Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Hayden Pike, J. J. Boiziau & Shane Hollander & Hayden Pike

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Hayden Pike, Ilya Rozanov, J.J. Boiziau

Additional Tags:

POV Alternating, POV Shane Hollander, POV Hayden Pike, POV Ilya Rozanov, POV Outsider, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Humor, Fluff, Secret Relationship, Established Relationship, Relationship Reveal, Hayden Pike Finds Out About Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Good Friend Hayden Pike, Coming Out, Homophobia, Eavesdropping, Accidental Voyeurism, Misunderstandings, Flirting, Banter, Drinking Games, Drunk Shane Hollander, Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros (Game Changers), Late Night Conversations, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Texting, Sexting, (like once but ok), Phone Calls & Telephones

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-01-25 Completed: 2026-01-31 Words: 16,547 Chapters: 6/6

Lily's on the line

Summary

“Okay, no, you’re right. Fuck the Admirals. But fuck their stupid gay-kiss Stanley Cup win, too.”
What?
Another moment of quiet, then:
“I never kissed my boyfriend on the ice, though,” Shane muttered resentfully. Hayden’s heart thudded at the bitterness in his tone. Shane didn’t talk like that.

As Shane becomes more comfortable in his and Ilya’s relationship, he starts letting his guard down, bit by bit. Hayden is subject to some very confusing one-sided phone conversations.

Notes

Fic picks up where the show ends; after the events of the cottage but before Shane comes out to Hayden. I’ve read the first book and watched the full show but I have not read the Long Game, so it’s just me sort of going off on my own whims.

Supplemental reading for this fic (just general recommendations and things with similar vibes to what I wanted), in order of similarity:
Hayden pike v the ‘lily’ thing - goldengalaxies
forbidden fruit - goldengalaxies
Lily and Jane Fall in Love - some1_around
My Dinner with Hayden - Rachel Reid
Uncoachable - MinaLogan
loving this body - beetlesandstars, kryptonian

Chapter 1: Scott Hunter

Shane slumped against the wall of the empty hallway. A few murmurs reached him from the locker room, but he’d watched most of the team file out in the usual low-energy cloud that clung to the air after a loss, so he allowed himself a fractional amount of relaxation. This one they should have managed, but the Sabres had traded their center at the start of the season, and Shane hadn’t gotten a chance to size up the replacement before. Let himself get distracted. It didn’t matter. They’d play them again in a few weeks, anyway.

He didn’t let himself dwell on the real reason he’d been out of it, just slid to the ground, pulled out his phone, and called Lily.

He answered on the third ring. “Jane, what happened on the ice today? You’re a mess.”

“Fuck you,” Shane replied tiredly. “Just an off day. You saw?”

“Always do.”

“Oh.” Shane bit back a smile. Then frowned. “I kind of wish you hadn’t watched this one.”

He could almost hear Ilya’s shrug. “You could have done better. You will next time.”

“Gee, thanks, honey.”

“Honey? What is this? Am I your wife?”

“I’m being sarcastic.”

“I hope so.” Ilya mock-shuddered loud enough for Shane to picture exactly how he had shaken out his shoulders and buzzed his lips together. 

“Add that to the list of things never to call you in bed, I guess.” 

“Good. You are the wife, not me.” 

Shane blanched. “I hope you aren’t going to start saying that to me, then.”

Ilya lowered his voice. “I’m sure I’ll find a way you’ll like.”

Shane’s mind flashed with images of Ilya tracing the word into his skin, pushing him onto his knees, murmuring it with Shane’s mouth around him, and he felt the back of his neck crawling with a flush. “Are you trying to have phone sex right now?” he hissed.

Ilya laughed, the sound tinny in Shane’s ear but no less charming. “Dirty minded,” he reprimanded. “Are you at home?”

Shane sighed. “I haven’t left the rink. The others will be gone soon, though.”

Ilya’s tone grew brisker. “Right. Did something happen on the ice today? Usually you’d have no problem with a player like that.”

Dammit. 

“He was just faster than I thought,” he hedged. “I hadn’t played him before.”

“Surprising, yes, but his handling was sloppy. You can beat him, easy.”

“Well, that’s why it’s so embarrassing, isn’t it?” Shane’s voice grew unintentionally sharper, but Ilya didn’t seem to notice over the phone.

“Pretty new to the league,” he mused. “What’s his name… Jopin?”

“Jakopin,” Shane corrected.

“What made him… why did he get to you?” Ilya asked.

“I dunno. Not what I expected.”

“You’ve read news about him, yes? Lots of conversation– questions…”

“Speculation?” Shane offered.

“Yes. Some scandal last year. Only a few details released. Supposed to be some secret relationship.”

Shane felt his brow furrow. “Did his information get leaked?”

“Yes, texts. Many. Most normal, but the details are unclear. Everyone thinks he is gay or having affair.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? You did not know? I thought this was what made you play bad.”

“I wasn’t even that bad,” Shane complained, avoiding the question.

Ilya humored him. “No, but usually you are amazing. More noticeable if you are not. It’s like if Pike played good. Surprising.”

“Fuck off,” he retorted half-heartedly. “He was better than me tonight.”

“A miracle for him.”

Shane managed a weak laugh.

“I am serious, Shane. What is it? Parents, your team?”

How did he always know? Shane felt his sinuses burn the way they did before his eyes welled up. Preemptively, he rubbed the heels of his hands into his face.

“I… I think you might be right about the team,” he managed quietly.

“How?”

“They’re just being assholes,” he said, turning away from the locker room door as if to protect himself, ignoring the fact that only JJ and Hayden were still in there, and they would probably agree with him, anyway. He hoped.

“Did anyone say something to you?” Ilya asked, voice dangerously quiet.

“Not to me. I’m just tired of… all of them. Everything. The speculation, like you said. The locker room talk and the noise and the judgement, it’s usually fine, I get it, I’m used to it, it’s normal, but it’s just grating on me.”

“Not at you, just around you?” Ilya suggested. 

“Exactly,” Shane agreed, relief pouring through him at the articulation. “It’s, well, it was Jakopin. I can’t play right against someone when I… I guess when I hear too much about them. Being talked about like that… it’s my nightmare. And you know how players are, if you beat the other team they’re a bunch of pussies, and if they beat you, they’re assholes, and probably all faggots anyway.”

“They use that word?”

“So much.” Shane ran a hand over his face, shutting his eyes tight. “I tell them to fuck off when I can, but then I get the weird looks instead. Like maybe it’ll start to be directed at me, sooner or later. It’s so… normal. Everyone is the enemy, it becomes this scary us versus them issue and the them is always gay. Makes it easier to hate, I guess.”

“They don’t listen to you? You are captain.”

“I don’t want to get into fights and everyone knows it. As long as nobody goes off the deep end or says anything in front of the press, I can’t do anything.”

“You wouldn’t report them?”

“It’s practically all of them. I can’t throw the entire team under the bus.”

“Pick one, then,” Ilya suggested. “Worst one. Make an example.”

“...I can’t. That’s worse, and I can’t make waves, it would cost too much. Besides, it’s not even really about the vulgarities, it’s just how they all act when they’re together. It’s too much to try to take on.”

“You could go,” Ilya pointed out half-heartedly. They both knew he wouldn’t.

“They’re still my team. They wouldn’t do well without me.”

Ilya snorted a laugh. “You’ve got that fucking right.”

“It feels like I’m captain of a sinking fucking boat, not a hockey team,” Shane grumbled.

“Come play for Raiders,” Ilya offered. “Nobody could tell us no. We’re too good.”

“I… yeah,” Shane mumbled. “God, I wish. Can you imagine what people would say?”

“Hottest duo in the NHL. Every ad campaign would be shirtless, and we would fuck in the dressing room, then go do photoshoots that are just barely not pornography. Everyone would wonder at us, and we would say nothing. Just let them.”

“That’s the dream,” Shane said dryly. “All eyes on us.”

“I know, I know. But you can understand the appeal, da? At least a little bit. Kissing in public… Nobody can hate you to your face if you are so open.”

Shane wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted it to be true, but he wasn’t sure if even Ilya himself believed what he was saying. The line went quiet for a moment. Then Ilya added, 

“You know, I sort of hoped Scott Hunter was going to fix homophobia for us.”

“Fuck Scott Hunter,” Shane said loudly. “He just gets it all. Lives in the same city as his boyfriend, probably the same house, kissed him on national TV, the poster child for all the NHL’s performative bullshit…”

__

“…getting fuck-tons of money and praise for being the only queer hockey player.”

Hayden couldn’t hear the reply, but Shane laughed.

“Okay, no, you’re right. Fuck the Admirals. But fuck their stupid gay-kiss Stanley Cup win, too.”

What?

Another moment of quiet, then:

“I never kissed my boyfriend on the ice, though,” Shane muttered resentfully. Hayden’s heart thudded at the bitterness in his tone. Shane didn’t talk like that.

Shane tilted his head to the ceiling, listening to the response.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” He stared down the hallway, away from Hayden. He played with a piece of hair at the back of his neck. “I’m so tired of it, you know? Everyone loves gay people so publicly, and it just… it’s hard to watch, knowing the truth. It’s not idyllic, it’s not special or unique, it’s not a good thing for anyone. But as long as you can find a new way to praise the diversity of hockey, nobody gives a shit about anything but the show of it all.”

The hum of a reply, indecipherable.

“Yeah. Hell, I’m sure it’s awful! But he’s still out. Out with his goddamn boyfriend who looks the exact same as him, I mean, really?”

Hayden blinked in surprise. He heard a harsh, abrupt laugh on the other end, and a murmured agreement.

“Yeah, that too,” Shane replied with a snicker. 

Another stretch of silence. Hayden felt like his skin was crawling off of his bones.

“I– Of course I am. I mean, we’ll never know what it’s like, right? I’m not about to become friends with Scott goddamn Hunter, just for all of that. But it must be nice. At least a little bit, underneath it all. Nobody saying it to your face.” He sighed, and he suddenly looked so, so tired.

Hayden unintentionally leaned closer, his shoulder brushing the door open further. The hinge creaked, and he had less than a second to pretend he had just opened it, rather than having been peering out for the last two minutes, before Shane swiveled his head to see.

“Shit, I gotta go,” Shane said to the phone, lowering his voice. He nodded awkwardly to Hayden, holding up one finger. “Yeah. I’ll see you soon.” A pause. “Me too.”

He hung up and stood, shaking his legs out.

“Sorry about that, did I keep you waiting?”

“Nah, all good,” Hayden replied, feeling as if his brain were stuttering. “I was just chatting with JJ.”

“After-game gossip, right?” Shane said, offering a wan smile. “Anything good?”

“You’ll have to ask him yourself. We’re heading to dinner, want to join?”

Shockingly, Shane nodded. “I’d like that.”

“Who were you talking to?” Hayden asked, wondering if he’d be able to obtain any real answer.

“Oh– just an old friend,” Shane said, stammering a bit. As usual. “How much did you hear?”

Hayden raised an eyebrow at him. “Nothing much,” he said, confident in his ability to lie better than Shane could.

Shane looked relieved, and Hayden shrugged off a tremor down his spine.

What the hell had that been about?

Chapter 2: JJ Boiziau

Chapter Notes

Holy shit guys, thank you so much for such a warm reception... most of my fics don't ever receive this many kudos, let alone within the first 12 hours (!), and I just want to say I appreciate all of your kindnesses so much <3

JJ drove him to the restaurant. This was good because it meant Hayden could ask Shane for a ride home, and Shane would say yes because he always did, despite Hayden living half an hour away from him. This would give him plenty of time to tactfully unpack whatever it was he’d overheard and clearly just misunderstood, and he would end the night asleep in his home, safe and sound in the knowledge that his best friend was not a bigot.

JJ was the perfect mediator, unknowing but eager, nonetheless. One of the most actively online people Hayden knew, he made sure to share the wealth of knowledge accrued at every opportunity, which cut through the tension in any room with ease, imagined or otherwise. As they scarfed pasta around a table at Hayden’s favorite mid-range Italian restaurant, JJ told them in hushed tones everything he’d been able to uncover about today’s primary opponent: the Sabres’ Antonio Jakopin. 

“Last fall, he was hacked, and texts between him and his main contacts were leaked,” he recounted reverently. “Most of it was covered up and deleted within a few hours, but one of the chains gained too much traction, and he had to put out a statement. The thing is, it’s between him and someone named Oliver, and they’re pretty…” —He paused, searching for the right word— “...Salacious.”

Hayden laughed. “Salacious, man, really?”

JJ frowned at him and made a gesture with his fork for him to shut up. “Not explicit,” he clarified around a mouthful of marinara. “No pictures, of course. That would clear things up.” He laughed. “I mean, you’ve gotta applaud the guy for managing multiple weeks of sexting without mentioning dick or tits—”

“Lower your voice!” Hayden hissed at him, “This is a family establishment.”

JJ rolled his eyes. “Regardless,” he continued in a stage whisper. “They’re just kind of overly flirty, nothing really inappropriate. Lucky for him. If it were me—” he crossed himself with one hand— “pray for my career.” 

Shane laughed weakly. “Yeah, you’d be fucked,” he agreed.

“Oh. Thanks, Hollander,” JJ replied mockingly. “Every mother’s dream son-in-law, probably never sent a dick pic. Don’t talk to me about this.”

Shane half-choked on a bite of his own food. Coughing, he still managed a glare at JJ before downing half of his glass of water. 

“What was that?” Hayden asked. “Are you ok?”

Shane grimaced. “Yeah, I just remembered the five hundred nudes I’ve sent to different girls this week that I need to delete.”

“Go fuck yourself,” JJ chuckled. 

As JJ continued his tale, Hayden watched Shane’s hand crawl across the table to his phone. He didn’t turn it over or pick it up, just rested a hand over the top, as if he needed to know it was still there.

“So he’s married to a woman,” JJ was explaining, “Celeste, and has been for three years. And nobody can figure out from the texts if Oliver is a secret name for some woman he’s cheating with, or an actual man. And if he really is being unfaithful, or if Celeste is in on it and covering for him so he doesn’t have to come out.”

“What did he say about it?” Shane asked, looking mildly uncomfortable. Hayden studied his expression, and Shane didn’t meet his eyes.

“He said that he had discussed things with Celeste and the two of them were leaving it at that. And that he wouldn’t be commenting further on his own identity or relationships because it wasn’t public business.”

“Oh.” Shane looked thoughtful. “Good for him.”

“Good for him, sure. What about for me, though?” JJ polished off his plate. “Everyone just talks on and on but nothing has been revealed in months, and probably won’t ever be.”

Hayden ignored this. “No wonder everyone hates him. They can’t figure him out.”

Shane frowned down at his noodles. “You’d think they could just leave it be.” His grip on his phone tightened.

JJ grinned unhappily. “Not how hockey players work, is it? All we know about anyone from other teams is news and rumors. If that’s the only judge of character you get, especially for someone relatively new, who hasn’t built anything of his own, you take it seriously.”

“You don’t think we know each other at all? Even after playing against each other, being around each other at games and tournaments for years?” Shane’s brows furrowed.

“From other teams?” JJ shook his head. “Nah, man. Hockey can tell you a bit about who someone is off the ice, but not much. And there’s no time to fraternize, otherwise.”

“That’s kind of lonely,” Hayden said, no longer enjoying the discussion.

“What are women for?” JJ replied with a laugh.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” Shane said suddenly, and stood, snatching his phone as he went. Hayden watched him leave. Usually he could get some idea, but it was becoming harder and harder to figure out what the hell went on inside Hollander’s head.

JJ was good company, but not good enough to hide Shane’s nearly fifteen-minute absence from Hayden’s notice.

“What were you doing in there?” JJ asked, upfront as ever, when he returned.

“Had to call my mom,” Shane said, sheepish. 

“Does she need to know why you’re out past bedtime?” JJ teased. “You can tell her I’ll get you home safe.”

Shane went a bit pink. “No, no, just a promotion I have to film tomorrow. The time got changed.” He checked his watch. “Speaking of, I might need to head out pretty soon.”

“Always busy, Hollander!” JJ laughed. “Get some rest, dude. I’ll pay.”

Shane frowned. “No, I—”

“Waiter!” JJ exclaimed, before he could protest. “Don’t take this man’s card, I’m paying. Waiter!”

Hayden glanced between them. If he asked for a ride, JJ would offer first. He had no good reason to turn him down, and if he explained that he wanted to talk to Shane about something, he would definitely be pestered for it later.

So he kept his mouth shut, and when they had paid and put on their coats and meandered to the door, he met Shane’s eyes and tried to convey urgency. 

“We’ll, I’m off,” JJ said easily. “You both have rides?”

Shane didn’t get a chance to respond before Hayden nodded quickly, cutting him off. “Yeah, all good. See you tomorrow, man.”

“Get home safe,” JJ replied, waving as he walked away.

Shane turned to Hayden. “You need a ride?” he asked, brows raised.

Hayden gave him a wry look. “Yes, please.”

Shane nodded, unperturbed, and they walked in silence for several moments.

Hayden followed him to the parking garage, hands in his pockets. They didn’t speak for several minutes, which was normal for Shane, but not something Hayden handled as well. “I, uh… I overheard part of your conversation earlier,” he admitted, the words bubbling out of him. “On the phone.”

Shane stopped dead in his tracks. “You… sorry, what?”

The garage’s lighting cast his face into deep shadow: he looked half-terrified when Hayden repeated himself. “I heard you talking to… whoever it was. On the phone. I don’t think I caught anything personal, just… I had a question.”

Shane nodded, flicking his keys around in one hand and hitting the unlock button. He didn’t look at Hayden. “Sure. Okay.” He opened the door robotically and half-gestured for Hayden to follow.

Hayden slid into the seat. Shane stared straight ahead at the concrete wall of the lot. His hands clutched at each other in his lap.

“I heard you talking about Scott Hunter,” Hayden started, feeling stupid. “And you just… I guess you sounded really judgemental, I— this sounds weird— do you have a problem with him being gay?”

Shane blinked. His hands relaxed partially. He hazarded a glance to Hayden, his eyes sharp, jaw set. “What?” 

“Do you have a problem with Scott Hunter?” Hayden repeated. “Being gay.”

Shane looked like he might burst into laughter or tears. He dragged a hand over his face as if attempting to scrub his skin clean, and rubbed at his eyes roughly. He exhaled a long, shuddering breath into his joined palms.

Then, seeming to return to himself, he placed his hands on the wheel at 10 and 2, took hold of the gearshift and brought the car into reverse, began backing out of the spot, glancing out the rearview. He gave Hayden another sideways look.

“I have a problem with Scott Hunter because he’s rude, and he’s arrogant. It makes me anxious watching him play and seeing how he always burns out halfway through a season. I don’t like the Admirals, either. I don’t care about his sexuality,” he continued slowly. “Did I… what exactly did you hear me say?” He began pulling forward.

Hayden racked his brain. “You said… uh, fuck the Admirals and their win and how he kissed his boyfriend on the ice in front of everyone. And you said something about how everyone pretends it’s so great to be gay, but it’s really a bad thing to be, actually.”

Shane seemed to be regulating his breathing. Hayden watched him, half-scared.

Then he placed a hand on Hayden’s shoulder. “That must have sounded pretty bad.”

Hayden nodded, silent.

Shane frowned. “I… I guess my problem— well, I never had a problem with his sexuality, to clarify. I’m not– I don’t care. It’s more so that I’ve been following the news and the NHL’s statements and his new sponsorships, and the way it’s being handled is… disturbing to me. Like, uh, my rookie season, you wouldn’t believe how many spokespeople said to me how excited they were to see an Asian player. Nobody’s talking about inclusivity, not really. For my mom, yeah, it can be about inspiring kids who might not see themselves in this world, but in all other aspects, it’s marketing, it’s a diversity quota, and I met that for so many people. Half of my brand sponsorships started out with companies telling me to my face how they wanted to increase sales among new demographics. And so, well, it’s obvious to me— and every player of color— that Hunter is the next target, shiny new promo campaigns all over him and his boyfriend. It makes me kind of sick.”

Hayden felt his posture relax. “Oh.”

“I was thinking about it in the locker room, today,” Shane added. “With all the talk about Jakopin, all the judgement and anger at him, and it just… one player coming out isn’t a change. Maybe it means something for the Admirals, but it doesn’t for us, and it doesn’t matter how many rainbows the league waves around if everyone’s calling each other fags behind closed doors.” He uttered the word so intensely, it looked like he was biting back a scream. He exhaled again, shakily.

They turned onto a main street, the same way Hayden drove himself home most nights. City lamps rushed by.

A feeling of responsibility settled on Hayden’s shoulders, the need to say the right thing, to prove he would do the right thing. Like he owed it to Shane somehow, for doubting him. Sandpaper lined his mouth.

“I—fuck, man, I hadn’t even been thinking about it like that.” He shook his head a bit. “You’re right, of course. I was only thinking about it in terms of our own locker room, and even then… it’s not enough, nothing’s changing. It didn’t occur to me how much the image gets twisted by the media.”

Shane shrugged uncomfortably. “It’s never going to be as good on the inside as it’s made out to be, we all know that. It just fucks me up sometimes, thinking about it.”

“Have you spoken to him? Hunter, I mean.”

Shane worked his jaw. “No. Maybe I should, but I don’t know what to say. Have you?”

“Didn’t even occur to me, to be honest,” Hayden admitted. “Haven’t really ever talked to the guy before.” 

“It was interesting,” Shane began, seemingly changing gears. “What JJ was saying at dinner. Makes me wonder how well we really know any of each other, even after so long playing together. LIke, how many of them have ever even thought about this sort of thing?”

“I think he meant competitors, not our own teammates.”

“I know, but I meant our teammates.” He drummed his fingers on the wheel. “I don’t know if I ever really tried to know them, but all that’s left now is this exhaustion from being around them all, all the warped expectations and beliefs that they carry around.”

Hayden frowned. “You weren’t very sociable in your early years… still aren’t, honestly. I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

“I didn’t used to think so either, but now I can’t really tell if the distance is out of habit, or when it became intentional avoidance,” he admitted. “Not a great trait in a captain.”

Hayden turned to study him. “They still like you,” he found himself saying. “You know that, right? You’ve had everyone’s respect for a long time.”

Shane’s hands clenched on the wheel. “I know that, but I… it’s not really something I consider true. I think I’ve only shared as much as I had to to earn that respect, and if I’m any more open about anything, they’ll just take it away.”

Hayden laughed shortly, then stopped, trying to decide what Shane was getting at. “What could you possibly share that would make them forget everything else?” 

Icy dread pooled in his stomach as Shane said, “They might find out I’m someone they hate.”

Hayden shut his mouth. 

Shane didn’t elaborate. He never had. But he didn’t need to. His never confronting it head-on meant that Hayden wasn’t sure if he himself was allowed to. 

How could he even begin to respond to that? 

Chapter End Notes

Hope you enjoyed! I think I'll be following a daily posting schedule moving forward

Writing aside; because this has gotten so much traction, I’m going to get up on my soapbox for a sec and share a brief psa
I live in one of the biggest hockey cities in the US, Minneapolis, and if you’ve been following our news at all you’ll know we’re suffering an intense amount of human rights violations. People are being kidnapped, deported, and murdered on the street by ICE without just cause, without warrants or any legal justification whatsoever. It’s a really frightening time for all of us, particularly people of color and our immigrant communities, and our government is not protecting us the way it should. For my US readers, if you get anything from this (other than how sexy and awesome my writing is), let it be to please read the news, please get involved, please protect your fellow community members, and please vote in the november midterms. Thanks so much for reading, again.

And now, on with your regularly scheduled faggotry

Chapter 3: Rose Landry

Chapter Notes

I got bad news guys... our lovely dame is not actually in this chapter :( sorry for the deception

“Never have I ever fucked a superstar,” Mitty said gleefully. 

Shane looked inquiringly into the contents of his glass. Wilson nudged him. “He means you, buddy.”

Shane furrowed his brow. “I thought superstar was musician-specific, which isn’t quite the same thing. Logistically.”

Mitty laughed. “Shut up and drink, Hollander.”

He did. 

It wasn’t a new game: the questions weren’t particularly original; they frequented this bar multiple times a month, and it might as well have been the same night as it has been two Tuesdays before, or the first week of the season, or last year. A vague sense of comfort resided in the event’s habituality, and Shane could appreciate the predictable nature of such things.

Only half of them had liquor in their cups. Shane had promised that if he managed to down an entire can over the course of Never Have I Ever, his next one would be stronger than the ginger ale he was currently nursing, which was as good as declaring permanent sobriety in the eyes of the team.

Never have I ever had two women in one night,” someone offered. 

Shane let a brief smile twitch over his lips. Safe for now.

JJ lifted his glass instantly, to whoops and hollers. “What, you haven’t?” he asked with a slow grin. 

A few others followed his lead. Hayden met Shane’s eyes and rolled his own. 

“Never have I ever gotten someone pregnant,” Roy said. 

Haden, who was sipping straight water, threw back the entire thing like a shot. Wilson clapped him on the back.

“Never have I ever skipped practice to get laid,” Michel Renaud began.

“Never?” Mitty asked. “Good on you, rook.” He took a long sip of his glass, eyes flicking to Shane’s, as if to gauge his reaction.

Shane shrugged and drank from his own. Mitty chuckled knowingly.

“Never have I ever blacked out before a gameday,” Jack Laine said slyly. 

Shane aimed a frown at him. 

“What? I haven’t.”

A few brave souls lifted their glasses inconspicuously.

“I’ll remember that,” Shane threatened.

“No, no, no, Capitane,” JJ goaded tipsily. “We are off the clock.”

Shane swallowed his complaints with a grumble. We’re never off the clock. But saying things like that tended to get him yelled at, so he settled for, “If I smell alcohol on anyone’s breath before a game, I’ll get you benched.”

“Wouldn’t expect any less,” Hayden said cheerfully. 

“Never have I ever dated another athlete,” Taylor suggested, changing focus.

Shane nodded thankfully until he registered the question. He turned his head while drinking, as if that would allow him to dodge the attention. 

“Ohhh, athletics,” JJ mused. “We can work with that. Never have I ever,” he frowned, bleary-eyed, then continued after a pause. “Had marathon sex.”

“That’s not what athletics means, Boiziau.”

He waved a hand as if flicking away the idea. The gesture reminded Shane of Ilya. “Technicalities.”

Shane hesitated before whispering to Hayden, “How long does it have to be to be marathon?” 

Hayden raised his brows in surprise. “If you have to ask, I think it automatically is.” He kept his voice low and leaned further over the table to hide Shane as he drank. “We’re talking about this later.”

“We really don’t have to.”

“No, I think we do,” he replied sunnily. “I can’t believe you keep holding out on me like this.”

Around the table people drank and cheered, and Shane failed to realize it was his turn until the team’s expectant gazes began settling on him. He swallowed harshly. 

“Never have I ever, uhh, misused the locker rooms or shared bathrooms. Sexually.” It wasn’t until after he said it that he realized it had been a lie. At least if that pre-rookie-season showering fiasco counted. Or the texts he’d send in the locker rooms. Or the photos. Now that he thought of it, he really should have said something else. He prayed it didn’t show on his face.

To his astonishment, everyone was quiet for a moment. Then Hayden, Shane’s guardian angel, took a massive gulp of water.

“Really? Pike?” Roy asked incredulously. 

“Are you all seriously not dating people who have sports fetishes?” Hayden replied, stone cold sober. “What’s the point of even being a hockey player, man?”

Shane agreed silently. 

“Does jacking off count?” someone asked.

Shane frowned. “Sure, I dunno. Does that change your answer?”

In near-synchronicity, the majority of the group drank.

Shane closed his eyes. “Never mind, I did not want to know that.”

JJ patter his shoulder comfortingly. “Sorry, man.”

Hayden frowned contemplatively. “Never have I ever… threesome’d.”

“God, you are such a wife guy,” JJ groused before downing the last of his glass. “Do I win?”

“Just get another,” Taylor suggested.

“Maybe try water next,” Shane counteroffered.

JJ flipped him off. “Okay, dad.”

Shane shrugged. “Fine. I’m not the one driving you home.”

JJ stepped around their teammates as he wriggled out of the booth.

Shane watched him approach the bar, losing track of the game continuing around him as he noticed a tall man reach for JJ’s arm. The man smiled at him before flagging down the bartender and making a ‘two’ gesture with his hand.

They exchanged a back and forth, with JJ pointing over to the team for a moment, and the man glancing back. He was beautiful, Shane couldn't help but notice, with a romantic, angular nose. 

They walked back together, drinks in hand, and Shane wondered if he was someone the team knew; maybe another player. They were nearly back when the man stopped, and Shane tried not to look like he was listening. 

“...Give you my number?” the man was asking with a faint smile. 

“Oh!” JJ faltered. “I'm sorry, I… thank you, but you are not my type. I apologize if I gave the wrong impression.”

“Ah. Should have known better than to get excited about a hockey player,” the stranger responded, offering a sheepish grin.

JJ patted his shoulder. “You will find one. Thank you,” he added, lifting his drink to catch the light.

“Have a good night,” the man said, turning away. 

JJ returned to the table, drink in hand.

“What happened there?” Frank Olsson asked with a sympathetic grin.

JJ laughed. “Everyone wants me. It’s okay, you can be jealous.”

“Jealous of getting hit on by dudes? I don’t think so,” Olsson retorted.

JJ slid back to his seat with a shrug. “He meant no harm.” He took a sip of the drink, and then, as if testing the waters, added, “And it’s not like he wasn’t handsome."

“Ha— you’re so gay, dude,” Olsson replied, quick as anything, as if the words had been just waiting to spill out of him at the first sign of difference.

Shane felt frozen to his seat. He wanted to do anything, catch JJ’s eye, clink his glass, anything to acknowledge what it meant for him to have said something when he didn’t have to. Instead he sat, hands curled together in his lap, a feeling of intense warmth towards JJ spreading through him with no way to express it. He’d bring it up in private.

In response to Olsson, JJ simply frowned. “What, because I am attractive and don’t mind being hit on?”

Hayden clinked his glass. “Hear, hear, man.”

Shane found his voice. “Let’s just keep playing. Who’s turn is it?”

“Yours,” Hayden told him.

“Oh. Shit. um. Never have I ever gotten into a fight on the ice.”

“Does the thing with Scott Hunter not count then, or…?” someone asked.

“I didn’t actually touch him,” Shane argued. “So, no.” He looked around, trying to find a different source of attention. “Olsson, I know you have.”

Olsson grumbled and took a drink.

Hayden’s turn. He tilted his head in consideration before speaking. “Never have I ever had hickeys so bad other people noticed.”

The majority drank. Shane didn’t. Hayden raised his brows at him but said nothing. Shane made a face in return. “Is there something I’m missing?” he asked under his breath.

“We’ll talk later,” Hayden said, which made Shane’s anxiety spike.

“Has anyone other than you noticed anything?” he hissed. 

Hayden shook his head. “Don’t think so, anyway.” 

Shane let himself slump back. 

“Never have I ever been pegged,” the next person boasted. 

“Like with a strap, or…?” JJ raised an eyebrow.

“No, another dude’s dick. What do you think, man?”

JJ shrugged and drank. “Just checking.”

Shane exhaled in relief at the clarification. 

“And you say you’re not gay,” Roy crowed. 

JJ frowned in his direction. “I think I would know better than anyone, no? Stop asking weird sex questions if you don’t want weird sex answers.”

To that, Roy didn’t reply, just frowned down at his own drink. Hopefully, Shane thought, not willing to risk tonight’s camaraderie.

Wilson spoke up. “Never have I ever answered the phone while having sex.”

Shane drank. He could probably have lied if he needed to, he told himself. He was sure he could. It was just a game. 

Still, he amused himself watching Hayden’s mouth fall open in horror. He didn’t usually get to be surprising.

“There’s my capitane!” JJ exclaimed, laughing in glee. 

“Who??” Hayden demanded. “Who were you on the phone with?”

Shane smiled at him. “Can’t say.” 

Hayden pointed a finger at him. “That’s horrible.”

Shane shrugged. “It was only once.” He would do it again, if Ilya brought it up. He kept that thought to himself.

“Okay,” Taylor said thoughtfully when his turn came around again. “What else have you done, Shane Hollander?”

“Why is it about me?” Shane asked hurriedly. 

“You’re our poster child,” Taylor responded. “There’s got to be some bad boy in you.”

If by having ‘bad boy in him’ they meant the captain of the Raiders, then yes, he thought hysterically. If mind-readers were real, his career would be over, he realized as his head crowded with memories of the sheer volume of sex they’d had. He usually tried not to think about it all at once.

“Never have I ever come more than twice.”

“This is kind of the same as the marathon sex question,” Shane pointed out as he took a drink.

“Did you drink to that one?” Taylor asked, agape.

“Oh. No,” Shane lied.

“But you did to this one.” Taylor hummed. “Very interesting.”

“Fuck you all,” Shane said. Simple, to the point. Something kept him from leaving.

Gilbert Comeau was next. “Never have I ever made my partner come more than twice.”

Shane drank again, and poured the remainder of the can’s contents into his now-empty glass. With alarm, he realized he was nearing the bottom. He should take smaller sips. 

____

Makes me wonder how well we really know each other, he had said.

The thought spun circles in Hayden’s mind, every aspect of the idea flashing through his head again and again as he watched the game progress around him. 

After another few questions and an excess of team encouragement, Shane had cracked a beer. 

Hayden didn’t track the questions anymore, just observed the interactions of their group around the table, regretting his lack of attention whenever Shane drank, and he realized he had missed what was being revealed, again.

He didn’t really consider someone’s sex life to be relevant to understanding any other aspects of them as a person, at least not the specifics. But with Shane it might be different, not so much because he obviously had different preferences than how he initially presented himself, but because he had actively hidden everything about this from all of them for his entire time on the team. And now he was just… letting it all out over his first drink of the night. For fun. He wasn't sure what to make of that. What had changed?

“Never have I ever eaten ass,” Taylor offered.

JJ looked at him with wide-eyed surprise. “You haven’t?” He threw back the remains of his drink. Hayden wasn’t sure if he should be counting how many he’d had.

Shane took a much more subtle sip of his own.

Taylor shrugged. “Who knows what’s been there,” he said awkwardly. 

JJ rolled his eyes, and his head along with them. “That’s what douching is for, duh.”

“Man, you know way too much about butt stuff, I’m sorry,” Taylor replied, laughing into his own drink.

“Sorry for me… being creative in the bedroom? For having a good time and not being ashamed of my wants? For doing things properly and safely??” JJ giggled to himself. “All I’m saying is, never have I ever lost a girlfriend because I wasn’t willing to try out something new.”

Almost unnoticeably, Shane tilted his head to one side, thinking. He left his glass on the table as a few quieter teammates drank.

“Never have I ever had my ass eaten,” he decided, squinting in thought. “Wait, no. Uh. Never have I ever had my first time with someone in my own bed?”

“Never?” Hayden asked, agape.

Shane frowned. “What? We practically live in hotel rooms. And it’s not like I’ve slept with that many people.” He wrinkled his nose. “And I hate getting off-schedule for washing my sheets.”

“Wait, wait, let’s go back to that first question,” JJ interrupted. “Do you mean to say that you have had your ass eaten?”

“Sure? I mean, yeah.”

“God, what a fucking legend,” JJ sighed. “And it only took us ten years to pry it out of you.”

“It’s private,” Shane protested. “Would you honestly tell me… like, what sex toys you own, if I asked?”

JJ nodded instantly. “Yeah, sure. I can recommend some brands.”

Shane dropped his head back over the seat. “Okay, I give up.”

JJ patted his shoulder sympathetically, then turned to the rest of the table. “Well, you heard the man. Drink if your first time has ever been in your own bed.”

Predictably, almost all of them did. Hayden took a swig of his water, hoping it would alleviate the oncoming storm of a headache brewing at his temples.

“Never have I ever had sex in public,” he said halfheartedly, not expecting the group to erupt in discourse.

“How public is public, is the question,” Olsson mused. “Like, so that someone else might conceivably see, or hear, or?”

“Hear,” JJ decided. “Anything else is just some exhibitionist shit.”

“What, haven’t you done that, too?” someone teased, elbowing him. 

Shane took another drink, long enough after the question had passed that Hayden couldn’t tell if it was in response to his prompt or just because he felt like it. He decided he didn’t care to find out.

Questions went on around him. Phone sex, car sex— where the hell was Shane even finding time to do all this? Hayden let the discussion pass him by, deciding he was really done caring, and only then began to notice the way Shane’s shoulders swayed slightly from side to side, the way his hands had finally gone still on the table.

Shane poked his arm. “Gonna run to the bathroom,” he said quietly, voice too close to his ear. 

Hayden scooted out of the way and watched as he went, noting the surprising unsteadiness of his steps, particularly for someone who spent half of his life on perfectly smooth ice. 

Once Shane was gone from earshot, comments began flying. This time, Hayden listened.

“Goddamn, I didn’t know Hollander had it in him.”

“Seriously, who knew he was such a closet freak?”

“Next we’ll find out he can outdrink us.”

“Hah! That’ll never happen.”

Hayden abruptly turned to the rest of the table. “Okay, wait, guys, I’m serious; does he seem okay to you? He’s acting way too drunk for that one beer he’s had.”

Olsson shrugged. “I think he’s just a lightweight. You know how he is.”

“We all saw him open his drink, right?” Hayden asked, ignoring him. “No one could have put anything in it?”

Roy nudged Hayden’s side. “We’re all here, what could happen? So he’s cutting loose for once in his life. Let him enjoy it.”

Hayden glared at him, suddenly deeply relieved to not have drunk anything himself. “Are you serious?”

Roy raised his eyebrows irritably. “Yes? Hollander’s usually such a stick in the mud, dude. I mean, I know you’re his friend, but you know how he is. So what is he’s finally opening up a bit? We’re just having fun.”

“So when I ask if anyone saw something slipped into his drink, is anyone going to be honest with me?” Hayden found himself asking, voice lowering.

No one spoke. 

JJ coughed. “That’s, um, that’s a heavy accusation to throw around, Hayde.”

Hayden frowned at him.

“I saw nothing,” JJ added hastily. “And I’m drunker than he is, anyway. I could not tell you a thing.”

Hayden sighed. “You’re right. I’m… sorry. I’m gonna go check on him.”

The stride across the bar floor to the restrooms felt like a walk of shame. He was sure the team’s comments would turn to the topic of him: buzzkill, overprotective, overcareful, oversensitive. He walked faster.

The bathroom was empty, and Hayden sent up a prayer of thanks.

Shane leaned against the sink, nearly sitting on it, head tilted, both hands holding his phone to his ear. “Ya teya… lublu. Yateyalyublyu. Lublu. How’s that?”

Hayden frowned. Shane only spoke English and French. Of this he was pretty damn sure. If he spoke a third language, Japanese was the most likely contender, but this didn’t sound anything like that either. 

A voice came through the phone in the same language, hollow and reverberated. The volume must be all the way up.  

Shane smiled and closed his eyes. “Kraseewee,” he added, with what seemed to be a distinctly Canadian accent, if Hayden knew anything about such things. “Tak kraseewee.”

The voice spoke again, and Hayden forced himself to talk over it so that he wouldn’t overhear something Shane didn’t want if the speaker changed to English.

“Shane, are you okay?” he said, and Shane whirled around, the phone still clutched in both hands. 

“Shit,” he said, his voice hollow.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Hayden hastened to say, hands outstretched. “It’s just… been a lot, tonight, and I think we should go home. The team’s being… you know how they are.”

‘You know how he is,’ echoed in his head. He shook the thought away. 

Shane didn’t speak. 

“It’s Lily, right?” Hayden asked quietly, knowing the answer. Shane’s expression froze. “I don’t care, Shane. I don’t care who Lily is. But everyone is getting too drunk, and so are you, and I think it’s time to call it a night, okay?”

Shane nodded silently.

When he didn’t move, Hayden walked closer. He lowered the phone from Shane’s ear with his own hand. He clicked the speakerphone button. The contact had no photo but the L initial, which made Hayden’s heart hurt in an absent, dull way.

“Lily? It’s… uh, this is Hayden. Shane’s friend. We’ve been at the bar for a while, and Shane’s had a bit much to drink, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, so I’m taking him home. I don’t know who you are, so don’t say anything if you don’t want me to know. I just want you to know that I don’t care, as long as you take care of him, too. Have a good night.”

He held his breath and looked at Shane, verifying if this was an acceptable thing to do. Shane smiled at him, almost tearily. 

He hung up. Before he handed the phone back, a text popped up.

Lily

Ok. Thank you, Pike. Get home safe.

He didn’t let himself dwell on the fact that Lily knew who he was, at least by reputation: that they were comfortable enough to address him by his last name alone, which indicated a confusing degree of familiarity. Maybe Shane talked about him, he thought idealistically.

Shane mumbled nonsenses as Hayden helped him out of the bathroom and to the door. Some phrases in that strange new language peppered in with his usual English syllables, and Hayden wondered furiously how he had gotten so drunk and carefree. It would have been a relief, but he couldn’t make himself feel anything other than scared. Shane hated loose tongues, especially his own.

“I hope that was okay,” Hayden said eventually as they walked outside, arm around his waist, hand braced on his ribs to hold him up, and Shane’s arm slung awkwardly across his own shoulders, where he rested a good portion of his weight. “I know you wouldn’t have let me do it if you were sober, so maybe that wasn’t right of me, but I needed you to know it, and you never leave that door open otherwise.”

Shane sighed, his usual long winded, Atlas-carrying-the-world sigh. “I’m glad you know. Even if I couldn’t get it together enough to say it out loud.”

“Which part?”

“The gay part.”

Oh. 

“I said it,” Shane remarked, seeming impressed with himself.

“You did, bud. Good job.”

“It’s stupid…” Shane began, tone meandering. “I’ve been with him so long, and still, even after everything we’ve talked about and all the acceptance, I just can’t bear to change anything with the team. I know it won’t go well. I can tell.”

“Him… Lily?” Hayden managed.

Shane nodded. “You can meet him soon. I should have introduced you by now. I hadn’t… I haven’t really come out to anyone, not on purpose, and it scares me shitless.”

“That’s okay,” Hayden said gently. “You don’t owe anyone that.”

“Hmm, I sort of do, though. You– you’ve given me everything about yourself, you welcome me in, and I just hide myself away. Only thing I never mess up, the hiding.”

“You’ve– you’ve had a much harder time of it than me.” Hayden unlocked his car, walking around to the passenger door to deposit Shane inside. He returned to the driver’s side before continuing. “I don’t know what it’s like, I can’t blame you.”

Shane didn’t speak as Hayden pulled onto the street. 

“I think someone spiked my ginger ale,” he said thoughtfully. “It tasted weird, but I thought that was just because it was off-brand. And then I had another one.”

“So this is three drinks, not just one,” Hayden finished. “That’s starting to make more sense.”

“Four,” Shane corrected. “I almost finished that second beer.”

“What second beer?” Hayden asked incredulously before giving up. “You’re still a lightweight,” he added under his breath. “I’m glad we got out when we did.”

“I’m glad you got me out when you did,” Shane corrected.

“I’ve always got your back,” Hayden said. “I mean that.”

Shane smiled a loose, faded grin, like a crumpled paper unfolding. 

“You’ve never come out to anyone before?”

He laughed tiredly. “Not intentionally. Rose knew. Pretty fucking obvious if I couldn’t get it up for a literal A-list celebrity.”

Hayden whistled. 

“And my parents know. They walked in on me and… me and Lily, this last summer.”

“Oh. Shit, man.”

“Worst conversation of my life,” Shane said ruefully. “We’re okay, though. Just morti–mortifying.”

“You, uh– you don’t have to tell me this all now,” Hayden began, sensing Shane might spill something he would regret. “We have time.”

“I know. I just want you to know. It wasn’t intentional, the choice to not tell you. More like, I couldn’t imagine telling anyone, and the others just found out. I don’t want you to think that I don’t trust you. Because I do.”

Hayden patted his knee absently, trying to focus on the road and not on the intense relief running through his veins.

“I’m really glad you told me,” he admitted, voice unsteady. “Thank you.”

When they got to Shane’s apartment, Hayden parked the car and walked him upstairs. He made sure they hadn’t lost Shane’s keys, phone, or wallet, and that there was water by his bedside table, and he plugged Shane’s phone into the charger so that he’d be able to call Lily in the morning. By the time he had finished the third task, Shane was asleep. 

Chapter End Notes

What Shane is saying (or trying to)

—

I love you: ya tebya lyublyu (я тебя люблю) - I feel like we all know this one by this point but the poor boy kinda butchers it tbh

Beautiful: Krasivyy (красивый)

So beautiful: tak krasivo (так красиво)

Chapter 4: Lily

Chapter Notes

Shane was texting before the game, again. 

It wasn’t really a problem: sure, Hayden himself always put his phone away ten minutes beforehand, and sure, he didn’t think it was good for anyone’s focus to be looking at a screen right up until getting on the ice, and sure, it did make him a bit nervous seeing how agitated Shane could become from a single text message, but he wasn’t the captain. 

The problem arose when Shane set his phone down to run to the next room for a drink of water, without turning the damn thing off, right next to Hayden’s jersey, on the edge of the bench where the illuminated screen shone temptingly over the wood.

Hayden was a good friend, but he wasn’t a saint, and after recent events he was, if anything, only more curious. He picked it up. 

Lily

Looking forward to tonight?

You have got to stop texting me before games.

Lily

You should stop replying then

But in my experience, it only makes you perform better when you’re hot and bothered.

Not just on the ice

Fuck off.

Lily

Later ;)

Personally, it helps me get warmed up too

I feel more energized if I imagine all the things I’ll do to you tonight, it really gets the blood rushing

Pulsing

Throbbing

Who is teaching you these words??

This is strategic interference.

Lily

The interference comes later, when I’m bending you over your counter and fucking you until you can’t walk. No wins for the metros if their captain is in crutches

Hayden slammed the phone down and stared at the wall in front of him. Fucking Christ.

Shane returned, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand, his face about as red as Hayden felt. He snatched the phone up, eyes scanning the text —likely the reason he’d set it down in the first place— then, to Hayden’s complete horror, hit a button and lifted the phone to his ear. He walked towards the one-person bathroom. Not the shared one, thank god.

An easy grin pulled across his face before he turned out of sight.

Hayden sat down heavily on the bench and tried not to think about the dreadful, dreadful things he had just learned.

At least Shane had met his match, he supposed half-heartedly. It seemed like Lily was as adamant at protecting his home team as Shane was to defeat them. Maybe that was good. Clearly he was into whatever the hell Lily did to him, or they wouldn’t have kept seeing each other for so long. It was probably completely fine, and sane, and consensual. Hayden just never wanted to think about it again.

Not two minutes later, Marcel popped his head into the dressing room. “Where’s Hollander?” he barked. “The press wants to see him.” 

“Bathroom, I think,” Hayden managed, gesturing vaguely in the direction his friend had vanished.

“Go get him, will you?” 

Hayden turned to look at the suggestion with the distaste it merited, but their PR manager had already left again. He stood and walked to the bathroom at the pace of a funeral march. Better him overhear than someone else, he told himself.

He pressed his ear to the door. Shane was laughing.

“If you don’t want that, maybe you shouldn’t be edging me, asshole.”

His tone sobered slightly. “If you keep texting me like that, I might not last all night.”

Silence, then: “No, I’m serious. Might have to relieve some of the tension.” 

“You can listen,” he offered. A soft, groaning sound.

Hayden froze. What was he doing, just standing here? He steeled himself and rapped three times on the door. On the other side, Shane fell silent.

“Shane? Press wants a minute,” he called, willing his voice to sound normal. 

Shane cleared his throat. “Oh, uh, thanks, Hayde. Out soon.”

He spoke more quietly into the phone, a grin in his voice. “I have to go. Good luck out there. You’ll need it.”

A beat of quiet.

“Whatever you say.”

“Yeah, love you too.”

Hayden practically sprinted back to the locker room.

___

Somehow, Ilya was already there when Shane emerged to meet the press. 

“Ah, look who decided to join us!” he called, leering. Every lens flashed in Shane’s direction.

Shane gave him a well-practiced scowl, and waved to the cameras comfortably. Well, as much as he could.

“He spreading lies about me?” he asked the reporters, hoping it seemed charming and not tense.

Ilya pouted. “Would never.” 

The closest reporter thrust a mic in front of Shane’s nose. “How are you feeling about tonight, Shane?”

Shane looked around consideringly. “Pretty swell. Home ice advantage, my team’s in great shape; overall, I think we’re pretty excited to bring the heat.” He let his eyes flick to Ilya when he said ‘heat.’ Ilya noticed. His brows jolted up infinitesimally. Oh, we’re playing, Shane could almost hear him say.

“First game of the 2017-18 season against the Raiders, are you nervous?”

Shane chuckled. “I will be once they start posing a threat.”

“Ilya, how do you feel about this?”

“Is nothing new, we are practically old friends at this point,” Ilya said lightly. “I think Hollander won’t be too upset when we crush him tonight.”

Shane grinned. “I think Rozanov will find it in his heart to forgive us when we wreck you tonight,” he countered, keeping his eyes on Ilya’s face with all of his focus— nope, they’d dropped to his mouth. 

Ilya laughed and clapped him on the back. “This guy!” He mouthed at the cameras, “full of shit,” while his hand lingered between Shane’s shoulder blades, a gentle, teasing electrocution of the nerves.

Shane forced himself to look annoyed. “Any more questions?” he asked the cameras tersely.

“I think we’re all set. Good luck, Hollander,” someone replied, and he turned away with another awkward wave.

“Hollander,” Ilya called after him. He looked over his shoulder, raising his brows for the audience.

“Yeah?”

“Good luck out there. You’ll need it.” Ilya flashed him a dazzling smirk, full of ulterior meaning, and it was all Shane could do not to beam right back at him. 

“Sure, Rozanov,” he managed, walking away and hoping the blush wouldn’t show up on camera.

___

Hayden watched Rozanov and Shane at the first face-off. They were talking in low voices, lips barely moving, but Rozanov curled his mouth up when he uttered certain syllables, and Hayden was observant. 

He wondered why Shane only seemed to be comfortable chirping at Rozanov. Sure, they’d known each other their whole careers, but he had known loads of other players in passing, too. He didn’t even talk to his teammates with the same ease, sometimes. Shane had done a lot of media training, though, and at least at the beginning, the entire focus might as well have been on his and Rozanov’s rivalry. He rehearsed his lines in the mirror, Hayden knew that much. All practiced nonchalance.

But there was something in Rozanov’s eyes before he stole the puck that made Hayden think twice. An intensity he didn’t see anywhere else. 

They were well-matched, he could admit that much.

It stuck to his mind like a burr he couldn’t shake off, something he’d ignore and then find again later, again and again all night. When Shane scored their winning goal, he spun around instantly to look across the ice, and maybe Hayden was overanalyzing things, but he lifted his chin slightly when he met Rozanov’s gaze. 

Rozanov raised his eyebrows in return. He… he was smiling.

___

Shane was glued to the phone as soon as he stepped off the ice. Lily must be disappointed. Shane must be gloating. A smile flickered across his mouth, the rude, smirking kind that he hid from reporters.

“Lily can wait, man,” Hayden swatted his hands. “Can’t you celebrate with us for two minutes before you run home to do… whatever it is you do?”

Shane rolled eyes fondly, but held up the phone and demonstrated turning it off and shoving it into his pocket.

“I don’t suppose you’ll get dinner with us,” Hayden continued, knowing the answer, and knowing that if Shane wasn’t going, he wasn’t going. JJ had a Montreal girl too, and if he didn’t have either of them, Hayden would rather head home and eat ice cream in the kitchen with Jackie than go out with the guys and watch them get drunk and become progressively less covertly misogynistic. 

Shane shrugged. “Sorry, no.” 

“Didn’t think so.”

The guys all took turns clapping each other on the back and cheering about their best moments, and Shane seemed comfortable. But his hands were still, as if he were holding himself taut, and his eyes flickered too quickly between his teammates to really sell the easy indifference he was peddling. He laughed and smiled for a while, and by the time people started putting on their street clothes again, he had picked up the phone once more, and kept texting, his gaze rushing down as if he'd been dying to look away the whole time, as he slid on his own jacket and zipped up his bag.

Hayden decided the apt thing to say was, “Well, you played incredible tonight. Go have fun.”

“Yeah man, you too. Proud of us.”

“Get home safe,” Hayden added.

Shane laughed at him. “Thanks, I think.”

Hayden frowned at him. “That’s not a weird thing to say.” Especially not when I still don’t know who you’re going home with, an unnecessarily bitter voice in his head agreed.

Shane grinned. “You be safe too. Love you, man.” 

He left.

Hayden left a few minutes later, after most of the chatter had dispersed into the fall air. He put on one of Jackie’s CDs and took the long way home. 

Shane loved Lily. He’d said so on the phone. 

He supposed he already knew that: knew that Lily had met Shane’s parents, knew that they were practically living together, knew Shane would introduce them any day now. Of course he loved him. 

It was different to hear it said like that, like he’d said it a hundred times, until the phrase was worn down, edges softened with use until the words came out as easily as “I’ll be home in twenty.” The way he and Jackie spoke to each other, until it became subconscious, murmured in sleep and punctuating every phone call, and Hayden nearly forgot how remarkable I love yous were. 

He should have been there. He’d fallen in love so long ago he couldn’t remember who he had been before, and suddenly here Shane was, right by his side, following the exact thing Hayden had always secretly wanted for his most solitary friend, without realizing the entire event had simply passed him by. 

He’d said he would get to meet him. It was on Shane’s mind, and Shane cared about him, and it would all work out. He would still be there for this much.

And then there was Rozanov.

He’d watched the pre-game comments. And yes, he had his suspicions, and yes, the language Shane had been speaking in the bathroom at the bar could very easily have been Russian, and yes, they did share a frankly obscene amount of sexual tension on the ice. And off the ice. And whenever they were in the same room. They’d known each other forever, and they saw each other frequently, or as frequently as stars from opposing teams could. And it wouldn’t surprise him at all to learn that Rozanov liked guys.

It just… it lodged into his brain like a stone: heavy, sharp, dense. A difficult kind of thought to move around. It was probably right. Logically, there were only so many men Shane could know. But it felt so wrong, so worrying, to think that Shane was in a committed relationship that was built from a reputation of hate, and it made Hayden feel like his veins were inverting and choking on themselves.

And he’d met Shane’s parents. Well. Shane had described it as mortifying. Maybe that was why… Yuna Hollander might be the most competitive hockey mom Hayden had ever met.

It had better be soon. He didn’t know how long he could keep something like this from Jackie. 

Chapter End Notes

As always, thank you so much for your kudos and kind words! I might not respond much, but I read all the comments and they always make my day <3

Chapter 5: Ilya Rozanov

Chapter Summary

a little interlude ~

Chapter Notes

Shane slept like a dog: that is to say, consistently warm, constantly sighing, and constantly on top of Ilya. He couldn’t honestly say he minded.

He’d booked the flight at the beginning of the season, when they’d both flipped open their laptops side by side to compare schedules and plan for any free day they might possibly have that overlapped. They’d found a miraculous two in a row in mid-October, and Ilya had bought the tickets without a second thought.

Shane grumbled into the side of Ilya’s neck as he woke, eyes bleary and hair a disaster. “Nooo,” he groaned.

“No, what?” Ilya murmured back. “There is nothing.”

“‘t’sm’ phone,” he mumbled, mouth pressed into the space between Ilya’s neck and shoulder. A faint buzzing sounded from behind him, barely audible. “Might b’important.”

“Nothing is more important than staying right here,” Ilya replied petulantly, arms slung around the dip in his lower back. 

“’m not going anywhere,” Shane retorted as he picked up the phone and pressed it to his ear. “Hello?” he asked, sounding remarkably normal, considering his mouth was maybe four centimeters from Ilya’s and he was almost entirely propped up on Ilya’s pecs.

“Oh, hi Hayde. What’s up?”

Ilya’s ear was so close to the phone he could hear Pike asking if he’d just woken up. 

“Yeah,” Shane admitted with a cheeky grin to Ilya. “I’m with Lily.”

Ilya blinked in surprise. 

“I assumed,” Hayden said, voice grainy. “Look, I’ve got a problem. JJ is worried about how you spend all your off days “alone.” He’s been trying to convince me all morning to come and surprise you today so we can all hang out, and I keep telling him you hate spontaneity and you probably have brand deals or some shit anyway, but he won’t have it. What do you want me to say?”

Shane frowned thoughtfully. 

Ilya shrugged as best he could without moving his shoulders, and Shane planted a soft kiss on his mouth.

“I…You wanted to meet Lily, right?” he said slowly.

Ilya’s eyes widened. 

“That ok?” Shane mouthed as Hayden replied obviously. 

“You’ve talked to him about it?” Hayden continued as Ilya smiled acquiescence. 

“Yeah.” 

“Him?” Ilya mouthed. “He knows I am a he?”

“Oh. Yes.” Shane said out loud. 

“What?”

“Sorry, talking to him now,” Shane said sheepishly. 

“Gimme a minute, Lily,” Hayden said briskly. “Shane, do you want me to bring JJ or no?”

Shane looked at Ilya consideringly. Ilya smiled placidly in return.

“Go for it,” Shane decided. 

“Okay, great,” Hayden said, sounding gleeful. “Can I tell Jackie?”

“Wife?” Ilya mouthed, and Shane nodded.

“Fuck it, sure. I’ll see you at noon?”

“Well, it’s twenty till right now, so how about one,” Hayden countered.

“It’s eleven forty?” Shane hissed, moving the phone away from his mouth to angle the question at Ilya. 

Ilya fake-shrugged again. “We were up late.”

“Do you want me to call when I’m heading over?” Hayden asked amusedly.

“Yes. Thank you, Hayde. I love you. See you soon.” Shane hung up.

Ilya was instantly on top of him. “You came out to Hayden?” he demanded excitedly.

“Yeah,” Shane said quietly. “Yeah, I did.”

Ilya kissed him, long and sweet. “I am so proud of you,” he managed between breaths. He pressed one hand into the pillow and cupped the other to Shane’s jaw. “Moya lyubov.” 

“How proud?” Shane asked slyly.

Ilya patted his cheek playfully and kissed him again, slipping his tongue into Shane’s mouth and pulling Shane’s body completely over his, so that their hips lined up. Shane grinned sensually when he pulled away, and lowered his lips to Ilya’s neck.

Ilya let his head fall back to the pillows as Shane mouthed in earnest and his own hands skated over the planes of Shane’s back. 

“So good to me, Shane,” he breathed in delight.

Shane’s kisses grew heavier. Ilya wondered if he was trying to leave bruises for his friends to see.

“Beautiful, krasivyy,” he continued, letting his hips roll and studying Shane’s movements to see when he noticed the pressure towards his lower body.

Shane lifted his head once more as he began grinding in earnest, a challenge in his gaze, and Ilya traced the curve of his jaw tenderly. “Vse moye,” he murmured, watching Shane’s eyes widen in want.

He summoned his energy and flipped the both of them over, so that Shane fell onto his back against the pillows, with Ilya over him. Shane laughed breathlessly and Ilya was already dropping kisses on his jaw, his neck, his collarbones, his nipples, drifting downwards until his tongue traced the divots in Shane’s abdominal muscles. His hands gripped the place where Shane’s hipbones met his waist, thumbs pressing into soft skin.

Shane shivered as Ilya toyed with the band of his underwear, lips brushing below his navel to the gathering of soft hairs leading further downwards. Ilya peeled back the underwear with his teeth, smirking up at Shane as he did. Shane let out a punched-out gasp as his cock sprang free and Ilya ran his tongue along the underside. 

Ilya took him to the root at once, savoring the taste of pre-come on his tongue as he hollowed out his cheeks and Shane moaned above him. He bobbed his head carefully, relishing the feeling of Shane’s length hitting the back of his throat, trying not to grin as Shane threaded a hand into his hair. The piercing little tugs as Shane clutched at curls, his grip becoming frantic, egged him on to take him even deeper, his nose buried in Shane’s pubic hair. 

When Shane’s gasps turned into shouts, Ilya detached himself gradually, bringing himself upwards so that only the head was in his mouth once more, swirling his tongue over the top as if he had all day. He moaned a bit at the taste, just to see the effect it would have.

“Such a… bastard,” Shane breathed, his legs trembling around Ilya’s shoulders with the effort. Ilya let his hands trail downwards over firm muscle and soft flesh until his fingers grasped Shane’s thighs, buried into plush skin, pinning him in place. 

Ilya swallowed him down once more, Shane’s grumbles vanishing into a single choked “ffuckkk” before he seemed to lose grasp of his speech entirely.

It didn’t take long after that for Shane to give up control, his head falling back against the pillows at the headboard as he came with a screaming moan. Ilya worked him through it, taking every drop with keen self-satisfaction and keeping his mouth on Shane’s cock until his body went limp under him.

When he lifted himself back up over Shane’s torso, his lover lifted his head half-heartedly to offer him a dogged grin. 

He stroked Ilya’s hair with one hand, pressing his thumb of the other hand under his chin so that he could absently trace his mouth. Teasingly, he pulled Ilya closer to him by the chin, barely moving his own head and knowing Ilya would fill the distance. He tasted like sleep and laundry and not much else, and Ilya probably tasted vaguely disgusting, but Shane let the hand in Ilya’s hair fall to the nape of his neck, where he pressed him even closer, letting Ilya’s tongue explore his mouth languidly. 

Unhurriedly, Shane’s hand left his chin and began tracing the curves of Ilya’s pecs. His fingertips danced around the edges of his nipples, the bows of his ribs, the line of his waist. He harbored some unexplained fondness for Ilya’s waist: it was his favorite place to rest his hands, his favorite place by which to grab him, if it was a night where he was doing the manhandling. He let his fingers drift over Ilya’s hips, to the small of his back. Lightly, he pushed Ilya closer into him. Ilya allowed himself to be moved. Shane’s legs bracketed his own, and he pulled his head down closer until Ilya was level with Shane’s heartbeat. His face smushed into Shane’s chest, and he didn’t move.

Time twisted in lazy whirlpools around them, mirrored by the swirls Shane traced along his back. Ilya let his thumbs fall to the divots of Shane’s hips, rubbing gently out of some unconscious need to hold onto something solid. He wasn’t one for sleeping late, but he could have drifted right back into slumber, here, in the sun, alongside the quiet rhythm of Shane’s breathing.

“We might need to get up soon,” Shane told him quietly after an indeterminate amount of time had elapsed.

“Terrible,” Ilya told his chest in Russian. “All I need is right here.”

Shane nudged his jaw. “What was that?” 

Ilya repeated himself, slower.

Shane harrumphed. “Maybe someday I’ll understand more than just being caught off-guard by how attractive that is.” 

“I don’t think I will ever recover if you learn my native tongue,” Ilya told him, still in Russian.

Shane blinked. “Nope, just got the ‘me’s and ‘you’s. And general sexiness.”

Ilya kissed him.

Shane pulled away smiling, then his gaze drifted along Ilya’s body wistfully. “I still haven’t returned the favor.”

Ilya waved it away. “Is not a debt. I don’t care.”

“So you don’t want me to…?” Shane’s hand danced downwards, fingertips trailing over the v-line of his pelvis.

Ilya smacked his hand away. “Pervert. Your friends will be here soon.” 

Shane raised an eyebrow, then made a show of finding his phone and texting Hayden, “can we do 1:30?” with the screen facing Ilya.

He’d barely hit send before the phone buzzed with the incoming message:

Hayden

Sure. Have fun, horndog

He presented it to Ilya with a gleeful smile.

Ilya pretended to think it over. “Here’s my thought,” he said. “We’ve just made a mess. Probably best to clean this up, da? Maybe we take a nice shower.”

Shane’s mouth twisted into a cheeky smile.

“If we have the extra time, I may as well come inside you,” Ilya said lightly, as if Shane wasn’t already yanking away the sheets and running his fingers along the band of Ilya’s boxers.

They barely made it to the bathroom before Shane was kissing him senseless, and it took five minutes just to turn the shower on, with the way Ilya spent all of his focus running his hands over Shane’s body.

Fucking him against cool marble, with Shane so tight around him he could barely think; heat from their bodies mingling with heady steam and Shane’s stupid ocean mist soap…he made sure to leave a few marks of his own, so that even once his friends arrived, he’d never quite stop thinking about this.

Chapter End Notes

I’m not much of a smut writer but it felt wrong to write them without including at least something… lmk how I did

Wasn’t sure if it’d be realistic that Shane wouldn’t have told Ilya about his conversation with Hayden, but I think he likes being surprising every once in a while

As always thank you so much for all your kindness, it really means the world

Chapter 6: Hayden Pike

Chapter Notes

lads. we’ve done it.
Again, thank you all so much for the insane amount of support this fic has gotten, nothing I’ve written has become this popular and I’m eternally grateful to all you for it

I hope you enjoy the finale, I tried to do them all justice in their own ways so i hope it feels satisfying

Multiple orgasms later, they’d managed to extricate themselves long enough to make it to the kitchen before Pike and Shane’s other teammate arrived. A domestic scene: Ilya cooking eggs in his sweatpants, Shane on the couch in one of Ilya’s shirts, watching him work with a lazy grin, eyes flicking over his upper body.

Ilya had just taken the pan off the burner when the bell rang. “I’ll get it,” he said decisively, before Shane could sit up.

Shane hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”

He stood and followed Ilya, a few paces behind, seeming unable to stop himself.

Ilya looked back at him before opening the door. 

Hayden Pike stood with his fist raised as if preparing to knock. A step behind him was Jean-Jacques Boiziau, a Metros fan favorite. 

For a moment, all three men stared at each other. Ilya wondered if it was a bit too much for him to be shirtless right now.

Hayden lowered his hand and nodded once, to himself, jaw set. “Lily,” he said. “Hi.”

“Hi…” Ilya agreed, caught off-guard. “You knew?”

Hayden shrugged. “I guessed.”

“Guessed what?” JJ interjected, eyes darting between the two, brows furrowed with suspicion. His posture had straightened the minute he recognized Ilya. 

“Come in,” Shane offered, appearing in the doorway at Ilya’s side. “We, uhm… we have a lot to talk about.” He stepped aside, and Ilya returned to the kitchen.

“Yes,” JJ agreed, his accent sharpening. “Such as why Rozanov is in your house.”

Ilya could almost hear Shane’s grimace from the other room. “Hayde, why did I think this was a good idea,” he muttered. 

Hayden let out half a laugh, then followed Ilya into the living room area, clapping a hand on Shane’s back as he went, and dropping his phone on a coffee table. 

Shane led JJ to the kitchen counter which separated the kitchen and living room. JJ’s eyes followed Ilya’s motions as he plated his egg scramble onto two separate dishes, pushing one over the counter and keeping the other, and rummaging in the drawer to retrieve a pair of forks. Shane picked up his plate.

“What… what’s going on here?” JJ asked, tone tense even as he put the pieces together.

Shane frowned, leaning against the counter. Ilya watched his expression. “So, I’m gay,” was what he settled on. “I’m not sure if you gathered that much on your own or not, but with the whole dating-one-woman-in-ten-years thing, and the breaking-up-after-a-month thing, and… well. I’m a private person.” He lifted a forkful to his mouth. He seemed calm, calmer than he should, but Ilya noticed his hand trembling. He set the fork down again with a loose clatter.

JJ nodded slowly. “Sure. Okay. And?” He flicked his hand in Ilya’s direction. 

“Ilya and I…” Ilya watched as JJ’s eyebrows climbed his forehead at the use of his first name— “We’ve been seeing each other,” Shane continued. “For a long time.”

JJ swallowed. “Why are you telling me this?”

Shane blinked, fear darting across his expression before he cleared it away. “Hayden more-or-less figured it out already. The two of you are my best friends, and the only ones I feel like I can trust with this, out of the team. It seemed like the right moment.”

JJ let out half of a laugh. “Right. Okay.”

“I really didn’t mean for it to be this…confrontational,” Shane added lamely. “Sudden. I dunno. I don’t want you to feel like it’s something you have to come to terms with right away, because I know how shocking it is. I just hope I didn’t make a mistake.”

“Right,” JJ agreed, half-hysterically. “Okay,” he repeated.

“How long?” Hayden asked cautiously. 

“On and off since we were eighteen,” Shane told him. He took another bite of his eggs, his eyes flicking between the plate and Ilya’s mouth with a small smile. He took that as a win for his cooking. 

Hayden ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, okay, Jesus. Fuck. No wonder you never came out.”

Shane smiled ruefully. 

“When did it become…” Hayden waved a hand at the apartment: their water bottles sitting together on the countertop, Ilya’s phone on Shane’s charging station, a picture of Ilya with Yuna and David pinned to the fridge— “...serious?” 

Shane and Ilya exchanged a glance. 

“When we… uh, the time when I left after you said my name?” Shane said quietly. Ilya leaned over the counter to ruffle his hair fondly. Time and place, love.

“The All-Stars, probably,” he suggested to Hayden.

“What was it for the years before that?” JJ interjected suspiciously. 

Shane flushed. “Just, ah… you know,” he muttered, at the same time as Ilya said,

“Sex.”

JJ coughed. “Oh.” His brows furrowed. “So you haven’t actually been together that long.”

“If that helps you think about it,” Ilya said smoothly, “sure. Only a couple of years.”

Shane opened his mouth to object, then closed it with a huff. Ilya met his gaze. I know. Imbeciles.

“Then how are you sure?” JJ added.

“Hayden and Jackie got married after six months,” Shane said, anger spilling into his voice. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“I think what he’s trying to say,” Hayden said, overly reasonably, “is that most folks get the chance to experiment with multiple people before getting… serious.”

“Oh believe me, we’ve done plenty of experimenting,” Ilya said under his breath. Shane shot him a warning glance.

“Most folks don’t have to hide any bit of real attraction they feel,” Shane bit back. “Also, I don’t think you’re ones to talk. You married the first woman you dated for more than three months, Hayde, and JJ has never introduced us to anyone except the one-night-stands he picks up at the club! Why am I the weird one here?”

“Because it’s fucking Rozanov!” JJ exclaimed. “You’re sharing a bed with the biggest asshole in the league, the guy who’s treated you like shit for years, and you want us to be happy for you?”

Shane opened his mouth, then closed it again. 

“I know it doesn’t exactly help,” Ilya said quietly, “But the hating wasn’t real. None of it.”

“Pretty good fucking actors, then, the both of you.”

“Yes.” Ilya frowned, looking at Shane. “I understand a lot of my… personality…”

“Persona,” Shane mumbled. Ilya reached for his hand.

“My persona is not someone to trust with your best friend. But he is very dear to me. To Ilya, not to Rozanov.”

JJ rolled his eyes. “I just don’t know how you expect me to believe that.”

“You actually said it yourself, JJ,” Shane pointed out. “We don't really know much of anything about someone based on who they are on the ice.”

JJ closed his eyes. “You know what? Ok, sure! Sure, sure, sure. I don’t know anything, the last few years have been a lie. Fine. Still, how the hell does this work?” He pointed between them. “You don’t have anything in common except your apparently made-up rivalry.”

“I’d like to revisit my point about how you don’t actually know anything about me except how I act on TV,” Ilya added. “And we have many things in common.”

Shane wriggled in his seat. “I don’t— I really have to justify this to you, huh?”

“It is a pretty big deal,” Hayden said softly.

“We like…” Shane closed his eyes. “This is so fucking stupid. I don’t know how to make you believe me that Ilya was the first person who made me feel like a normal human being, the first person who made me feel understood when I was sure I was alone… I mean, shit, I was closeted for a long fucking time. He saw me through it.”

Ilya wrapped an arm around Shane’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to his forehead, simultaneously detesting and delighting in the performance of it. What a weird, awful knot they were in, but he’d take any opportunity to love Shane openly.

JJ was looking at him expectantly.

“What am I, fucking Shakespeare,” he muttered darkly, but cleared his throat. “Look. Shane was there for me when my father died and I cut off ties with my brother. He was the first person in a long time who I could actually talk to, who was willing to put himself in my position and not ask anything in return. He is impossibly good and earnest in a career full of terrible people, and I am… ah, endeared to him more every day. Is that not enough?” 

Hayden sighed. “It… yeah. I could never have imagined you to be a secret romantic.”

“You’ll never see it again,” Ilya assured him.

JJ wasn’t convinced. “Logistically, it doesn’t make sense. You see each other a few times a year and that’s when you’re playing against each other. So, what, do you have to make a deal about who’s winning, or something?”

Shane sputtered in outrage. “Fuck no,” he exclaimed. “Why would you think that?”

JJ shrugged. “It’s not a crazy guess, if you’ve been together so long.”

“Yes it is,” Shane retorted hotly. “I’ve been your captain for years. I’ve won us two cups. What the hell would make you think I’m not serious about my fucking career?”

“That you’ve been keeping something like this from us for the entire damn time?” 

Hayden cut in. “JJ, please tell me you are not as naïve as to think Shane could have gotten where he is today if he’d been out since rookie season. Be fucking serious, man.”

“I’m not saying he should have come out to the world,” JJ argued, “But it’s been this long, and now you’re worried about losing the team’s trust?”

“You cannot be thinking Shane should have come out before he was ready,” Ilya added, aiming a glare at JJ.

“Maybe I thought that he would trust us,” JJ snapped. “And maybe he would have, if not for you.” 

Ilya’s blood boiled. “Yes, maybe he would have,” he agreed. “Maybe he would have been so completely isolated that he placed his trust in the only friends he had, people who don’t understand him and are determined not to try.”

“Fuck you, Rozanov,” JJ snarled, clearly at a loss for a better comeback. 

“And-and!— I  was not the one who watched his team trick him into getting fucking drunk without doing anything,” Ilya added. “How can you expect to ever have his trust?” Icing on the cake. JJ should be fucking glad they hadn’t been in the same city when Shane told him the events of that night. He should be glad he even got to be here, the piece of shit.

“Quiet, both of you,” Shane cut in, slamming his plate on the countertop. “Everyone, sit down.”

Nobody spoke for a minute, then Shane strode to the couch and sat down expectantly. Ilya followed suit, then Hayden, then JJ.

“Ilya, this isn’t the time for that. JJ was drunker than I was, it wasn’t his fault.” He held Ilya’s gaze until Ilya nodded and looked away. Fine, then. He’d keep his anger to himself. 

“JJ,” Shane continued, turning to face him. “You have been nothing but open, kind, and nonjudgemental, until it was about me. What changed? Why is this any different now,” Shane hissed. 

JJ threw an exasperated gesture in Ilya’s direction. “Sorry if this is a bit more of a revelation to me than you liking guys.”

Ilya tried not to physically snarl at the insinuation that he was any worse for Shane than JJ himself was.

“You were the one who was talking about how none of us really know each other,” Shane replied. “I know it’s late, but I’m trying to fix that.”

JJ let out a hollow laugh. “When I said that, I meant the rest of the team, not about us. I thought we were closer than that.”

Shane looked down at his hands. Ilya took hold of his forearm, pulling one hand between his own. 

“You were wrong,” Ilya told him shortly. “He’s trying to make up for that now. You’d be stupid not to listen.”

“It’s tricky, right?” Hayden said thoughtfully. “We’ve known Shane exclusively as a teammate and a friend; Rozanov has known him exclusively as a… partner, for so long, and now, being official, Ilya knows him in all aspects, but we’ve been missing a part of it the whole time. Right?”

“God, you are such a fucking dad,” JJ grumbled.

“No, good analogy, Pike,” Ilya countered.

Hayden looked up in surprise.

“You both have some, ah… catching up to do,” Ilya finished.

“There it is.” Pike scowled.

“I am being serious!” Ilya defended. “My connection with Shane is different than yours. You will need to reevaluate. Many things.” He let his gaze dart to JJ. “Such as if you are willing to put in the effort to make up for it.”

“I'm sure you're just loving this, aren't you,” JJ replied mockingly. “Finally got the upper hand over us, right?”

“Hm?” Ilya barely bothered opening his mouth to respond to the absurd insinuation.

“You always wanted proof that you were better.”

Ilya’s jaw dropped. “Do you think this is still about fucking hockey?”

“When is it not?”

“We would not be having this conversation in our goddamn apartment if it were about hockey. I would not have burned all my bridges in Russia if it were about hockey. I would not be quitting the fucking Raiders at the end of this season if it were about hockey. Do not pretend you understand a goddamn thing about us, Boiziau.”

“You're quitting the Raiders?” Hayden asked, gobsmacked.

“Yes.”

“You're— you're their star. Why would you do that?”

Ilya snorted. “Why do you think.”

“I want you to say it.”

“Shane, he is worse than you,” Ilya complained. He held up his and Shane's entwined hands. “Because I found something more important, Pike, why are you so fucking surprised?”

“Because you're you,” JJ said unhelpfully. 

“You don't fucking know me.” Ilya gritted his teeth. “I’m sorry you have to deal with knowing that your best friend has been keeping something like this from you. I know that is hard. But being late to the party doesn’t mean you get to be a dick to the person who’s been here the whole time. Especially not when you treated him so badly in the first place.”

“Sweet Jesus.” JJ looked around at the three of them. “I'm just— I'm gonna go take a minute. I'll be in the car.” He stood abruptly, spine rigid, and left the room.

A few moments later, the door slammed.

Shane sighed.

“It could have gone worse,” Ilya offered. “Remember David?”

Shane laughed despite himself. “One, I don't think I'm physically capable of forgetting that catastrophe, and two, you are not on a first name basis with him.”

“I am on his fridge. He is on mine.”

“He's making up for lost time,” Shane countered. “You're not special.”

“You wound me, sólnyshka.”

Hayden cleared his throat. 

“So, this is real,” he began awkwardly.

Shane looked at him steadily. “Yes.”

“Not to, ah, pick up where JJ left off, but how does the competition work?” Hayden asked curiously. “It's gotta be weird keeping up a completely fabricated rivalry.”

“Is not fabricated,” Ilya assured him. “We just get even in…other ways.”

Hayden’s eyes widened comically. “Oh. So whenever you’re really competitive in interviews and stuff it’s just, like, for fun?” 

Ilya shrugged. “It’s like foreplay,” he said reasonably.

“I don’t think you have to tell Hayden that,” Shane cut in, pressing a hand to Ilya’s chest as if to physically restrain him.

Hayden cackled, looking almost relieved. “No, he’s been holding out on me for fucking years. A guy gets curious.” 

Ilya studied him. “Yes, I too get curious about my male friends’ sex lives.” 

Hayden flushed. “Not like that,” he said in a rush. “It’s just, him being so private for so long, I assumed he had the most boring sex life of anyone in the NHL. I guess I know why he never gave me any details,” he added ruefully.

Shana raised his hand. “I’d like it on the record that I didn’t actually ask for details when you and Jackie first started hooking up, and it was you who was so desperate to talk that you would call me afterwards, multiple times.” 

Ilya laughed. “You are not missing out. Our sex is just as boring as Shane is, plain vanilla missionary once a week. Right before he washes the sheets, part of his routine.” 

“Okay, fuck you,” Shane retorted. “I’ve stopped being picky about the sheets. Let it go.” He paused, wrinkling his nose. “And don’t describe our sex as vanilla.”

Ilya raised his eyebrows. “So can I tell Hayden exactly how you take it up the ass—” 

Shane clapped a hand over his mouth. “Seriously, I think we can talk about something else,” he said over the sound of Ilya’s and Hayden’s snorting laughter.

When they had gone silent again, Hayden frowned. “I’m allowed to find it really fucking weird, right?” he asked.

“I’d be worried if you didn’t,” Ilya told him. “In terms of sanity.” 

Shane nodded. “All I wanted out of this was to put my cards on the table, honestly, just get you used to the idea. I don’t expect you to be friends, obviously. But it means a lot that you’re taking it in stride,” he added.

“I’m— I’m really not,” Hayden said weakly. “Just good at managing. I missed something… big. Maybe the worst thing possible to miss. And now I find out the person we’ve been collectively hating for the last decade is the person you’re in love with? It… shit, it scares me. I’m worried about you, and I’m worried about our friendship.”

Ilya glanced between them. “I’ll give you a minute.”

Shane dropped his hand to Ilya’s thigh. “Thank you,” he said quietly. Ilya gave him a wink before standing again.

___

Ilya stepped outside. The wind stung his skin like a needle under the surface. He really should have put on a shirt. 

He knocked brusquely on the windshield of JJ’s car. He was sitting on his phone. Asshole.

JJ looked up, expression tense. After a long moment, he rolled down the window. “What do you want?”

“If you were a good friend, you’d make this right.”

“If I were a good friend, Shane would have come out to me years ago,” he countered. “Isn’t that what you said? So I guess we know the answer to that one.”

He began rolling up the window, and Ilya placed his hand over the glass. JJ leveled a glare.

Ilya reached into the car, searching with his fingers for the unlock button. He found it, tapping several times, maybe too many, and swung the door open. 

He slid inside. 

“What do you want to say to me?” JJ asked. “You’ve made it clear, you know him better than we ever will, I’m a terrible fucking friend, whatever, whatever.” 

Ilya looked at him curiously. “And you believed me? Shit, you are insecure.”

JJ scowled. 

“Shane needs you,” Ilya said. “The support of his team is something I can’t give him.”

“Who said I didn’t support him?”

Ilya laughed incredulously. “You did. Inside. When you said our relationship was bullshit in a dozen different ways.”

“I don’t need to approve of his relationship to support his identity.”

“I think we might define identity differently.”

JJ exhaled between his teeth. “So what, he’s gay. He knows I don’t have a problem with that. The stuff with you doesn’t have to be related.”

“Public couples do not get the option of separating their selves from their relations. If he ever comes out, it will be with me at his side. When that happens, I’m going to need you to decide fast if you are with us or not. Because not that many people will be.”

JJ ran his fingers over the top of the wheel, silent.

“I know this has hurt your feelings,” Ilya added. “And you are free to take as much time to come to terms with it as you want. But right now, he needs your word.”

JJ looked at him sidelong. “Okay.” It was a sigh of a word, an admission of defeat.

“We are not friends,” Ilya continued. “Obviously. I don’t need you to give a shit about me. But if you don’t support Shane’s relationship, you don’t support him. He needs to be able to count on you. Completely.” 

JJ yanked the keys out of his ignition and opened the door. “I’m never saying this again,” he warned as Ilya stepped out of his side, “But you’re right. I’ll fix it.”

A satisfied smile tugged across Ilya’s face. “Thank you.”

JJ shook his head disbelievingly as Ilya opened the door for him into Shane’s apartment. “I didn’t expect you to be this… reasonable,” he admitted. “It’s refreshing.”

Ilya made a face at him. “I can prioritize.”

___

Hayden returned to his usual brashness towards Ilya. His weak Canadian stares and tense comments came as a comfortable relief. He would not do well in Russia, this puppy of a man. He wore his annoyance on his sleeve.

Ilya nudged at his anger, jabs and jokes and comments that went half-over his head. Hayden would not like him for a long time, if ever. But he stopped asking questions.

“Dinner at the Pikes’ tonight,” Shane reminded him over the phone several months later.

Ilya sighed long-sufferingly. “I’ll endure it for you.”

“What, you want a prize?” Shane retorted. His voice faded in and out slightly, and Ilya imagined him holding the phone further away to pull a shirt over his head, settle a bag on his shoulder.

“Yes.”

He’d do it every night, dinner with the terrible Pikes, if it meant he’d get to have Shane forever. It was nice to be appreciated, though.

Shane lowered his voice. “I’ll wear that new underwear you got me.”

Heat churned through Ilya’s stomach. The underwear in question, a present from weeks before, consisted of a sleek black jockstrap that left nothing to the imagination. The one other time Shane had worn it, he’d blushed from his cheeks to his toes to the tip of his dick, and Ilya had come in record time. 

“You do that,” Ilya said quickly. 

Shane chuckled. “What are you wearing?”

“Right now?”

“To dinner,” Shane chided.

Ilya shrugged. “Whatever I can find that will make you lose your patience the quickest.”

“Please don’t,” Shane replied. “I want to actually catch up with them.”

“Then leave me at home,” Ilya suggested. 

“Why would I do that.”

He chose the next words carefully, slowing his cadence. “And you can talk with poor Hayden for as long as you want. Meanwhile, I’ll have the bed all to myself…”

“Oh.”

“…and when you finally come home, I’ll be so on edge from playing with myself for hours that I’ll be fucking that beautiful ass of yours before you’ve even had time to take off your shirt.”

Shane shuddered. A thrill went down Ilya’s spine.

Then: “I think I’ll wear that blue button-down,” he said, his voice remarkably steady. “Something a bit nicer than usual.”

Ilya scowled, then went right on talking. “Alternatively, maybe we find one of those toys of yours,” he suggested. 

Shane was silent, which wasn’t an opposition.

“I’ll get you nice and ready, and we’ll plug you up, then get dressed like normal. Maybe you hump like a dog in heat on the drive over, maybe I tease you with my hands for a bit, but you don’t finish. We eat dinner, and the whole time you will have to pretend you are listening to Hayden talk about his awful, awful life, but so hard you are leaving a damp spot in your slacks.”

“You’re awful,” Shane gritted out.

“Tell me to stop,” Ilya goaded.

He didn’t.

“Maybe you come to pick me up. We get carried away. I’m inside of you when Pike calls, asking what our ‘ETA’ is, or something like that, and I clap a hand over your mouth until you’re quiet enough to tell him we’ll be over soon.”

Shane let out a strained noise, and Ilya wondered if he was touching himself.

“We arrive a mess: your hair is spiked and your mouth is red from my cock, and you spend the whole dinner thinking how everyone at that table knows what I was just doing to you.”

“Hayden’s going to kill me,” Shane grumbled.

“Sorry?”

“I’m coming over.”

Ilya grinned. “If you are sure.”

“Fuck you,” Shane said without any heat.

Ilya checked the time. “Give me twenty minutes.”

Shane laughed and hung up. 

___

Hayden raised a brow when they showed up, late and disheveled and grinning.

“I’m sorry, man,” Shane said sheepishly. “Time got away from us.”

Hayden rolled his eyes. “I’m glad I at least know why, these days.”

He nodded as Ilya stepped through the door behind him, taking off his shoes. “Dinner’s getting cold,” he called to Shane, who walked off to greet Jackie. 

He didn’t speak to Ilya, just met his eyes and closed the door behind him.

“How’s the season going, Ilya?” Jackie asked as he moved into the living area.

“Pretty well,” he said blandly.

He was reminded why he liked her when she frowned, countering with, “Really? Your defense seems less focused recently. And you really should have been able to beat Seattle last week.”

He raised a brow. “You think so?”

She nodded vigorously. “Oh, come on, your left wing missed some easy shots.”

“Oh, no, you’re right about that, I meant the defense. You want to know a secret?”

She leaned in eagerly.

“Johansson found out just last week that he got a Tampa girl pregnant. And someone told his mom. She found a trashy poster online that said ‘Thomas Johansson, have my babies’ and sent it to him in the mail.”

“Oh, that’s– absolutely–  terrible,” she said, her thoughtfulness betrayed by a cackle bursting past her lips. She covered her mouth. 

Ilya grinned, leaning back and pressing a finger to his own mouth. “Don’t tell.”

She smirked and began recounting a story of her own: one of the mothers in her friend’s yoga class who kept a pet lizard, which she had brought to class and dropped down another woman’s shirt during stretching time.

Ilya wondered absently how a man as simple as Hayden had won over a woman as interesting as Jackie.

Hayden and Shane had sat next to each other at the kitchen table and begun pouring drinks. To his reluctant satisfaction, Ilya noted that Hayden had found him a ginger ale of his favorite variety, condensation running down the sides.

He and Jackie joined them on the other side. Shane continued nodding to what Hayden was saying, but his eyes flickered over to meet Ilya’s, a warm smile spreading across his lips.

Ilya mouthed “boring” across the table, tilting his head with a small gesture to indicate Hayden. Shane gave him a knowing look.

Hayden stopped in exasperation when he realized Shane’s distraction, waving a hand in front of Shane’s face. Shane gave him a sheepish look and urged him to continue, returning his focus to their conversation.

Later, when Hayden stood to help Jackie pass out the (now reheated) food, Shane frowned at him.

“You think everyone is boring.”

Ilya shrugged. “Is not a bad thing.”

“Oh, no? You always say it like it is.”

“I used to think so. But our lives are exciting enough.”

Shane looked at him quizzically.

“Maybe being boring means you have enough time for small things. And I would like to have enough time.”

Shane’s eyes softened. 

While serving food onto plates, Hayden’s eyes found Ilya. He looked him over, sighed, and nodded at him once. He didn’t say anything.

He had allowed Ilya entry into his home, which said enough.

Chapter End Notes

That’s a wrap!

I know it might seem a bit weird not showing the discussion between Hayden and Shane, but since all of the things they need to talk about are the topics I explored through the whole fic, I feel like it’s pretty clear how things are resolved.

If you want to see more, I make art on tumblr @zephyr-arts and I reblog stuff @violetcoloredskies, feel free to interact with me!