's back in November that what he'd been starting to feel wasn't reciprocated, and he had just been scared in general and overwhelmed by everything. But the Allstar game had kind of changed everything, at least for Shane, and he was pretty sure he was starting to want more.

Chapter End Notes

ahh today ended up being busier than I expected, pls don't be mad for late update! see you guys tmrw! next chapter will be... something LOL

xoxo

Chapter 18

Chapter Notes

once again, in this chapter the italicized parts are ilya speaking in russian

Ilya straightened his tie in the mirror and drew in a long, deep breath. He rolled his neck from side to side, only wincing slightly at the lingering ache in his shoulder before he walked out the door.

He wasn't sure why he was feeling more emotion about seeing Shane than he had been at his own father's funeral. Well, actually he did know why, but he hadn't seen him since the Allstar game, and he was terrified of fucking things up again.

They had been texting and calling which was new, but Ilya was still terrified that one wrong move, one wrong word, would send Shane running again.

'here'

He liked the message from Rose. Her car was picking him up so they could walk the carpet together, but then she would go off and do press with the cast, and he would see Shane. 

Ilya was quiet in the car ride over, letting Rose talk his ear off about the premiere. He supposed they both showed nerves in different ways. Rose could not stop talking, and you couldn't pay Ilya to say a word. Which was so different from how he normally was. The walk from the car down the carpet was bright and full of flashes that only aggravated Ilya's head a little bit. He was mostly recovered, had been cleared to return to conditioning and non contact practice a few days ago, but this amount of camera flashes would probably give anybody a headache.

The walk down the carpet was not much better, he stopped every few feet to pose with Rose and then stepped off to the side for her solo photos. She squeezed his arm as they stepped off the carpet and leaned up to his ear to whisper, "Go get your man," before walking off to go do an interview.

"Not my man." Ilya grumbled under his breath in Russian, because Hollander wasn't his and maybe never would be, but for tonight he would make the most of things and pretend. He found him easily, standing by the bar and sipping an amber colored liquid which to the rest of the world looked like a beer, but Ilya knew was a ginger ale.

He couldn't help the small smile that graced his lips.

As much as he hated Dallas Kent and as terrible as the recovery from the hit had been, Ilya couldn't regret it because it gave them a plausible reason to be seen together in public. Who could be suspicious now of the once rivals turned friends after one took a gruesome hit for the other.

He watched as Shane's eyes scanned the room and wondered if he was searching for him. Seeing him made Ilya's chest feel tight in a way that had nothing to do with his bruised ribs. Ilya could have sworn he felt sparks when their eyes connected. He cleared the room quickly as he strode over to the bar, ordering a glass of top shelf vodka as he stood next to the boy who occupied many of his waking thoughts.

"Hollander," he said with a nod.

"Rozanov." Hollander replied, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a small smile.

Ilya resisted the urge to hug him right then and there, to hold on and squeeze so tight and never let go.

"Good to see you're feeling better," Hollander said with a slight smirk on his face.

Ilya rolled his eyes at the audacity, "You're welcome by the way."

"I've been meaning to thank you, you know." Shane said off-handedly, as if what he was about to say next wasn't going to make Ilya nearly choke on his glass of good vodka like a teenager who couldn't handle their liquor. "I think I know exactly how to show how appreciative I am." Shane looked up at him from underneath his lashed, and fuck, he was trying to kill him, Ilya was sure of it.

"Do you?" He asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but he was pretty sure he was failing miserably from how tight his voice sounded.

"Maybe." Hollander replied with a teasing smile, "You know, I think I saw Marlow over there-"

"Hollander, you cannot bring up Marlow's name after saying what you just said." Ilya whined, and the most beautiful sound escaped from Hollander's mouth. He was laughing at Ilya's misery, and Ilya couldn't help but smile. He let Hollander lead him over to the table where Marlow was socializing with some of Rose's colleagues from previous projects and was content to let the fast paced English conversation low as he picked up bits and pieces.

In no time, an announcement was being made that it was time to head to their seats for the showing, and Marlow was flashing Ilya a knowing look as he walked to his seat which was of course next to Hollander. The movie was great, beautifully shot, perfectly acted, and the story was very engaging- or so Ilya supposed. He spent most of the film buzzing with the excitement of having Hollander right next to him. Ilya swore that Hollander's cologne was making him drunk. Drunk with lust and anticipation for what he hoped would come after the film ended.

When the credits rolled, Ilya stood and clapped mostly to support Rose and only slightly because it was finally over. The film was incredible, but his mind had been elsewhere the entire time, which probably had something to do with the heat of Hollander's shoulder against his own and the way their hands had brushed a couple of times in the dark, sometimes lingering for stolen moments despite the room full of people surrounding them who had no business knowing.

As the lights turned on, Ilya's side suddenly felt cold as Hollander took a step away from him. He knew distantly in the back of his mind, that now was time for him to walk up to Rose, his girlfriend for all intensive public purpose, and congratulate her. "I have to go," he whispered, turning to face Shane, eyes tinged with sorrow.

"I know." Shane whispered back, adding in a voice that was barely audible, "1410."

It was the hotel across the street. Ilya knew Rose had booked him a suite there when she'd invited him to her premiere despite his protests that he could pay for a room himself. All Ilya had to do was put up with an hour of noise and parading around as Rose's charming hockey player boyfriend, and then he could be where he really wanted to be.

He took a few moments to look at Shane with longing before walking over to where Rose sat with the crew, sliding his arm around her waist gently and placing a platonic kiss to her temple. "You were wonderful." He complimented her.

He shook hands with the director, the producer, some of the editors, the costume designer... Rose introduced him to so many people he lost track. He was sure more than an hour had passed by the time things finally started to come to quiet lull that would be more suitable for him to step away. He gave Rose a lingering hug, make sure they were in the line of sight of the cameras before slipping out the back door and making his way over to the hotel.

In the elevator ride on the way up, his nerves returned. He had not been with Hollander- had not been with anyone since that day all those months ago. Every step down the hallway was agonizingly slow until he finally stood in front of the door.

There was no reason to be nervous. It was only Shane.

It was only Shane, who he had bore his soul to on the phone last month, in Russian but still. It was only Shane, who had already broken his heart once when he'd walked out Ilya's front door. It was only Shane, who had Ilya's heart sitting in the palm of his hand with the sole ability to crush it into tiny little pieces if he wanted. He knocked.

The door opened, and he was pulled inside by his hand. Shane shut the door and spun to face him.

"What took you so long?" He asked. He didn't give Ilya time to answer before crashing their mouths together. It was a frantic, needy kiss. It was exactly what Ilya needed because as soon as Shane's lips touched his, his mind went blank and everything he'd been worried about seemed to fade into nothing. He felt Shane's hands, pushing at his suit jacket until it was falling off Ilya's shoulder's and he was shrugging it the rest of the way off. Shane had already changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants, but Ilya thought he still looked incredible.

He walked them backward through the kiss and heard Shane let out a little whimper as he hit the door behind him. Ilya cursed in Russian. Shane's hands were everywhere, and so were Ilya's. He lifted them up under his shirt and pushed up, breaking apart the kiss only to remove Shane's shirt before he began working on unbuttoning his own. He shrugged his arms out of the long sleeves as he kissed along the side of Shane's face, over his jaw, and down to his neck where he began sucking on the spot right above his collarbone.

"Fuck, Rozanov." He heard Shane moan out and felt the subtle roll of the man's hips against his own. He reached his hands around to the back of Shane's thighs and lifted him up so that his legs wrapped around Ilya's waist as he pressed him into the door. Ilya continued kissing at his neck, nipping him lightly with his teeth, but nothing hard enough to leave a mark. He felt himself swell listening to Shane's breathless little whimpers and braced himself to carry him over to the bed. "Don't- don't hurt yourself," Shane breathed out, and Ilya chuckled slightly at the concern in his voice.

"Hollander, shut up. You weigh nothing." He whispered into his neck, only straining slightly as he finally reached the bed and lowered them slowly. He took a second to look at the beautiful boy before him that had pink cheeks. His freckles stood out more against his skin this way. Ilya took his thumb and gently brushed the pad of it across Shane's cheek. "Beautiful," he whispered, and watched in delight as Shane's blush deepened.

"Will you just kiss me already?" Shane mumbled, and Ilya ever so slowly lowered his face until their lips were mere millimeters apart.

"I thought you wanted to show your thanks..." Ilya teased, trailing off slightly as his lips faintly brushed against Shane's.

As if reminded his goal for the night, Shane reached his hand up to cup Ilya's next and pulled him down until their bodies were pressed flush against each other and they were kissing again. Before Ilya had a chance to process what was happening, they were rolling to the side, intentionally not the side of his bad shoulder, and then Shane was on top of him, looking at him with desperate, needy eyes. He slowly kissed his way down Ilya's chest, fumbling with the button and zipper of his pants in the process, pulling them off to leave Ilya laying on the bed in only his briefs. 

Shane mouthed as the already hard bulge, pressing light kisses through the fabric as Ilya groaned, "Fuck, Hollander," and threw his head back. He felt Shane pull the briefs down slowly, releasing Ilya's cock and nearly blushed as he watched Shane stare at it in wonder. This boy was going to be the end of him, he'd already ruined him for anyone else. Ilya gasped when Shane finally took him into his mouth, swirling his tongue around his tip before bobbing his head up and down. He resisted the urge to run his hands through Shane's hair and cursed himself internally for already being close to the edge. "Holy fuck, your perfect mouth." He murmured in Russian as he watched Shane try to take more and more of him into his mouth.

Ilya gasped as one of Shane's hands gripped the base of his cock, knowing it wouldn't be long until he finished. He had to close his eyes when he saw Shane move his other hand down to touch himself, it was too much. 

"Fuck, Hollander. I am not going to last." He murmured, finally threading his fingers through his silky black hair and leaving it there as if it were an anchor tethering him to the real world. The words only seemed to make Shane speed up, and before he knew it Ilya was crying out, "Fuck- I'm about to, Hollander. I'm going to-" Shane didn't pull off as he normally did, he sucked Ilya through each trembling wave and into the aftershocks, pulling off only when Ilya whimpered with sensitivity and swallowing every bit of him.

Ilya waited for his breath to slow as he came down from the high, staring up at the ceiling. Shane laid on his back next to him. After a minute, Ilya rolled on his side and said, "Hollander, let me take care of you."

He watched Shane's cheeks flush a light pink again as he muttered, "It's okay. I kinda already, you know." 

Ilya's mouth widened in realization as a warm feeling settled inside of him. He loved that Shane got so worked up blowing him that it brought him to the edge. Ilya leaned in and kissed him. It was unlike the fast, needy kisses from earlier. This one was slow and lazy and just for them. They kissed softly and sweetly for what had to have been at least five minutes before Shane placed a hand on Ilya's chest and pushed off.

"We should probably talk." He murmured, smiling against Ilya's mouth as he chased his lips.

Ilya groaned lightly. This was exactly the part he was nervous about. The part earlier had been the easy part. He knew Shane's body like he knew the back of his hand. But this part? This was the part where Ilya would have to think, double think, about every word that came out of his mouth to make sure he wouldn't scare Shane away again. "Okay, yes. Da. Talk about what?" He scooted slightly closer as Shane left his hand on Ilya's chest, now tracing light patterns into his skin with his finger.

"Talk about what happens now." Shane replied softly, his big brown eyes were wide and looked nervous, reflecting how Ilya felt inside. Ilya wondered if this was scaring him. If he was going to ask Ilya to leave.

"Okay." Ilya said.

"What do you want to happen now?" Shane asked, biting his lip hesitantly.

It was a loaded question and they both knew it. What did Ilya want to happen now? He wanted to stay here in this hotel suite with Shane and take him apart with his tongue later before he fucked him. He wanted to hold him tonight as they fell asleep, he wanted to hold him every night even though that wasn't a possibility because Shane played for Montreal and Ilya played for Boston. He wanted to spend every bit of free time he could with Shane, and fuck, he wanted to maybe do that forever.

The thought scared him, and maybe that was why he said, "Well now, I want to go win Stanley Cup with Boston, Conn Smythe, and probably Sportsmanship award too." He grinned, but it faltered slightly as he noticed the way that Shane's mouth twitched down slightly.

"Yeah," Shane said, "Yeah, umm I want that too."

Ilya wanted to take it all back, but he didn't know how. He wanted to give a real answer, but he didn't know the words to say everything he was feeling. He knew it was pretty simple. He knew all he really had to say was, 'I'm sorry, I just want you.'

But he didn't say any of that. They laid there in silence for a few more moments before Shane said, "I have an early flight back to Montreal."

Ilya swallowed roughly and nodded, "Right, right. I should probably go."

Shane sucked in a quick breath as if there was something he wanted to say, and Ilya really wanted him to say it. To say something, say anything that wasn't Ilya getting up and walking through the door. He didn't say anything.

Ilya put his clothes back on and pretended not to notice Shane staring at him with said eyes as he dressed. He was scared. He was scared of being rejected by him if he asked to stay, wasn't sure he could handle the rejection again even though he so desperately wanted to stay and hold Shane all night. He finished the last button on his shirt and tucked his jacket into the crook of his elbow and draped his tie around his shoulders. He looked over at Shane still laying on the bed. 

He wouldn't ask to stay, but... He walked over to the bed purposefully and leaned over to press a kiss to Shane's mouth. He put everything he was feeling into the kiss. He felt Shane moan slightly into his mouth right before he pulled away with a sad smile on his face. "I guess I will see you in the playoffs, Hollander."

Shane nodded, biting his lip as if he were contemplating something. Ilya turned to leave when he heard, "Will you go back to Russia this summer?"

Ilya turned back to face him, replying carefully, "I don't know. Maybe. Is not much left for me there."

Shane nodded, once, then twice as if he were psyching himself up for something. "Come to my cottage. For a week, or longer if you want. It's peaceful, on a private lake in Ottawa. There's lots of fun things to do like hiking and kayaking and making campfires. Well, I think they're fun, but you'd probably call them boring, but I also have an indoor synthetic skate rink and a hot tub and-" Shane continued. Ilya, of course, knew all about Shane Hollander's infamous lake cottage from that stupid documentary. Shane was rambling and even though Ilya thought it was very cute, he decided to put him out of his misery.

"Maybe, yes, Hollander." Ilya said cutting him off, a smile slowly spreading across his face as he remarked, "I have lots of cute, Canadian boys inviting me to their private sex cottages this summer, so I will have to let you know."

Shane chucked a pillow at him as his face turned pink, "Fuck off, Rozanov."

Ilya let out a full laugh at that and walked over to place one more parting kiss on Shane's head. "Am kidding, Hollander. You are my only Canadian boy with private sex cottage."

"Stop calling it that," Shane groaned, grabbing onto Ilya's hand and intertwining their fingers. "I don't want you to go," he whispered finally, and Ilya considered praying to a whatever God was out there that he didn't believe in, because maybe it was time to start.

"Then I will stay." Ilya replied almost immediately, dropping his coat to the ground and beginning to remove his clothes again. After he was finished, he pulled back the covers and crawled into bed with Shane, wrapping his arms around him as Shane immediately rested his head against Ilya's chest.

Ilya flicked off the lamp light, and they lay there in silence for a moment before Shane spoke out, "Will you speak in Russian again?" He asked, his voice already heavy with sleep.

Ilya smiled against Shane's hair. "Da." He replied and thought about what he should say. "When I wake up in the morning, and when I go to sleep at night, I see you. And it scares me how easily you have woven yourself into my everyday life and become a very part of my being. It scares me when we text about random things and you call me to talk about what you can do better in hockey to think what will happen if you decide to run away from me again. It scares me what you will think when I tell you the real reason behind my relationship with Rose. It scares me that the two months I spent not talking to you were the worst two probably of my entire life, besides when I lost my mama. You love hockey like it is the air that you need to breathe, but I feel that way about you. I feel like such a coward for continuing to tell you how I feel about you in a language you cannot understand, but I am afraid that if you do understand me, I will lose you. And yet I am bursting at the seams to say I love you. I see you and my body vibrates with the words, I love you. You are asleep now, and I am a coward, but I still love you."

He let the gentle feel of Shane's chest rising and falling and the soft little noises he let out on exhale lull him to sleep, dreading the morning when he would wake up and Shane would leave for Montreal. He was so utterly fucked. And so completely ruined for anyone that was not Shane Hollander.

Chapter End Notes

there are still 5 chapters and an epilogue chapter i have planned left, but i'm not ready to say goodbye to these two 🥺

maybe I will write another fic after this... ugh, they occupy too much space in my mind

Chapter 19

Chapter Notes

as usual, "italics" are russian!

May 2017

They beat Toronto in Game 5. Ilya had scored the first goal and it had been somewhat of a shoot out, but Boston had never been behind. Ilya leaned sorely against the back boards as he patted every player leaving the ice on the head with a heartfelt, "I love you". They would play Montreal in the second round, both competing for a chance at the Cup, and Ilya hadn't quite decided how he felt about it yet.

He wanted more than anything to have another chance to hoist the Cup, but a win over Montreal would be bitter sweet because it would end Shane's chances.

Ilya had returned from injury three games before the playoffs and had been on a hot streak ever since. His teammates complained in the locker room how unfair it was that he'd taken nearly two months off and was still so effortlessly good. Of course, the months off had been spent studying film and identifying weaknesses during his daily allotted screen time, strictly enforced by Marlow. And as soon as he had been cleared to return to physical activity, he spent hours in the gym doing cardio, calisthenics, and though he'd never admit it, yoga. And that was all before he'd even been cleared to return to non contact practice. 

Shane had left the hotel at 5 in the morning after the night of Rose's premiere, and Ilya had not seen him since. They hadn't been texting or calling much as the playoffs had approached in some sort of superstitious voodoo hockey tradition, as if talking to each other would distract them from what they'd been training for their whole lives.

Ilya was beyond being too proud to admit that he missed him. He missed him so much that sometimes when he was trying to fall asleep at night, his chest felt empty. Weird playoff superstitions aside, it was basically torture for Ilya knowing that Shane was somewhere in his city, staying in a hotel with his teammates, gearing up for the start of their series in a couple of days. 

He filled his time between rounds with working out, which did little to take his mind off of his supposed arch rival, and of course, hanging out with Marlow, Rose, and Svetlana.

The four of them were lounging around Ilya's living room, the girls were drinking wine while Ilya and Marlow were drinking sodas.

"So, how does it feel to be my ex boyfriend now?" Rose asked, nudging Ilya in the side with one of her feet she had tucked away under the couch cushions. Ilya rolled his eyes and tossed one of his smaller throw pillows at her.

"My life will finally be peaceful again," he deadpanned, lifting his arm to protect his face as she chucked the pillow right back at him.

"Shut up, asshole!" She giggled.

Her movie had been the literal definition of a box office success, and it had earned her a few calls from high profile directors impressed by her performance. There wasn't really a reason for them to continue dating.

"How had the public reaction been?" Marlow asked from his spot on the floor where he was stretched out, holding his phone inches above his face and scrolling through social media.

"Fine, mostly." Rose said at the same time Ilya said, "People think I am asshole probably."

"That's because you are an asshole." Svetlana interjected, leaning over Rose to pat Ilya's arm affectionately, "But it is okay, because you are our asshole."

Ilya grumbled something not very nice in Russian under his breath, smirking when Svetlana gave him a dirty look. He threw his hands up in mock exasperation, throwing his head back and sighing at the ceiling, "Why do they all think the break up is because of something I did?"

"Well you do have quite a reputation, Roz." Marlow said with a laugh.

"Not undeserved either." Svetlana added.

"I fucking hate you all." Ilya groaned, running one hand down his face. "The statement said it was, uh" he fumbled for the word in English, "Decision together?"

"Mutual?" Rose suggested helpfully.

"Yes! That. Mutual!" Ilya exclaimed.

"I'm sure not everyone thinks you're a total freaking idiot dumb jock hockey player who fumbled the hottest, most talented actress of our generation!" Marlow said brightly, reading from his screen.

"Marlow!" Rose and Svetlana cried out between giggles, leaning into each other as they tried to catch their breath.

"Those aren't my words! It's just some rando on twitter." He defended, "Oh yeah, don't look at Twitter by the way, Roz. They fucking hate you."

Ilya groaned again. Of course, it wasn't exactly what he'd been hoping to hear. He had hoped that people would get over the break up quickly, accept the mutual decision, not totally drag him through the mud. He should have known better. And sure, maybe it would suck for a week or two, but then he would be back out of the public eye, as much as he could be as a professional athlete.

He half-heartedly listened to Marlow reading out more opinions on the break up with Rose and Svetlana laughing, agreeing, or disagreeing with each one as his mind wandered somewhere else. He was thinking about the way Shane looked in the morning when he was still half asleep when all of the sudden he heard Marlow abruptly stop talking.

"I bet Rose dumped that player Rozanov because she found out he was fucking a-"

Marlow's eyes widened in alarm. Rose, Svetlana, and Ilya of course caught on immediately.

"Marlow..." Ilya said lowly, "Finish the tweet."

"It's nothing!" Marlow said, his voice unnecessarily high pitched. "I mean, I'm sure it's nothing."

"Marly, come on! You can't just say something like that and not finish it." Svetlana whined. 

"Yeah, that!" Rose said nodding in agreement.

Marlow looked helplessly between the three before whispering, "-Voyageurs player." 

Ilya's body immediately went cold. 

"What the fuck?" He asked. "Give," he said, holding out his hand for Marlow's phone.

Rose Landry #1 Fan @standry1101
I bet Rose dumped that player Rozanov bc she found out he was fucking a Voyageurs player.

Rozanov Hat Trick @luvrozanov8181
replying to @standry1101
wtf are you talking about

Rose Landry #1 Fan @standry1101
replying to @luvrozanov8181
TMZ dropped an article 20 minute ago with pictures of a Voyageur player leaving your boy's house

Rozanov Hat Trick @luvrozanov8181
replying to @standry1101
holy fuck

Ilya clutched the phone tightly as he glanced up at Marlow, Rose, and Svetlana, "Holy shit," he whispered.

Svetlana was typing furiously on her phone. Her eyes scanned quickly across the phone, her mouth pulled down in a sort of frown. "It's fucking bullshit, they have nothing."

Rose glanced over shoulder, "Yeah, the photo isn't clear at all, Ilya. Plus, there are a number of reasons you could have had someone over to your place."

Ilya handed Marlow's phone back to him and pulled out his own. Fuck. This was exactly what he'd been trying to avoid. His phone buzzed with a call from his agent. He answered immediately. "How the fuck do those photos still exist? I thought you said the reporter would scrap the fucking story."

"I'm already on it, Ilya. Look, take a deep breath, okay? You can address it in your pre game press tomorrow. People will say things, but it'll just make the hit at the Allstar game make more sense." His agent said calmly.

Ilya's mind started working overtime. Shane was going to be so fucking mad at him. This was probably going to push him away again, just when Ilya had finally gotten him back. He tried to slow his breathing and calm down the rapid pacing of his heart as he jumped off the couch and began pacing back and forth.

"How the fuck does this happen?" He said sharply into his phone. He could feel everything he had imagined and planned for crashing down around him. The summer that was supposed to be spent at Shane's Ottawa cottage now ruined by this fucking reporter. Shane was always so cautious and terrified of anything coming out of the two in public, he would hate this. And Ilya had known about it and lied to him.

"Ilya, I promise it is not as bad as it seems. The optics are actually pretty good. The public already thinks that you are friends with Shane Hollander. We can maybe fucking sue this guy or something, fuck, I don't know. But just don't freak out, and leave it to me. This is what you pay me the big bucks for-"

His agent's rambling was kind of going in one ear and out the other. How could he fucking tell him to calm down when his whole world literally was crumbling in on itself and ending. He numbly finished the phone call and hung up as Marlow, Rose, and Svetlana stared at him, waiting patiently for it to finish.

Rose stood and put a comforting hand on his arm. "Ilya, it's gonna be okay-"

"No! It's fucking not!" He shouted, pulling away from her touch as he paced the room. Marlow sat up from the floor, Svetlana sat up on the couch, the three of them exchanged concerned glances.

"Look, it's totally explainable, dude." Marlow tried gently, "It might add a little fuel to the fire of what people were saying after the Allstar game-"

"Marlow!" Svetlana exclaimed. "Not the time." She hissed.

Ilya's eyes turned dark as a new wave of panic spread throughout his body. "What were people saying then?"

"It was nothing man, seriously! Just a couple loud crazies suggesting there might be something romantic between the two of you, but I swear it was literally just like five different tweets I saw."

"Five?!" Ilya exclaimed, panic rising in his chest. Fuck, Shane. Ilya was going to lose him, or be murdered by him, probably both. "He's gonna leave me again." Ilya whispered softly as he clutched his phone, waiting for a text or call that would surely be coming soon. If at all. Maybe Shane would just silently leave, block him, ignore him at the games, avoid his gaze during face offs, ignore his chirps, forget about him...

"Who?" Rose asked confused, "Shane?"

Ilya nodded grimly, his face freely showing the distress and misery he felt. "He is so fucking afraid of people finding out."

"Ilya, look at me." He heard distantly as his breath started coming quicker. The room was too small, his clothes were too itchy, too hot, too restrictive. Fuck, he needed to go to the bathroom or something, but the room was spinning and even though he'd lived in this house for over a year, it all felt foreign. "Ilya, look at me. Take a fucking deep breath."

There were hands on his shoulders maybe. His eyes were shut tightly as he tried to stop his world from tilting on its axis. 

"Ilya. Fucking breath, damn it." The words were not English, maybe Russian? It didn't matter. He couldn't breathe because he had done everything and it was still not enough, he had done everything to prevent it, and it didn't matter. The world would find out, Shane would be done with him, and Ilya? He would be alone.

"Rozanov?" 

Ilya breathed. The world righted itself. He opened his eyes. He could see again.

"Thank fuck." Svetlana murmured in Russian to his right. Marlow was holding Ilya's phone, the call on speaker. Ilya didn't even need to look at the name on the top of the screen, he could recognize that voice anywhere.

"Hollander?" He sighed out, his heart rate finally beginning to slow. At least Shane didn't hate him that much that he would refuse to answer his- well, Marlow's- call.

"Hey," the voice was soft and gentle and slightly sleepy, and Ilya could almost picture him laying there in the hotel bed with that adorable half-awake look. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. No. I don't know? Probably not." Ilya managed to choke out as his nerves returned and the hairs on the end of his arm stood up slightly.

"Hey, hey, hey. Talk to me." Ilya heard the rustle of sheets as if Shane was sitting up.

He could feel Rose and Svetlana guiding him back to sit on the couch as Marlow followed with the phone. Once he was sitting, they placed the phone on the arm of the couch next to him and pointed toward the patio, to let him know they were going outside.

"You are going to hate me." Ilya finally whispered.

"What?" Shane whispered, and Ilya could practically hear the confusion in his voice. "Rozanov, I could never hate you."

"The pictures," Ilya choked out, "The TMZ article, there are pictures. People are talking about Voyageurs player leaving my house. Some people are speculating on the tweet app I think. I don't know, Marlow read to me-"

"Rozanov, it's fine." Shane interrupted.

Ilya was glad he was sitting down, because he's sure his legs would've given out.

"I- what?" He asked dumbfounded.

"I saw the article earlier." Shane replied simply, "JJ showed it to me at team dinner. I said yeah, it was me, I mean- we've been playing against each other since we were 17. It's not that crazy for people to think we're friends... I mean you can't even tell it's me in the photo. We saw some people online speculating that it's Hayden. Actually," Shane paused and laughed, "Pikanov was trending on Twitter before I want to bed."

Shane was laughing.

He was laughing.

"You're not mad?" Ilya whispered.

"I mean, I'll admit I was a little freaked out for a second. If these pictures had come out before the Allstar game, it would've looked much worse because people didn't think we were friends then, but it doesn't really matter now. Tons of players have friends on other teams." Shane said nonchalantly as if Ilya hadn't just almost had a full blown panic attack over these stupid fucking photos.

"You don't care?" Ilya asked with disbelief.

"No, not really." Shane replied. "Honestly just curious how the photos are coming out now? I guess they were waiting until you and Rose broke up to... Wait, is that why you dated Rose?"

"I- yes." Ilya admitted, holding his breath.

Shane burst out in laughter. "You fake dated a movie star because of these blurry photos?" This time it was Shane's voice that was laced with disbelief.

Ilya suddenly felt defensive. "It was mutual good!" He justified, using the word from earlier, "Rose got movie promotion, I got to not have those photos drop, was umm win win?" 

"Oh my god." Shane breathed in between laughs. "You should've fucking told me, you dick. I spent a month thinking you had moved on in a day!"

"I couldn't tell you when you were too busy running away from me!" Ilya exclaimed, his voice sounding slightly more angry than he'd meant it too.

The laughter on the other end stopped abruptly. "Ilya." It was as if cold water had been poured over his entire body with the way he hung onto Shane's next words as if they were his only source of warmth. "I don't think I ever really, truly apologized for that." Shane's voice was stone cold serious, as serious as Ilya had ever heard him be. "I'm so sorry. I was really, really scared, and then I was really hurt, but I should have vocalized that to you, and I should not have run."

"Why were you scared?" Ilya asked, his voice sounding small, even to him.

"I was scared of you ending things, calling it a mistake? I don't know. Everything felt so real, but I just thought you looked like you were about to end things or ask me to leave- I wanted to stay so badly, I did, but I was so scared of you asking me to leave, that I made the choice for you. But I'm not doing that again- I'm not leaving you again." Shane's voice was so pure and earnest and perfect and Ilya's hear was about to burst, "I mean, as long as that's what you want. Like, me to stay." He clarified, somewhat nervously, and Ilya realized he hadn't said anything back yet.

"Of course, I want that. I always want that." And he did. He really did.

He could practically hear the smile in Shane's voice as he said, "Okay, good. Because I want that too."

Ilya bit his cheek to stop him from opening his mouth and saying something really stupid.

"I'm gonna hang up now, and go to sleep...." Shane said softly, and Ilya could hear him stifling a yawn, "But I'm excited to see you on ice."

Ilya smiled. Of course Shane was sleepy, it was just past midnight. "Me too. Goodnight, Hollander."

"Goodnight, Rozanov." Shane sad sweetly.

Ilya walked out to the patio where Marlow, Svetlana, and Rose were sharing a cigarette. They looked at him expectantly as he walked out, "I may have overreacted a little bit."

"A little bit? You think, Roz?" Marlow shouted exasperatedly at the same time as Svetlana murmured in Russian, "You give me a fucking headache you lovesick fool," at the same time as Rose exlcaimed, "Jesus, Ilya. Maybe you should be the actor with how dramatic you are."

He just smiled at them somewhat sheepishly in return. For as much shit as they would give him, he knew they loved him. Maybe later he would thank Marlow for calling Shane. Maybe later he would thank Svetlana for tethering him to the ground by speaking in Russian, and maybe later he would thank Rose for the comforting way she had rubbed circles on his back and for being his beard of sorts for nearly six months. But for tonight, he would join them in finishing the communal cigarette and let their usual banter calm his previously panicked mind.

The next morning at the press conference, Ilya made a simple statement that his agent had pre-written for him addressing the photos that had TMZ released the previous night.

"Before we begin, I just want to say that I, like many other players, have friends on other teams in the league. And while I play this game to entertain, my private life and friendships are just for me."

It was simple, easy, and straight to the point. And it ended up being, just as his agent had assurred him, not a big deal at all. Montreal took Boston all the way to game 7, but Boston ended up winning with a big statement made 5-2 at home with a hat trick from Ilya. At center ice, during their post game handshake, Shane had surprised Ilya by pulling him in for a hug, whispering "Go win it all, Ilya" before he released him.

Ilya was sure ESPN would write an article about the sportsmanship between them the next day.

He'd been somewhat upset that he hadn't had time to see Shane before they'd been ushered straight from the arena to the airport to fly into New York for their next series, the matchup that would determine who was going to the final.

The Bears were beat up from their grueling series with the Voyageurs, Ilya himself was nursing a sprained wrist which made him slightly less accurate than normal, and Marlow had been taken out in game 4 by a fractured collarbone after a particularly hard hit by a New York defenseman. Even though the series had been split 2-2 at that point, Marlow being out was the nail in the coffin for the Bears as they lost the next two games 4-1 and 5-4.

And so the Admirals and Scott Hunter's 100 year old ass moved on to the Stanley Cup Finals while Ilya and the rest of the Bears remained in Boston where they had lost that final game. Ilya wasn't entirely upset about it though. Especially not when he opened his phone post game to see a string of text messages.

Jane: Good luck, you're gonna crush it.

Jane: Beautiful goal

Jane: Shit, the Admirals are checking with purpose

Jane: That breakaway was beautiful

Jane: If Marlow wasn't hurt you'd be destroying them

Jane: My mom thinks you have a sprained wrist

Jane: Holy fuck

Jane: Amazing goal Roz

Jane: I'm sorry

Jane: You played so well, you guys should've won

Ilya blushed as he read through Shane's texts.

Ilya: Did my goals turn you on?

Shane replied almost immediately.

Jane: Fuck off

Jane: You know I'm sitting next to my parents!

A few seconds passed as the three little dots popped up and disappeared before they popped up again.

Jane: Maybe.

Ilya: 😝

Ilya laughed out loud which earned him a couple glares from his teammates who were still bummed about the loss. Of course, Ilya was also bummed, but he was pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to play with his wrist much longer anyway, and they would've been toast without him.

He finished changing, answered questions in media which took especially long, and then drove home where he could finally ice his wrist and relax in bed. He checked his phone to see three unread texts from Jane.

Jane: Come to my cottage

Jane: After awards I mean. We can fly into Ottawa together.

Jane: Please

Ilya couldn't help the smile that broke out across his face. He also couldn't stop the laugh from bubbling up thinking about what an asshole he was. The texts were sent over an hour ago, and if he knew anything about Shane, he probably had been nervous wreck waiting for Ilya to respond.

Ilya: I am very excited to see the infamous private sex cottage.

Jane: Fuck you

Ilya: Soon.

Chapter End Notes

ugh my precious babies. i have two main ideas for a new fic to write when i finish this one. i'm thinking a college hockey au or they get drafted to the same team ( will not spill how)

tbh maybe i write both ahaha these boys occupy too much of my mind. anyway let me know if y'all have a preference for which one first.

hope you enjoyed! hugs xoxo

Chapter 20

Chapter Notes

June 2017

The game had stopped being interesting halfway through the second period when the Admirals had scored their fourth goal making it a 4-0 game in New York for Game 5. Shane's mom, of course, was still locked into the game as the final few minutes drained off the clock. The LA team had all but given up with it being virtually impossible to score enough goals in the limited time they had left, especially with the Admirals essentially playing a very adult, very expensive, very boring game of keep away. Shane had stopped paying attention in the beginning of the third period when Scott Hunter had scored his 2nd goal of the game, making it 5-1.

It was a dominant win, a statement. The Admirals had been heating up all throughout the playoffs and now they seemed almost unstoppable. 

Lily: I can't believe we're about to watch a dinosaur lift the Stanley Cup

Shane snorted.

"What's so funny?" His mom asked distractedly, eyes following the puck across the screen as Hunter and Vaughn passed between each other every time a defenseman got too close.

"Nothing, mom. Just, you know." Shane replied, typing his reply to Ilya. Thankfully, his mom was too focused on the hockey game to question his non answer. Shane's dad was outside, grilling something up for dinner, which Shane was pretty sure would be ready soon. Perfect timing, because there was only 2 minutes left on the game clock.

Shane: Oh come on

Shane: Hunter is a good guy

Lily: Ugh

Lily: I hate him even more now

Shane: Jealous?

Lily: Yes.

Shane bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too hard as his cheeks turned a light shade of pink. Him and Ilya had been texting all throughout the play off series, and Shane had been going on longer than usual runs because he would stop and chat with Ilya. He'd always known Ilya was funny, but he had a new appreciation for just how sweet he was too. Shane swore that Ilya sent extra cheesy texts just to get Shane blushing.

Shane: You have nothing to worry about

Lily: Good

Lily: How are your parents

Shane: They're good

Shane: We've been watching lots of hockey, doing lots of puzzles, couple hikes

Shane: How is Boston?

Lily: Fine

Lily: Would be better with you here

Shane: I'll see you next week in Vegas!

Lily: [sent a photo]

Shane nearly dropped his phone. Ilya was shirtless, but that wasn't the focal point of the photo. He was making sad puppy dog eyes at the camera, and Shane was a total goner. He hearted the message immediately.

Shane: Wow

Lily: Your turn ;)

Shane debated the feasibility of holding his phone out to take a selfie to send to Ilya and whether his mom would notice or not. He didn't think she would. He tapped the camera icon and was about to stick his hand out when-

"Dinner!" His dad shouted as he walked into the den where Shane and his mom sat in front of the television. Shane shut his phone off and flipped his phone face down quickly.

"Shh, it's not over." Shane's mom shushed, still staring intently at the screen. There were twenty seconds left on the clock.

"Yuna, dear, it's over." Shane's dad replied flatly, yet he stood in the doorway and watched as the final seconds counted down. "Okay, great! Now it's actually over!" His dad exclaimed, clasping his hands together. "Let's eat!"

"David, there's no need to be so impatient," his mom chastised, eyes still glued to the screen.

"Honey, the food is going to get cold." His dad reminded.

"Well we can heat it up, I just want to watch Scott Hunter skate with the Cup, and then we can go." His mom said in a tone that left no room for negotiation. 

Shane smiled easily, it was just so his parents. He watched with a slight tinge of jealousy as Scott Hunter skated his lap with the Cup before passing it off to Carter Vaughn. Player families were streaming down, being escorted by security onto the ice, it was beautiful, and it made Shane long for the day when he would be able to enjoy a feeling like it again. And maybe one day he would win a Cup and Ilya would be alongside his parents, joining him on the ice. 

Shane felt a sudden pang of longing as he imagined Ilya offering his mom a hand to step out on the ice that she would, of course bat away. Ilya would offer his hand to Shane's dad who would graciously take it with a firm pat on the back and a grin. They would walk over to him and he would embrace his parents and then kiss Ilya and they would tell him how proud of him they were and that they loved him. He wanted it so bad, and he was so lost in thought thinking about it that he hardly even processed what was happening on the television.

"Oh my god," his mom gasped, inhaling a sharp breath that brought Shane back to reality. He looked up.

Scott Hunter was kissing someone on live television. The screen cut to a new camera angle, a closer one from the side and- holy shit.

Scott Hunter was kissing a man on national television.

Shane clapped a hand over his mouth as he stared at the sight. There was confetti raining down around them, Carter Vaughn had finished his lap and passed the Cup on to someone else. When Scott pulled back from the kiss, Vaughn was there clapping him on the shoulders screaming "Let's fucking go!"

He was definitely going to get fined for that.

Shane had never seen Scott Hunter look happier. He distantly realized his phone was blowing up with messages as he stared in wonder at the television because holy shit, this changed everything. He glanced down at his phone.

Hayden: Holy fuck

Hayden: Are you seeing this???

JJ: Congrats to the Admirals I guess

JJ: Holy shit

JJ: Is Scott Hunter kissing a man?

Lily: What is he doing?

Lily: Oh my god

Oh my god was right. This was huge- no, monumental for the future of hockey. This was potentially monumental for Ilya and Shane. This was so incredibly monumentally gigantically huge for Shane's fantasy from five minutes ago that maybe now had about a 50% more chance of becoming a reality because Scott Hunter had just smashed his way through the glass fucking ceiling in terms of celebrating a Stanley Cup win as a queer hockey player. 

Shane's body was vibrating with energy, with everything he was feeling and had felt for a long time for Ilya, with all of the love he saw on the screen before him, and he had probably been possessed by someone or something because this was so not Shane Hollander, but he didn't regret it for a second.

"Mom, Dad. I need to tell you something." He said. This was it. No going back now.

His parents turned to look at him, both of their jaws still dropped slightly open from the spectacle still playing out on the television. "Yes, baby?" His mom asked gently, as his dad nodded in agreement, their full attention now on him.

"As you both know," He started off, still sure but voice a little shaky. "I'm gay."

His parents nodded hesitantly, as if they were unsure if this was all Shane was going to say.

He took a deep breath. This was it. "I've been seeing someone on and off for a while now."

His parents exchanged a glance between each other. "Okay," his dad said at the same time his mom asked, "For how long?"

Shane swallowed. This was the scary part. Admitting to his parents that he'd been lying to them for years. "Almost ten years."

Both of his parents eyes widened.

"And I know that's a long time, and I'm sorry I didn't say anything until now. I mean, for a while I wasn't even sure that I was, you know, gay. And it also just wasn't serious for a while, actually it was completely the opposite of serious." Shane continued, pausing for a breath.

"But now it is serious?" His dad asked slowly, his brow furrowed slightly in confusion as he processed the fact that his son had been in some sort of secret relationship for the past ten years.

"Yes." Shane replied instantly. "It's very serious. So serious in fact, I think I love him. And I think maybe he could eventually feel the same way."

His mom frowned slightly, and Shane's confidence faltered only for a second. "Isn't Hayden married?" His mom asked.

Shane couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up, "God, mom. No! I mean- yes, he's married- happily! But no, I'm not talking about Hayden." Shane paused to catch his breath and laughed a bit more. "But you do know him. Or know of him."

Realization finally dawned on his parents faces. "A player?" His dad asked.

"Yes." Shane replied with a nod and a barely contained smile. This was it.

"A Voyageur? JJ? Drapeau? Comeau?" His mom asked, and Shane was sure she would've continued listing his teammates if he didn't cut her off.

"No, mom. Just, no." He shook his head lightly, "He's very good, probably the best player in the MLH." Shane said fondly, hoping to never see the sappy, dreamy expression he was sure had taken over his face.

"You're the best player in- Oh." His mom began to argue his point, stopping when she realized.

"Rozanov?!!" His parents exclaimed in unison. Looking back and forth between each other in Shane.

"Yeah, Rozanov." Shane confirmed with a lovesick smile on his face.

Shane laughed along with the rest of the audience at the slightly uncomfortable look on Ilya's face as he accepted the Lady Byng Memorial Trophy for Sportsmanship. He laughed even harder at Ilya's acceptance speech where he claimed to be honored to be the most "Sports man" in the MLH. It was a rather uneventful awards ceremony this year for Shane.

MVP of course went to Scott Hunter.

It was kind of nice to just sit in the audience and relax rather than stressing about going on stage and giving an acceptance speech within the allotted time with five thousand cameras and the scorching of a million suns from the stage lights trained on you. The after party was nice too, Shane made sure to pull Scott Hunter to the side and give him a firm handshake which turned into a heartfelt hug at the kind words Shane expressed.

All Shane had said really was that he, of course, supported him and would continue to support him personally and publicly, and that he was very proud of him for taking strides to make the MLH a more inclusive, safe space for all types of people. He had noticed Scott's eyes looked a little damp after that. He had also been very excited to meet the other half of the moment that broke the internet.

Scott's boyfriend, Kip, was everything Shane could possibly think of if someone had asked him to list qualities that would make a perfect match for Scott and then some.

He spent the rest of the night mingling with other players, discussing off season plans, and trying to avoid staring too long at Ilya from across the room. He knew if he looked at Ilya for too long he would get inappropriately worked up because Ilya looked unbelievably hot in his suit, and Shane's own dress pants wouldn't hide much.

The most interesting part of the night was hearing about Dallas Kent's 6 game suspension to be served at the beginning of next season. There wasn't much info about it besides the generic info that had been given to the public stated as conduct detrimental to the league. Carter Vaughn had leaned in as if he were sharing some great conspiracy with Shane about how he heard a rumor that Colorado was looking to trade Troy Barrett, Kent's longtime public best friend. Vaughn had also heard rumors that Kent now had a broken nose and Barrett had a fractured hand. Shane filed it away in the back of his mind as something he would pass along to Jackie and Hayden later.

After about two hour of mingling, Shane had just about had enough, he excused himself from the group he had been talking to for the past twenty minutes and began to scan the room for a familiar head of blonde curls.

"Looking for someone?" He heard a deep voice say from behind him. 

He spun with a smile on his face. Ilya.

"Hi," he said softly, eyes drinking in the perfectly tailored suit, immaculately styled hair, and overall ethereal presence before him.

"Hi." Ilya replied, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, "Penthouse 1." He whispered with a wink and kicked off his heel, headed toward the elevator.

Shane waited what he hoped was a respectable, unsuspicious amount of time before following. The door opened as soon as he knocked and then Ilya was dragging him into the Penthouse and kissing him.

Shane gasped in surprise, giving Ilya's tongue the perfect opening into Shane's mouth to deepen the kiss.

"Missed you." Ilya murmured between kisses as he began tugging at pieces of Shane's suit. Shane did the same, one hand threaded through Ilya's perfect curls as the other worked at pulling off his clothes.

"Missed you more." Shane murmured back as they broke apart to unbutton their clothes.

"Fuck," Ilya groaned, "You're so beautiful."

Shane blushed as he always did when Ilya complimented him. "You're so fucking hot." 

Their lips reconnected in a fiery kiss. Ilya walked Shane backward, nearly tripping over the coffee table before pushing him back on the couch. He immediately climbed on top of him, covering Shane's body with his own as they kissed once more. He felt Ilya press down into his thigh, and Shane's hips bucked up slightly, trying to get some friction. Fuck, he was already so hard.

"I want to fuck you, Hollander." Ilya breathed into his mouth, and Shane couldn't help the little whimper he let out. He felt Ilya's hand at his waistline and lifted his hips slightly to help Ilya get his pants off. Shane, already hard, sprang out immediately and then Ilya was kissing from the underside of his jaw, down his neck, onto his chest, stopping to suck each nipple into his mouth eliciting sharp gasps from Shane. Before he knew it, Ilya had trailed his way down Shane's stomach until he was right above his leaking cock. 

"Please," Shane whimpered, looking into Ilya's eyes as he swallowed him down. Shane couldn't help the noises he made as Ilya's head bobbed up and down along his length. It was too much and not enough, and he really needed Ilya to stop if he didn't want Shane to explode. Shane leaned up and gently pushed at Ilya's chest, causing him to pull off. "If you don't stop, I'm not gonna last." Shane admitted, cheeks flushing pink.

A large grin spread across Ilya's face. "That good?"

"Fuck off," Shane groaned, covering his face with his hand. 

Ilya stood and placed a kiss to Shane's forehead before walking the bedroom to grab the necessary supplies. Shane waited agonizing hours, that were probably mere seconds, for Ilya to get back and open him up.

"You're still wearing pants, no fair." Shane groaned when Ilya returned, and smiled once Ilya pulled his own off leaving him in only his briefs. "Better." 

Shane was whimpering with pleasure, making sounds he didn't even know he was capable of but was always reminded of when he was with Ilya, as he slid a second finger in. This was what heaven felt like, Shane was sure of it. "Please," he whimpered as Ilya's fingers brushed up against his prostate.

"Please what?" Ilya asked teasingly, a smirk appearing on his devastatingly handsome face.

"Need you." Shane said embarrassingly fast. It was always like this. He always turned into putty in Ilya's hands. And even though it felt so good, and was definitely necessary since it had been almost seven months since they'd been together in this way, Shane was tired of the prep and ready to feel Ilya inside him.

"Just a little longer," Ilya promised, followed by a string of words in Russian that Shane could only guess was some kind of pet name similar to babe or baby.

Ilya finally worked in three fingers, and Shane couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this stretched. He was in a pure, fucked out bliss to the point where he wasn't even sure he was speaking English anymore. Maybe he was speaking French, or some weird combination of the two, or maybe he wasn't even speaking real world at all.

"Are you ready?" He heard Ilya asking him, followed by that same string of Russian words from earlier.

Shane nodded eagerly, "Yes, please."

He watched in awe as Ilya finally pulled his briefs off and then easily rolled the condom onto himself before positioning himself at Shane's entrance in some weird sort of squatting form.

Shane wondered if he should move, "Do you want me to turn around?" He asked.

"No." Ilya immediately grunted. "Want to see you." He placed one hand on Shane's hip for leverage and with the other, grabbed onto one of Shane's hands and intertwined their fingers. He pushed in slowly, and Shane could feel Ilya stretching him wide open.

"Oh fuck, Rozanov." He moaned as Ilya buried himself all the way. He watched as Ilya gazed down at him almost reverently, clenching his jaw as if to stop from coming too early and blowing out sharply through his nose. "Please move," Shane whimpered, and Ilya did.

Quickly, Ilya settled into a rhythm despite the awkward sort of position they were in, and Shane laid there as Ilya completely overloaded all of his senses.

"Fuck, Hollander. So good for me." Ilya groaned as he thrust in and out. At one point, Ilya lifted one of Shane's legs up on his shoulders, and Shane was glad for all the yoga he'd been doing in the mornings at his parents house because this way Ilya was hitting his prostate with every thrust, and Shane was definitely not going to last long.

He had already slipped back into muttering half-French, half-English non words, and it seemed Ilya's English had left him too as he began grunting only in Russian. Shane did remember enough English to mutter out that he was close. At that, Ilya let go of the hand braced against Shane's hip causing his thrusts to get sloppier and wrapped that hand around Shane's cock and giving him a few tugs that led to his release, other hand still tightly intertwined in Shane's own.

Shane was pretty sure he was seeing stars as he felt Ilya still inside of him. They stayed that way for a moment before Ilya collapsed on top of Shane pressing kisses all over his face. Shane giggled slightly once he'd finally come back to Earth and used his free hand to cup the side of Ilya's face.

"That was quick for us," he said still laughing slightly as Ilya pulled back and lifted their still intertwined hands to his mouth to press kisses to Shane's fingertips.

"Lots of time to work on stamina in Ottawa," He replied with a wink, reminding Shane that yes, the next two weeks at least would be spent with the two of them at Shane's favorite place in the world with his favorite person in the world. "Let's get you cleaned up." Ilya murmured.

Shane could have melted.

They showered together, jerking each other off in the steamy water, making out sloppily as water droplets rained down around them. Shane let Ilya wash his hair which was weirdly romantic and entirely domestic, and Shane loved it. When they got under the covers to cuddle in the large hotel bed and Ilya said, "See, couch sex is good because then you can't complain about dirty sheets." Shane kissed him, and as he kissed him thought about how much he felt for him.

He pulled back smiling and buried his face into Ilya's chest. He still hadn't told him, and now was as good a time as any. "I told my parents." He said.

He felt Ilya still. "About you?" He asked softly.

"About us." Shane replied. He felt Ilya's hand underneath his chin, tilting his face up until he was looking into his beautiful blue eyes.

"What did you say?" He asked carefully as if Shane were a piece of fine chain that might break if he spoke too loud.

"I told them that I'd been seeing someone on and off for nearly ten years, that it was a player. My mom thought it was Hayden for a second." Shane said laughing at the all too serious frown that appeared on Ilya's face. "She named almost every player on the Voyageurs before I told her it was-" Shane hesitated. Was it really a good idea to blow Ilya's ego up like this? "-the second best hockey player in the league." If Ilya was ever going to find out Shane called him the best hockey player in the league, it was going to have to be from his parents- probably his dad, because his mom would never admit anyone other than her precious baby boy to be the best.

Ilya almost immediately exploded with protest, only stopping once he fully processed the gravity of what Shane had said. He'd told his parents about them, and they hadn't even really defined what they were. "What did they say?" He asked, the look on his face almost anxious as if he were scared.

"They were shocked." Shane replied laughing, "Definitely shocked, but happy for me. And they want to meet you. Have us over for dinner, maybe Tuesday after we've settled in a bit?"

"You told your parents about me." Ilya whispered as if he were shell shocked about the whole thing.

Shane blushed, "I just saw Scott Hunter on the ice with Kip, you know his boyfriend, and I thought about how much I wanted that with my parents there and you, and I just couldn't help it."

Shane watched Ilya go through at least five different emotions before he kissed him. They kissed passionately, but unlike before, this kiss wasn't needy, it was soft and warm and full of hope.

"I want that." Ilya whispered as he pulled back, forehead leaning against Shane's still. "So much." He reconnected their lips in a quick kiss, but before Shane could deepen it, pulled back again. "Except you are all wearing Rozanov jerseys, and I have just won, and I will kiss you way more not tv appropriate than Grandpa Hunter."

"That's not happening," Shane said, grinning against Ilya's mouth.

"Mmm, we will see." Ilya replied, pressing their lips together in a slow, sweet kiss. "Maybe one day we win Cup together."

Shane smiled into the kiss.

He fell asleep with his head on Ilya's chest, their legs intertwined and arms wrapped around each other in a way that would surely end with at least one of Shane's limb falling asleep, but he didn't care. Maybe in a week or so they would sleep in Shane's bed in Ottawa next to each other and not so tangled up, but tonight Shane wanted to be as close to Ilya as possible, and tomorrow they would begin their great adventure. Shane couldn't wait.

Chapter End Notes

holy shit i've been writing this for like two hours. ilya and shane, you will always be my favorite love story. please enjoy babies ily xoxo

Chapter 21

Chapter Notes

Shane grabbed his keys from the hook on the wall in his entryway.

"Okay, ready to go." He heard Ilya's deep voice rumble from behind him. He turned with a small smile on his face to give him a kiss before they left and-

"Absolutely fucking not." Shane exclaimed exasperatedly. They were just going over to his parent's house for dinner, there was no reason to dress up. Shane himself was just wearing a pair of linen shorts and a casual blue button down shirt, but Ilya was standing before him wearing a pair of shorts and a Boston Bears t-shirt. He was absolutely ridiculous, but Shane couldn't help the fond smile that was threatening to show on his face and expose him as a sap.

"What?" Ilya asked innocently, a smirk pulling at the side of his lips.

"No, no, no, you can't wear that." Shane said shaking his head. Jesus, Ilya must be trying to kill him. Or get his mom to kill him.

"What, they do not know I play for Boston?" Ilya asked difficultly.

"Rozanov!" Shane sighed fondly, "I'm not kissing you if you wear that."

"Well, would be weird to kiss me in front of your parents, yes?" 

"Shut up." Shane rubbed his hand down his face, covering his mouth to hide his smile. "Please change. I really want my parents to like you, and my mom will absolutely not like it if you wear that shirt."

"Okay," Ilya said lightly, giving Shane a slight wink. He was gone for just a moment until he came back wearing one of Shane's Voyageurs hoodies. "Better?" He asked, leaning into Shane for a quick peck. Shane had known for a while now that he was a total goner for Ilya, but this only solidified it.

Shane smiled into the kiss and couldn't help the way his cheeks warmed fondly. "Much better." He sighed. Wait. "You're wearing the shirt underneath aren't you." He stated plainly.

Ilya simply flashed one of his million dollar smiles and stole the car keys from Shane's hand. "Come on, don't want to be late! Or I will make bad impression."

Shane decided it wasn't worth arguing about, and he was secretly pleased enough that Ilya was wearing his hoodie that he couldn't find it in him to care that much. He followed Ilya outside and hopped into the passenger seat. "This is my car, you know." He said.

"Yes." Ilya replied, "You are passenger princess."

"Who taught you that, Rozanov?" Shane asked with a smile.

"My ex girlfriend." Ilya replied with a teasing smirk.

Shane rolled his eyes as Ilya backed out of the driveway and began the short drive to his parents house.

They had gotten in from Vegas a couple days ago and almost immediately collapsed into Shane's bed, exhausted from their travels and long weekend. It was rare that Shane slept in, but when he woke up it was already 10 am, there was sunlight streaming in through the windows, and he could smell eggs and bacon. He had walked into the kitchen to find Ilya, half naked, cooking them breakfast.

"Hollander, it is the offseason, you can eat one piece of bacon." Ilya had protested when Shane had tried to refuse it. And okay, maybe Shane ate two pieces of bacon, but it had been a long season. They had spend the rest of the day racing Shane's kayaks through the lake, jumping off the dock, and trying to make a competition out of everything they possibly could.

Ilya cooked them dinner with some of the fresh produce they had stopped to get from a farm stand on the side of the road on their drive to the cottage, and Shane did the dishes. It felt strangely domestic, so unlike how the two of them normally were, but Shane kind of loved it.

After dinner they had cuddled on the couch and watched an old Russian movie that Ilya liked. 

"My mom, she used to watch this movie with me." Ilya said, and Shane had noticed that his voice seemed a little bit choked up, so he had placed a couple soft, gentle kisses on Ilya's chest and held him tighter. They had, of course, christened the cottage later that night a couple times, and earlier this morning when they woke up. Shane had taken Ilya on a trail run and then out on a long hike, hoping to occupy his mind with physical activity and competition, so he wouldn't have time to think too much about how nervous he was to meet Shane's parents.

And Ilya was definitely nervous. Even Shane could tell that with the way Ilya's grip on his hand tightened as they got closer and closer to the house.

"It's just up here, the one on the left." Shane said softly, squeezing Ilya's hand in support. Ilya pulled into the driveway and turned to him, his face looked cool, calm, and collected, but Shane could tell from the nervous flash of his eyes that he was worried. Hopefully he was regretting wearing that god awful shirt.

Shane reached his hand out to cup Ilya's cheek and press a soft kiss to his forehead, "Hey, they're going to love you." Shane said. He noticed the way that Ilya's breath hitched slightly at the word love and wondered if he had imagined it.

Ilya gave him a brave smile and nodded.

Both boys got out of the car and linked hands as they walked up to Shane's parents doorstep. Shane squeezed Ilya's hand three times before knocking on the door.

As if they had been standing there waiting, probably from the second they heard the car pull in, the door swung open immediately. "Shane, Ilya, hi! Come in!" His mother exclaimed, eyes sparking with delight as she noticed the hoodie Ilya was sporting. She pulled the two boys inside by their hands, hugging both of them. Ilya's eyes widened in surprise as he awkwardly patted Shane's mom on the back.

"Hi mom," Shane said with amusement as she pulled back from Ilya and the two began to size each other up.

"Hello Mrs. Hollander." Ilya greeted with a nod.

"Please, dear. Call me Yuna," his mom said, both firmly and kindly. "David, Shane's dad, is in the back pulling a few things off the grill, but please come sit."

Shane followed Ilya and his mom into the living room. He took a seat on the loveseat next to Ilya, knocking their knees together softly as his mom launched into her normal mom behavior.

"Ilya, wow. You are a lot more," his mom paused as if she were searching for the right word, "wow in person! How has the offseason been treating you?" With the end question, she sent a pointed wink at Shane.

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Is good. Has been very relaxing." Ilya replied politely, "Nice to have some peace and quiet, time to relax and not train so hard."

"Do you plan on going back to Russia this summer-"

"Mom!" Shane interrupted, shooting a glare at her. He felt Ilya's hand pat his knee.

"Is okay." He whispered to Shane before turning back to his mom, "As you know, my father died this year. There is not much left for me in Russia, I can not be myself there and be safe. And I would much rather spend the time I do have off with your son."

Shane's entire body filled with warmth as he fought the tears that were threatening to appear in the corner of his eye and watched in real time as his mom's face softened. In all that he had told her about Ilya, he had forgotten to ask her not to ask about Russia. He knew his mom hadn't been trying to be rude even though it had certainly come off that way a little, but Ilya had handled it perfectly, and his answer just pushed Shane even further off the edge. He had already fallen so hard, and with everything Ilya said he just seemed to be falling harder.

"Right, your father. I'm so sorry for your loss, Ilya." She said with a sympathetic smile.

Ilya nodded at her in thanks. "So, what have you been watching lately?" He asked, pasting his usual smirk, "You know, now that season is over."

Yuna gasped as if she were offended, "Did Shane tell you all watch is hockey?"

"All you watch is hockey, mom." Shane interjected as Ilya laughed next to him.

"I do not! I watch other things too!" His mom defended, looking shocked and betrayed.

"Like?" Shane questioned.

"I- well, I mean- you know-" His mom stuttered, searching her brain for a show she could bring up, sighing and looking down at her hands in defeat. "Okay fine. You got me."

It took Shane a good thirty seconds to catch his breath from laughing so hard, and when he finally did he turned to see Ilya watching him with an extremely fond look on his face. His dad interrupted the moment, walking in and declaring dinner to be ready before walking over to hug Shane and Ilya as well.

"It's nice to finally meet you, son. Shane has told us a lot," his dad said. Shane couldn't even find it in himself to be embarrassed as he watched the way Ilya's face lit up. Ilya and his dad fell into easy conversation as they walked from the living room to the dining room where the burgers were laid out on the table, and Shane looped his arm through his mom's as they followed.

"He's very handsome," his mom said, quiet enough so they were the only two that could hear.

"Yeah, he is." Shane sighed softly.

They sat down to dinner and after a few awkward moments, questions, and jokes that didn't land, the tension finally broke when Ilya and his parents found a common interest. Making fun of Shane. He rolled his eyes at all of their jokes and chirps, but he couldn't find it in himself to be mad. Especially not when he saw Ilya and his mom exchange a knowing look across the table as if they were co conspirators on some grand, elaborate scheme.

It was part of what made Shane feel comfortable leaving Ilya inside, alone with his mom while they did the dishes as he followed his dad outside to help him with cleaning the grill. The two of them cleaned in silence, taking in the sunset over the lake, listening to the birds chirp and the loons wail before his dad spoke up.

"Ilya is different than I expected." His dad hummed softly as Shane worked the brush back and forth on the grill.

"Mmm, how so?" Shane questioned.

"He's funny, and even when he's making fun of you-"

"Yeah, he's kind of an asshole." Shane interrupted, joking.

"He's not though. It's almost as if he's joking with you, and all of the noise, the chirping, the-" his dad trailed off, waving his hand in the air, "-you know, it's like his way of showing that he likes you." His dad finished thoughtfully.

Shane nodded, processing everything his dad had said, "Yeah, that's umm, that's exactly it, dad."

"I guess it can be hard to realize that in the middle of a physical hockey game though. That's probably why he gets into so many fights," his dad laughed.

"Yeah, I mean, that's just Rozanov." Shane agreed softly, warmly, fondly. "He's something else." What Shane really meant by that was, Ilya was perfect.

"He's a lot different from you, Shane, but different in a good way, I think. Different in a way that matches, complements." His dad hummed with a relaxed smile on his face.

"Like you and mom?" Shane asked, the grill brush now forgotten as he turned to face his dad.

"Exactly," his dad nodded smiling, "You know, your mom is bold, loud, extroverted, ambitious, the center of the room... and I'm just, you know, kind of boring."

Boring. It was how Ilya always referred to him, yet it never seemed like a bad thing when Ilya said it.

"You're not boring dad, you're calm." Shane protested, "You're like her lighthouse. You balance her out, she always says that. She calls you her anchor."

A content smile spread across his dad's face. "Yeah," he sighed.

Shane supposed that's what him and Ilya were. Fire and ice. The Canadian golden boy and the Russian bad boy. Ilya was magnetic like the ocean, crashing and loud, beautiful and full of energy, and Shane was like the moon that helped control the tides. Calm and steady. Perfectly balanced. God, Shane loved him so much.

They watched as the sun finally fell below the tree line and all of the pink and orange hues in the sky began to fade back to a mellow blue. Shane finished scrubbing the grill down, and his dad clapped him on the back. 

"I'm proud of you, son." He said, voice thick with emotion.

"For cleaning the grill?" Shane asked, furrowing his brow.

"For being you." His dad replied.

Shane practically had to drag Ilya away from his parents house at the end of the night. He'd been locked in an intense Scrabble rematch with Shane's dad after Shane's dad had just barely won the first game. It was definitely a sight to see watching Ilya and his dad both increasingly struggle to make words as their eyes began drooping and they yawned every other turn. They left with the promise of returning in a couple of days to finish their Scrabble game, and Shane's dad guaranteed he would make Chicken Parm after learning it was Ilya's favorite.

Shane drove home, glancing fondly over at Ilya, who was sleeping with his head leaned against the window, when they passed stop signs. It was really nice. Ilya had fit so perfectly into their family time, Shane was almost shocked that he hadn't noticed before that something was missing. Ilya startled awake when they arrived home and the lights in the car turned on when Shane shut off the engine.

"Ah, did I fall asleep?" He asked, his hair slightly messed up from where it had pressed against the glass.

"Just a little bit," Shane replied with a smile.

"Sorry," Ilya apologized sleepily.

They walked in the front door, and Shane put the leftover burger patties his mom had insisted they take into the fridge. Ilya cornered him against the counter once he finished and pressed a couple slow, lazy kisses to his mouth. Shane sighed into Ilya's mouth as he wrapped his arms around Ilya's neck. They kissed sweetly, without any urgency for a couple minutes before Ilya slowly pulled back and then hugged Shane closer, burying his face in Shane's neck.

"My parents liked you." Shane whispered as he ran his fingers through Ilya's hair, almost petting him in a way.

"I liked them too," Ilya murmured, his breath tickling as it brushed Shane's collarbone.

"I'm glad," Shane said, smiling so hard it almost hurt. He had spent a lot of time thinking about how things would go with Ilya and his parents, if they'd hate each other, if they'd tolerate each other for him... it had gone just about as good as Shane could have possibly imagined though.

"I was thinking, Hollander," Ilya breathed into Shane's neck, causing him to squirm slightly, "I am free agent soon. Maybe I sign with Canadian team, somewhere closer."

Shane's heart nearly stopped, he ceased his mindless combing through Ilya's hair, causing Ilya to pull back and look Shane in the eyes. "But you made it to the semifinal with Boston?" 

Ilya shrugged, "Yes, but Boston is far. Somewhere, maybe Ottawa, is a lot closer."

And holy shit. He couldn't believe that Ilya was... offering to sign with a terrible team just for him.

"Rozanov, Ottawa sucks." Shane protested, looking at him in disbelief.

"Yuna and David are in Ottawa, and private sex cottage is here, and I heard they are looking for a new center, so..." Ilya trailed off, drinking in Shane's disbelieving expression. "Unless you don't want?"

Shane jolted. "No! I absolutely want. I mean, that would be amazing, the dream really- well, besides being on a team with you, but I don't think anyone could afford both of us, at least not right now, maybe later when we're no longer at peak performance-" Shane was cut off by Ilya's mouth. He closed his eyes and smiled as he kissed him back.

It was crazy to think that Ilya would give up his chance at winning another Cup just to be closer to Shane. It was so absolutely wild, but it made his heart so incredibly fond. He was so lucky to have such a perfect man, who wasn't even his boyfriend, offering to move to Ottawa for him. His heart felt so full it was almost bursting and he wanted to tell him so badly.

Shane pulled back from the kiss before it could get too far, "I don't want you to move for me and regret it though." He said softly, carefully watching Ilya's face for any sign of hesitation.

"Could never regret you,, Hollander." Ilya replied softly, leaning back in to attach his lips to Shane's again.

Shane's mind began running through all of the different factors, compiling two lists in his head of reasons why was absolutely insane and stupid, but also reasons that this could totally work. He pulled back again, "But what about Marlow?"

Ilya groaned, "Hollander, please do not talk about Marly when I am trying to be sexy with you."

Shane laughed, "I'm serious!"

Ilya frowned slightly as he contemplated, "He would understand, why I want to move to be near you. He is under contract for another year, but maybe Ottawa will want to trade for him. We do have very good chemistry after all." Ilya said with his signature smirk as Shane lightly hit his chest in jealousy that was mostly a joke.

They both knew the probability of Marlow being traded to Ottawa if Ilya left Boston to sign there was very low. And as much as it made Shane's heart swell knowing that Ilya was willing to uproot his whole life and move to some boring Canadian town and play for an awful Canadian team, he couldn't let him do that. "Rozanov, you can't do that." He whispered softly.

Ilya met his gaze with somewhat of a panic in his eyes. "Why not?" He asked immediately.

"Because your whole life is in Boston!" Shane replied, "Marlow, Svetlana, sometimes Rose... You have a house there, and a six car garage with all your fancy sports cars-"

"I could have six car garage here too, Hollander." Ilya grumbled.

"Sure, but I can't let you leave Boston for me." Shane said with finality, "Not when you have so much going for you there."

Fuck, Shane loved him so much for offering, but he just couldn't let him do it.

Ilya looked for a second as if he might protest, but he kept his mouth shut. Shane rubbed one of his thumbs gently across Ilya's cheek, swiping under his left eye.

"So what, we see each other just whenever we play then?" Ilya asked, looking at him sadly.

Shane contemplated it. They had the whole rest of the summer to spend with each other, learning the intimate parts of each other and what it was like to live together, but Ilya was right. Once training camp started, they would be back to seeing each other when Boston and Montreal played. Shane felt himself nodding.

"Yeah," he whispered, looking into Ilya's eyes. "We see each other when we play, I'll fly to you- wherever you are whenever we have a few days off. We can text and call, if I have a home game when you play Otttawa, I'll drive to visit you then too. The public, they've been loving our rivalry turned friendship. We can sign to brands together and see each other during shoots. If we stoke the fire a little bit on social media, let the public talk.. I'm sure that there will be companies knocking down our door for an ad campaign."

It wasn't perfect, but they both had a lot of hockey left in them, and established lives in their different cities with their teams.

"You want all of that with me?" Ilya asked him, in that soft voice of his that Shane only ever heard him use in moments like this.

"Yes. More than anything." Shane replied with conviction.

"Even though it would be easier to find someone who could be with you all the time?" Ilya asked softly, eyes averted looking toward the ground as if he thought there was an actual possibility Shane could say no. It was laughable, really, that Shane could ever possibly want anyone else besides the man standing before him.

Shane took in a shaky breath. In a way, it almost felt like a moment of truth. He was nervous and a little scared that maybe Ilya didn't feel the same way back. He knew Ilya at least felt something for him or else he wouldn't be here, but maybe he didn't feel exactly the depth of what Shane was feeling. But Shane was tired of being scared. He was tired of being scared and running away when it came to Ilya. It was time to be brave.

"Rozanov, I don't want anyone but you. Not now, not ever. A couple hours here and there with you is way more important to me than forever with anybody else." It was as close to a confession as Shane could get without just stating the three words. Shane watched Ilya's face carefully as one tear rolled down his cheek and then two. And then Ilya was hugging him again, face buried in Shane's neck.

"Shane," he heard Ilya whisper into his neck.

"Ilya," he breathed back, wrapping his arms so tightly around him that he was practically crushing him.

It was perfect. He was perfect. And Shane meant everything he had said with his whole heart. He never wanted anyone else.

Chapter End Notes

kind of an odd place to end it, i know. sue me! next chapter will pick up right where they left off in ilya's pov though ;)

hugs xoxo

Chapter 22

Chapter Notes

Ilya blinked slowly and inhaled a shaky breath. It was a stupid thought that had popped into his mind, he hadn't thought much about the logistics or the planning of it before he'd said it. He just knew that he wanted to be closer to Shane. He wanted to see him more than 4 or 5 times a season, he wanted to know the people in his life better, like his parents and even fucking Hayden Pike. After dinner with the Hollanders and the way Shane's mom had pulled him in for a tight embrace and thanked him for making her son so happy, Ilya just wanted more.

But then Shane had reminded him of Marlow, Rose, Svetlana, and everyone else in Boston. Like his coaches and the management who had built their roster and long term plans around Ilya, and the rookies he'd mentored this past year that he had befriended.

"Sure, but I can't let you leave Boston for me." Shane said, a smile on his face despite his sad looking eyes. He had said it in such a sweet way that Ilya couldn't even be mad. It was nearly impossible to be mad when Shane was looking at him with his big, brown, slightly watery eyes and swiping his thumb across Ilya's cheek as if he were someone precious.

And sure, they had both kind of been idiots the past year between the whole running away thing and the PR stunt with Rose, but Ilya could almost feel a physical pain in his chest of how much he would miss Shane when the season started again, especially after knowing what it was like to be with him every day. To fall asleep holding him, to wake up and make them breakfast, to sit at the barstools in the kitchen and watch lovingly as Shane told him some random story while doing the dishes, to have dinner with Shane's parents once a week, to play Scrabble with Shane's dad, and to let Shane's mom hold Ilya in her arms like his own mother used to. 

It had only really been three days of this, but Ilya was already spoiled and so, so completely ruined for anyone else.

"So what, we see each other just whenever we play then?" Ilya spit out with a frown, the words sounding foreign and wrong coming out of his mouth.

He could almost see the gears turning in Shane Hollander's beautiful brain as he contemplated it. He felt his shoulders tense up, preparing for the worst. He was preparing for Shane to tell him it was too much trouble, it wasn't worth it. Because really, if the world ever found out Shane Hollander was gay, there would be miles and miles of men lined up, tripping over their own feet for the chance to ask Shane out, and maybe he would realize that his difficult, slightly rude whatever Ilya was to him, wasn't worth it.

So Ilya was surprised when he heard Shane confidently whisper, "Yeah." It was soft and quiet, but it was strong. "We see each other when we play, I'll fly to you- wherever you are whenever we have a few days off. We can text and call, if I have a home game when you play Otttawa, I'll drive to visit you then too. The public, they've been loving our rivalry turned friendship. We can sign to brands together and see each other during shoots. If we stoke the fire a little bit on social media, let the public talk.. I'm sure that there will be companies knocking down our door for an ad campaign."

It wasn't a terrible idea. In fact, it was a pretty damn good idea.

"You want all of that with me?" Ilya asked before he could think about it too much because why else would Shane have said all of that if he didn't want it, but Ilya was scared. Not of having all of this with Shane, never of that. He was scared of the way the beautiful boy in front of him had run just a couple months ago when Ilya had called him by his first name, but now here he was planning the rest of their careers and lives together.

"Yes, more than anything." Shane said with conviction, and Ilya felt his eyes begin to water because how could this be possible? How could it be possible that someone so perfect could want to be with him despite it being so hard?

"Even though it would be easier to find someone who could be with you all the time?" Ilya asked, his voice sounded small even in his own ears, but he just had to be sure before he let himself fall completely again because he didn't think he could handle it if Shane took it all back.

"Rozanov, I don't want anyone but you. Not now, not ever. A couple hours here and there with you is way more important to me than forever with anybody else." Ilya's mouth parted slightly as Shane's confession wrang out in his ears. Steady, calm, confident. Fuck, Ilya had fallen into a deep endless freefall, he had been for a while now but after this there was no denying it. Suddenly, Ilya's cheeks felt a little bit wet as he felt tears sliding down his face. 

It had been a long fucking time that he had felt this way about Shane Hollander, maybe even since that first meeting that consisted of a cigarette, a handshake, and beautiful freckles. And he had known it but refused to admit it that day months ago at his house with ice cold ginger ale, tuna melts, and that angry call from his father. There had been a promise of forever on his lips every time he'd seen Shane since then, but he had refused to say it. He had refused to take the chance of messing things up and losing him again.

But here was Shane Hollander, telling him that he didn't want anyone else now, or ever. It was everything Ilya had been feeling for a very long time, and he couldn't stop the wet expression of it that rolled down his cheeks. He was a fool.

He was such a damned fool, because his father had always told him to be fooled once shamed the fooler and to be fooled twice shamed yourself. And here he was in the same predicament he had been, and yet no lessons had been learned. He buried his face in Shane's neck and whispered his name, "Shane." The word was a promise and a prayer all at once. And this time, if Shane asked Ilya to leave, because it was his cottage after all, Ilya would beg and plead on his knees.

He felt Shane's arms wrap around him instantly, holding him tight as if he were afraid that if he let go, Ilya would disappear and the moment would end. Ilya clutched him back just as tightly. "Ilya." He heard Shane whisper back, and could barely help the near sob of relief that racked through his body.

Ilya pressed a wet kiss to Shane's neck and whispered, "I love you."

He pulled back and pressed a kiss onto Shane's mouth, his hands pulling him tight as he whispered into his mouth, "I love you."

He broke their kiss to press a soft one to Shane's forehead and murmured, "I love you," against his skin.

And finally, he pulled back, his own teary eyes meeting Shane's as he said the very thing he'd felt for years but been terrified to say. "I love you." He paused, then repeated this time in English, "I love you."

"I love you too." Shane's reply was instant, "I love you so fucking much." And then he was crashing his lips against Ilya's, and he was walking him backwards toward the bedroom, hands fisted up in the soft material of the hoodie.

It was somewhat of a miracle that they didn't bump into anything until Ilya's legs were kicked out from underneath him when his knees hit the back of the bed, and Shane went with him. They smiled into each other's mouths as they scooted up on the bed into a more comfortable position, never breaking the kiss with Shane hovering over Ilya now, pressing him into the bed.

When Shane broke the kiss so he could take off his shirt and tug off Ilya's hoodie and shirt, Ilya took the time to tell Shane again, "I love you so much."

"I love you too." Shane replied before leaning down to kiss a trail down Ilya's chest to his stomach, stopping at the waist band of his pants. Ilya was already hard, always hard when it came to Shane, and the way that Shane looked up at him with a reverent smile nearly made him lose it right then and there in a way he hadn't done since he was a preteen.

Ilya groaned, throwing his head back against the pillows as Shane let out a little laugh before pulling his shorts down and taking him all the way in his mouth like it was easy. "Fuck, Shane." Ilya breathed, and Shane moaned which sent vibrations through his dick. 

Ilya decided to test a theory.

"So good for me, Shane." He breathed out again, breath hitching slightly as he touched the back of Shane's throat. This time, Shane let out a little whimper when Ilya said his name.

He decided to test his theory one more time.

"I love the way you suck me, Shane."

This time, the reaction came in the form of a frustrated whine and the roll of Shane's hips into the bed as a source of friction. Ilya smirked, he placed two fingers under Shane's chin and lifted slightly to get Shane too pull off and lean up to meet Ilya sitting up for a kiss. 

Shane eagerly attached their lips, moaning into the kiss as Ilya reached down to wrap his hand around Shane. Ilya pulled back slightly, breathing into Shane's mouth, "You like when I call you Shane now?" He asked, unable to help his lips from curling into a smile.

"Asshole." Shane murmured in reply, chasing Ilya's lips as Ilya leaned farther back, still slowly rubbing Shane through his pants.

"You love it." Ilya replied before finally allowing Shane to reconnect their lips.

It was quick and messy. Ilya fucked Shane on his back so that he could look at him the whole time, kiss him, and watch his beautiful face as Ilya told him he loved him while he wrecked him. They came together after Ilya told Shane to hold it until he was ready, and after Ilya tied up the condom and cleaned them both up with a washcloth from the bathroom, they fall back onto Shane's bed in the midst of the messed up sheets and excessive pillows and held each other tight.

Ilya laid his head on Shane's chest, tracing random patterns on it while he felt Shane play with his curls. He lifted his head up to place a quick kiss on Shane's lips and also because he wanted to see him as he asked, "So you like it when I call you Shane?"

He watched in delight as a pink blush spread across Shane's cheeks as he nodded. Ilya pressed a kiss to each cheek where the blush was most prominent.

"Well, am glad you like it." Ilya said, smirking mischievously as he continued, "And very glad you did not run away this time."

Shane groaned rubbing a hand over his face as he replied, "I'm never gonna live that one down, am I?" He sighed loudly as Ilya mouthed no, and then his face went serious. "Ilya," He said softly. "I'm not running away again."

Ilya nodded slowly, "I know, was a joke." 

"No, but I'm serious." Shane said, sitting up slightly and cupping Ilya's face with both hands, "I won't, I promise. I never want to leave you."

The way he said it was so soft and vulnerable that Ilya nearly started crying again. He leaned forward and kissed Shane. "I never want to leave you either." They kissed slowly for a bit without any real urgency.

"Just promise me you won't get a fake girlfriend next time I'm being an idiot." Shane murmured against his lips, and Ilya let out a loud laugh.

"And they say you're not funny." He commented.

"Asshole." Shane smiled, pinching his side as Ilya yelped and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"I promise." Ilya whispered into his ear, "No more fake girlfriends."

"Good." Shane hummed.

They cuddled in bed for a bit, both having separate phone time while still wrapped up in each other. Shane asked Ilya if he would mind if the Pikes came to visit next week to which Ilya asked if Hayden's wife and kids could leave him at home. And then, Shane suggested Ilya invite Marlow, Rose, and Svetlana to the cottage for a few days, and Ilya couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

"You want them to come here?" He asked, full of awe looking at the beautiful boy in his arms.

"Well, yeah." Shane muttered, his cheeks slightly pink as if he were embarrassed. "I mean, they're your best friends, and I kinda need to thank Rose for dropping hints before like straight up telling me you two weren't really together."

Ilya smiled. "Thank you." He said, placing a quick kiss on Shane's cheek.

He pulled up his text group chat with the three of them and sent them a text.

Ilya: Come to Shane's cottage in Ottawa in two weeks?

Marlow: Miss me already Rozy?

Marlow: Thought you'd never ask ;)

Svetlana: What days? I will be there.

Rose: So I take it things are going well with your boyfriend?

Rose: Count me in

He turned his phone to show Shane the confirmation that the three of them would be there.

"Boyfriend?" Shane asked, his voice a mixture of shock and awe.

Ilya almost laughed at the near absurdity of it. "I mean, yes, probably. I am in your bed, naked. I am spending all of my time off with you. I am in love with you. So yes, I think boyfriends is the right word."

Shane kissed him. "Boyfriends." He whispered, "I like that."

"Me too." Ilya replied fondly.

They confirmed the dates with the Pikes and Marlow, Rose, and Svetlana, making sure they had enough days in between just for themselves. Ilya listened to Shane brainstorm different ideas for subtle ways they could get the media talking about their rivalry friendship dynamic and what brands they might want to partner with together, both agreeing to bring it up to Yuna when they went back over for dinner in a few days.

Ilya clicked the lamp off before settling back in the bed, wrapping his arms around Shane. They kissed quickly before both moving and adjusting about until they were comfortable, and when they finally settled-

"Goodnight, Ilya." Shane said softly, his voice already laced with sleep.

"Goodnight, Shane." Ilya replied with a smile.

"I love you so much." Shane murmured into Ilya's arm.

"I love you so much, my love." Ilya replied as he too began drifting off to sleep.

Chapter End Notes

slightly shorter one today... things are coming to an end very soon. just one more chapter and an epilogue. xoxo

Chapter 23

Chapter Notes

"Took you long enough." 

An all too familiar voice greeted when Ilya opened the front door. Okay, so maybe they had knocked almost a full two minutes ago, but Ilya and Shane had been enjoying what few minutes they had of alone time before a weekend of chaos and maybe they had gotten a little bit carried away. Shane was upstairs trying to calm down a bit and fix his messed up hair which had left Ilya to answer the door.

He resisted the urge to slam it shut in Pike's face. He honestly might have done so if it weren't for the baby in his arms and the beautiful brunette woman standing next to him with a toddler on each hip who still managed to swat at his shoulder. "Hayden, you promised to be nice." She scolded before turning to Ilya with a brilliantly dazzling smile. "Ilya, hi!"

He smiled back at the friendly woman who he'd heard a lot about but never officially met. "Hi Jackie, can I help you with something?"

And suddenly, Pike was gawking at his wife as she handed over one of the toddlers. "If you can take one of the twins, that would be great." Jackie said, not giving him much room to say no. Ilya shot Pike a self satisfied smirk before resuming all of his focus on accepting the toddler from Jackie. "Honey, this is Uncle Ilya." He heard her say.

His eyes definitely weren't watering, because that would be ridiculous. He was fixed with a stare from a pair of wide blue eyes that looked so perfectly adorable on the child that was a little mini Pike, but Ilya would never say that out loud.

"That's Ruby." He heard Pike say begrudgingly as he continued to stare at the child in awe.

"Hi Ruby," he whispered reverently as she rested one of her hands on his shoulder.

"Hi Uncle Ilya." She spoke in a soft voice, not fully enunciating the syllables, but it was perfect nonetheless.

He cleared his throat, trying to erase any of the wetness there might have been lingering. "How was the drive? Not too bad I hope." He said as he stepped back into the foyer, allowing the Pikes to follow him inside.

"It was alright." Pike said shortly, "Where's Shane?"

His question was answered immediately by the thundering of footsteps down the stairs, "Sorry, sorry. I'm here!" Shane shouted, and Ilya's shoulders relaxed. He wasn't sure how much longer he could've comfortably made conversation with Pike without Shane being there to intervene.

Shane rounded the corner and immediately moved to hug Jackie and Pike. His eyes widened, and he let out a soft "Oh," as he took notice of Ilya with Ruby in his arms. Ilya watched as his features almost seemed to melt. Ilya wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to have kids of their own one day, if Shane would ever want something like that. The way he was looking at Ilya holding Ruby made him think maybe he did.

Shane walked toward him, "Hi Ruby," he said in an animated voice, with almost more energy than Ilya had ever heard in his voice and fuck, it was a shame that the Pike's were staying at the cottage with them because Ilya wanted to do things to him that were certainly not family friendly. 

"Hi Uncle Shane." Ruby cooed as she reached for him.

Shane glanced from Ruby to Ilya as he accepted her, and shot Ilya a small, sweet smile. God, he loved him so much. 

"You have bags in the car?" Ilya asked.

"Yes, but Hayden can grab them." Jackie said as she set the other twin down and grabbed the smaller child from Hayden.

"I will help." Ilya offered and followed Pike outside. He resisted the urge to snicker as Pike popped the trunk on their light blue mini van, and grabbed two bags out of the back, leaving Pike with the other two.

"Hey, um Rozanov." He heard Pike say as he'd turned to go back inside.

"Yes, Pike?" He asked.

"Look, I just wanna say," Pike paused as if he were struggling for the right words, "I'm sorry about what I said at that game. I, uh, didn't have the full picture, and I was just trying to be a good friend, but I think I kinda made things worse, so yeah. Sorry."

Ilya wanted to laugh at how difficult it seemed to have been for Pike to grumble out that apology, but he could tell then intent behind it was genuine. He shifted to holding both bags in one hand as he clapped Pike on the shoulder. "Is okay." And now it was his turn to be grossly vulnerable. "I am glad that Shane has a friend like you."

Pike nodded with somewhat of an appreciative smile.

"Even if you are Montreal's 15th best player." He couldn't help himself.

"Fuck you, Rozanov." Pike's reply came easily, and a face splitting grin spread across Ilya's face. Everything was as it was supposed to be.

They walked back inside, arguing and trading chirps without any real malice behind them. They both shut up instantly with one pointed look from Jackie though.

Later that night, after the kids had been put to bed, Ilya stretched out his feet into Shane's lap laid out on the floor as Jackie leaned her head on Pike's shoulder across from them on the couch. 

"It's weird seeing the two of you, you know, like this." Hayden commented, gesturing with his hand toward the two of them where Ilya was laying with his head in Shane's lap. There was some movie on in the background with low volume, but they'd stopped watching it ages ago.

"It is first gay relationship you have seen?" Ilya asked bluntly with his usual lazy smirk drawn across his face as Hayden sputtered to respond.

"N-no, it's not- that's not what I meant-" Hayden started.

Shane cut in quickly, "He knows that's not what you meant, Hayd." He said as he shot a pointed look over to Ilya who simply winked at him in response. Shane rolled his eyes. Dinner had gone well with minimal bickering between Ilya and Hayden, but Shane knew it was probably only because of Jackie's swift kicks under the table whenever Hayden said something a little too antagonistic. He'd delivered a couple to Ilya himself.

"You guys just look really happy. That's what my idiot husband was trying to say." Jackie cut in, giving Shane a smile with soft eyes.

There were a few more looks exchanged that night between Shane and Jackie, especially when Ilya and Hayden started going shot for shot with the whiskey the Pike's had brought over before Shane cut them off. There were even more looks exchanged when the night ended with Ilya and Hayden drunkenly singing and dancing to Bad Bunny in the hot tub, but Shane couldn't bring himself to tell them to knock it off.

He was sure that Ilya had drank just a bit too much past the point where he would remember this the next morning, and he was excited to show him the video Jackie took of Ilya pretending to throw dollar bills while Hayden twerked badly. He was sure Ilya would claim it was fake, something about Russians not doing this.

When the Pike's left a few days later, they were definitely ready for a break from having three loud kids running around all the time. Shane and Jackie cooed when Ilya held his hand out for a handshake and Hayden pulled him in for a hug. Ilya denied it later, but Shane had seen the way he'd relaxed into the hug and smiled. He was also pretty sure that Jade and Amber liked Uncle Ilya more than him now, but in his defense, Ilya had bribed them water guns and child size Rozanov 81 jerseys that Hayden and Jackie claimed were going straight in the trash.

Shane grabbed Ilya's hand, waving to the kids through the back window of the Pike's mini van before they turned to go inside. As soon as they'd crossed the threshold, Shane found himself being pushed up against the wall and smiled with a surprised laugh as Ilya began peppering his face with kisses.

"So, you and Hayden got along..." Shane commented as Ilya seemed to be making it a mission to kiss each individual freckle of Shane's.

"Pike is maybe not so bad." Ilya acknowledged, pulling back to look at Shane with a mysterious grin pulling across his face. "But I do not want to talk about Pike right now."

Shane leaned in to meet Ilya halfway as their mouths collided in a fiery kiss. Despite the Pike's staying in the downstairs bedrooms, Shane had not had his mouth wrapped around Ilya in way too long because surprisingly, Ilya was the one who did not want to make them uncomfortable, and he hadn't been sure that they could stay quiet enough.

"Mmm missed this." Ilya murmured between kisses as he walked Shane toward what had become their bedroom, "Missed you." He said sweetly, hands tugging at the bottom of Shane's shirt.

"I always miss you." Shane sighed as Ilya tugged his shirt over his head. It was a silly thing to say since they'd spent the past four weeks together and Shane had no reason to miss Ilya, but they both understood what it meant. And it was worth it for the way Ilya beamed at him.

They kissed again, quicker and more urgent this time, but were torn apart by the sound of a phone ringing. Shane groaned as Ilya continued to press sweet little kisses along his neck. The only people who could possibly break through his do not disturb were his agent, his parents, his coach, Hayden, and Ilya. One of those was ruled out by the company Shane was in, and if anybody else was contacting him it was probably urgent.

He tugged his shirt back on as Ilya whined, sprawling out on their bed. Shane pressed a quick kiss to his forehead and said, "I'll be right back," before jogging to the living room to grab his phone before it went to voicemail. Maybe the Pike's had left something and were coming back for it.

Shane found his phone and nearly declined the call when he saw it was just his mom, but he was a good son, and it could be important, so he picked up. "Yes mom?" He asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

"You and Ilya are still coming for dinner later, right?" She asked, and Shane did let out a whine of annoyance this time.

"Yes mom, but that's like two hours away!" He said exasperatedly, walking back to the bedroom and mouthing 'mom' to Ilya.

"I know honey, but I just wanted to make sure. Also, your dad wants to know if Ilya wants to play Scrabble with him tonight." His mom said in her usual informative Yuna way.

"Mom! Is that really important right now?" Shane asked.

"Shane, baby, can you just ask?" His mom said dismissively.

Shane sighed.

"Ilya," he said, annoyance dripping from his voice, "My dad wants to know if you want to play Scrabble with him tonight?"

All the annoyance melted away as Ilya's eyes lit up, "Yes!" He exclaimed, "Tell David yes, I want to play Scrabble with him."

Shane felt his shoulders relax and was almost embarrassed at the way his voice went impossibly fond as he relayed the message to his mom.

"Okay, perfect honey. Your dad is very excited. We'll see you later. I love you." His mom said.

"Love you mom." Shane said before disconnecting the call. 

Ilya was on him the moment he set the phone down, "So, where were we?" He asked, a smirk in his eyes.

Shane was nervous. Not that there was really any reason to be. Or at least Ilya had reassured him that probably a hundred times this morning. 

Yet still, he couldn't stop himself from obsessively wiping down the counters, trying to make sure they were spotless. Sometimes the glare of the light made them seem a little bit smudged, and he didn't want Ilya's friends to think he was a slob, especially since they were basically like Ilya's equivalent of Hayden and-

He was stopped by Ilya's hand covering his that was running over the counter again with a paper towel and disinfectant spray, and he felt his entire body being encircled by Ilya's. "Shane, baby," Ilya murmured into the back of his neck, and Shane melted like he always did when Ilya called him that. "They are not going to care about what our counters look like, plus they are already spotless so."

"Our?" Shane asked, a smile playing at his lips.

Ilya froze slightly, "I mean, yes, no, I don't know. Your counters, you know what I-"

Shane cut him off, spinning in his arms and placing a kiss to his nose. "I like them being our counters." He said smiling, "Especially if that means you'll start helping clean them."

Ilya barked out a loud laugh at that, "Yes, I will clean our counters. But I will wait until they actually need cleaning." He grabbed the paper towel from Shane's hand and walked over to deposit it in the trash right as the doorbell rang, followed by the sound of someone pounding on the door.

"Rozy! Hollzy! Stop fucking and come open the door. These bags are fucking heavy." It was definitely Marlow's voice unless Rose or Svetlana's voices had dropped two octaves since the last time Shane had seen them.

"They are going to love you. They already do." Ilya said, placing a quick kiss on Shane's forehead as they walked over to open the door together. 

As soon as they had, Shane's arms were full of Svetlana and Ilya's, next to him, were full of Rose. There was a big smacking kiss being placed on each cheek as Svetlana pulled back to look at him. "I think maybe you have gotten more handsome." She said, patting him twice on the head before switching places with Rose. Shane felt his cheeks flush slightly as a warmth bloomed inside his chest. He wasn't sure exactly how he'd been expecting things to go with Ilya's friends, maybe he'd thought it'd take a day or two for them to warm up to each other, but Shane was already feeling more at ease.

And then he was hugging Rose who pulled back with a knowing smile, "Hi Shane." She said sweetly.

"Hi R-" He tried to reply but was cut off by Marlow who he then noticed seemed to be drowning under the weight of four duffel bags and two rollers.

"Oh of course, you two get to have all the fun while I carry your million bags inside," He sighed as Ilya stepped out of Svetlana's arms to grab a couple bags from Marlow. "What did you guys even pack? We're only staying for three fucking days!" Marlow exclaimed.

Shane laughed a bit as he stepped up to grab two bags from Marlow too. After they had settled all the bags in the guest bedrooms, Marlow had wrapped Ilya and Shane up together in a bear hug, lifting them both slightly off the ground, and Shane then fully realized why nobody messed with Rozanov on the ice during Boston games... because they would have the fucking giant that was Marlow to answer to.

"Is good to see you, Marly." Ilya said with a big grin when he set them down.

"Damn right it is." Marlow replied with just as big of a smile, and Shane thought for a second that they reminded him of giant golden retrievers. Marlow turned to him, "Shane fucking Hollander. How the hell did my asshole of a best friend manage to pull you?"

"Fuck off, Marly." Ilya exclaimed, shoving him. "He felt very bad for me when I was in hospital injured. The bruises made me look sexy I think."

Shane blushed, "You know that's not the reason."

"Ah yes," Ilya smiled, pulling Shane into his side and pressing a kiss to the side of his head, "Is because I am irresistible obviously."

"Well I'm just glad you didn't fuck it up again, Roz." Marlow said with a soft smile, "Seriously Hollzy, you should've seen this guy when he was dating Rose and things between you guys were weird. A fucking wreck."

Ilya simply rolled his eyes, but didn't make any move to protest.

"I mean, come on, we were having fucking wine nights and talking about feelings and shit-" Marlow continued.

"That was one time, Marly!" Ilya interrupted

"Oh yeah, when you told me you were sooo in love with the smartest guy you knew and- Oh I fucking knew it, Roz! Don't even try to tell me Russians do not blush again because you're fucking blushing right now," Marlow cackled, pointing at the pink flush spreading across Ilya's cheeks, but all Shane could think of was-

"You loved me then?" He asked softly, turning to Ilya. "Even when I-" left. Shane didn't say it, but they both knew. "After I, you know."

"Yes," Ilya replied softly. "Before that too, for a long time probably. Maybe even since-" He didn't finish, but Shane could fill it in well enough on his own. There wasn't anything he could say to encompass how he was feeling so he just pressed a kiss to Ilya's mouth, ignoring the fact that Marlow was standing right there and Svetlana and Rose, who were exploring the house, could walk in on them being all PDA at any moment.

They pulled apart when they heard Marlow cooing sweetly, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye, "They grow up so fast." He commented, continuing to pretend to sob as Rose and Svetlana appeared at the bottom of the stairs, joining the party.

"So, are we gonna go out on the lake or what?" Rose asked.

"Yes, I must show Ilya up in the kayaks." Svetlana added.

They all laughed.

"Yeah," Shane said softly, still looking fondly at Ilya, "Let's go."

Ilya smiled at the fire, the one he'd given Shane a hard time about the first night but was now quickly becoming one of his favorite activities. He was wedged between Shane and Marlow with Svetlana and Rose occupying the couch across the fire from them. Him and Svetlana were slowly sipping on ice cold glasses of vodka while the other three were having mixed drinks with it that had gotten lots of protest from the two Russians.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this happy, having the four most important people in his life all laughing together.

His and Shane's hands were intertwined sitting in Shane's lap, and his side was pressed against Marlow's as it often was when they sat next to each other on the team bus or flights, and there wasn't one place in the world he could imagine being more comfortable or happier at. The only thing that maybe could have made it better was if Yuna and David were here... and maybe Jackie Pike and her adorable kids and her annoying husband too he guessed.

He was still pretty certain that the video Shane and Jackie had taunted him and Pike with the morning they'd both woken up hungover, nearly cuddled together on the living room couch, was fake. There was no way he would ever throw dollar bills, real or fake, for Hayden Pike's sorry excuse for twerking.

Even though the weekend thus far had been filled with Marlow, Svetlana, and Rose exchanging stories of how down bad Ilya had been for Shane, Ilya couldn't quite complain because every time they brought up something new, Shane's stared at him with that one look of his that meant 'I love you' and 'I want to jump your bones' at the same time.

"It was so bad, Shane. You should have seen the way he glared at Hayden Pike in that one commercial you two did together for Air Canada." Svetlana giggled as her and Rose leaned into each other, as if they needed someone to ground them, lest they fly away from all their stupid giggling.

Ilya watched Shane smile, looking down at the ground embarrassed. "It was just because they're the official carrier for the Metros," Shane said, and Ilya could almost hear him saying that in the commercial.

"Oh trust us, we know." Rose replied with a smirk.

"They played that commercial like fifty times and every single one of them, Ilya looked like he was going to murder someone." Marlow added, reaching across Ilya to pat Shane on the shoulder.

"It was stupid commercial, okay?" Ilya defended. "And stupid Pike had told me to stay away from Shane and then there he was with his stupid arm around him and-" Ilya threw his hands up in frustration. Of course, he wasn't mad at Pike anymore, not very much anyway. He was actually not that bad of a guy, and he'd made some really cute babies even though that was probably mostly Jackie.

He felt Shane press a kiss to the side of his head, and whisper, "I love you," in his ear.

Ilya immediately relaxed all of his frustrations and replied, "I love you."

"Ugh, you two are too sweet." Rose exclaimed, "I feel so single right now."

"Jealous, ex girlfriend?" Ilya asked with a teasing smile on his face. Rose stuck her tongue out at him.

It was perfect.

Ilya definitely didn't cry when the three of them left a few days later. Especially not when he saw the way Rose and Svetlana hugged Shane and whispered sweet things that made his cheeks turn crimson in his ears. He knew, of course, that his friends would love Shane, but it was special and heartwarming to see just how well they got along.

Marlow pulled him in for a big bear hug. "I'm glad you're so happy, Roz." 

"Thank you, Marly." Ilya replied, his voice thick with something that definitely wasn't the tears he was choking back as he squeezed Marlow tight.

"Seriously man, nobody deserves it more." Marlow said, his voice cracking slightly.

Ilya just nodded and squeezed his best friend tighter as if that would help stop the tears from flowing.

They waved goodbye long after the car had disappeared from sight, Ilya's head leaning on Shane's shoulder as Shane supported the two of them.

When they went back in and sat on the couch, cuddled up together while a pot of coffee was brewing in the kitchen, Ilya heard Shane say, "So, I was thinking.."

He turned to look at his beautiful boyfriend who was staring back at him with a somewhat mischievious smile. Ilya nodded for him to continue.

"What if you posted a picture of the dock at sunset?" Shane asked, his eyes wide and hesitant as if Ilya might ever say no to him, "Just like, you know, what we were talking about with the whole dropping little hints thing. Because I'm sure some people will connect the view from the documentary to your picture, and it won't like confirm anything, but it'll make peopletalk a little bit and-"

Ilya cut him off with a kiss. "This is what you want?" He asked softly, searching Shane's face for some sort of regret.

"Yeah," Shane said, blushing slightly, "I mean, it's a step toward what we talked about, right?" He asked, his eyes wide, earnest, and searching. "Make people talk, I mean, they alread know we're friends, and then they'll be wondering about our friendship if you're visiting me, and maybe some brands will wanna do a commercial with us like that Air Canada one I did with Hayden-"

"Yes," Ilya said, "I would like that very much."

Shane hummed in reply, leaning in to kiss him.

Ilya pulled back ever so slightly, and just for a second. "But our friendship commercial will be much better and sexier than your one with Pike... and less boring partnership than Air Canada."

Shane laughed, "Sure." He agreed easily, and then Ilya leaned the rest of the way back in to connect their lips in a sweet kiss.

Chapter End Notes

i am soooo sorry this chapter took so long. i was having so much writer's block and just kept not liking what i was writing. but all that's left for these two really is the epilogue which should be out very soon. and then maybe a new little project too. and if i haven't said it enough, i adore cliff marlow soooo much.

xoxo

Chapter 24: epilogue

Chapter Notes

thank you to rookrookgoose for informing me there is no at&t in canada, whoopsies! now shane and hayden did a voyageurs commercial for air canada (official airline of the montreal canadiens) instead haha

slightly different format for the final chapter. i hope you guys love it anyway

September 2017

Boston Bears Updates @beardownboston
Just two weeks after Shane Hollander's record breaking 124 million 8 year contract extension, Boston and Ilya Rozanov finally reach agreement for a 32 million 2 year deal

Rozanov Hat Trick @luvrozanov8181
2 YEAR DEAL??!!1! WHERE DOES THIS MAN WANT TO GO IN 2 YEARS

Bears #1 Fan @yourlocalbearsfan
I mean I guess bro

Bears #1 Fan @yourlocalbearsfan
replying to @yourlocalbearsfan
2 more years of Roz is better than nothing?

Rozanov Hat Trick @luvrozanov8181
replying to @yourlocalbearsfan
The day Roz leaves is the day I denounce Boston and choose a new favorite team

October 2017

BREAKING: Montreal's Shane Hollander and Hayden Pike spotted with Boston's Ilya Rozanov and Cliff Marlow
By Cassie B.
October 7, 2017

Hours before the Montreal season opener, Shane Hollander and Hayden Pike were spotted at a local Mom and Pop Italian restaurant with none other than their future opponents and rivals, Ilya Rozanov and Cliff Marlow. Despite the events of last year's Allstar game and Rozanov and Hollander's suspected friendship, some fans still weren't sure. Now with pictures circulating of the four laughing together, signing autographs, and leaving generous tips, fans have started to wonder if the rivalry between Rozanov and Hollander really is over?... Read More

Boston Bears Updates @beardownboston
Watch Rozanov blow a kiss and point at Hollander after scoring his third goal of the night [video attached]

Bears #1 Fan @yourlocalbearsfan
replying to @beardownboston
@luvrozanov8181 get in here

Rozanov Hat Trick @luvrozanov8181
replying to @beardownboston 
FUCK YEAH ROZANOV HAT TRICK

Montreal Voyageurs Updates @montrealupdates
HE SHOOTS AND HE SCORES! Watch Hollander score his second goal of the night to put Montreal up 4-3 [video attached]

Hollander's Hockey Tape @voyageon
replying to @montrealupdates
LET'S GO!

Boston Bears Updates @beardownboston
BREAKING: Bears and Voyageurs in OT after last second goal from St. Simon

Bears #1 Fan @yourlocalbearsfan
I'm losing my mind

Hollander's Hockey Tape @voyageon
This game is absolute cinema

Bears #1 Fan @yourlocalbearsfan
This is the face of a girl who will never be okay ever again [photo attached]

Lucca's Italian Restaurant @officialluccas
All lunch pastas are buy 2 get one free tomorrow to celebrate Shane Hollander's hat trick in the season opener

November 2017

MontreAll the Updates
Season 6, Episode 3

[32:47]

'Hollander has been playing absolutely out of his mind lately, Rob.'

'I'm glad you brought it up, Joe. He's always been fantastic, we've known this since he was drafted, but this is a whole new level-'

'-It's been transcendent! It's a pleasure to watch him play.'

'Honestly, I've been wondering what's brought about this new change, perhaps someone special?'

'An interesting thought for sure, Rob. Normally when a pro athlete starts seeing someone, we see a noticeable decline in performance.'

'True, Joe, but c'mon. It's Hollander.'

'Well if he was we'd never know... That guy keeps his romantic life private.'

'Probably buried under 10 NDA's'

[33: 21]

Hollander and Rozanov visit Boston Children's Hospital before 2nd regular season meeting
By Lisa H.
November 13, 2017

It appears Montreal's Shane Hollander has flown to Boston ahead of the rest of the team. Photos were posted to social media platforms this morning of him and Boston's Ilya Rozanov with patients. Neither team has responded to request for comment yet, but the visit appears to have been unplanned and on their own time as no official pictures were shared from either of the two or their camps. Discourse online has already started about why exactly Hollander is in Boston two days early, but it seems pretty clear the Hollander-Rozanov friendship is still going strong.... Read More

December 2017

Lavender Hayes @ilovewyatthayes
Umm why did I just see Ilya Rozanov at the Ottawa airport???

Rozanov Hat Trick @luvrozanov8181
replying to @ilovewyatthayes
Omg Rozanov mentioned

Five Big Boods @boodboodbood 
replying to @ilovewyatthayes
No way I can't believe I missed him. I just picked my sister up 30 mins ago

Lavender Hayes @ilovewyatthayes
replying to @boodboodbood
Maybe you'll see him around. He was standing by baggage claim, so I guess he's spending Christmas in Ottawa??

Five Big Boods @boodboodbood
replying to @ilovewyatthayes
I only have $300 in my checking account. Maybe that will be enough to bribe him to sign with us next year...

Lavender Hayes @ilovewyatthayes
replying to @boodboodbood
please this

[photo of a sunrise on the lake and a dock covered in snow]
@ilyarozanovofficial Very boring Christmas break

@haydenpike So great to see you! The kids miss you already!

@haydenpike Jackie commented that from my phone.

@cliffmarlow cool [thumbs up]

@roselandry Aww looks like fun!

@svetlanavetrova jealous. moscow is so cold.

@roselandry @svetlanavetrova It looks cold there too??

@svetlanavetrova @roselandry canadian winter is nothing compared to russian winter

@ilyarozanovofficial @svetlanavetrova @roselandry Da. Sveta is right.

@shanehollanderhockeyplayer I think you like boring

@ilyarozanovofficial @shanehollanderhockeyplayer Maybe

@fivebigboods What the hell? Is this Hollander's cottage? I've been looking for you everywhere man

@lavenderhayes ^ 

@lavenderhayes PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE 

@lavenderhayes he has something to ask you 

Exclusive! Rozanov spends Christmas recess with Hollander ten months after death of his father
By Jane H.
December 27, 2017

Hockey's favorite rivals turned friends spent the Christmas recess together in Hollander's hometown. Blurry pictures of Rozanov at Ottawa International circulated social media earlier this week, but remained unconfirmed until this morning when a rep for Hollander reached out with a handful of photos from the weekend, including one of Rozanov and Hollander's dad joyously placing the last piece of a 2000 piece puzzle. It comes as no surprise that the Hollander's would welcome Rozanov to their home for Christmas despite a nearly decade long rivalry after the hit he took for their son causing him to miss 6 weeks of the season during last year's Allstar Game... Read More

January 2018

[photo of the Boston skyline covered in fireworks]
@shanehollanderhockeyplayer Ringing in the New Year!

@ilyarozanovofficial Most beautiful city skyline

@shanehollanderhockeyplayer @ilyarozanovofficial second most. Montreal is still first.

@haydenpike Come back home bud. I miss you.

@jackiepike Glad you had fun Shane! Dinner when you get back?

@shanehollanderhockeyplayer @jackiepike Of course!

@haydenpike @shanehollanderhockeyplayer oh so you reply to her comment and not mine?

@ilyarozanovofficial @haydenpike Is because you are boring and Jackie is a wonderful woman

@haydenpike @ilyarozanovofficial I hate you

@cliffmarlow how's the hangover dude? we'll get them next time

@svetlanavetrova @cliffmarlow next time maybe two boring north americans will not challenge two russians to go shot for shot?

@roselandry @svetlanavetrova I tried to tell them it was a bad idea.

@ilyarozanovofficial @roselandry #womensvoicesmatter

@cliffmarlow @ilyarozanovofficial dick

@ilyarozanovofficial @cliffmarlow 😘

@yunahollander Hope you had fun and didn't get too lit 🙌

@shanehollanderhockeyplayer @yunahollander MOM. Who taught you that? Nevermind. I know who it was.

@voyageon i'm ready to get back to the regularly scheduled program (aka beating boston)

@hollander4life brb... busy planning my trip to Boston bc Shane Hollander said it is the second most beautiful city skyline

MontreAll the Updates
Season 6, Episode 13

[23:03]

'Well Rob, today we have a bit of a treat for our listeners.'

'That we do, Joe. Let's welcome Montreal's favorite superstar center, Shane Hollander, calling in from the road after a statement win against San Francisco.'

'Hey guys. Thanks for having me!'

'Shane, before we talk about the game last night, the listeners are dying to know more about your unlikely friendship with Rozanov!'

'Brilliant question, Joe! It seems like the two of you are everywhere together nowadays. Can you speak on that a little, Shane? I mean for years we all thought you hated him!'

'Haha, I mean you're not completely wrong there. Ilya definitely has a way of getting under your skin, but I guess we just connected over our love for hockey, the intense pressure from our fanbases, teammates, coaches... everyone really, and once you get to know him, he's just a really great guy. He's funny, thoughtful, kind, and he cares so much about making people happy. He's really an entertainer a heart, and I think that's where that bad boy, asshole type of reputation comes from. But really, he's just being Ilya.'

'Wow! Would not have expected all of that!'

'Me either, Rob. Me either. Anyway, back to the game-'

[24:13]

Hollander named as Captain for the 2018 Allstar Game, Rozanov to be Assistant Captain
By Lily R.
January 23, 2018

The MLH announced the Allstar roster earlier this week which included Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov for the ninth year in a row to absolutely no one's surprise. This morning, they announced the Eastern Conference captains would be Shane Hollander with Ilya Rozanov as the A. Hopefully this year the two will lead the East to another victory.... Read More

February 2018

Hollander vs Rozanov: Who's better? Who cares? Just sit back and enjoy the show
By Elena R.
February 7, 2018

The longstanding rivalry between the No. 1 and No. 2 megastar picks from the 2009 MLH draft has sparked numerous articles and conversations over the years about the rivalry, about whether or not Boston made a mistake taking Rozanov, or if Hollander was simply a consolation prize for the Voyageurs. With numerous individual accolades and a Cup each, Hollander and Rozanov have more than established themselves as once in a generation talents that just so happened to fall in the same draft cycle, and I think it is well past time to stop asking 'Who's better?' because honestly, who cares? Every time these two meet on ice, they put up insane stats, and I, for one, am ready to stop questioning, sit back, and enjoy the show.... Read More

Rozandry Reconciliation: Ilya Rozanov and Rose Landry spark dating rumors again after cozying up during Allstar Weekend
By Sasha P.
February 14, 2018

Allstar Weekend has been quite the thrill this year, despite many initial player complaints about it falling on the weekend of love. Things may be re-heating up for everyone's favorite hockey superstar and movie megastar couple. Ilya Rozanov of the Boston Bears and Rose Landry who is set to star in Christopher Nolan's upcoming drama were spotted out to dinner with Rozanov's friend, Svetlana Vetrova, former rival turned friend, Shane Hollander, and teammate, Cliff Marlow. Landry and Rozanov sat on opposite sides of the table, but sources say the two shared many laughs and some prolonged eye contact. Could this be an indication that things are re-heating between the two?... Read More

Ilya: [sent a link]

Marlow: 😭

Svetlana: ☠️

Rose: Ugh I'm honestly embarrassed

Shane: Oh come on

Shane: We're literally holding hands under the table in the photo they used!

Rose: I can't believe people actually bought the fake relationship

Ilya: Apparently people still are buying

Shane: You guys weren't even sitting next to each other!

Svetlana: I think you guys could kiss and they would still write an article about your unlikely friendship

Marlow: Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!

Ilya: Shut your idiot face Marly

Shane: At this point, maybe we should

Marlow: Hey! She suggested it first

Ilya: Wait really????

June 2018

Boston Bears win second Cup with Ilya Rozanov
By Irina R.
June 15, 2018

After beating the Montreal Voyageurs in Game 7 to advance to the Stanley Cup Finals, it was almost a sure thing that the Bears would bring another Cup back to Boston given the injuries LA faced in their journey to the Final and the overall weaker competition from the Western Conference this year. Boston and Captain Ilya Rozanov have done it again, and what a start to a new year for Ilya Rozanov, who won the Cup on his birthday. Keep reading for our exclusive interview from Rozanov talking coming back from last year's injury, his mental health struggles resulting from the loss of his mother at a young age, and how support from his teammates, former lover, Rose Landry, and best friend, Shane Hollander helped him bring the Cup back to Boston... Read More

Bears #1 Fan @yourlocalbearsfan
HOLY FUCK WHY IS SHANE HOLLANDER IN THE AUDIENCE WEARING A ROZANOV JERSEY

Rozanov Hat Trick @luvrozanov8181
replying to @yourlocalbearsfan
Better question: Why would anyone not be wearing a Rozanov jersey??

Five Big Boods @boodboodbood
Oh my god the Cens need this man so bad.

Lavender Hayes @ilovewyatthayes
replying to @boodboodbood
Did you not find him over Christmas break and give him the bribe???

Five Big Boods @boodboodbood
replying to @ilovewyatthayes
I tried so hard. He was nowhere to be found.

Hollander's Hockey Tape @voyageon
THIS HAS TO BE SOME SORT OF TREASON RIGHT?

Hollander's Hockey Tape @voyageon
HOW CAN HE DO THIS?

Hollander's Hockey Tape @voyageon
IS HE ALLOWED TO DO THIS

Rozanov Hat Trick @luvrozanov8181
That's my boy. Breaking the hearts and spirits of Voyageurs fans everywhere.

Hollander and Rozanov spotted having a bro day in Ottawa
By Caitlin D.
June 31, 2018

Ottawa's own Shane Hollander was spotted having dinner at a high end restaurant in downtown Ottawa with Russian native, Ilya Rozanov on Thursday evening. Hollander was noticed by fans wearing a Rozanov jersey in Game 5 of the Stanley Cup Final when Rozanov won his second Cup in Boston and also hanging out with the rest of the Bears during their winning parade through Boston. Sources say Hollander was also the first one on his feet clapping when Rozanov took home his second MVP at the MLH awards. And now, a week after the MLH Awards, it appears Hollander and Rozanov have not yet gotten sick of each other. The wholesome friendship these two have is truly inspiring for the league... Read More

Shane: [sent a link]

Shane: Okay you actually have to be kidding me

Shane: We're literally holding hands ON TOP OF the table

Ilya: Hollander

Shane: Like seriously??

Shane: They said we were having a bro day, Ilya

Shane: A BRO DAY

Ilya: Hollander

Shane: I swear to god if another Rozandry article comes out after this

Shane: Like oh my god 

Shane: Are they blind??

Ilya: Shane

Shane: Sorry

Shane: Yes?

Ilya: I thought you wanted to be subtle

Shane: Yeah

Shane: I did

Shane: I just also kind of want people to know that you're mine

Ilya: I love you

Shane: I love you

September 2018

Shane groaned as the sunlight filtered into the bedroom. He tucked his face into Ilya's shoulder, trying anything to block out the light and go back to sleep. He was normally an early riser, but they only had three days left at the cottage before they had to leave for training camp.

The past year had been difficult. 

Shane hadn't realized just how unimportant it was for them to hide until they stopped doing it. It turned out, people were really dumb, and they believed what they wanted to believe. Sure there were the few people on Twitter or Reddit who had scarily accurate theories about what was actually going on, but the general hockey fanbase was content to keep believing that Shane and Ilya's long lasting rivalry had just turned into a really close friendship.

After all, there was a thin line between love and hate. And the general public was choosing to believe they loved each other... as friends.

"Moya lyubov, what time is it?" Shane heard Ilya's raspy, sleepy voice ask, and he felt his shoulder muscles tense as he stretched.

"Too early, go back to sleep." Shane grumbled, tucking his face further into Ilya's shoulder and willing the sleep to take him under again.

"Mmm," was Ilya's only reply before Shane felt his breathing slow slightly.

This summer with Ilya had been perfect. The Pikes had come to visit them again in early August, staying for a week and this time overlapping for two extremely long, extremely loud days with Rose, Svetlana, and Marlow. Shane had been convinced he was never going to know another moment of peace again, but then the Pike's had left to go back to Montreal, and Svetlana and Rose kicked Marlow out of their room, and Shane finally got a semi-full night of rest.

The past almost month had been just the two of them with lots of visits to and from Shane's parents of course. Ilya and his dad had put together an ungodly amount of puzzles. Ilya had commisioned a 5000 piece puzzle of a group of loons, which he still referred to as a stupid Canadian wolf bird, and they still had about 2000 pieces left to go on it which was why Shane's parents were coming over at noon. Ilya and David would work on the puzzle while Shane and his mom took the kayaks out or went on a hike.

Shane groaned softly, realizing he was going to be unable to fall back asleep. He rolled to the side, still well within Ilya's grasp and propped himself up on his elbows to stare at his beautiful boyfriend. At the beginning of the summer, Shane had worried that Ilya would get bored with the quiet, calm life at the cottage. After all, for much of the beginning of their relationship of sorts, Ilya had gone out to bars, clubs, and parties, and there was absolutely none of that near the cottage unless you counted the somewhat local bar that was a 45 minute drive.

Shane had been so worried that the novelty of the cottage... the novelty of Shane... would wear off during the first week. Finally Ilya had confronted him in the middle of a blowjob right when Shane had been about to orgasm.

"Ilya, I'm so close." Shane had moaned, and then Ilya had simply pulled off.

Shane had whined as he threaded his hands through his curls and tugged slightly.

"I will not continue until you tell me what is wrong." Ilya had said, fixing Shane with his sharp, perceptive gaze.

"Nothing's wrong." Shane had replied quickly, but even to him it sounded like a lie.

Ilya had raised an eyebrow at him and waited.

"Ugh, fine." Shane sighed as the throbbing in his dick started to subside. "I've just been a little worried that you're gonna get bored here. Because you know, there's no bars and there's not much to do besides nature stuff or playing games with my parents and I know you like them, but it's just so different from what you're used to and-"

Once he had started, it all just flowed out of him until Ilya had shut him up with a kiss.

"Shane." He whispered softly when he pulled back. "There is nowhere else I would rather be than right here with you and all of your boring." Most of Shane's worries had melted away at that, especially with the fond, almost adoring way Ilya had looked at him when he'd said the word boring. Ilya placed a soft kiss to his forehead, "One day when we are old and have to retire from hockey, because you are not good anymore and I, of course, don't want to play without you-" 

Shane had rolled his eyes at that part.

"-I will love nothing more than to come to this boring cottage and spend many, many boring days with my very boring husband, and hopefully my boring, Canadian children who look just like my husband." Ilya had finished the sentence looking at Shane under his eyelashes, almost as if he were nervous which Shane had thought was crazy.

Shane had kissed him, and they had then proceeded to have the best sex ever, which had then been topped a few times later in the summer.

Shane brushed the back of his hand across Ilya's cheek, over the slope of his nose, and down to his lips, smiling softly when Ilya placed a gentle kiss against his hand. "I knew you weren't actually asleep,"

"Mmm, you caught me," Ilya said with a grin as he opened his eyes. "What time is it?" He asked again.

Shane glanced at the clock on the nightstand, "11:15."

Ilya's eyes narrowed slightly, "David will be here soon to finish puzzle. Shower together to save time and water?"

Shane laughed as he pressed a kiss to Ilya's mouth, "Fine. You're lucky you're cute."

"Mom, we do not need a whole bottle of maple syrup." Shane groaned as his mom dragged him toward one of the farmer's market stalls. Shane had wanted to do something near the house, like a hike, but his mom had convinced him to go to the farmer's market in the little town a 20 minute drive from the cottage.

"Baby, it's Ilya's favorite maple syrup, and you're running low." His mom replied, not letting up as she dragged him around an old couple.

"We're leaving in like two days though!" Shane protested.

"But it's Ilya's favorite." His mom said again, emphasizing the favorite.

And okay, she had a point. Shane told her so, "Okay fine."

They had been stopped a couple times for pictures, and his mom had eagerly volunteered to take them with the condition that they not post them for a couple of hours so the farmer's market wouldn't get mobbed. Shane had protested to her that it would probably be good for business, but his mom had argued that they had things to do. Shane wasn't exactly sure what the urgent things they had to do were.

He bought two bottles of the maple syrup, one to keep at the cottage and one for Ilya to take back to Boston with him, and then let himself be dragged around to another stall. He discreetly bought one of the necklaces his mom had been looking at from one of the vendors when she wasn't looking. His mom was usually on her phone, keeping up with some hockey news story or trade rumor, but she'd been extra distracted today which made Shane wonder if something had finally been announced about Dallas Kent. 

There had been rumors for weeks that Colorado was going to release him after the latest batch of allegations against him.

While his mom looked down at her phone, a vendor selling the most beautiful flowers Shane had ever seen caught his eye. He wandered over, glancing at the different types. There was an old lady sitting in a chair, smiling pleasantly at him.

"Umm, do I, uh, build a bouquet myself?" He asked awkwardly.

"Yes, it's $30 for a build your own bouquet. I can help if you'd like?" She offered, standing slowly from her chair, bones cracking slightly.

"Oh, thank you so much." Shane replied. He spent the next few minutes pointing at a couple of the flowers he especially liked and letting her instruct him on how best to combine them. The end product was something much fancier than anything he'd ever seen in a grocery store, and Shane thought it was beautiful.

He handed her a crisp $100 dollar note from his wallet, refusing to accept her protests. "For the beautiful bouquet and assembly help." He told her, turning to watch his mom looking at him with a fond smile. He held the bouquet up to her and shrugged, "I thought Ilya would like it. He likes pretty things." 

He felt his cheeks warm slightly.

"Great thinking, honey. Why don't we head home before the flowers begin to wilt?" His mom asked.

They drove home in a peaceful quiet, Shane clutching the flowers to his chest as his mom drummed her fingers along the steering wheel, sneaking glances at him every couple of minutes.

"What is it?" Shane finally asked her as they were pulling into the driveway. It was then that he noticed her eyes were bright and shiny with unshed tears.

His mom shrugged her shoulders, shaking her head slightly as she searched for the words, "I'm just so proud of you, Shane. And so happy for you and the life you've built."

Shane felt his own eyes prickle with tears. "I love you mom."

"I love you too, baby." His mom replied softly, laughing wetly. "Now let's go inside."

Shane smiled as he turned the key in the front door, eagerly anticipating Ilya's reaction when he saw him walk inside holding a bouquet of flowers. It wasn't something they did for each other often, but Shane had remembered Ilya told him earlier in the summer that peonies were his mother's favorite flower. And the old lady at the farmer's market said that lilies went well with peonies and Shane had thought it was such a cute callback to their former nicknames for each other that he just had to get it.

The house was quiet, which wasn't unusual. Ilya and his dad were always super focused when they were doing their puzzles.

Shane's heart leapt into his throat as soon as he stepped into the kitchen and saw the giant windows that looked into the patio and backyard. The sun had begun to lower in the sky, casting a golden light across everything and illuminating the candles lit on the dock where Ilya stood waiting. He set the flowers down on the kitchen counter before running out the back sliding door that had already been open and up to the dock.

As he stepped closer, he could see tears in Ilya's eyes simply waiting to fall, and he could feel fresh ones welling up in his own eyes.

"Ilya," he breathed out softly as Ilya sunk down to one knee on the dock.

Shane couldn't help the tear that slid down his cheek.

"Shane," Ilya replied strongly though his voice was thick with tears. "I have loved you for ten years now. Ever since you shook my hand and scolded me for smoking outside the ice rink during World Juniors. You nestled your way into my heart that day, and I know you will never leave it.

"You worked your way into other parts of my life far before I even realized you were there. I started buying terrible ginger ale so that you would have drink you like at my house. I stopped smoking cigarettes because you do not like how they taste when you kissed me. I started doing boring things like reading boring New Yorker just so I could maybe have one thing in common to talk with your dad one day.

"You make me a better hockey player, a better friend, a better man. I love you with all of my heart and everything I have to give, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you especially if it means becoming boring Canadians together.

"So please, do me the honor-" Ilya paused to wipe at the tears tracking down his cheeks.

"Shane Hollander, will you marry me?"

Shane felt a million fireworks going off in his head, his knees felt weak, his heart was beating impossibly fast like it wanted to leap right out of his chest and into the hands of the beautiful man kneeling before him. He was so fucking in love, and the man he loved had just proposed to him and wanted to spend the rest of his life with him and, "I got you flowers." Shane blurted out.

"Is that a yes?" Ilya asked with a laugh, having the audacity to look a little bit nervous as if there were ever even a tiny possibility of Shane saying no.

"Yes." Shane replied with a whisper before dropping to his knees to pull Ilya in for a kiss. "Of course it's a yes."

Distantly, he heard cheering as he kissed Ilya while Ilya slid the ring onto his finger. It was a perfect fit, just like them. He smiled into the kiss, knowing his parents had probably been in on it and also kind of wondered if Ilya and his dad had gotten to finish the puzzle.

He pulled back, "I love you so much, Ilya." He said softly, looking right into Ilya's eyes and hoping he'd put enough emotion into the words that Ilya could slightly grasp the extent of just how much Shane loved him.

"I love you so much, Shane." Ilya replied before reconnecting their lips in a kiss.

End.

Click here to read my new fic featuring Shane and Ilya as teammates.

Chapter End Notes

OMG I can't believe I'm done. I hope y'all have enjoyed this work that honestly got way longer than I was expecting it to be. Somewhere along the way the chapters all ended up being 3-4K words haha. Thank you for all the support, comments, and kudos. If you feel so inclined, I am working on something new called 'every day is like a battle (every night with us is like a dream)' and the first chapter is already posted to my profile! It's my what if shane and ilya were drafted to the same team #teammates fic!

So much love and so many hugs to everyone who has read to this point! xoxo