Rating:

Not Rated

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais, Yuna Hollander, Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Hayden Pike, Jackie Pike

Additional Tags:

Social Media, Relationship Reveal, Autistic Shane Hollander, Hayden Pike Finds Out About Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Yuna Hollander Finds Out About Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais Finds Out About Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, David Hollander Finds Out About Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Svetlana Vetrova Finds Out About Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Pretty much everyone finds out about Shane Hollander/IlyaRozanov, But in stages, Shane Hollander Comes Out, Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros Being Assholes (Game Changers), Supportive Ottawa Centaurs (Game Changers), Immigration & Emigration, Handwavey understanding of immigration, Married Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander's secret husband, Mixed Media, Journalism, Coming Out, Good Friend Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais

Language:

English

Series:

Part 6 of Everyone Finds Out Eventually (Standalone Fics)

Collections:

Fanfiction that just tickle my brain, Zulie's Best of Heated Rivalry

Stats:

Published: 2026-08-29 Completed: 2026-09-26 Words: 45,960 Chapters: 29/29

Shane Hollander: The Man Behind the Hockey Legend

Summary

“You are in bathroom now having panic attack, calling your boyfriend because you just told journalist you are gay?”
“Fuck you, Ilya,” Shane scoffed.
“I am just making sure I understand the situation. Okay, okay, you just go out and say you misspoke. You meant to say that you are… gray.”
“I’m not a fucking paint sample.”
“Maybe you said that you pray?”
“I definitely did not say I pray. Also, I’m not religious.”
“You're not?”
“Ilya, can you fucking focus?”

****
When Yuna books Shane a sit-down interview with GQ, she has no idea she's about to derail the carefully laid ten-year plan Shane and his secret boyfriend had only just begun to build. Shane never realized how exhausting the secret had become until it slipped out. Suddenly, telling the truth felt just a little more bearable than forcing himself back into hiding.

This is a story about bravery. About being scared and doing it anyway. About being too exhausted to keep lying. About deciding which truths are finally safe to share, and which must still be protected while real danger remains.

Notes

Okay, y’all. This story idea was going to be a one-shot for my relationship reveal series. Maybe a two-shot. Then it grew legs and got away from me, and I’ve spent the last month or so running after it, trying to figure out where the hell it was going. It's still a relationship reveal fic, so keep that in mind if you get confused about what I focus on and what I gloss over. It turns out, there is so much to reveal, and to so many people!

This entire fic became a huge writing experiment for me. I researched journalistic writing styles. I learned how to work with adding pics and social media posts into ao3. I became very curious how parts of the story could be told in this way. So, I have no idea if this works or not (please don't tell me if it doesn't work! Just feel free to DNF. Common fandom etiquette please).

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! This fic is fully written and I will be posting chapters daily to feed the beast :)

Chapter 1: GQ Photoshoot and Sit-Down Interview

Chapter Notes

In this world, David packed his charger.

Shane was trying to rush through this dinner with his parents as quick as possible without being rude. Ilya was waiting for him back at the cottage. They had their blissful two weeks of uninterrupted time together at the cottage. Ilya had cancelled his flight as they were both eager to extend their time together. He was going to spend the rest of summer at Shane’s cottage with him. But that did mean that the real world was starting to creep back in. 

Shane couldn’t blow off his parents forever. He was supposedly done with his two week silent meditation. As he sat at his parent’s kitchen table, he couldn’t help but feel like a changed man. Echos of ya tebya lyublyu reverberated in his chest, so loudly he was certain his parents could hear it, if they were listening closely enough. But they weren’t. His mom dominated the conversation, as she always did. His Dad hummed along, asking the occasional shallow question that never successfully lowered Shane’s walls enough to let his parents actually know him. Shane gave them just enough to satisfy the interaction, to let his parents feel like he was sharing with them. He talked about the cottage. He talked about the peace and quiet. He talked about how his physical therapy was going.

The internal tension gnawed at his chest as he sat in front of his parents following the most life-changing two weeks of his life, and they had no idea. They had no idea that he had someone who he was making plans for. That his whole future now revolved around one person who was hiding away in his cottage. The words felt trapped right behind his teeth. He pursed his lips to try to keep them in.

“You seem relaxed,” his dad commented as they finished their meal. “Happier. That two week silent retreat really did you some good, huh?”

Shane just smiled and nodded, saying nothing about the endless days of orgasms and love confessions that occurred during his supposed two week silent retreat. Of mornings waking up on Ilya’s warm chest with the sunlight streaming in from the window warming their bodies. Of dreaming up a future together with the man he loved. 

“Good,” his father said with a nod. “I’m glad you took some time for yourself. I know how hard you work and how stressful things can get.”

“Thanks Dad,” Shane said.

“Oh, don’t forget you have that interview with GQ tomorrow,” Yuna added as an after thought as David cleared their plates. 

And of course, the two weeks reprieve from Yuna-coordinated obligations had ended. He knew that this was coming. He had a calendar reminder for the event blocked off for the next day: GQ Photoshoot.

“I thought it was a photoshoot,” Shane said, dread building in his stomach.

“It’s both,” Yuna said, as if that should have been obvious. “It’s a photoshoot and sit-down interview. Remember, I told you about it months ago.”

Shane schooled his face quickly. “Oh, um, yeah, I think I remember that.” He did not remember that. But Shane had started to get in the bad habit of tuning out his mother when she started talking business.

“That’s not going to be a problem, is it Shane?” her mother asked. Her tone carried a slight hint of sharpness, as if she really did not have the time or energy for Shane to have a problem with the photoshoot/sit-down interview she had coordinated for him months ago and specifically scheduled so he could do it during the off season.

Shane quickly shook his head, “No, it’s fine.” The pit in his stomach felt heavy. The only sit-down interview he had ever agreed to was the special feature on his cottage, which was safe because he could just talk about the cottage. This, a sit down interview, with the sole focus on getting to know something unique about Shane Hollander? That was scary, that was dangerous. Post-game interviews were annoying, but they never really scared him, and his media training made those easy to navigate. This? Terrifying. A sit-down interview came with more chances to slip up. It’s why he had generally done everything in his power to avoid agreeing to them. But apparently he had accidentally agreed to this.

But he couldn’t tell his mother why a sit-down interview was a bad idea. She had no idea he was guarding a secret that not even she knew about. If she had known, she would have never set this interview up for him in the first place. But she didn’t know. So Shane didn’t say anything. It would be fine. It would be totally fine.

He helped his dad with the dishes and made his goodbyes before driving back to the cottage. Back to Ilya. Back to his real life.

“Go be very sexy! I need more photos for my spank bank,” Ilya said, puckering his lips for a kiss as he started to gather their coffee cups to wash up while Shane got ready to leave for his GQ photoshoot the following morning.

Shane’s eyebrows scrunched. “Where did you learn that term?”

Ilya raised his eyes at his boyfriend. “We are professional athletes, yes? I assume your teammates are just as disgusting as mine? It is very educational.”

Shane shook his head to dismiss the thought of how disgusting his teammates are. “Wait, do you have a spank bank of photos of me?”

Ilya grinned at him. “Yes, do you want to see? We can jerk off together to how pretty your freckles are.”

Shane glared at him. “Dude, you can’t just keep photos of me on your phone. What if your phone is stolen or hacked or something?”

Ilya waved his hand dismissively. “Is in password protected folder. Do not worry, it is not titled  My very sexy boyfriend, Shane Hollander.”

Shane stared suspiciously at Ilya, feeling unconvinced that Ilya’s spank bank folder was not actually titled My very sexy boyfriend, Shane Hollander. 

“Do not worry, is in folder titled Boring.” 

Shane scoffed and looked away, quickly shifting from anxious to hurt.

“Noooo,” Ilya was quick to reassure, seeing Shane’s insecurity rear up. “Is my favorite thing, that you are boring. I have had too much excitement in my life. Boring is good. All I want is a boring life with you.”

Shane couldn’t help but melt at that. A sweet dopey smile filled his face. “Really?”

Ilya nodded seriously. “Mmm, yes, you are not only one who thinks ahead. We will be boring married couple, yes? We will have a dog, and at least two kids I think. You will be best at all the boring parts. Doctor appointments and packing lunches and signing forms for school. We will drive boring cars because they are good in the snow and safe for kids or something boring and important like that. I will be the fun one, and make sure there is lots of chaos and laughter, yes? But the boring is very important, future does not work without it.”

Shane’s mouth hung slack as he gazed at Ilya, visualizing the future Ilya described so clearly it hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Fuck,” Shane breathed.

Shane saw the moment insecurity crossed Ilya’s features. “I mean, not that I am saying that we have to, um, I’m not saying that we will–”

“I want that too,” Shane said quickly, crashing his lips to Ilya’s in a passionate declaration. “Fuck, Ilya, I want a boring life with you. I want all of that. The marriage, the dog, kids.”

The smile on Ilya’s face lit up the whole room. Shane felt drunk off of the seer joy on his boyfriend’s face.

Shane crashed his lips against Ilya’s lips again. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

Ilya kissed Shane thoroughly before shoving him gently away. “Go, do photoshoot to make your mama happy. I will be here when you get home.”

Shane gave Ilya a long lingering look. Leaving Ilya to go do a photoshoot and interview after discussing their future was quite possibly the last thing he wanted to do. He thought briefly of calling his mom and coming up with an excuse to not go. It was a fleeting thought, one quickly dismissed after a brief contemplation about disappointing his mother. 

“I love you,” Shane said, gathering his phone and keys, shoving them in his pocket, hesitating with his hand on the door. “You’ll be okay here while I’m gone?”

Ilya clutched his heart dramatically. “I will suffer every minute you are away. I will wait at the door like sad puppy waiting for you to come back.” At Shane’s guilty look, Ilya grinned and made a shooing motion with his hands. “I will be fine for a few hours, Hollander. Go.”

Shane took a steeling breath and left.

Shane swallowed his nerves and followed the intern up the elevator of the hotel before being let into the penthouse suite that the interview was to happen. Apparently this was the most common setting if you refused to let GQ come into your home to photograph and interview you. Which he made sure his mother understood was not an option.

“Shane Hollander, thank you so much for taking the time to do this. I’m Charles Bernier, I’m going to be interviewing you today,” the man greeted while reaching out to shake Shane’s hand.

“Happy to be here,” Shane said, the lie smooth on his tongue as he felt his media training immediately kick in. “Where do you want me?”

“Hair and makeup first,” Charles said. “Stacy is getting set up over there. Then Veronica will get you set up with wardrobe. Martin is your photographer. After photos, you and I will sit down for your interview.”

Shane nodded and let himself be guided into a chair in front of a woman whose perfume tickled his nose and let her touch his face and hair, trying not to let his discomfort of her strange hands on his face show up in his expression. 

After what felt like an hour of being touched, but was only seventeen minutes by the clock on the wall, Shane was excused to Veronica’s control. She handed him a collection of hangers and directed him to the bathroom where he could get changed. It was a simple wardrobe of a white button down dress shirt and a black suit jacket. It was slightly more stylized than the suits he normally wore for press conferences and award shows. He left his clothing in a neat stack on the bathroom counter. He walked out to be intercepted by Veronica who made quick work of unbuttoning several buttons, plumping out the fabric so it draped in such a way that was apparently aesthetically pleasing.

Then he was released to Martin who directed him to stand in front of various blank walls, following him around with a light meter, gesturing to his assistants to make adjustments to the portable lights that had been brought into the hotel room. Shane tried really hard not to squint his eyes as the bright lights overwhelmed his senses. Martin seemed to find a section of the room that solved whatever light equation he was looking for and went about giving Shane instructions.

Shane did his best to follow the directions Martin called out. Most of it was pretty simple. Look over here. Chin down. Bring your left shoulder down just a touch. Yes, perfect, just like that. 

After about ten minutes of shifting through various poses, Martin signalled to Veronica who swooped to remove his suit jacket. She rolled up the cuffs of his sleeves. Stacy swept in to fuss with his hair so that it laid just right and it took every ounce of self-control to not bat her hand away.

Martin guided him to the table and desk in the room. Shane felt somewhat ridiculous as he followed the instructions to drape himself over the desk and gaze into the camera lens as Martin crouched down to capture the shot.

After another ten minutes, Martin signalled the crew to swoop in again, and Shane was quickly rid of his button down shirt as the suit jacket was placed back over his naked chest. Shane tried not to squirm as the tag of suit jacket rubbed against his bare skin. He was guided to sit on the chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Then put up against a blank wall, shifted so he looked over his shoulder at the camera.

Martin raised his hands again and once more, Shane was manhandled into a different outfit. He was directed, posed, adjusted, the lights flashed, blinding him. Again, repeat. His skin itched as he forced himself in and out of various garments that made him want to simply strip off his skin entirely, hang it on a hanger to hand to Veronica and walk out of his hotel room forever. But he didn’t do that. He changed into what they wanted him to wear. He posed how they wanted him to pose. And he tried to look like he wasn’t screaming inside. He was stripped down to his underwear and laid out on the cold floor, posed strategically and looking up at the camera as Martin hovered over him.

Finally, finally, Martin nodded. “Great job! I think I’ve got everything.”

Shane let out a breath of relief and got up from the floor and murmured an awkward thanks before darting into the bathroom to get changed. He felt slightly more like himself once he was back in his own clothes.

He left the bathroom and looked around at the chaos of Martin, Veronica and Stacy all packing up their equipment. 

“Five minutes for them to get cleared out, then we can sit down for our interview,” Charles let him know. “Do you need anything? Food? Water?”

“Do you have ginger ale?" Shane asked.

Charles nodded and walked over to the minibar and pulled out a ginger ale for Shane, handing it to him. Shane thanked him.

While Shane was waiting, he pulled out his cell phone.

Shane couldn’t help the blush on his face as he grinned down at his phone.

Martin, Stacy, and Veronica were impressively efficient, and five minutes later, Shane found himself alone with Charles.

“Are you ready or do you need more time?” Charles asked.

Shane shook his head. No, the sooner he sat down to do this, the sooner it would be over.

Charles gestured Shane over to the seating area where there were two arm chairs angled toward each other with a small table between them. A couple of glasses of water sat on the table. Shane sat his can of ginger ale down while he took his seat.

“Do you mind if I record this?” Charles asked as he pulled out a tape recorder and setting it out on the table. 

Shane wanted to say no, but knew that wasn’t how these things went. “Sure, that’s fine,” he said.

Charles leaned forward and clicked the recorder on before sitting back and giving Shane a reassuring smile.

“I’m curious,” Charles opened with. “You’ve done a lot of media. Do you ever get used to all this?”

No, he wanted to say. He shrugged instead. “It’s part of the job. You get used to it. Of course, if it was up to me, I’d just play hockey and call it there. But as my mom always stressed, there’s a lot of kids out there who look up to me. I try to do my part, I guess, to be that beacon of hope.”

“Are you talking about being an Asian player in the NHL?” Charles said.

“Yeah,” Shane agreed. 

“That sounds like a lot of pressure,” Charles offered.

It is. “Someone has to be the one who shows others that they can make it in the NHL, I suppose,” Shane said, his mind flashing briefly to Scott Hunter kissing his boyfriend on center ice. Focus, we’re talking about race. “I just try to focus on being the best hockey player so that maybe we can step away from thinking that a hockey player has to look or be a certain way. I don’t want to be known for being an Asian hockey player in the NHL. I just want to be known for my hockey.”

“Do you feel like you have to be the best so that your right to play hockey in the NHL isn’t questioned?”

Yes. Shane forced himself to look away before the answer showed up on his face, while he tried to think of a media-friendly answer. “There will always be doubters. I guess I want to do everything I can to remove those doubts if I can.”

Charles nodded.

“You are known for having a very clean public image,” Charles said. “Is that reflective of your life or is that all part of the image and brand?”

Clean image. That’s media speak for boring. Shane had to duck his head to try to hide his smile. “It’s a bit of both, I guess. I’m pretty boring.”

Charles tilted his head at Shane’s answer. “What does boring mean to you?”

All I want is a boring life with you. Shane closed his eyes, savoring the sweet memory from this morning, a slight lift tugging at the corner of his mouth. Shane centered himself and addressed Charles. “It means I care about simple things. Things that make life easier. Less chaotic. I don’t really party, I have a lot of routines, I play hockey.” Shane shrugged, as if to say, yep, that’s me.

“What kind of routines?” Charles asked.

“I set my alarm at 6am, go for a run, then make a smoothie, shower. During the season, I head to the rink for practice or a game. Evenings are spent doing yoga, meditation, and reading a chapter of my book, and I generally try to be asleep by 10.” Except for when we play Boston and I get to see Ilya. In that case, I will gladly give up my eight hours of beauty sleep to get thoroughly fucked into the wee hours of the night before leaving in the dead of night so no one would ever catch us.

“And during the off season? How have you been spending this summer so far?”

By spending every possible moment with Ilya. Waking up next to him. Sucking him. Fucking him. Making him coffee. Playing video games with him. Cooking together. Talking about the future together. “I like to spend my off season at my cottage. It is my favorite place on earth.” Especially now, with Ilya staying with me. “I let myself sleep in,” on Ilya’s chest. “I relax, play video games, go swimming in the lake” with Ilya. “I still try to stay active during the off season. I have an off season training program that I follow. Otherwise, it’s a good time to just recharge. I get to see my parents, which is great.”

“You are close to your parents?”

“Oh, yeah,” Shane agreed quickly. “Very close. My parents are great. I couldn’t have gotten to where I am today without them.”

“Is there any part of your life that you feel like your parents struggle to understand?”

That I have a boyfriend and he’s the best thing that ever happened to me. “I mean, my mom is my manager, and I guess at times it gets kind of blurred, when her support of my career feels…” Shane had to carefully word this, his mom was going to read this. “It can be a lot, I guess. I am not ungrateful, but it’s messy, and sometimes you just want to complain to your mom about work, or to just have dinner together without talking about brand deals.”

“And what would you complain about? What are the hard parts of what you do?”

This. Doing media. All the commercials and brand deals. Hearing racist and homophobic comments in the locker room. The media pushing the narrative that he hated the love of his life. “The amount of commitments can pile up. All I really want to do is hockey. But there is a lot of other obligations that fill up my time. Media, commercials, brand deals.”

“You have an impressive number of accomplishments in your hockey career. You won gold during the World Junior Championship, you were second overall draft pick, won rookie of the year, you took home silver in the 2014 Sochi Winter Olympics with Team Canada, and you won two back to back Stanley Cups in 2015 and 2016. What do you feel like the most defining moment was for you?”

Shane thought back to all of those moments. Ilya wasn’t there for his cup wins, he only hugged his parents on center ice. Rookie of the year and olympics both ended in a bad fight with Ilya. One memory bubbled up, solid in its value. “Draft night.”

“What was it about the draft that feels the most defining?”

Ilya sprawling across from him on the gym floor, shaking a water bottle at him. “I got to join the Metros. It’s the moment that really defines a player’s career. I feel fortunate to be with the Metros.”

“And is that because they are a winning team or because of the culture of the team?”

You mean that homophobic locker room culture? “I mean, I’m not going to lie, I like winning,” he said with a smug grin. “And every locker room has it’s issues, but overall the guys are great.”

“What kind of issues have you encountered?”

Fuck. He really needs to be more careful. But it’s hard to keep it up. He’s fresh off of two hours of a photoshoot with way too many wardrobe changes, and now he is a half hour into this interview. His media training was geared toward short press interviews after a game. Not whatever the fuck this is. “I mean, locker room talk, you know. I think that’s pretty common all over the league. It’s hard to hear, I speak up when I can, but sometimes it feels like…” Like I’d put a target on my back if I spoke up every time they called something gay or called somone a faggot. “You have to pick your battles sometimes.”

“It sounds oppressive,” Charles offered.

Shane shrugged and reached for his ginger ale in lieu of elaborating on this topic he really didn’t want to continue. Charles seemed to get the hint and dropped it.

“Back to the draft,” Charles began. “You came in second after Ilya Rozanov, who you have been pitted against ever since. How has your rivalry evolved over the years?”

Maybe we could start to change the narrative a bit.. And look lots of guys have friends on other teams. Shane almost wanted to lean over and kiss Charles in gratitude. He wouldn’t because Ilya would be jealous. Also, Charles was nice looking, but he was no Ilya. Shane let a smile slip. He had to be careful, but he didn’t want to waste the opportunity to get out from the iron grip that was the rivalry narrative. 

“Rozanov is the best competition a guy like me could have asked for. He has always challenged me, made me want to bring my all to the ice. He’s also the only other player who knows what it’s like to be at the top like we are. So, we’ve talked, become friends. I know it will surprise a lot of people, but we actually have a lot in common. We’ve never hated each other or anything like that. I actually respect the hell out of him. And I am pretty sure it’s mutual.”

“This last season, you had a pretty scary on-ice injury during a game against Boston. You had to be carried off the ice on a stretcher. What was the scariest part of that for you?”

Tell Ilya I’m okay. He’s gonna worry. “I think the scariest part was knowing that something bad had happened and that the people who care about me were watching, and were probably freaking out. For me, I was just worried about them. I was scared that no one was going to reach out, let them know I was okay. I didn’t want them to worry about me.”

“When you think about your future, about what comes after hockey, what do you picture for yourself?” Charles asked.

We will be boring married couple, yes? We will have a dog, and at least two kids I think. You will be best at all the boring parts. Doctor appointments and packing lunches and signing forms for school. We will drive boring cars because they are good in the snow and safe for kids or something boring and important like that. I will be the fun one, and make sure there is lots of chaos and laughter, yes? But the boring is very important, future does not work without. Shane closed his eyes as images of Ilya with a small child in his arms flooded his brain. “I mean, I want what everyone wants, right? Get married, settled down, raise children.”

“Are we by any chance talking about Rose Landry in this future? You received quite a bit of attention when you two were dating earlier this year.”

“Oh, yeah, um no, Rose and I weren’t… compatible.” Compatible, I thought I knew what it meant but I wanted to be sure. “Rose is great, and honesty I think she might be one of my closest friends now. She helped me figure a lot of stuff out about myself. I will always be grateful for Rose.”

“What did she help you figure out?” Charles followed.

I feel like maybe you’d rather be kissing Miles? Shane swallowed. Fuck. He was letting too much slip through. His mind raced. “Um, just some stuff about who I really am, what I’m looking for.”

“And who are you really?” Charles asked. His tone was kind, curious. As if it was a simple question, not a live grenade he had thrown right at Shane’s fucking face.

I’m gay. “I’m…” I’m gay. “I, uh….” I’m gay. “I…” I am a gay fucking hockey player who is in love with his rival. “I’m…” Think of something, fucking anything other than the fact that you are, “gay.”

Shane blinked. Charles blinked. Shane looked at Charles with a horrified expression. “Fuck, I um, I mean, no, I’m not…” gay. Say I’m not gay. Take it back! Take it back! 

Shane bolted out of the chair. “I’m, uh, I need to, I’m sorry.”

He wanted to leave, wanted to run away from this moment. But he couldn’t. He had to figure out how to clean up the mess he just made. He darted into the bathroom, shutting it with a loud click. He pulled out his phone.

“Shane?” Ilya’s voice reached him through the buzzing in his ears. “Are you all done?”

Shane gasped for air. When did there stop being air? Why didn’t his lungs seem to be working?

“Shane? Shane, what is wrong?”

Shane could only heave for air in response.

“Okay, Shane, you are having panic attack? You need to breathe. We breathe together, da? Follow me. In. And out. In. And out.” Ilya exaggerated his breathing on the phone until Shane matched his breathing and was finally able to calm down enough to breathe normally on his own.

“Okay, you are breathing now?” Ilya asked.

“Yes, I’m breathing,” Shane said.

“Good, breathing is good. What happened? What is wrong?”

“Um, I think I just came out to a journalist,” Shane whispered, as if he was scared that Charles was listening at the door. As if the words ‘I’m gay’ hadn’t just come out of his mouth, damning him already.

“You think?” Ilya asked.

“Um, I did,” Shane clarified. “I didn’t mean to. But he was asking about the future and Rose and he asked me who I really was and I was trying so hard to not say ‘I’m gay’ but it kind of slipped out?”

“What did he say after?”

“Nothing, I ran in to the bathroom.”

“You are in bathroom now having panic attack, calling your boyfriend because you just told journalist you are gay?”

“Fuck you, Ilya,” Shane scoffed.

“I am just making sure I understand the situation. Okay, okay, you just go out and say you misspoke. You meant to say that you are… gray.”

“I’m not a fucking paint sample.”

“Maybe you said that you pray?”

“I definitely did not say I pray. Also, I’m not religious.”

“You're not?”

“Ilya, can you fucking focus?”

“Okay, okay, sorry. You go out and say you are not gay, you are very very straight, lover of pussy, just not Rose Landry’s.”

“Fuck, Ilya, I… I tried. I tried to take it back, but…”

“But what?”

“But once I had said it, I couldn’t unsay it. I couldn’t say the words ‘I’m not gay.’”

“Okay, okay, you ask that he not include in article, yes? Or threaten? Tell him your big, scary boyfriend will kill him if he tells anyone your secret after he tricked it out of you.”

“You’re not going to kill anyone,” Shane muttered. 

“Fine, beat up,” Ilya compromised.

Shane scoffed.

“If you ask him, do you think he will leave it out?”

“Maybe…” Shane said, trailing off as a surprising wave of hesitation hit him.

“What is it?” Ilya prompted him.

Shane sighed. “It’s exhausting, I’ve been spinning lies and half-truths the whole interview, fuck, my whole life, and I finally got to say something fucking true. And… I can’t believe I’m saying this, but part of me kind of doesn’t want to take it back?”

“Are you saying you want to come out?”

“Fuck. No. I mean, maybe? No, that’s crazy, right? No, I can't, there's no way.”

Ilya was quiet for a long stretch as he seemed to consider his words carefully. “You could, if you wanted to. You will not be the first. Scott Hunter just kissed his boyfriend on center ice. You are already used to coming in second, should not be too hard for you.”

Shane scoffed. “Fuck off.” Then he trailed off, considering it. “I know I can’t say that it’s you, but fuck, it would be nice to actually tell the world that I have someone at home.”

“Da, is not safe yet for me, with Russia. But you can say you have boyfriend and I will know, and maybe one day in future the whole world will know you were talking about me, da?”

“Fuck, I love you. Am I really doing this?”

“I think maybe you are?”

“Fuck, I’m scared,” Shane breathed.

“Yes, is scary,” Ilya acknowledged. “But you are brave.”

“Fuck, okay, um, I guess I should get back there. Thanks.”

“You have problem, you call me, is how this works now.”

“Right, okay,” Shane breathed, trying to gather himself to face Charles. 

“And Shane?” Ilya interrupted. “No matter what happens, we figure it out together, yes? You aren’t alone in this.”

“Okay.”

“And if you change your mind, let me know, I will come down to beat up journalist for you.”

Shane laughed. “Bye, Ilya.” 

Shane took a moment to steel himself before opening the bathroom door, sliding his phone in his pocket as Charles looked up at him. Shane tried to get a read on the other man’s face, but he just seemed… observant, maybe a bit cautious, like he was aware that Shane was a skittish animal who might lash out if threatened.

Shane made his way back to his chair, feeling like he was walking to the gallows. He took his seat and took a sip of water, partially to have something to do that wasn’t looking at Charles, partially because his mouth had gone painfully dry all of a sudden.

“I take it that wasn’t something you planned on talking about today?” Charles broached.

Shane swallowed and shook his head.

“Are you comfortable continuing?”

Shane rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Charles said. “Then let’s go at your pace.”

Shane laughed. “Nothing about this is at my pace.”

“What does that mean?” Charles asked.

“This wasn’t the plan. I was supposed to wait until I retired.”

“Do you want to take it back? We can scratch it from the record.”

Shane shook his head. “I can’t take it back. I…” he looked away from Charles and scanned the hotel room they sat in. How many hotel rooms had seen his secret love affair with Ilya unfold? Shane sighed heavily. “I’m really fucking scared right now. But I think I might be more exhausted than I am scared.”

“Exhausted?”

“It’s exhausting, lying all the time,” Shane admitted. “I’ve lied for so long. To everyone. To my parents, my friends, my team, the whole world. Mostly lies of omission, but still. I lied to myself for a fucking long time. Rose was… fuck, she was so nice about it. She really helped me stop lying to myself. It was so scary to admit it to myself, but it was more exhausting to keep pretending that I wasn’t in love with–” Shane shook his head, cutting himself off. “I was hoping that I would find some woman who I could feel something for, so I could be normal. Get a wife like I’m supposed to. Someone I can talk about in the locker room and during interviews and not have the whole world flip out.”

“What are you most scared of when people find out?”

Shane scoffed. “That everyone is going to hate me? Turn on me? That I’ll lose sponsorships? That I’ll get benched or traded or fired?”

“What will feel like a relief once people know?”

“That I will finally be able to tell people that I have a boyfriend and that it’s very serious.”

“What would you like people to know about him?”

Shane couldn’t help the mushy smile from taking over his face, finally given the opportunity to gush about his amazing boyfriend. “He’s the best. He is so funny and kind. He’s competitive as fuck, which is perfect because so am I. He always knows how to get me out of my head or help me calm down when I’m freaking out.”

“Like…” Charles trailed off, gesturing toward the bathroom where Shane had disappeared to freak out mid-interview.

Shane gave a sheepish smile. “Yeah, like when I accidentally out myself to a journalist.”

“And what did he say about you coming out?”

“He was great. He offered to kill you or beat you up. I told him not to.”

“I appreciate that,” Charles said, a tone of humor in his tone.

“He also said it would be okay to tell the truth, at least about me. That I wouldn’t be the first. Scott Hunter just came out and the league didn’t spontaneously combust.”

“How was that for you? Seeing Scott Hunter kiss his boyfriend on center ice?”

I’m coming to the cottage. “It changed everything. Like we were saying earlier, someone has to be first. I was already the representing Asians in the NHL. I couldn’t be the first gay player too. Although, I admittedly hadn’t planned on being second either.”

“What would you say is the hardest part about being a closeted player in the NHL?”

“It’s kind of hard to pick just one thing. There’s a lot of things that are hard. Like I could talk about what it’s like to hear the word ‘faggot’ tossed around casually in the locker room and wondering if they would direct it at you if they knew. Or the pressure to go out to bars to pick up women, and I can’t give a satisfying excuse why I don’t want to. Or how my boyfriend has been in my phone under a girl’s name for almost a decade because we’re so scared of what would happen if anyone saw our texts.”

“What do you imagine will change after this interview is published?” Charles asked. 

Shane thought about it. He thought about what he’d face in the league, hard conversations he’ll need to have with his parents, with his teammates. And then he thought of Ilya waiting for him at home. Of the secrecy that they will have to continue because of Russia. Shane sighed. “Some things won’t. I still won’t be able to be out with my partner.”

“Why not?”

“Because it isn’t safe for him.” 

“How do you mean?”

Shane paused, considering his words carefully. “I am very lucky to be Canadian. I may be in one of the most homophobic industries possible, but at the end of the day, even if I lose hockey, I know that I have legal protections that keep me safe. I don’t have to worry about my passport being revoked, or being imprisoned or killed for loving a man. Not everyone is that lucky.”

Shane felt the weight of the silence that Charles let stretch out. He felt the moment land. He could see Charles accept just how serious this was. Charles gave Shane a small nod. 

“When people finish reading this article, what do you hope they understand?”

“I tried really hard to be what everyone wanted me to be. Despite my best efforts, I fell in love with an amazing man. Between hockey and his country, we never thought we could make it work. But love is kind of an unrelenting force. We tried to push each other away, we hurt each other a lot over the years. I’ve run from that fact that I am in love with this man for years. And I’m done running now.”

Charles gave a definitive nod and shifted forward, extending his hand. Shane took it and shook it. “Thank you.” Shane nodded. Charles hesitated before adding, “I know this isn’t the interview you expected to give today. I appreciate you trusting me with your story nonetheless.”

Shane gave a small laugh. “Definitely not how I expected today to go. When will the article come out?” Shane asked.

“Two weeks,” Charles said.

Shane nodded and swallowed severely. “I guess have a lot of people I need to talk to in the next two weeks.”

Chapter 2: We Should Probably Tell My Parents

As soon as Shane’s car crunched down the gravel driveway, he could see the front door of the cottage swing open. Shane had barely gotten his feet on the ground before strong, warm arms wrapped securely around his trembling frame.

“What the fuck, Ilya?” Shane gasped, clinging to him desperately. “What the fuck did I just do?”

“You were honest,” Ilya said. “We started bad habit of it here at cottage.”

Shane made a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob into Ilya’s shirt. “We might need a new plan,” he mumbled into Ilya’s shoulder.

“Then we make new plan,” Ilya said, as if it was that simple. “But not now. Now I take you inside and fuck you so hard you forget you just came out, yes?”

Shane pulled back enough to clasp Ilya’s face between his hands and crashing their lips together. No more words were spoken as Ilya grabbed Shane by the thighs, lifting him easily. Shane wrapped his legs around his boyfriend and let him carry him inside. 

The next couple of hours, Ilya took his time taking Shane apart so thoroughly that by the time he cried out in orgasm, he had been put back together as a different man.

After a restoring shower and a late lunch that Ilya made for them, they sat down on the couch, knees touching, hands entwined.

“The article comes out in two weeks,” Shane said, breaking the silence of the last few hours that had been filled only with sounds of their lovemaking and cooking. Ilya didn’t say anything, just rubbed the back of Shane’s hand with his thumb. “Everyone’s going to know that I’m… gay.”

“Are you ready for this?” Ilya asked. “I can still go beat up reporter.”

Shane smiled affectionately at his boyfriend. “I’m pretty sure I could call him up and ask him to not include my confession.”

Ilya assessed Shane with a sharp gaze. “But you aren’t going to.” It wasn’t a question.

Shane shook his head. “No, I’m not going to. I have spent so long being afraid of saying those words out loud, of telling my story. But once I did, I didn’t even realize how much energy it took to not say it. And, fuck, I’m so fucking tired. It’s so exhausting to pretend, you know?”

Ilya’s face was raw and open when he said, “I do.”

“Fuck, Ilya, I’m sorry. Of course you know. At least I have the option to do this dumb thing and come out.”

Ilya shook his head. “No sorries. If I could tell world I was in love with best hockey player in world with sexiest freckles, I would be calling up every reporter right now. I will not deny you this right. When it is safe for me, whole world will know, yes?”

Shane squeezed Ilya’s hand. “When it’s safe. I promise, Ilya, we will figure out how to make it safe for you so you can be dumb with me and shout our love out into the world.”

Ilya smiled at him, it was so sweet and genuine, it took over his whole face. “You can be dumb for both of us for now.”

Shane closed his eyes and shook his head, letting out a scoff. He finally heaved a heavy sigh. “I have to tell my parents. I can’t have them read about it in a fucking magaine.”

“Yes, but not today. I think you have done enough coming out for one day, yes?”

Shane nodded. 

“They will be good about it, yes?” Ilya asked.

Shane bobbed his head. “Yeah.”

“Then nothing to worry about, yes?” Ilya kissed Shane’s forehead. “I will wait here. You get me when you are ready.”

Shane nodded. They had thoroughly talked through this plan last night.

The doorbell rang. “Fuck,” he breathed.

“Remember, you are brave,” Ilya gathered Shane in for a firm hug that helped ground him for what he was about to do. “I love you.”

Shane hugged Ilya back. “I love you, too. Okay, wish me luck.”

Ilya manhandled Shane’s face until he was able to capture Shane’s eyes. “Good luck.” He then closed the distance and kissed him, parting his lips to shove his tongue into Shane’s mouth in what turned into an absolutely filthy kiss. Shane melted against him, pressing their chests together.

The doorbell rang again. Shane broke apart from Ilya. “You fucking asshole.” Ilya grinned mischievously in response.

Shane exited the bedroom, closing the door while Ilya sat down on the bed, waiting.

He took a moment in the hallway to take a deep breath to steel himself before going to answer the door.

“I was almost about to pull out the spare key to let ourselves in,” Yuna chided, stepping forward to kiss her son on the cheek.

“I was just finishing up something, sorry,” Shane mumbled as his father pulled him in for a hug.

They all took a moment to take off their shoes by the door. If his parents noticed the Adidas slides by the pile of shoes, they didn’t comment on it.

“Should we start with lunch or did you want to talk first?” his dad asked. “You seemed… off when you called last night.”

“Um, yeah, can we talk?,” Shane said, gesturing his parents to follow him to the seating area in the living room.

“How was the interview?” Yuna asked as soon as she sat down next to David on one side of the L shaped couch.

Shane sat down with a heavy sigh. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

David’s eyebrows scrunched in confused curiosity. 

Shane took a deep breath and rubbed his sweaty palms on his shorts, looking anywhere but at his parents. “Um, something came up in the interview. Something I hadn’t planned on talking about publicly, but I’ve decided to let them publish it. And, um, I didn’t want you to have to find out from reading the article.” Shane eyed his mother and recalled something else that came up in the interview. “And um, Mom, before you freak out as my manager, can you just, um, be my mom first?”

Yuna’s face flashed with a complicated wave of emotions before settling into something softer. “What is it, honey?” David reached over and grasped her hand, sensing this was one of those big moments as a parent.

Shane let out a breath and closed his eyes as if that would protect him from the impact as the words tumbled out of his mouth. “I’m gay.”

With his eyes closed, Shane only had the briefest warning of hearing cloth brush against cloth before his mother’s arms engulfed him. “Oh, honey.”

There was the sound of more rustling and soon he felt his Dad on his other side, wrapping his arms around both of them. “We love you so much,” his Dad said. “This doesn’t change anything other than our ability to love you better.”

Shane broke down at that, and sobbed in his parents arms. They held him for a long minute before he started to pull back.

“I want you to know that I tried,” Shane managed as his parents relaxed their hold on him, but his mother maintained her grasp on his hand, not quite ready to break contact. “I tried really hard, but, um, I just can’t help it.”

“Oh, no,” his mother breathed. She ducked her head to try to capture his gaze. “You have nothing to apologize for. I am so very proud of you. I’m so sorry if we did anything to make you feel like you couldn’t tell us.”

Yuna pulled Shane back in for another hug. Shane went willingly, letting her words wash over him.

After what felt like a very long time, Shane extricated himself from his mother’s embrace and shifted uncomfortably between his parents, who knew him well enough when he had received the maximum amount of affection from them. They gave him one last reassuring squeeze, his father’s hand on his shoulder, his mother’s on his knee, before they shifted back to their side of the couch.

“Okay, do you want me to shift into manager mode yet?” Yuna asked, clearly straining to hold herself back from launching into problem solving mode.

“Um, not yet,” Shane said. “Um, there’s one more thing. I, um, kind of have a boyfriend?”

“Is that a question for us, kiddo?” David teased his son affectionately.

Shane gave a soft chuckle. “I have a boyfriend. I didn’t name him in the interview, but I did talk about the fact that I have one. And um, he’s here, if you want to meet him?”

Shane braved a glance toward his parents and saw the first instance of genuine surprise cross their face. 

David recovered first. “We’d love to meet him.”

“Of course,” Yuna agreed quickly.

“Okay, um I’ll go get him,” Shane said, standing. He hesitated before turning back to his parents. “Um, I know that this is a lot, but can you just please be nice to him? I really love him.”

“Why wouldn’t we be nice to him?” Yuna asked incredulously.

Shane fidgeted, “Um, you’ll see.” That was all he said before he left his parents to wait in confused apprehension in his living room to make his way to the bedroom.

As soon as Shane opened the door, Ilya sprung up from his spot perched on the edge of the bed. He eyed Shane warily. “How did they take it?”

Shane gave him a small watery smile. “Really well.”

Ilya kissed Shane’s forehead. “I am very proud of you.”

Shane let himself melt into Ilya’s touch for a moment before pulling back and looking Ilya in the eyes, searching. “Are you ready for this? It’s not too late to back out.”

Ilya lifted his hand to brush Shane’s freckles. “Moy lyubimy, do not forget that I want to tell the whole world about us. We will tell your parents because they are safe people, yes?”

Shane nodded emphatically. “Yes, Ilya, we can trust them.”

Ilya kissed Shane tenderly on the forehead. “You deserve to have people you do not have to lie to anymore, yes? We let your parents know you. Let them know that I am important to you, that you are important to me. This is important thing for parents to know.”

Shane took a steeling breath and nodded, reaching down to grasp Ilya’s hand in his and began to lead the way out of the bedroom. 

He felt the moment of liminal space as he rounded the bend so the he could see his parents sitting on the couch, facing away from them. Ilya’s reassuring squeeze of his hand kept him from bolting.

“Mom, Dad,” he called, triggering his parents to stand from their spot on the couch, turning to face them. “This is my boyfriend, Ilya.”

He watched matching shocked expressions overtake his parents’ faces. 

While his parents stood there in stunned silence, Ilya raised his free hand to give them a little wave. “Hello.”

David was the first to recover. He rounded the bend of the couch and approached them with his hand extended. “Hello Ilya,” he said. “I’m David, Shane’s Dad. It’s nice to meet you.”

Ilya shook David’s hand. “I am very happy to meet you. Shane speaks very fondly of you both.”

Yuna gathers herself finally, shutting her hanging jaw with a snap and walking over to stand at her husband’s side, extending her hand as well. “Rozanov,” she said in greeting, shaking his hand firmly. “Yuna Hollander.”

“Please, call me Ilya,” he insisted politely.

Yuna blinks as if she is being asked to redefine the direction of gravity. “Ilya.”

Yuna looked at her son with a look of incredulity.

“Um, can we sit down maybe?” Shane suggested.

Yuna and David retook their seats on one side of the L couch. Shane and Ilya sat on the other. Yuna’s sharp eyes dropped to their clasped hands.

“Well, I admit this is a bit of a surprise,” David said tactfully.

Yuna looked rapidly between the two men as if trying to figure something out. “I’m confused, I thought you hated each other?”

Shane looked over at Ilya, who held his gaze tenderly. “No, we never hated each other,” Shane said, not breaking his gaze with Ilya.

His parents watched on in stunned silence as Shane comfortably held eye contact with Ilya. It was only after David shifted uncomfortably that Shane self-consciously broke eye contact and glanced back at his parents sheepishly.

“Media likes to make it seem like we do not like each other, but that was never true,” Ilya offered.

“So the rivalry? It was all, what, fake?” Yuna asked, a tone of wonder and confusion in her voice.

Shane spared a glance at Ilya and caught his smug grin. Shane smirked. “Not all fake. We are really competitive, that’s still true.”

Shane had to force himself not to get too caught up making love eyes at Ilya in front of his parents, but when he glanced back at them, he could tell that they saw. His father’s face settled into something soft and… happy? Proud? Something like that.

“So how long as this been going on?” David asked.

A quick glance over at Ilya before telling his parents, “Since rookie season.”

He felt Ilya stiffen next to him, drawing his attention so he caught Ilya’s frown. “No, is not true. Is summer before.”

Shane gave a small smile, remembering. “Right. Summer before rookie season.”

Yuna leaned forward in surprise. “So you’ve been in love since…”

Shane inflated, ready to deny, when Ilya shocked the words out him when he said, “Yes.” Shane’s head snapped to look at Ilya’s soft expression. “We both tried to fight it for very long time, yes? But it was there from the start. At least for me.” Ilya reached up a hand to brush over Shane’s freckles fondly.

Shane swallowed and nodded, caught mesmerized in Ilya’s gaze.

“I’m confused,” David admitted. “Ilya, you have this reputation as a ladies man. Shane you dated Rose not long ago.”

Shane shifted uncomfortably.

“Yes, is true,” Ilya acknowledge. “I have been with many women. But I have only been in love with one person.”

Shane nodded. “I um, same, only one. Rose helped me figure out that I was gay. I really hoped that I was like Ilya, that I could like both men and women, and if I could just find a woman to… But Ilya is it for me.”

“So what’s the plan?” Yuna asked.

Shane glanced at her. “Are you asking as my mom or my manager?”

Yuna shrugged. “Both? Are you ready for manager mode yet?”

Shane sighed and nodded. “Yeah, no, I’m going to need your help with this.”

“So…?” Yuna prompted.

“The article is going to come out in two weeks,” Shane said.

“Okay, what is going to be in it?” Yuna asked, already pulling out a notebook from her purse.

“That I’m gay,” Shane said, starting with the obvious. “That I have a boyfriend.”

“And you didn’t name Ilya?” Yuna clarified.

Shane shook his head vehemently. “No.”

“Is not safe for me,” Ilya chimed in. “I have only Russian passport. They have laws against…” he trailed off, gesturing between him and Shane.

Yuna set down her notebook and looked at them, really looked at them. She saw the weight of what they had been carrying.

It was a brief moment, then Yuna straightened. “Okay, I’m going to make a note here that we should start talking to immigration lawyers for Ilya, but we can circle back to that.”

Shane felt Ilya’s hand tighten in his hand and glanced over to catch his eyes watering. He rubbed the back of Ilya’s hand soothingly.

“Okay, what else should I be ready for?” Yuna prompted Shane.

“Um, I may have talked about the locker room culture being homophobic. There might be some blowback from that.”

Yuna scribbled a note on her pad. She looked up at Shane.

“Are you sure you want to let this go to publish? I can call them and have them pull the article. Or make sure they exclude–”

Shane shook his head. “I already talked this out with Ilya,” Shane interjected. “I’m tired of lying. Obviously I can’t tell the whole truth yet, not until Ilya is safe, but I want to tell what we can.”

Yuna pursed her lips and nodded, making a note on her pad.

“And what will this look like? Shane you will be publicly gay and Ilya will…. What?”

Ilya shrugged, “Continue doing what I’ve been doing. Being careful, seeing Shane when I can in private, not posting anything incriminating. In the meantime, making steps to be safer. Closer. Less rivals.”

With a nod from Ilya, Shane explained their idea to start a charity together to change the narrative between them. For Ilya to trade to Ottawa once he was free agent to be closer to Shane while he played in Montreal.

Yuna frowned at Ilya. “You would leave Boston for Shane?”

Ilya nodded. “Yes.”

Shane raised their clasped hands to his lips.

Yuna’s eyebrows raised. David placed a hand on Yuna’s knee and leaned over to whisper conspiratorily. “I think we need to get on board with this one, dear. They seem serious about each other.”

Shane sat up straight and met his mother’s eyes. “We want a future together. Can you help us?”

Yuna straightened at the request. “Yes.”

With her new mission assigned, the questions came at them fast and hard. Questions about Ilya’s contract, his visa, his (problematically Russian) agent, his (lack of a) manager, his sponsorships, his family situation, his ties to Russia, who knows what. For Shane, he was grilled on the culture of the locker room, the coaching staff, owners, who he thinks will be an ally and who will be an issue, how much was Shane willing to tolerate from his team if they reacted poorly, if he was open to the idea of trading to a different team if it got bad enough. She had a litany of questions about the charity idea.

After a half hour of fielding Yuna’s questions, Ilya caught Shane’s eye and raised his eyebrows at him, as if to ask, Is she always like this? Shane smirked an nodded before turning to answer another question she had just lobbed at them.

Finally, after getting Ilya’s phone number and email address, Yuna seemed to have gotten all the information she needed and finally capped her pen and put away her notebook. “Okay, I will get to work on this. Ilya, keep an eye out for an email from me. I’ll send you a list of immigration lawyers, agents, and managers. Shane, I’ll set up a meeting with Farah in the next few days. We need to bring her in as soon as possible so she can help us manage the fallout of the article.”

“Thank you, Yuna,” Ilya said sincerely.

“Yeah, seriously, thanks Mom,” Shane chimed in.

Yuna gave them a fond smile. “Thank you for letting me in so that I can help.” She reached forward and clasped Shane’s hand. “You know all I want is for you to be happy.”

Shane squeezed her hand in appreciation. “Thanks Mom. I am happy. Ilya makes me happy.”

Yuna smiled at them. “I can see that.”

“Well, I don’t know about anyone else, but I could sure eat,” David interjected in a light tone. “I was promised lunch?”

Ilya nodded seriously and stood, untangling himself from Shane. “I cook,” he offered immediately, making his way toward the kitchen. 

David stood. “Would you like some help, son?”

Ilya froze mid-stride. Shane saw him swallow, his eyes looking a little glossy when they darted to catch Shane’s gaze, who gave him a kind, understanding smile. Ilya turned to David and gave him a small nod, not trusting himself to speak. David didn’t make a big deal of the moment, simply clasping a friendly hand on Ilya’s shoulder, gesturing him to lead the way. They disappeared into the kitchen.

And just like that, Shane’s family grew by one.

Chapter 3: So Lily's not just a buddy?

Shane shook off his excess nerves and knocked.

“Shane, buddy!” Hayden cried out when he opened the door. “Come on in, man. I was stoked when you reached out to set this up. Dude, how the fuck are you? Sorry, don’t mind the mess, new baby and all that.”

Shane followed Hayden in, slipping off his shoes and surrendering them to the chaos of overflowing tiny shoes mixed in with a few scattered toys.

Shane followed Hayden into the kitchen. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for making time to hang for a bit. I know things are probably crazy right now with… Amber, right?”

Hayden grinned as he got out a beer for himself and a gingerale for Shane. “Oh, um, actually, can I have a beer, too?” Shane asked.

Hayden raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything as he grabbed Shane a beer, handing it over.

“Yeah, things are totally crazy, but I think we might be pros at this by now, so it’s kind of an organized chaos mission now. Oh, man, Amber is amazing, do you want to see her?”

“Nope,” Jackie objected as she swept in, her hair a wild rat’s nest, wearing pajamas with some questionable wet spots on her shoulder. “Just got her down. Anyone who wakes that baby will be murdered and your body will never be found.” She glared at her husband in warning before turning a tired smile at Shane. “Hi, Shane, it’s so nice to see another adult.”

Shane chuckled at her. “Hi, Jackie. How are you doing?”

Jackie waved her hand dismissively. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear about all that. It’s the same as it always is. They never sleep, I don’t remember the last time I took a shower, and I am sore in places you don’t want to know about.”

Shane squirmed at her disclosure. “Oh, um, sorry to hear about that.”

Jackie laughed at his obvious discomfort and started busying herself pulling together some food. “You hungry? I’m gonna make myself a quick lunch, I could pull together a Shane-friendly version.”

Shane shook his head. “No, I’m good. I ate before I came over.” 

Jackie nodded and busied herself in the kitchen as Shane sipped his beer awkwardly.

There was knocking at the front door. “That should be JJ,” Hayden announced, leaving them to go let him in. 

“Baby’s sleeping, and Jackie has threated anyone who wakes her with murder, so be warned,” they could hear Hayden chat with JJ as they made their way toward the kitchen.

“Capitaine!” JJ greeted excitedly when he spotted Shane standing at the kitchen counter. He pulled him into a bro hug.

“Hey, JJ,” Shane greeted. “Thanks for coming.”

“Dude, do you know how rarely I get a fucking call from Shane Hollander asking to hang out?” JJ asked rhetorically. “Of course I fucking came! So what the hell? Finally got sick of your fortress of solitude?”

“Oh, um, no I actually had something I wanted to tell you all,” Shane said, trying and failing to minimize his fidgeting. He suddenly found the wrapper on his beer bottle fascinating, picking at the edges.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his friends exchange looks he wouldn’t know how to begin to interpret. Jackie stopped her cooking, sensing the shift of the moment. “Shane, what’s going on?” she asked, her voice gentle.

Shane glanced up at Jackie, latching onto her kind and inviting expression like an anchor. Shane was mostly sure Hayden and JJ would be cool with what he was about to say, but he was absolutely sure that Jackie would be 100% supportive and keep her husband in line and likely JJ too. Shane took a deep pull of the beer, eager for some liquid courage.

His eyes dropped down to his sweating beer bottle. “There’s an article that’s going to be released soon. There’s going to be some stuff in it… about me. I, um, I wanted you to hear it from me first.”

“Dude, what stuff?” Hayden asked. “You’re kind of freaking me out.”

Shane took another sip from his beer and spoke to the space right above Hayden’s right shoulder, unable to make eye contact. “I’m gay.”

“Oh, cool,” Hayden said.

Shane couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “Cool?”

Hayden shrugged. “I don’t know man, congrats? I don’t know, what am I supposed to say?”

“You’re supposed to say, ‘Thank you for telling me and I love and support you,’” Jackie offered sagely. 

“Oh, yeah, that, what she said,” Hayden said.

Shane laughed and shook his head. He spared a glance at JJ who gave him a grin and an approving nod in response. “Capitaine, tu es mon meilleur ami ; cela ne change rien, si ce n'est que je m'attends désormais à ce qu'on aille ensemble dans des bars gays.” (Captain, you are my best friend, this changes nothing except that I now expect to go to gay bars together.)

Shane laughed and shook his head. He felt a weight lift off his chest. “Oh, thank god,” he breathed out in relief, leaning forward to rest his head on the cold counter.

“Oh, honey,” Jackie said soothingly, reaching over to gently rub his back. “You’re okay. We’ve got you.”

“I know,” Shane mumbled into the marble, accepting the comforting touch Jackie offered. “It’s still a relief.”

“Hey, Hayd, grab me one of those beers,” JJ requested, sliding into the barstool next to Shane. 

Shane stood back up, sparing a grateful look to Jackie. “Thanks, Jackie.”

She gave him a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder before releasing him. “Of course.”

“Wait, you said there’s going to be an article,” Hayden said as he handed JJ a beer. “Are you about to come out? Like publicly?”

Shane took another drag of his beer. “Yeah.”

“Holy shit,” Hayden breathed.

“Yeah, holy shit,” Shane agreed.

“That’s a really big deal, Shane,” Jackie said.

Shane scoffed. “I know. Believe me, I know.”

“Why now?” Hayden asked.

Shane shook his head. “I hadn’t planned on it. But it kind of slipped out during an interview my mom set up for me with GQ. And once I said it, I didn’t want to take it back.”

“Putain,” JJ breathed.

“Yeah, fuck is right,” Shane agreed. “I’m fucking crazy right? This is fucking crazy, to do this, right?”

“Oh, honey, there’s nothing crazy about deciding to tell your truth,” Jackie reassured.

“It is in the NHL!” Shane protested.

“But that’s changing, right? I mean look at Scott Hunter,” Hayden offered.

Shane didn’t have retort to that so he just took another swing of his beer, trying to drown out the resurfacing anxiety. “I’m worried about our locker room,” he admitted.

Hayden and JJ exchanged a worried look. The silence that stretched was answer enough. His friends wouldn’t even try to convince him that it would go fine with the team.

“Fuck,” Shane cursed, dropping his head back onto the cold marble.

“Hey, it’s going to be fine,” Hayden tried, way too late and it lacked the conviction needed to convince either of them.

“Hayden, it’s going to be a fucking disaster,” Shane grumbled against the countertop.

“Okay, it might be, but you won’t be alone. You’ll have me and JJ. I’m also pretty sure Andropov has a gay brother, he’ll be cool.”

Shane scoffed, “Great, three out of twenty. I really don’t like my fucking odds.”

“And the rookies adore you!” JJ jumped in.

Shane shook his head from side to side against the cold counter.

“Listen, we’ve got your back in there. No matter what happens,” Hayden promised. “Right, JJ?”

“That’s right, capitaine,” JJ quickly agreed. “Anyone who tries anything or say anything is going to have to deal with us.”

Shane felt brave enough to sit upright again and look at his friends. “Thanks.”

“Of course, man,” Hayden said, clapping a hand on Shane’s shoulder. 

“I guess that explains how you ended up fumbling Rose Landry,” JJ said, taking a swig of his beer.

Shane laughed. “Yeah, I gay fumbled that pretty hard.”

Hayden and JJ burst out laughing loud enough for Jackie to cut them a sharp glare before cutting out, “Sleeping baby!” in a harsh tone.

Hayden and JJ had the decency to look sheepish.

Hayden’s head whip to look at Shane. “Wait! Boston Lily!”

Shane couldn’t help the smile that overtook his face. “...is my boyfriend.”

Hayden’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “Holy shit.”

“Capitaine!” JJ said proudly, clapping a hand on Shane’s shoulder, giving him a jovial shake. 

“Oh my god, you have to tell us about him!” Hayden insisted. “What’s his real name? I’m assuming Lily is, like, a code name or something?”

“Yeah, Lily is a code name. I’m Jane in his phone.”

“Well?” Hayden said, expectantly.

Shane shook his head. “I can’t tell you. Not yet.”

“What?! What do you mean you can’t tell us?” his tone incredulous.

Shane shook his head. “It’s not safe for him to be out.”

That sobered Hayden real fast. “What kind of not safe?”

“The kind where passports get revoked and people get sent to prison or killed.”

“Holy shit,” Hayden breathed.

“Yeah, holy shit,” Shane agreed. “My parents now know. They’re going to be helping us. We’re trying to figure out what the best course will be for making it safe for him. We decided it's safe enough to let people know that I have a boyfriend, but until he has more protections in place, we are keeping his identity secret. Only the people who need to know will know who he is. I hope you don't take offense to me not telling you who he is yet. I just.... I can't risk him.”

“Oh, Shane,” Jackie said sympathetically. “That’s so heavy. Of course we are curious to know who you have in your life, but we understand. I’m so sorry you’ve been dealing with all this alone.”

Shane’s eyes pooled with moisture, but he clenched his jaw to keep the tears from falling. “Thanks, Jackie.”

She reached across the counter and gave his hand a loving squeeze.

At that moment a sharp wail pierced the air. Jackie sighed, looking forlornly at her half-made sandwich.

Shane chuckled. “I’ll get her, you eat your lunch.”

“Really? You don’t have to,” Jackie said.

Shane shook his head, setting his half-finished beer in front of Hayden to finish. “It’s no problem. Uncle Shane needs to meet his newest niece, right?”

Jackie smiled gratefully at him as he went to distract himself with children.

Chapter 4: Mr. Hunter

Shane turned and retraced the same seven steps back to the other edge of the living room. Ilya’s eyes followed him silently as he paced anxiously. He lifted his phone and unlocked it before locking it again, shoving it again in his pocket and taking another lap.

Finally Ilya sprung up from his spot on the couch. “You will wear hole in your pretty floor,” Ilya cautioned, stopping Shane’s momentum by placing himself in his path, gently clasping his boyfriend's shoulders in his hands.

“What if he doesn’t want to talk to me?” Shane spiralled. “I fought him on the ice and never apologized. He’s also probably being bombarded by lots of calls and media requests and–”

“Shane,” Ilya interrupted. “Is dinosaur, he is too old to be holding grudges, he already forgot about your cute little angry kitten fight, I am sure. Just call.”

Shane nodded dutifully and pulled out his phone. He didn’t let himself hesitate as he pulled up the contact and pressed dial. Ilya rubbed his arm in a soothing gesture while Shane raised the phone to his ear to listen to it ring.

He was expecting to be sent to voicemail, so he was surprised to hear the call click through.

“Hollander?”

“Um, hi, Mr. Hunter,” Shane sputtered. At Ilya’s humorous expression as he mouthed ‘Mr. Hunter’, Shane quickly corrected, “Um, sorry, Hunter, hi, it’s Shane Hollander.”

Shane turned away from Ilya, feeling self-conscious enough without his boyfriend silently laughing at him.

“Yeah, I know it’s you, Hollander, that’s why I answered with Hollander. You’re saved in my phone.”

“Oh, right.”

A long awkward silence stretched out. “So, did you need someth–”

“I’m coming out,” Shane blurted out, cutting Scott off. 

A brief pause, then, “Oh.” Shane waited. “Shit, that’s, okay, hang on, let me sit down.”

Shane couldn’t help the huff of laughter that escaped.

“Okay,” Scott said. “Um, first of all, thank you for telling me.”

“You’re welcome?” Shane offered awkwardly.

Scott laughed. “I know, sorry. I’m still getting the hang of this.”

“Being gay?” Shane asked genuinely, making Scott laugh.

“Being the one people tell this to? Being, I don’t know, an elder queer or something.”

"I mean, you are like a million years old, so..." Shane couldn't help the involuntary chirp. He caught Ilya's grin of approval out of the corner of his eye.

"Watch it, Rook," Hunter warned, but his tone was light.

“So, um, is this happening a lot? People coming out to you?” Shane asked. Are there others? Is it not just us?

“Some,” Scott said simply. “Obviously I won’t tell you who. But no one who was planning to come out.”

Shane sighed. “I didn’t plan on it.”

“What happened?” Scott asked, a note of concern and maybe protectiveness coloring his tone.

“I accidentally came out in a sit-down interview with GQ my mom set up for me.”

“Fuck,” Scott said.

“Yeah,” Shane agreed. “And I could have stopped it from running, but like for some reason, I can't? Like I finally realized how exhausting it is to hide. And I’m still scared, but the idea of going back in the closet sounds worse, you know?”

“I do, I really do,” Scott told him.

“I just….” Shane sighed. “How bad is it? Being out?”

Scott made a contemplative sound. “Mixed, I guess. There’s definitely haters, mostly online, which is annoying but easy to deal with when you have social media managers. There’s also a lot of support too. My phone rang non-stop for the first two weeks, now I have it set where only people saved as contacts can get through, which is how I was able to get your call. Crowell is a passive aggressive two-faced mother-fucker, who will tote you out as an inclusivity icon but behind closed doors he will try to pressure you to tone down the gay shit. It’s off season, so I don’t really know how the locker room and ice is going to be, but so far team chat has been supportive, so I think I lucked out in that regard.”

Shane sighed heavily. “I’m worried about my team.”

Scott swore. “How bad?”

Shane shrugged, which didn’t translate on a phone call, so he said, “I don’t know. Lots of ‘faggot’s and ‘gay’ thrown around as trash talk? Coach calls anyone who complains a ‘pansy’.”

“Fuck, that’s not good,” Scott worried out loud.

“I’m crazy, right? This is a terrible idea?” Shane asked, his voice wobbling.

“I don’t know, maybe, but so is choking on your own secrets for the rest of your career,” Scott countered.

Shane couldn’t help the sob that bubbled up.

Scott didn’t say anything, just let Shane cry on the phone to him. Finally Shane sniffed and croaked out, “That was my plan. To wait until I retired. To hide and lie. Fuck, why can’t I just do that? That was the plan. It was a good plan.”

Scott gave a humorless laugh. “Hey, it was my plan too. But I made the dumb mistake of falling in love.”

Shane gave a wet laugh. “Fuck, why are we so dumb?”

Scott chuckled. “I don’t know, kid. Love makes us kind of dumb, huh?”

Shane glanced over at Ilya who was hovering, watching him with that little crease between his eyebrows when he was slightly worried about him. “Yeah, it does.”

“You have someone, then?” Scott asked.

Not taking his eyes off Ilya, Shane smiled and told Scott, his voice thick with emotions, “Yeah, I do.” 

“Good for you,” Scott said. “I’d love to meet him.”

Shane pinched his lips together to keep himself from laughing. You’ve already met him and you fucking hate him. “Maybe someday.”

“Listen, Shane,” Scott said. “I get that this is really scary, what you are about to do, but it’s also worth it to be honest. I’m behind you fully. If you need anything, anything at all, you call me, okay? And you’ll reach out when you are in New York, okay? We’ll meet up. You’re not alone in this.”

“Thanks, Scott, I will,” Shane choked out before he hung up.

Chapter 5: The Metros Do In Fact Suck

Chapter Notes

Trigger warning: Use of homophobic language and bullying. We knew it was coming, but still... take care of yourselves 🫶 Summary at the end for those who need to skip this one.

Be sure to scroll the text messages.

Shane squirms in the arm chair, avoiding the gazes of his coach and general manager. Farah straightened in the chair next to him. His mother put a comforting hand on his arm from where she sat on his other side. 

“Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice,” Farah addressed Coach Theriault and the general manager, Bouchard.

“Of course,” Bouchard said.

“We wanted to inform you that Shane gave an interview which will be released sometime next week in which he comes out as gay,” Farah said. Shane swallowed and looked down at his hands, embarrassed. He didn’t want to see their reactions. He was grateful for Farah for saying the words for him.

“First of all, thank you for coming to us before this goes public,” Bouchard said. He didn’t sound angry. Shane relaxed a little. “We’re glad you trusted us.” Shane let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. There was a small pause before Bouchard asked, “Is there still time to stop the article?”

Shane looked up finally at his manager. “What?” Shane asked.

“Delay it,” Bouchard added. “Training camp starts in six weeks. The media attention will be intense. We are trying to build toward a Cup and this is going to become the story. We’d hate for this to become a distraction.”

Shane felt like a boulder had been dropped onto his stomach.

“A distraction?” Yuna asked, her tone sharp.

Bouchard had the decency to look embarrassed. “Some of our corporate partners are… more traditional. We have to think about families bringing their kids to games.”

Shane looked between his coach and his general manager, the sinking feeling in his gut deepening. He felt like he was going to be sick.

“We are not going to delay the article,” Farah informed Bouchard firmly. “We are here merely to give you a courtesy heads up so you can be prepared.”

Farah glanced over at Shane and Yuna, which was their signal to stand up. Shane walked out of the office feeling like he had just made some grave error in life. But somehow he was already too far down the path to retrace his steps.

Shane lowered the phone with trembling hands. His whole body was shaking.

“Shane?” Ilya asked in sudden concern.

Ilya tried to bob his head to catch Shane’s eye. Overwhelmed, Shane covered his face in his hands and sobbed into them.

“Hey, shhh,” Ilya soothed, pulling him immediately into his chest. 

“I can’t,” Shane gasped between sobs. “They won’t– I don’t know how to– They all– I knew that– It was–”

“Hey, okay, no words now, just calm first,” Ilya said, rubbing soothing hands up and down Shane’s shoulder. “We breathe first, then talk.”

“I can’t,” Shane gasped.

“Yes, you can,” Ilya reassured. “You can breathe. Like me. In… Out… Good. Again? In… And out… Can you do one more? In… Out…”

Shane finally stilled in Ilya’s arms, his breathing evened out.

“What did team say? Is bad?” Ilya asked.

Shane just nodded against Ilya’s chest. His boyfriend responded by tightening his arms around him. 

Shane pulled back to finally look Ilya in the eye as he declared his worst case scenario out loud. “I think I have to trade teams.”

Ilya’s face fell in sympathy. “No,” his voice thick with denial.

Shane shook his head. “I always knew. On some level, I always knew it would be like this if they ever found out.”

“We stop article then,” Ilya bargained.

Shane shook his head again. “It won’t make any difference at this point.”

“Would management…” he asked.

Shane shook his head. “Coach is just as bad.”

Ilya pinched his lips together. 

“I do not want you to lose your team for me,” Ilya said, his voice strained.

“I’m not losing my team for you. I’m losing them for me. Or they are losing me. I don’t know. I… I don’t know how to explain it. I… I can’t go back in the closet after I cracked the door open. I was suffocating in there. And being in that locker room, hearing them talk like that all these years, it was killing me. Ilya, it was killing me. Now the only difference is that they know they are killing me with their words and are still doing it anyway.”

“They were cruel?” Ilya asked, his voice laced with danger.

Shane leaned over to grab his phone, unlocking it and scrolling up before handing it over so Ilya could read the chat messages. Shane couldn’t bring himself to reread the cruel words of his teammates. Instead he watched his boyfriend’s face transform from a confused wrinkle in his brow to a clenching of his jaw. By the time he had gotten to the bottom, his whole face was contorted with barely contained rage. His breaths came out in short, sharp exhales. If he was a cartoon, he would have been exhaling smoke.

Ilya locked the screen and looked at Shane with hard eyes. “We will find you new team. We will make new plan.”

Shane’s eyes brimmed with tears and nodded. He held out his hand for his phone, which Ilya handed over.

“Your mom? Or agent?” Ilya asked.

“Scott Hunter,” Shane said, already typing furiously.

“How will dinosaur help?”

“I need to know where’s safe to go first. Then we bring in my mom and Farah.”

Shane looked up at Ilya as the messages came in. At this point, they were cuddled on the couch, in a holding pattern waiting for Scott’s reply.

“Ottawa,” Shane said.

Ilya blinked at him. “Okay. You go to Ottawa now.”

Shane shook his head. “No, you were supposed to go to Ottawa. Fuck, I’m fucking up the plan.”

“You first,” Ilya insisted. “We have to get you somewhere safe first. You cannot stay with your team. I do not trust them with you. If Hunter says Ottawa is safer team, then you go there.”

“But what about the plan?” Shane whined.

“We are making new plan. I can still go to Ottawa next year when I am free agent. You will just warm up bench for me.”

Shane worried his lip between his teeth. “I don’t know if they can afford both of us.”

“I will accept twenty dollars and a daily blowjob. There. Easy trade. You can pay my blow job salary, yes?”

Shane rolled his eyes at his boyfriend. 

“They don’t need two centers,” Shane pointed out.

“I can play wing,” Ilya said with a shrug.

Shane blinked at Ilya. “You’d seriously take a pay cut and switch positions to play on the same team as me?”

Ilya stared at Shane for a long earnest moment and told him, “I’d give up everything for you.”

Shane’s eyes welled with tears. “Fuck, Ilya, you can’t just say shit like that.”

Ilya shrugged as if he hadn’t just said the most romantic thing anyone had ever said. “I just did. Only way to shut me up is with cock. Would you like to shut me up?” Ilya was already sliding down Shane’s body.

“Fuck,” Shane breathed as Ilya took him in his mouth.

“Thank you for meeting with us again on such short notice,” Farah said from the seat to Shane’s right.

“Did you change your mind about the article?” Bouchard asked, his tone betraying his hope.

Shane shook his head while Farah answered, “No. The article is still scheduled to run in four days.”

She opened a folder in front of her and slid over two stacks of print outs to Bouchard and Coach Theriault. “Shane came out to his team and received responses of harassment.”

A tense silence filled the room as the two men looked through the printed screenshots of the group chat.

“Okay,” Bouchard said, having reached the final screenshot. “Some of it is unacceptable.”

Shane waits.

“But I think everyone needs a little time,” Bouchard said.

“Time for what?” Shane asked quietly.

“This isn’t something the guys have dealt with before,” Coach Theriault chimed in.

“Neither have I,” Shane said.

The two men didn’t seem to have a decent response to that as they squirmed slightly in their chair.

“Theriault is saying that people need time to adjust,” Bouchard attempted.

“Before or after I have to shower with them?” Shane asked bitterly.

Farah jumped in. “Let’s be very clear about where we are. My client has now reported repeated homophobic conduct within the locker room. You have seen the texts yourselves. If the organization intends to keep Shane Hollander under contract, we’d like to hear your concrete plan for ensuring he has a workplace free from discrimination and harassment.”

Silence. Shane watched the two men shift uncomfortably in their chairs. Finally Bouchard said, “We’ll have conversations.”

“With whom?” Farah asked.

“The team.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

“What disciplinary measures?”

Silence. Bouchard coughed awkwardly.

Farah lets the silence stretch for a long minute before saying, “Respectfully, that’s not a plan.”

Bouchard’s face flushed and his chest inflated with frustration. “Look… we’re trying to avoid blowing up the entire organization.”

Coach Theriault cut Shane a sharp look. “You knew what hockey was when you got into it.” Shane just stared at him. “I’m not saying it’s right. I’m saying this is the culture.”

“You called me a pansy when I complained of stomach cramps after you had us run bag skates,” Shane told him.

Bouchard rubbed his forehead as if this entire conversation was exhausting him. “What is it you’re asking for?”

Farah answers before Shane can. “A safe and supportive workplace.”

There was a long stretch of silence before Bouchard asked, “And if we can’t realistically guarantee that by training camp?

Farah doesn’t blink. “Then we’ll explore other remedies.” Shane doesn’t need to be an expert to hear the unspoken threat of ‘lawsuit’ implicit in her sentence. By the way Bouchard stiffened, he could hear it too.

“If that’s where this is heading,” Bouchard said. “It may be in everyone’s best interests to explore a trade.”

Farah nodded. “I agree. We will be in touch.” She looked over at Shane and Yuna who stood to exit. 

Even though Farah's plan to corner Montreal into offering Shane a trade had worked, he couldn’t help but feel betrayed. No one had asked if he wanted to stay. No one had said they wanted him to stay. No one had offered to fight for him.

That night, Ilya held Shane through his tears over his team. 

"Lyubimy," Ilya murmured into Shane's hair as he held him in his arms. "I am sorry. What can I do to make it better?"

Shane shook his head and sobbed harder into Ilya's chest.

"I can murder team on ice? Make it look like an accident. They strap knives to my feet."

Shane's shoulders shook with laughter through the tears. "Don't murder my team."

"But they deserve it," Ilya argued.

"No one deserves to be murdered," Shane grumbled into Ilya's shirt.

"Mmm, I disagree," Ilya countered. "Anyone who hurts you should not be allowed to get away with it."

Shane popped his head up to look at his boyfriend. "Ilya you can't just offer to murder anyone who bothers me."

"I'm trying to be romantic?"

Shane shook his head and rubbed his face dry. "I'm just hurt and disappointed. No murder is necessary."

"Mmm, okay, no murder, just career ending injuries?"

"Ilya," Shane warned.

Ilya gave Shane an innocent look. Shane shook his head.

"Fine, regular injuries," Ilya compromised.

Shane gave Ilya a long considering look and sighed. "Just don't get in trouble. And leave Hayden, JJ and Andropov alone."

Ilya grinned. "I will get Raiders to help."

Shane sighed. "I don't want to focus on them anymore. Farah seems pretty confident that she can get me a trade to Ottawa. So, can we just... I don't want to dwell on this. The article comes out in four days. And this sucks, but maybe it's going to be for the best? Maybe I'm going to get a better locker room out of this. Plus, if everything goes okay, then we can be on the same team in a year."

Ilya grinned at his boyfriend. "Da, forget about sucky Metros. We think only about Ottawa now, and being very very gay."

Shane couldn't help his smile. "I think I'm aiming for a normal amount of gay."

"Mmm, no, what we do is not normal gay. Here, I will show you," Ilya said, rolling their bodies so he was on top, trailing kisses down Shane's body.

Chapter End Notes

Chapter summary for those who needed to skip: Shane meets with Metros management who tries to discourage him from releasing the article. Shane comes out to his team over group chat and they are really homophobic and say they won't support Shane or defend him on the ice. Shane realizes he needs to look into trading teams. Shane texts Scott and finds out what teams are safe to go to and narrow it to Ottawa. Shane meets with Metros management again who offer to let him trade teams instead of try to address the homophobia and safety issues.

Chapter 6: The Article

Chapter Notes

Shane Hollander: The Man Behind the Hockey Legend

Written by Charles Bernier
Photography by Martin Laval
Hair and Makeup by Stacy Levits
Wardrobe by Veronica Andor

Aug 1, 2017

Who is Shane Hollander? I admit, when I sat down to interview hockey’s most carefully composed superstar, I thought I already knew the answer to the question. He is one of the NHL's biggest stars and one of it's most prominent Asian players. A once-in-a-generation talent with the highest hockey IQ in the game today. A back-to-back Stanley Cup winner and Olympic gold medalist. In a sport that still celebrates fists as much as finesse, Hollander has some of the lowest fighting numbers of any player of his stature. Fans consistently describe him as polite, generous with his time, almost unfailingly gracious. I knew the facts. I knew the statistics. I knew the reputation. I did not know Shane Hollander. I’m not sure many of us did.

We are in a nondescript hotel suite in downtown Ottawa, a short drive from Shane Hollander’s cottage where he spends his off-season. It is hard to tell if he has had a relaxing summer so far, as he seems to be a well-contained bundle of nerves the minute he walks in. But he is polite and is quick to follow instructions. It is very clear that Hollander is well used to sitting through the less fun parts of being a public figure: hair and makeup, frequent wardrobe changes, standing in front of bright lights, and following minute detail instructions of the photographer. 

I’ve seen all manner of celebrity. Some thrive under attention and love the camera on them. Hollander is not this type. He is the type who silently suffers through fame and attention. Only a trained eye would notice, because he does everything right. He smiles, he poses, he says all the right things. He is a perfectly polished professional, not one to complain about the pressures of fame.

When our photography team packed up, I saw the first moment of Shane Hollander let down his guard. It was a quiet moment while equipment was being packed up around us. He leaned against a wall and smiled down into his phone, texting someone in the few minutes he got to himself. This was my first glimpse into the real Shane Hollander, the one who waits until no one is looking to let down his guard and make a connection with someone who knows him well enough to make him smile.

Once it is just us, Shane lets out a heavy sigh once he finally has a chance to sit down. When I ask if he ever gets used to all the media, he gives me a shrug and says, “It’s part of the job. You get used to it. Of course, if it were up to me, I’d just play hockey and call it there. But as my mom always stressed, there’s a lot of kids out there who look up to me. I try to do my part, I guess, to be that beacon of hope.”

This led us to discuss the pressure of being an Asian hockey player in the NHL. About dealing with those who doubt his right to play at the highest level of hockey, which he tries to meet with exceeding performance that erases any doubts.

While not unheard of, Hollander is somewhat unique in that his mother is his manager. While he considers himself very close to his family, he admits that it can be messy at times to have the line blur between family and business. Family dinners frequently devolve into discussing brand deals and commitments. It is hard to complain to your mother about work when she is your manager. Despite this tension, Shane stresses that he is not ungrateful. “I couldn’t have gotten to where I am today without them.”

And he certainly has gotten to impressive career accomplishments. When asked about his most career defining moment, Hollander points to the night of the draft, the night he was drafted to the Montreal Metros. 

It was clearly a good fit for the young player, as he shot to the top of every scoring race. Hollander was the youngest player promoted to captain, the year after his rookie year. It was a good play, as he led the team to back-to-back Stanley Cup wins. 

While Hollander loves being on a winning team and considers his teammates overall great guys, he admits that, just like every team, there are always issues. “Locker room talk,” as Hollander refers to it, “is pretty common all over the league. It’s hard to hear. I speak up when I can, but sometimes it feels like… You have to pick your battles sometimes.”

Hollander is not the first one to speak out on the culture of the locker room, but he is perhaps the first to do so at his level. We often hear from rookies who wash out quickly, whose voices are often dismissed as resentful for not making it in the league. But there have been enough voices that speak up that paint a picture of a culture that passes misogyny, homophobia and bigotry off as jokes and banter. In a league dominated by straight, white men, this is the underbelly of what happens behind closed doors.

When asked about his famous career-long rivalry against Ilya Rozanov, Hollander had this to say: “Rozanov is the best competition a guy like me could have asked for. He has always challenged me, made me want to bring my all to the ice. He’s also the only other player who knows what it’s like to be at the top like we are. So, we’ve talked, become friends. I know it will surprise a lot of people, but we actually have a lot in common. We’ve never hated each other or anything like that. I actually respect the hell out of him. And I am pretty sure it’s mutual.”

Friendships among sports rivals is not unheard of. Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal are a great example. Their rivalry in tennis started fierce, but developed into mutual respect, and now the two are quite close friends. It’s easy to understand. The NHL loves to pair Hollander and Rozanov against each other every opportunity they can, which means the two spend quite a bit of time interacting with each other, performing at a level and dealing with pressure that few others could understand. It can get lonely at the top, so I’m sure many will be relieved to hear that the two players found each other.

When discussing Hollander’s recent on-ice injury, when he had to be carried off the ice on a stretcher, the man discussed that the scariest part wasn’t concern for himself. “[I knew] that something bad had happened and that the people who care about me were watching, and were probably freaking out. For me, I was just worried about them. I was scared that no one was going to reach out, let them know I was okay. I didn’t want them to worry about me.”

This moment speaks to the depth of how much Hollander cares for those whom he loves. When asked about his vision for a future after hockey, he answered, “I mean, I want what everyone wants, right? Get married, settle down, raise children.” 

Of course, I had to ask about Rose Landry, whom Hollander had famously dated earlier in the year before going radio silence on the relationship.

“No, Rose and I weren’t compatible. Rose is great, and honestly, I think she might be one of my closest friends now. She helped me figure out a lot of stuff about myself… some stuff about who I really am, what I’m looking for.”

Of course, I was curious. “And who are you really?”

This is when things turned. Hollander seemed suddenly flustered. His eyes darted wildly around the room, as if he were trying to come up with an answer that he was ready to share. Instead, what happened was Hollander stammering out, as if the words came completely involuntarily: “I'm gay.”

The moment that followed probably lasted no longer than five seconds as Hollander looked at me with a look of utter horror. Then he stood suddenly, excusing himself with an apology, because even when fighting off a panic attack, Shane Hollander was nothing but polite.

Hollander spent the next five minutes locked in the suite’s bathroom. By the muffled sound of speech, he was on the phone with someone. Fleetingly, I wondered if he had called his mother, who would be the right call during an accidental outing.

While Hollander was in the bathroom, I sat with the weight of the accidental disclosure. This was a secret that the man had been carrying for a long time. Until only a few short months ago, there had never been an out player in the NHL. 

When Shane emerged from the bathroom, he eyed me with apprehension. In this moment, I found myself split between a journalist who had just unearthed the truth and a human who had encountered someone’s greatest vulnerability. 

When he sat down, he was visibly uncomfortable, but not in the same way as before. Before he was stiff, controlled, as if carefully performing a part that didn’t quite fit. Now, Shane squirmed in the chair, self-conscious, raw, vulnerable, and scared.

When I asked if he had planned on talking about this today, Shane swallowed and shook his head. “This wasn’t the plan. I was supposed to wait until I retired.” He looked so scared and conflicted.

I took pity on the man and offered to scratch his accidental disclosure from the record. This was when he surprised me. This is when I think he even surprised himself. He shook his head. “I can’t take it back. I’m really fucking scared right now. But I think I might be more exhausted than I am scared… It’s exhausting, lying all the time. I’ve lied for so long. To everyone. To my parents, my friends, my team, the whole world. Mostly lies of omission, but still. I lied to myself for a fucking long time. Rose was… fuck, she was so nice about it. She really helped me stop lying to myself… I was hoping that I would find a woman who I could feel something for, so I could be normal. Get a wife, like I’m supposed to. Someone I can talk about in the locker room and during interviews and not have the whole world flip out.”

When asked what he was most scared of happening once people found out, he talked about his fear of being hated. Of having people turn on him. Of losing sponsorships, of being benched, traded, or fired.

For all that there is to lose, there is one piece of truth that Shane seemed eager to be able to share finally. “I will finally be able to tell people that I have a boyfriend and that it’s very serious.”

So, sorry everyone. Shane Hollander is a taken man.

I sincerely wish that we had a camera rolling so that I could show everyone the expression that crossed this man’s face when I asked what he’d like people to know about his boyfriend. Everything about his tense posture completely melted and he had a smile on his face that could only be appropriately described as ‘love drunk.’ “He’s the best. He is so funny and kind. He’s competitive as fuck, which is perfect because so am I. He always knows how to get me out of my head or help me calm down when I’m freaking out.” When I gestured to the bathroom he had just emerged, Shane gave a sheepish smile and said, “Yeah, like when I accidentally out myself to a journalist.”

I would like my fans to know that, while Shane Hollander’s boyfriend offered to inflict severe bodily harm on this author to help Shane keep his secret, Shane told him not to. So, I am safe… for now.

Another point that was seriously considered was that it was a different league than it was even a year ago. “Scott Hunter just came out, and the league didn’t spontaneously combust.” Shane is of course referencing the infamous on-ice kiss when Scott Hunter pulled his previously secret boyfriend down onto the ice after winning the Stanley Cup for a passionate kiss. “It changed everything… Someone has to be first. I was already representing Asians in the NHL. I couldn’t be the first gay player too.”

When asked about the unique struggles of being a closeted player in the NHL, Hollander described the experience of hearing homophobic slurs in the locker room and worrying what would happen if his teammates knew he was gay. He talked of being on the receiving end of pressure to go to bars and date women. He talked about how he’s had his boyfriend saved in his phone under a feminine pseudonym for nearly a decade because they were so afraid of what would happen if their texts were discovered.

While there are many unknowns of what is to come next for Hollander, he shared, his tone dejected, “Some things won’t [change]. I still won’t be able to be out with my partner… because it isn’t safe for him.”

When I asked him to clarify, Shane paused, weighing his words carefully. “I am very lucky to be Canadian. I may be in one of the most homophobic industries possible, but at the end of the day, even if I lose hockey, I know that I have legal protections that keep me safe. I don’t have to worry about my passport being revoked, or being imprisoned or killed for loving a man. Not everyone is that lucky.”

And suddenly, this is bigger than hockey. This is bigger than navigating a homophobic sport. This is about loving someone when the stakes are literally life or death. It’s something that those of us in Canada and the US forget about, but this is a reality for many LGBTQ+ individuals from many countries. To date, 66 countries criminalize same-sex relationships, with punishments ranging from incarceration to execution.

“I tried really hard to be what everyone wanted me to be. Despite my best efforts, I fell in love with an amazing man. Between hockey and his country, we never thought we could make it work. But love is kind of an unrelenting force. We tried to push each other away, we hurt each other a lot over the years. I’ve run from the fact that I am in love with this man for years. And I’m done running now.”

When I sat down for this interview, I thought I was going to spend an afternoon with the disciplined athlete navigating the racial dynamics of a predominately white sport. Instead, I met a man who had spent years carrying two lives — one public and curated, one private and real — with extraordinary care and who finally became too exhausted to carry the weight of both in separate palms. The bravest thing Shane Hollander did wasn’t telling the truth. It was deciding not to take it back.

Chapter End Notes

Image Credits

My best attempts at crediting the sourced images used in this chapter:

Timid photoshoot: Photography by Henry Wu.
Hudson Williams professional headshots: Photographer unknown.
Hudson Williams: Photographed by Richie Lubaton for The Hollywood Reporter and The Cut.
Hudson Williams, Wonderland Spring 2026 cover: Photography by Davis Bates; grooming by Aika Flores.
GQ photoshoot: Photographs by Callum Walker Hutchinson.

I have done my best to trace each image back to its original source and photographer. If I have misidentified or incompletely credited an image, please let me know and I will be happy to correct it.

On a side note: I **studied** for this chapter. I've never learned journalistic writing before, but apparently fanfics send you on fun journeys! If you are interested in checking out an awesome interview with sport's journalist Wright Thompson I sat through for this, check out: https://youtu.be/zwumty5iqaw?si=DKBaVzJK9UjfMOwF

Chapter 7: Instagram Support

Chapter Notes

From here forward, the story will be told through a mix of social media posts and actual writing. This was my compromise to keep what was supposed to be a one shot from becoming a 100k+ story, which I was not prepared to write. A picture is worth a thousand words and all that. I hope that it doesn't feel too jarring and there is enough flow to thread it all together. This is where the writing really becomes experimental. I became really curious about how story telling could be facilitated by pictures/alternative formats.

Social media posts in this fic will be entirely Instagram based. Is twitter freaking out right now about the article? Probably. I love reading twitter banter in fanfics, but to be honest, I never got into twitter, and I sure am not about to figure it out now.

Also, me writing a social media fic after successfully getting off of Instagram for my mental health and replacing all that free time with my fanfic addiction: LOL

Also, please let the page finish loading so that the images load properly. This will especially be necessary for future chapters with more pictures.

Chapter End Notes

This formatting would not be possible without this jem of a human, BadWrita: https://www.reddit.com/r/heatedrivalryfanfics/comments/1va8tc3/ao3_ui_generator_making_texting_and_social_media/

Also, my brain as I was plugging in like and comment numbers: is 423,875 likes a reasonable number for a sports celebrity coming out? Then Drew Carey's voice chimes in with my favorite earworm, "Welcome to Whose Line is it Anyway where the rules are made up and the points don't matter."

Chapter 8: Ilya's Instagram Day

Chapter Notes

Don't forget to let the page load fully first. It may take a minute.

Chapter End Notes

Did you notice continuity errors between pics? No, no you did not. So glad we are all on the same page. I spent enough time on Pinterest, thank you very much. This will be the same for all chapters that follow.

Image Credits: Many of the images in this chapter were sourced from Pinterest, but I have done my best to trace them back to their original sources and credit what I can:

Timid photoshoot: Photography by Henry Wu.
Stills from Hudson Williams's short film, Buttons: Directed by Hudson Williams.
Hudson Williams behind the scenes of Heated Rivalry: Photographed by makeup artist Joan Chell.
Hudson Williams Peloton ad: Directed by Bethany Vargas.
BTS photos of Hudson Williams: Photographed by @hairbyzinkatuminski.
Hudson Williams behind the scenes of Heated Rivalry: Via @jackson.yeung.
Screengrab from Jeff Conway's interview with Christina Chang.

Chapter 9: Shane's Instagram Day

Chapter Notes

Chapter End Notes

As a reminder: Did you notice continuity errors? No, no you did not. Again, so glad we're all on the same page on this.
Is it maybe a bit risky to post soft-launch style photos of Ilya? Maybe. But I couldn't help myself. And neither could Shane, it seems. I felt like he picked a good day to do it. 😁

Chapter 10: Svetlana

Chapter Notes

There was a two second delay between Ilya pressing send and his phone vibrating in his hand. 

Ilya was still laughing, joy bubbling up as he answered, putting it on speaker phone.

“Илюшка, что значит «помолвлен»? Это Джейн? Почему ты не сказал, что всё так серьёзно? Погоди... ты что, женишься на мужчине? Ладно, что-нибудь придумаем. В Россию тебе ведь всё равно нельзя. Впрочем, ты и сам это знаешь. Если только... Пожалуйста, скажи, что это Джейн. Только не говори, что ты обрюхатил какую-нибудь несчастную женщину. Я слишком молода, чтобы быть тётей. Дети — это не моё. Они такие шумные, вечно всё пачкают, и...” (Ilyushka, what do you mean, "engaged"? Is it Jane? Why didn't you say things were so serious? Wait, are you marrying a man? All right, we’ll figure something out. You can’t go back to Russia, after all. But then again, you already know that. Unless... Please tell me it’s Jane. Just don’t tell me you’ve gotten some poor woman pregnant. I’m too young to be an auntie. Kids aren't for me. They’re so noisy, they’re always making a mess, and...)

Ilya just laughed as his best friend spiraled in Russian, filling the cottage with her loving tirade. Shane’s shoulders started shaking with silent laughter next to him.

Ilya, still grinning and laughing, pressed the button to switch the call to video, holding it up to capture him and Shane, holding up his right hand to show off his ring. 

Svetlana came to an abrupt stop in the middle of her tirade, her jaw dropping as soon as she saw Shane Hollander grinning next to Ilya.

“Hello, Svetlana,” Shane said, waving at the camera. “I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice to finally meet you!”

Svetlana’s mouth opened and closed several times before she blurted out. “Shane Hollander!”

Shane chuckled. “Um, yeah.”

Svetlana’s eyes cut sharply to Ilya. “You are marrying Shane Hollander!?”

Ilya’s eyes filled with happy tears as he nodded.

Svetlana’s eyes cut back to Shane, who seemed to be the more composed one. “You are Jane?”

Shane nodded. “I am Jane. Ilya is my Lily.”

Svetlana blinked. “You… the article. The Instagram posts. Ilyushka, that was you,” her eyes cut back to Ilya.

Ilya nodded, crying fully now, somehow incapable of offering anything useful to the conversation, both Russian and English seeming to escape him.

Shane pressed his foot into Ilya’s, their special language with each other. Ilya nodded, giving Shane control of the conversation.

“I love Ilya very much,” Shane told Svetlana. “And I know that you love him too, in your own way. I know you would have married him so he’d be safe. I hope you don’t mind… I called dibs.” 

Svetlana threw her head back and laughed at Shane’s slight smirk at having beat her to marrying Ilya. Ilya let out a surprised laugh at Shane’s audacity.

“Is everything a competition for you?” Ilya teased his fiance.

Shane grinned at Ilya and nudged him in the ribs. “You love it.”

Ilya looked at Shane with a love sick expression. “Da, I do.”

“Awww,” Svetlana cooed at them. “Shane Hollander, I am happy that you make my Ilyushka happy and you are making sure he will be safe. It is all I want for him. Also, I approve of this match. Ilyushka, you pick the best NHL hockey player. I am very impressed.”

Ilya scoffed. “You mean second best!”

Svetlana smirked and shook her head. “No, I mean best,” she said with a wink in Shane’s direction.

“So,” Svetlana segued. “When is the wedding? Obviously I will be there. I must give my Ilyushka away.”

Chapter End Notes

Full disclosure, I was planning on leaving Svetlana out of the loop, but then realized she would possibly murder Ilya (and me) for doing so. Also she is pretty much his family, so I did want Ilya to have *somebody* who knew.

Chapter 11: Yuna's Instagram Day

Chapter 12: Immigration

Chapter 13: Ottawa Negotiations

Shane parked next to his mother’s car in the staff parking lot of the Canadian Tire Stadium. He turned off the engine and stared at the clock on the dashboard, counting down the minutes until it was time to go in.

“What if they don’t want me?” Shane voiced out loud.

Ilya whipped his head to stare at his husband incredulously. “Did you forget that you are Shane Hollander, number two player in all NHL?”

“Fuck you,” Shane said, with no heat.

“They will want you,” Ilya reassured, reaching out to grasp Shane’s hand in his.

“Montreal doesn’t want me anymore,” Shane said in a small voice.

“Montreal is dumb team.”

“That’s my team, asshole,” Shane muttered, more out of habit than loyalty.

“Your team is dumb and will hopefully not be your team much longer.”

At the sound of the door opening and closing of his mother’s car, Shane turned and leaned over to kiss Ilya across the center console. “Keep your phone on you.”

Ilya pressed his palm to the back of Shane’s neck with a grounding pressure. “They will want you.”

Shane nodded, choosing to believe his husband’s certainty over his own insecurity. 

“Remember, you are THE Shane Hollander. You win Olympic medals for your country and many Stanley Cups. You are best hockey player I have ever played against.”

Shane pulled back and looked into Ilya’s eyes. 

“Only player they will want more than you is me,” Ilya added with a cocky grin.

“Oh, you are such an asshole,” Shane said, giving Ilya a slight shove, grinning, his competitive streak waking up, just like Ilya had intended.

A soft knock sounded at Shane’s windshield. Shane leaned over and gave Ilya a quick kiss before opening his door to greet his mother. “Hi Mom.”

“Hi, sweetie,” Yuna greeted before bending down slightly to greet Ilya. “Hi, Ilya!”

“Hello Yuna!” Ilya greeted from his seat.

Yuna addressed Shane. “Ready?”

Shane nodded and followed his mother to the door where Farah was waiting for them. Together, the three of them made their way through the maze of corridors until they made it to the section of offices and found the right one. Three men stood as soon as they entered.

A round of enthusiastic handshakes went around as Shane greeted the Ottawa head coach, general manager, and owner.

Shane accepted the bottle of water offered and took his seat.

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with us,” Farah opened.

“Of course,” Andrew Johnson, the general manager, said.

“I’ll be direct,” Farah said in a crisp tone. “Shane has authorized me to explore a trade to Ottawa, provided we believe it's the right fit for him both professionally and personally. As you may be aware, Mr. Hollander has recently come out. Montreal is not supportive and it is no longer a good fit for him. We have heard that your organization is more tolerant.” The request for confirmation went unspoken, but it was clear.

“I can assure you that we pride ourselves on diversity and inclusivity here at Ottawa,” Henry Porter, the owner said.

“No offense,” Shane cut in. “But I heard that from the Montreal owners, too.”

“Shane,” the head coach, Brandon Wiebe, began. “I don't make a habit of sharing this with people I just met, but you've been brave enough to share something deeply personal with the world. It feels only fair that I meet you partway. I'm a bisexual man married to a Black woman. I don't tolerate any homophobia or racism in my locker room. If you experience either here, you come to me. I'll handle it. You won't have to fight that battle alone.”

Shane stared at Wiebe, holding his gaze, seeing the promise in it. Shane nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. “Thank you.”

“We are very interested in having you join us,” Johnson said. “We think you would be a great addition to our team. And you would have our full support as you navigate being one of the first few out players in the league.”

Farah pulled out a sheet of paper and slid it across the table. “These are the details of Shane’s current contract with Montreal. He has three years remaining on his contract that you would take on.”

Johnson looked over the paper. “How receptive do you believe Montreal will be?”

Shane shrugged. “They don’t want the distraction. Plus the locker room is going to split if I stay. They want me gone. For the right price, of course.”

Farah leaned forward. “We've also made it very clear that if they insist on keeping Shane while failing to adequately address the homophobia within the organization, they'll be exposing themselves to significant legal liability.”

Johnson gave a slow nod. "Understood."

Johnson glanced down at Shane's contract sheet Farah had prepared before looking back up at Shane. “We have the cap space. I assume you want to do this as soon as possible to start the next season with us?”

Shane nodded.

Johnson glanced at the other men, conducting a silent conversation that consisted of mostly nods of approval. Johnson looked back at Shane and nodded. “We’d love to have you. I will get in touch with the general manager at Montreal to start facilitating trade negotiations.” Johnson reached a hand across the table in offering.

Shane stared at Johnson’s extended hand, but didn’t reach across the table to take it. “There’s one more thing.”

Johnson dropped his hand, waiting.

Farah slid three papers across the table along with a bundle of pens. “What you are about to find out is sensitive information that cannot leave this room. Please signs these NDA’s.”

The three men glanced at each other before each reaching to sign a form. Once all three NDA’s were signed, Shane pulled out his phone and shot off a quick text.

Once he put away his phone, he glanced up at the expectant men. “He’ll be here in a couple minutes.” He ignored the men’s curious gazes and sat in the uncomfortable silence, waiting.

Finally, a soft knock sounded at the door before it opened. The three men looked up to see the intrusion. Their eyes widened as Ilya Rozanov walked into the room and took the open seat next to Shane.

“This is my husband,” Shane announced. “Ilya Rozanov,” he added, as if these men did not know who the man next to him was.

Brandon Wiebe, who had the misfortune of having been in the middle of taking a sip of water, choked on the water and started an embarrassingly long coughing fit.

Ilya smirked at the shocked reactions across the table before turning to address Shane. “How is it going so far, moy lyubimyy?”

“They want me,” Shane said with a small smile.

Ilya reached out and placed a comforting hand on Shane’s cheek. “I told you they would.”

Ilya dropped his hand and turned back to the stunned men across the table and leaned back in his chair. 

Farah spoke, commanding the attention back to her as she took charge. “I am also here representing Mr. Rozanov, who will be a free agent next year and is interested in playing on the same team as his husband. We would like to know if that is something you would be interested in.”

Johnson blinked rapidly at Ilya before fully registering Farah’s words. “I mean, this would be an absolute dream, to have both Hollander and Rozanov on the team, but I don’t know if we have the cap to afford both of them, even a year apart.”

Ilya leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head, giving off the air of relaxed confidence. “I will take lower salary.”

Johnson’s eyebrows raised, clearly surprised.

Ilya gestured with a hand toward Shane. “Not Shane. You will pay him full amount. It will be set bad…” he trailed off, turning to Shane to ask, “how do you say, first time, then example?”

“Precedent,” Shane offered.

Ilya nodded. “Yes. It will set bad precedent if Shane comes out, is chased from his team by mean homophobes to worse team, no offense, and takes pay cut. Gay is not worth less.”

Shane’s head snapped to look at Ilya. "Hey, you aren't worth less either."

Ilya shook his head. "Not my point. You are first. It matters. Also, I will not be first player to trade and take pay cut to be closer to family. There is already precedent. You set gay precedent for the rest of them. I will follow precedent of loving husband family man." Ilya reached out and grabbed Shane’s hand, rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb. Shane smiled fondly at Ilya, that is until Ilya added, "plus I will have you as sugar daddy."

"Fuck off," Shane said, but his grin gave his affection away.

Wiebe watched their dynamic with a curious eye before jumping in with, “You both play center. I don’t know if we need two star centers.”

Ilya shrugged. “I can play wing. Is how we played at All Stars when we were on same team. We played very well.”

“Fuck, you two were incredible,” Wiebe agreed, eyes widening in excitement as he started dreaming up plays in his head. He turned to Johnson. “Fuck, please tell me we can make this work.”

Johnson looked at Farah before shifting his gaze to Ilya. "I can't promise you anything today. The rules are the rules. But if you're still interested next summer, I think you'll find we're very interested too."

Ilya nodded.

Porter looked over at Shane next. “We will be in touch with Montreal to start negotiations. Assuming they are willing to let you go, we are happy to have you.”

Chapter 14: Trade Announcement

Chapter 15: Moving Boxes

“Come on in,” Shane said after giving Hayden and JJ a hug at the door before stepping aside.

“I come bearing supplies,” Hayden said, holding up a tote bag. “Extra tape, sharpies, and this cool labeling sticker system Jackie swears by and made me bring for you.”

“I also come bearing supplies,” JJ offered, holding up a case of beer.

Shane chuckled and pushed aside a half packed box that was in their way.

Hayden and JJ looked around at all chaos that had already taken over Shane’s apartment that was to be expected from anyone who was moving last minute.

“Is your husband…?” JJ asked, looking around as if trying to catch a sighting of the elusive man.

Shane shook his head. “He’s packing up our apartment right now.”

Hayden choked on his own spit. “I’m sorry, ‘our’ apartment? Like a different apartment? One that belongs to you and him?”

Shane shrugged. “Yeah. Well, obviously I couldn’t have him come here, especially in the beginning. So I got us a place to meet up.” Hayden stared at Shane for a long minute with an expression he couldn’t interpret. “Um, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Hayden shook  his head as if clearing his thoughts. “Sorry, no, it’s fine, I just… I keep learning stuff about you. I just… I hate that you had to do something like that. I hate that you are still having to keep things secret.”

“Less secret than before,” Shane pointed out.

Hayden gave him a small smile. “How is it to be out?”

Shane smiled as he started assembling a new box to pack into. “For the most part, it’s worth it. It’s a relief to not have to lie anymore. Even to be honest about when I have to lie to keep him safe. The team stuff sucks, and I’m not going to lie, I’m still pretty torn up about it. But I have a pretty good feeling about Ottawa. The coach is bisexual and married to a Black woman, so he told me that he doesn’t allow any homophobia or racism in his locker room.”

“Wow, that sounds like a dream,” JJ agreed, wrapping a lamp in bubble wrap. “Do they need any defensive players?”

Hayden threw a balled up newspaper at JJ. “Hey, don’t leave me alone with those fucking assholes.”

JJ threw the newspaper wad back, hitting Hayden on the side of the head. “Hey, you’re white. You’ll be fine. My boy, Hollander is leaving me alone to fend for myself.”

“Sorry, JJ,” Shane said in a small voice. They had always shared a special comradery being the only two players of color on the team.

JJ shook his head dismissively. “No. I’m glad you’re getting out. I’m glad you found a better team.”

The next few hours covered a variety of topics, including how shit their teammates are, recounting top memories over the years, processing the fact that Shane got married (!), what his new place in Ottawa is like, and Scott Hunter.

It felt good to hang out with his friends, even if it was spent packing up his life to move to another city and team. As they drank through JJ’s beer and ate the take out Shane had ordered for them, Shane lost track of time as he soaked up the friendly company.

They were sitting on the floor in front of Shane’s bookcase, leaning back against the back of the couch, surrounded by boxes when the unmistakable sound of a key in the door caught their attention. Three heads whipped in the direction of the entry, which they couldn’t see from this vantage on the floor they sat on behind the couch.

Shane’s eyes widened in sudden panic as the sound of a familiar sigh made its way through the space. “Okay, Mr. Real Estate, sex condo is all packed up. How was it with Pike and Boiziau? Did they help or just drink your beer and watch you do all the work like they do on ice?”

Shane felt Hayden and JJ’s wide eyes turn to face him as they registered the thick Russian accent. Whether or not they could place whose Russian accent that was was unclear.

“Fuck,” Shane breathed, scrambling out from their hiding spot to try to intercept Ilya.

“Ah, moy lyubimyy,” Ilya smiled at him as he popped up from behind the couch. “There you are. Still packing?”

“What are you doing here?” Shane squeeked out. “We said after 6.”

Ilya’s face scrunched in confusion. “It is 7:30. I sent text. I picked up dinner.” He held up a take out bag before setting it down on the coffee table.

Shane patted down his pocket to find it empty, then he spotted his phone on the dining table across the room. He looked up at the wall clock only to realize that it had been packed.

“Fuck,” Shane cursed, looking down at Hayden and JJ at his feet.

Ilya tracked Shane’s gaze. “Oh, we are not alone?”

“Um, can we come out from down here yet, or…?” JJ asked from his hiding spot at Shane’s right.

Ilya raised his eyebrows at Shane in invitation. “You decide. They are your friends. If you trust them.”

“Fuck, okay,” Shane breathed out, glancing down at his friends. “Um, come meet my husband, I guess.”

JJ did not need to be told twice, scrambling up quickly. As soon as his eyes landed on Ilya Rozanov, a quick guffaw burst out of him. Hayden was quick to follow, his eyes bugging wide and his jaw dropping. JJ helped the atmosphere by pointing at Hayden’s shocked face and laughing hysterically.

Ilya shifted uncomfortably and glanced over at Shane who also seemed uncertain how to interpret his friends’ reactions.

JJ finally pulled himself together, wiping at the tears in his eyes before he hopped over the barricade of boxes and planted himself in front of Ilya. Ilya eyed JJ warily before JJ grinned at him and held out his hand. “Hello, Husband,” JJ offered. “I’m JJ, best friend.”

Ilya smirked and shook JJ’s hand. “Hello, best friend JJ, I am Ilya, Husband.”

JJ wandered over to Shane’s side and clapped him jovially on the shoulder. “I always knew you’d find a way to marry hockey.”

Shane smiled, a tension loosening in his chest as Ilya laughed proudly.

Then, Shane’s gaze pulled anxiously back to Hayden who was still standing in the same position staring at Ilya, with the same dumb shocked expression on his face, completely frozen in place.

Ilya eyed Hayden before glancing at Shane. “I think I broke Pike.”

“Hayden,” Shane tried, which seemed to be enough to bring Hayden out of his shocked stupor. Hayden blinked and shook his head as if trying to clear his vision. 

“What the fuck?” Hayden shrieked, his voice sharp and high pitched.

Shane flinched violently at the sudden outburst.

“Fucking Rozanov?” Hayden cried out, turning his wide eyes to Shane. “Shane, you married Ilya fucking Rozanov?!”

“Yes, Shane married Ilya fucking Rozanov,” Ilya said, a threat lacing his response, taking a half step toward Hayden. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Hayden looked quickly back and forth between Ilya and Shane.

“Hayden,” JJ’s voice cut in sharply, drawing Hayden’s wild eyes to him. “Dude, get cool with this. The quicker the better, man. This is Shane’s husband.”

Hayden blinked at JJ, deflating in real time before them all. He ran a hand over his face. “Fuck, sorry, hang on, just give me a minute to wrap my head around this.”

“Is okay,” Ilya said patronizingly. “You need more time for your small brain. Take all the time you need.”

“Okay, fuck this guy,” Hayden blustered, pointing at Ilya while looking at Shane. “You married this asshole?”

Shane’s eyes started filling rapidly with tears that threatened to spill over. “Hayden,” he breathed, his voice smaller than Hayden had ever heard it.

Hayden blinked, realizing how badly he was fucking this up. “Fuck, sorry. Shit, Shane, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I thought we hated Rozanov.”

Shane scoffed. “I think you hated Rozanov,” he countered.

Hayden blinked at Shane, reprocessing years of interactions. “Fuck, I’ve been shit talking your boyfriend to you for years, Shane. You never said anything.”

Shane gave Hayden a hard look. “What the fuck could I have said? The rivalry was our cover.”

Hayden closed his eyes and shook his head. “Fuck, I’m such a fucking asshole.”

“Yes,” Ilya agreed.

“Ilya,” Shane warned.

“Shit, it’s been him this whole time,” Hayden processed. His eyes widened and he turned to point at Ilya. “You’re Boston Lily!” Ilya grinned in response. 

“Hayden, I already told you that I was dating Boston Lily,” Shane said.

“Yeah, but now I’m putting together who Boston Lily is. Oh, man, every time you snuck out before or after games whenever we were in Boston. Oh my god, you fucked and then faced each other for face off on the ice?”

Ilya grinned at Hayden putting the pieces of their sex lives together. “Is good foreplay for hockey. Maybe you should try it? Maybe makes you better player.”

“Ilya,” Shane warned again.

“Oh, yes, you are right,” Ilya agreed. “Pike does not need more sex, he already has a million children, yes?”

“Hey!” Hayden protested.

“Ilya, can you please not antagonize Hayden right now?” Shane pleaded.

Ilya held up his hands, signalling that he was done stirring shit.

Hayden scoffed, crossing his arms and turning to look away from all of them.

“I am sorry, Pike,” Ilya said, surprising Hayden with the genuineness of his tone. “It is hard habit to break. We chirp each other. I get under your skin. But we are stressing Shane out, so I… I am sorry.”

Hayden blinked, surprised at Ilya transforming into something… softer. His gaze did look remorseful. Hayden glanced over at Shane, who did look really stressed.

When Hayden looked back at Ilya, he saw that the Russian had his hand extended. A peace offering. Hayden eyed Ilya’s extended hand and briefly entertained the idea of refusing to shake the man’s hand. But a quick glance over at Shane had him rounding the couch, tripping over a role of bubble wrap, which Ilya exhibited great restraint by not commenting on.

“Hello, I am Ilya, Shane’s husband,” Ilya said when Hayden was finally in front of him.

Hayden let out a breath and took Ilya’s hand. “Hello, Ilya. It’s nice to finally meet you. Hayden, Shane’s best friend.”

JJ came over and clapped Hayden and Ilya familiarly on the shoulders. “Great! Now we are all one big Shane-loving family!”

Ilya put up a finger in protest. “I love him most,” he insisted.

“I would hope so, since you married him,” JJ responded.

“I loved him first,” Hayden grumbled.

“Ah, no, no you did not,” Ilya countered.

“What the fuck?” Hayden complained, but it didn’t have the same heat as before. “Shane and I have been besties since rookie year.”

“Da, and Shane and I have been together since summer before rookie year,” Ilya countered. 

“Dude, seriously?” Hayden said, whipping his head over to Shane for confirmation, who nodded.

“Fuck,” Hayden breathed.

“Ha! I win!” Ilya shouted victoriously, breaking away from Shane’s friends to cross over to Shane, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “First place lover of Shane!”

“Ew, gross, don’t say that, Ilya,” Shane complained.

“So… is now the right time where I can ask about Ilya saying he just finished packing your sex condo?” JJ asked, as if he had been exhibiting enormous restraint by waiting to ask about his.

Ilya grinned while Shane blushed profusely. “I told you, JJ,” Shane said. “I got us a place to meet up.”

JJ matched Ilya’s grin. “I see.”

“Oh my god,” Shane said in mortification, covering his face with his hands as if he could hide from this conversation.”

“Is okay, moy lyubimyy,” Ilya soothed, turning to plant himself in front of Shane, pulling Shane’s hands away from his face. “I think your friends probably figured out that you have had sex.”

“Yeah, but they don’t need that confirmed,” Shane grumbled.

“Um, I would be very interested in the confirmation of your sex life,” JJ said eagerly, plopping himself down on the foot of couch that wasn’t cluttered with random objects. “Details, please.”

“No details, please,” Hayden begged.

JJ blew a raspberry at Hayden. “You’re no fun.”

“Um, speaking of details,” Shane segued. “So, in case it wasn’t clear, we are keeping Ilya’s identity secret until he gets his permanent residency card. Until then, we can’t let this out. Russia is seriously no joke. You can’t tell anyone.”

“Of course, Cap,” JJ agreed immediately.

“Wait, can I tell Jackie?” Hayden asked. “I won’t tell anyone else, I swear.”

After a quick glance at Ilya, Shane nodded at Hayden. “Yeah, you can tell Jackie. But no one else.”

“Oh!” JJ shot up excitedly, pulling out his phone. “Let’s call her. She’s gonna flip her shit.”

JJ ignored all of Hayden’s protests, but did wait until he got a nod of approval from Shane before hitting the video call button.

“Hey JJ!” Jackie’s voice came through over speaker. “Perfect timing. I just set the kids up with a Disney movie, so I can talk. How’s it going?”

“It’s going great! We made a lot of progress, look!” JJ held the phone out in selfie mode and slowly turning to let Jackie see the carnage of packing boxes and bubble wrap behind him.

“Hi honey!” Jackie called out when she spotted Hayden.

“What’s really cool about helping a friend move is how much you end up learning about the person,” JJ said conversationally.

“Oh, I know,” Jackie agreed immediately, apparently comfortable dropping into casual banter with JJ. “I remember when I helped Cindy move, I found her and Steve’s sex closet!”

“Okay, we are going to circle back to that later,” JJ noted.

“Next wine night, remind me,” Jackie promised. “So, what did you find at Shane’s?”

“His husband,” JJ grinned.

“Shut the fuck up!” Jackie shrieked.

"Swear jar!" Shane called out from his spot out of frame.

“You want to see?” JJ asked.

“Is the ocean wet? Of course I want to see!”

“Okay, and remember, vow of secrecy and all that,” JJ said.

"Oh, right, of course," Jackie quickly agreed. "I understand the stakes. I won't tell anyone."

JJ looked at Shane and Ilya. “Ready?” JJ waited until both men nodded at him before he dramatically rotated, until his back was to Shane and Ilya. Jackie let out an incoherent girly squeal as soon as she spotted a grinning Ilya with his arm wrapped around a bashful Shane.

“Oh my god, Shane!” Jackie shrieked. “You bagged Ilya Rozanov!”

“Hello Mrs. Jackie Pike!” Ilya called out and waved hello. “It is nice to meet you!”

“Oh my god, hi Ilya! It’s so good to meet you!” Jackie was grinning into the camera. “Your posts were really sweet. I could tell that Shane had someone who loved him a lot.”

“Thank you,” Ilya said with a sweet smile. “Oh, and thank you for artichoke recipe. Shane said you have lots of Shane-friendly recipes.”

“Oh, yes, I can send you a whole bunch of stuff. There’s one website in particular that has a bunch of macrobiotic recipes that don’t suck.”

“Oh, yes, we will be good friends,” Ilya announced with a determined nod.

“What the fuck?” Hayden breathed from across the room, but no one paid him any attention at this point.

“Oh, man,” Jackie whined. “Shane, it sucks that you are trading. I could have had Ilya Rozanov in my WAG chat?”

Ilya wrinkled his nose at Jackie. “Booooo Metros. I will be Ottawa WAG.”

Jackie threw her head back and laughed. “Fair. Shane, give Ilya my number so we can chat. Ilya I’ll send you so many recipes, you will get sick of me.”

Ilya shook his head. “Not possible. Also, please send me juicy WAG gossip.”

Jackie grinned at Ilya before glancing over at Shane. “I like him for you,” she said softly.

Shane smiled gratefully at Jackie. “Thanks, Jackie.”

“Work on your husband’s attitude, by the way,” JJ interjected.

“Hey!” Hayden protested from the other side of the room.

“What did he do?” Jackie asked, her tone suddenly severe.

“He did not respond as well as you did,” JJ tattled.

“Hey, I was surprised!” Hayden defended. “I just needed a minute to come to terms with Shane marrying the guy I thought we all agreed to hate.”

“Oh, honey,” Jackie said condescendingly. “We never agreed to that. You just didn’t like him because he got under your skin and you tried to use the rivalry to push your agenda.”

Ilya’s eyebrows raised at Jackie’s astute call out, meanwhile Hayden blustered around a series of half words. “Wha-, I-, nu-uh.”

Ilya threw his head back and laughed.

“Please tell me you weren’t rude to Shane’s husband,” Jackie glared down her husband with the help of JJ who held up the phone for her.

Hayden shifted awkwardly under the intensity of her gaze.

“Hayden Pike, you better have fucking apologized!” Jackie yelled.

Ilya glanced over at Shane with raised eyebrows. Shane shook his head at him. “This is totally normal,” Shane leaned over to whisper.

“Oh, come on!” Hayden whined.

“Hayden, if you want to sleep in our bed tonight, make it right before you leave that apartment.”

Hayden looked at his wife on JJ’s phone, utterly betrayed. Jackie, being Jackie, did not back down. Hayden deflated wildly before looking past Jackie on JJ’s phone and locked eyes with Ilya. “I’m sorry I was a dick about finding out it was you.”

Ilya was about to open his mouth to accept Hayden’s apology when Jackie cut in with a pointed “Annnnddddd…...”

Hayden sighed heavily and added, “And I can tell that you care about Shane a lot, and you are important to Shane.”

Ilya opened his mouth, again to accept the apology, when Jackie came in with another, “Annnndddddd…..”

Hayden fidgetted, his discomfort clear. “And I look forward to getting to know you better now.”

Ilya hesitated. “Can I accept apology now, Jackie?” he called out.

“Go ahead,” Jackie permitted.

“I accept your apology, Pike. I will try to be less asshole as well.”

“Mom! Ruby stole my blanket!” a faint child’s voice could be heard through the phone.

Jackie sighed in a put upon way. “Duty calls. Bye Ilya, it was so nice to meet you!”

“Bye bye, Jackie!” Ilya called, waving at the camera before JJ ended the call.

After the call with Jackie ended, Ilya made a comment about their food getting cold and Shane led JJ and Hayden to the door. He gave them each a hug goodbye and promised to stay in touch.

Chapter 16: Welcome to the Centaurs Group Chat

Chapter 17: Sept 2017

Chapter Notes

Strap in y'all, we've got a whole year to cover. The next batch of chapters are going to be big social media chapters. Pro tip: let the page fully load before viewing to make sure all the images load properly. If you have issues, I find sometimes giving it a few minutes and then giving it a refresh helps.

And to address the obvious: yes, the Hollanovs are all over this. I was not drawn to writing them in, so they will not be making an appearance. Just know, in my head canon for this fic, they are mostly yelling into the void over on twitter, and either being dismissed or being reminded of the stakes of speculating about the sexuality of a Russian, regardless of if they are right or not. So there is enough self-policing happening that it's not gaining too much traction. Over here on Instagram, everyone is mostly ignorant and along for the ride. At least that's what I tell myself to allow this self-indulgence to continue. And people can speculate, but the most important piece here is that Shane/Ilya cannot and will not publicly confirm that they are married until Ilya has his PR status. Plausible deniability is the name of the game here. And it's my fic, so... yeah. Just go with it.

Enjoy!

Chapter 18: October 2017

Chapter 19: Nov 2017

Chapter 20: Dec 2017

Chapter Notes

Chapter End Notes

Are we maybe flying a bit close to sun? Perhaps, but my boys deserve sunshine!

Also, lol, all the comments about the Holonov accounts losing their minds. I liked someone's suggestion that they are freaking out on a private discord channel, spinning about how no one has figured it out. So, let's go with that. Let's just assume that for any comments speculating on Shane's Instagram posts that get too close to guessing the truth, he is just deleting those before they gain traction.

Again, people can speculate, but Ilya and Shane cannot and will not publicly confirm their marriage. But they will for sure put the other part of the plan in action: hard launch friendship and foundation partners.

And I *needed* to have a fix-it moment for the boxing day party.

Chapter 21: Jan-May 2018

Chapter Summary

This is a longer one, so be sure to let the page fully load before scrolling through to let the images load properly.

Chapter 22: Jun-Aug 2018