Chapter 1: Upper Canada Village

Chapter Summary Once publicly out, Shane and Ilya take a trip to a re-enactment museum “Upper Canada Village” with Shane's parents.

Chapter Notes

Some fluff, I guess. Idk, I'm revelling in "wow wow wow its my area of the world wow". Upper Canada Village rocks and if you're in the Ottawa-ish or Montreal-ish area (it’s very close to both cities), you should go. https://www.uppercanadavillage.com/ Jumpscaring fellow Canadians with region specific fic HAS to be one of my favourite things about this silly idea! 😅💜� Last year I went to UCV twice with two different friend groups because I have a car and none of them do (you don't really née done in Montréal) so I am glad I can put my freshish visits to entertain y'all 😘 Originally, I was going to write this as a trip to renfare Bicolline (LARP/nearest renfare to the area), but alas I have never been and probably can’t do it justice. Bicolline is mostly LARPing but I have meant to go to the renfest type days, unfortunately never realize it's coming up or happening. Anyways, if you see a renfare-Heated Rivalry fic, please hit me with it. Despite it being only May, the day was shaping up to be a hot one. Having let Shane drive, Ilya sat in the passenger seat while David and Yuna conferred quietly in the back. Swivelling in the passenger seat, Ilya asked David his thoughts about an article that they’d both mentioned reading in the New Yorker. When they parked, Ilya repeated the location name. “Upper Canada Village. What is Lower Canada, then?” As David explained that Upper Canada, historically, was Ontario, Ilya eyed the food stand that claimed to be Beaver Tails. Not wanting to interrupt David, he followed everyone inside, listening happily. At the ticket counter, Shane’s parents insisted on paying despite Shane’s best efforts. Falling back with Ilya, he tucked his hat down lower, slouched, and tried to look small. Resisting the urge to criticize Ilya’s outfit for being too flashy–although, really, it was just that he was stunning in whatever he wore–Shane slipped his sunglasses on even though they were still inside. “There’s nothing to worry about. If we get recognized, we get recognized. So what?” Ilya gently took Shane’s sunglasses off and lifted the ballcap a little off his forehead. Looking around, Ilya commented, “This is a really boring Canadian type of activity, though, you know? The North American definition of an old building is a joke compared to Europe. A hundred and fifty years old is not an old building, that’s just a building in Europe.” Shane laughed. Then, he quickly adjusted his hat again. “I don’t think we will get recognized,” Ilya leaned into Shane and whispered, “everyone here is too boring.” “It’ll be nice to walk around, even if it's boring,” Shane smiled. “Oh, of course. After all, I like you and you’re very boring.” The first building they went to started out as quiet, but in the middle of the employee’s presentation about the old saw mill, and how it had been moved from a previous location to where it was now, the mill started up. The rushing water and pumping machinery was startlingly loud, and Shane couldn’t resist a twitch. Unexpectedly, he felt Ilya press up behind him, lean his elbows on Shane’s shoulders, and press his palms to his ears. When the presentation was done, they wandered outside and Ilya released Shane. Even though Shane hadn’t been to Upper Canada Village since he’d been in high school for a field trip, he recalled the mill, blacksmith, cheese factory, and old school. Upon entering the blacksmith after the sawmill, Ilya started to realize, “Is everyone here dressed up?” “Yeah, it's like…reenacting.” The blacksmith was mid-speech about how they would have produced different types of objects. Despite poking fun at the activity, Ilya became transfixed at the hammering action. Resisting the urge to ask to try, Ilya glanced around at all the different items. In the next building, the presentation was being delivered in French. “Language showoffs,” Ilya shifted uneasily, not wanting to ask for the information to be repeated in English even when the employee in costume switched languages seamlessly. Walking down one of the two long main roads, Shane liked the balance of people in abundance while still being surrounded by plenty of trees. The direct sun paired with the humidity was brutal, but inside the old wooden buildings or in the shade was pleasant. Draping Ilya’s arm over his shoulder as they walked, he smiled when Ilya put Shane’s hand on his opposite hip. “We’re going to make a scene,” Shane whispered. “Then we make a scene,” Ilya peaked sideways beneath his sunglasses. When Yuna and David popped into the visitor center to buy a drink and use the washroom, Ilya tugged Shane between some trees. “If you really want a scene,” Ilya teased. “Kiss me.” “I don’t want to make a scene,” Shane glanced around nervously. Was anyone gawking at the two men kissing? “Nobody else is kissing, Ilya.” “Nobody else is my very hot partner,” Ilya countered. Grumpily, he stole Shane’s hat, snatching it off his head before he could stop him. Holding it behind his back, he smiled and told him, “You’ll have to catch it from me.” By the time Yuna and David returned, Ilya was standing on a bench holding the hat where Shane couldn’t reach. Noticing Shane’s approaching parents, he hopped off the back of the bench and put the hat on backwards, his curls poofing out from within. “Sorry,” Ilya laughed, although neither Yuna nor David seemed surprised. Detouring, they went to a farm area. Within a fenced in area were two calves, and Ilya beamed at them, cooing delightedly. Then, there was the sound of excited children pointing as a small cluster of piglets darted through the grass. They took off again and headed towards one of the employees as she spoke to them excitedly, the animals swarming the familiar pair of legs. Grabbing Shane’s shoulder, Ilya blurted, “I must hold one.” Kneeling among the children, Ilya gasped the piglets seemed to take turns running between eager reaching hands patting and scratching them. Their hairs were sparse and coarse. Easily distracted, the children ran off, and Ilya thanked the staff member. A few buildings after, they came to the doctor’s house. The staff member within was a woman dressed like a man, pretending to be a doctor’s assistant, explaining how surgeries were performed in the 1860s and how there was even a device for removing tonsils. Clutching his own throat, Ilya backpedalled up the stairs and was surprised how squeamish he was. “Are you alright?” Shane asked, his voice quiet. “I’d rather not imagine that,” Ilya pointed the way they’d come. “Yeah,” Shane chuckled, “it's intense.” They were alone upstairs in the doctor’s house, the soft carpeting doing very little to quiet the creaking of their footsteps. They turned to face each other, checking in. “You know, I know it isn’t your kind of thing. It’s…nice to do something with my parents that’s out and about.” As Ilya’s hands settled onto Shane’s hips, his forearms rested on his shoulders, fingers twining together. “I wish you weren’t so worried about what other people thought,” Ilya sighed, lowering his forehead to press into Shane’s. “I’m trying,” Shane closed his eyes and let Ilya start to sway with him. Sighing, they pulled back. “Okay,” Ilya removed the hat, “you may have your hat back for trying.” “Can I have my sunglasses?” “No,” Ilya shrugged. “I look cooler in them, anyways” Once in Crysler Hall, David perked up with a surprising amount to say about the architecture, and funfacts he had picked up about the family, their income as timber merchants, and their reputation. Although Ilya didn’t have much to add, he listened attentively and appreciated that David had wanted to share the information. Meanwhile, Shane and Yuna wandered the garden, equally engrossed in a conversation–probably about hockey despite the surrounding flowers. “Well, hasn’t this been a nice day?” Yuna commented as they wandered the last few stops. “What’s a Beaver tail?” Ilya asked. “It is like a funnel cake,” Yuna explained, “although a little different.” Ilya laughed. “What is a funnel cake?” “You know,” Yuna mused, “I’m not sure how to describe it other than fried-dough. We might just have to show you.” At the exit to the parking lot, Ilya asked Shane to describe a Beaver tail to him. “Heavy,” he explained. “That is not helpful,” Ilya commented, scanning the menu. “What are you getting?” He asked Shane. Recently, Shane had started relaxing his food habits for special occasions. “Probably cinnamon? It is classic. The chocolate is good, too.” “What is a Poutail?” Ilya asked at the counter. “Poutine on a Beaver tail,” the employee explained. “Tempting, but that might kill me,” Ilya laughed. They ordered and waited patiently, the sun starting to beat down heavily in the unshaded area. Shane felt like the employees were whispering about them, and he wondered if he’d accidentally ordered something embarrassing. The cinnamon came out first, and he shifted uncomfortably as he held it, surprised at how hot it was. Handing Ilya his order, the employee blurted, “Are you Hollander and Rozanov?” “One of us is each,” Ilya answered. Shaking his head, Shane realized that they’d simply been recognized, and he’d instead been too focused on his usual food shyness–which really didn’t apply here. The employee blinked, confused by Ilya’s answer. “Yes,” Ilya replied more simply. “Rad. Very rad.” The employee extended a hand for a fist bump, which Ilya bumped with a smile. Walking towards the shade, taking his first bites of warm, fried pastry, detailing to Shane and his parents how he found it, he felt warm inside; not from the food nor the weather, but from his boring, perfect Canadian family.

Chapter 2: Pride Parade, Fierte Montreal

Chapter Summary Once out, Shane and Ilya end up going to both Montreal and Ottawa Pride marches. SPOILERS!: Alludes to some spoilers from The Long Game. Timeline would put this after the events of that book, once Shane and Ilya are out. Chapter includes mention of Ryan Price, Hayden Pike, Wyatt Hayes, Leah Campbell, JJ Boizieau, and Max Riley.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes The official Montréal pride organizers moved fast. They even beat out the National pride parade organizers out of Ottawa with their request that Shane and Ilya attend. Usually, people applied to be in the parade, paying to be able to go, but Shane and Ilya’s relationship followed by Shane leaving the Montreal Metros had gotten a lot of attention. The city was, rightfully, pissed. The Starbucks across from the Centre Bell not only had Pride flags up early this year, but a flag with “We <3 Hollander” as well; so far nobody had bothered complaining to Starbuck’s HQ considering it hadn’t been taken down. Fortunately, the two parades were on different weekends. Montreal Pride mid August and the National Pride parade the last weekend of August. “Even if we can make both, that is a lot of parading,” Shane grimaced as he and Ilya talked about it. He sat at the table, scrolling the information on his phone while Ilya made coffee. “At least, they invited the whole team for the Ottawa march.” “Whole team?” Ilya beamed. “The league will hate that. We can't go as the Ottawa team, I'm sure there are rules against it.” He made a mental note to check in about what they legally could and couldn’t say as part of either march with their PR representation. Farah had been fantastic so far. “Well. For Montreal, I think we should go not as us, but maybe as foundation,” Ilya mused, leaning his hip on Shane. “Nice to see the city still loves us to invite us. Or, rather, you. Loves you.” Running his hands through Shane’s hair, Ilya asked, “Did Montreal only care you were gay once you got removed from the team? You’ve never been invited before.” “That’s not… I’m sure they cared.” “And Ottawa only wants us there now that the team is winning.” “Well, that’s because you guys needed me,” Shane teased, gasping as Ilya pulled his hair a little harder in response to the jab. *** The parade involved, it seemed, mostly waiting. Ilya and Shane had gotten a truck, a driver, and had invited the others who had been volunteering at the Game Changers hockey camp; Ryan Price, Hayden Pike, Wyatt Hayes, Leah Campbell, JJ Boizieau, and Max Riley– although Leah and Max had yet to show up. Sitting on the edge of the truck bed, they quickly found themselves hot and each certain they’d be sunburnt despite diligence with sunblock. Cutting through the city, Boulevard Rene Levesque had no shade, and August had decided to be particularly unforgiving. The afternoon sun beat down on them, and there was no shade to be had anywhere. Several times, Shane got up to fidget with the sign for Camp Game Changers on one side of the truck as well as the Irina Foundation on the other side. It gave him something to do, so Ilya let him, until it started to seem like the fussing was going to be worse in the long run. Trying to lighten the mood, and cause a distraction, Ilya and Shane ran to the nearest Tim Horton’s to bring back treats for the others. “It won’t start for at least thirty minutes, and parades never start on time,” Shane conceded. Entering the Tim’s, they were confronted by pandemonium. It seemed everyone else in the parade and attending it had had the same idea and were either waiting in line to order to waiting in line for their order in extreme disarray and confusion. Panicked and hot employees darted every which way behind the counter. One of the employees stopped dead, stared at Shane and Ilya, gaped, but then continued on their way. “Talk about obvious,” Shane put a hand over his mouth to hide the smile. “No way we’re not waiting in this,” Ilya tugged Shane’s hand back out the door. Leading towards the nearest dep, they were greeted by a buffet of air conditioning. Although the dep was still extremely busy, it was far more reasonable to navigate. They grabbed a few snacks and drinks and headed back out. Returning, it seemed that Leah and Max had arrived but had already beverages for everyone. The two had also brought rainbow parasols to share. “You thought of everything,” Shane smiled to Leah. “It isn’t my first time at Pride,” Leah smiled. Laughing nervously, Shane said, “It is mine.” Reassuringly, Max came over and said, “You’re doing great, bud.” Hydrated anew, hiding beneath half-shade from the parasols, the mood lightened significantly. Reminiscing about previous camps, they regaled one another with ideas for future summers. Finally, it was time for the parade. At first, despite the music and the enthusiastic crowds, it was awkward. Dancing up on a slow moving platform was not what Shane had thought of. “Sweetheart,” Ilya came up behind Shane, wrapping his arms around him. They swayed together, and Shane blushed. “Look at how they’re looking at us,” Ilya whispered in his ear. “Smiling, happy, loving.” He raised a hand to wave and the crowd reacted, waving back. Suddenly bold, Shane twisted, facing Ilya, and kissed him. The crowd went wild, roaring screams of encouragement. All the way down Rene Levesque, they danced, waved, twirled parasols, and made big showy hugs and kisses. Halfway through, Shane thought his heart could never be more full. Three quarters of the way through, he thought that he might pass out from exhaustion. Finally, at the end, he practically oozed off the truck bed. He followed the others to a rooftop terrace nearby and collapsed into the seat. Quietly, he admired Ilya’s excited recount of the day, and slumped into his seat with a peaceful smile. Ilya put his legs between Shane’s, reaching over and taking his hand. “Too tired for clubbing after?” Ilya asked. Shane laughed. “I’m not joking.” Shane’s eyes went wide. “Clubbing after all that?” *** After hours of day drinking at the restaurant, they returned to their hotel room, showered off the sweat of the day, and got ready to go out once more. Although Hayden had gotten out of clubbing, Leah and Max seemed both extremely enthusiastic at the prospect. Arriving at midnight, Shane felt ready to go to sleep. From the VIP line to the doorway to the bar, nearly everyone recognized the collective presence of the hockey players, but seemed largely polite. Moving through the packed crowd, a few unexpected gripes sent Shane stuck to Ilya, and feeling as though he needed his big scary Russian boyfriend to protect him; he wasn’t sure if they’d been from wandering, frantic excited hands that had or had not recognized him. The music was too loud for speaking. “Dance,” Ilya shouted over the music, dragging Shane to the dance floor, away from the bar. Knowing better than to deny him, Shane let Ilya lead him. With Shane's hands on his hips, Ilya started to move and Shane did his best to match him. The crowd was dense enough that Shane couldn't look into Ilya's eyes, their bodies pressed tightly. He saw people making out in abundance and wasn’t sure where to avert his gaze. When the song changed and the crowd dispersed slightly enough, Shane was able to lean back more easily and look into Ilya's face. He was beaming, and when they kissed it was messy, toothy, and giddy. “Happy fucking pride!” Ilya leaned back and shouted during a brief drop in the music, only competing against the pulsing rhythm. A serious of woops came in response Heart full, Shane grabbed Ilya’s face, shouted, “I love you so fucking much,” and even though it was impossible to be heard over the music, he felt better for having said it. Ilya shouted something in response, but before either could try to repeat anything, the crowd was thickening and everyone around was jumping up and down in near synchronization to the music. After their next round of drinks, Ilya positioned Shane so his back was to him. Regardless of how the crowd moved, they moved in their own rhythm, locked together. The swaying, the sound, and the press of bodies made Shane’s head swim. In the cage of Ilya’s arms, though, he knew he was safe. Tired from the long, hot day, they didn’t stay too long, nodding a goodnight to Leah and Max before heading out. “Phew,” Shane breathed desperately as he exited the club, his legs feeling like jello. “I miss smoking,” Ilya moaned as he and Shane stumbled onto the street. A crowd of smokers stood near the street, but still precariously close to the door, the wafting clouds enticing Ilya and repulsing Shane. The streetlights were blinding compared to the interior. The unbearable heat of the day had simmered down with a breeze, although the humidity still made everyone sport a mist of sweat. The road through the Village had been made to be pedestrian only, so they decided to walk to their hotel, even though partway would have car traffic again. “Take me home and let me fuck the nicotine craving away,” Ilya took Shane's finger into his mouth playfully, tongue swirling on his fingertip. “I might need convincing,” Shane teased. When Ilya smiled hugely again, Shane was suddenly overcome with a boyish delight. “Happy Pride, Montreal!” He shouted, not realizing how slurred he was. To his partial surprise considering it was just past 2am, several people shouted it back. *** “Sorry, guys,” the event organizer said, “we are going to get started soon, the Prime Minister is just running late.” The Ottawa team had decided to attend as a unit, but unofficially and not representing an NHL team. In rainbow jerseys with no specific affiliation, they weren't technically breaking any rules. Additionally, they had brought hockey sticks, logos taped over with rainbow tape, and many balls and pucks to give away during the parade. To kill time, they had started playing amongst themselves, but the organizers had asked them to keep things calm. This time, Shane had brought an abundance of snacks and beverages for himself and for the others. He would not repeat the same mistake twice, much less within the same month. As they shuffled around playfully despite the cramped area while they waited for the parade to begin, Harris snapped pictures enthusiastically, and would ensure that each teammate could post on his own profiles. After what must have been nearly an hour, Shane grabbed Ilya's arm. “Holy shit, that's the Prime Minister,” he said. He nodded his head in the direction, trying to be subtle. “Okay?” Ilya followed where Shane had indicated. The Prime Minister, in question, was headed their way. “Holy shit, he's coming here. Be more excited, why aren't you excited?” Shane gripped Ilya’s hand. “I don't know. He's not my Prime Minister?” “You hate him?” Shane asked, thinking Ilya was quoting something fans of the opposition typically said. “I…nothing him. I don’t vote. I can’t vote yet.” “Okay, well, you live here, he’s still your Prime Minister,” Shane hissed, and then straightened as the PM arrived in front of their group. Although Shane had met politicians and important figures before, this was the first time it was for something other than his performance in hockey. There was something uniquely vulnerable about it, too, considering the reaction to Shane and Ilya’s relationship that the league had shown. “Gentlemen,” the PM was smooth, laid back. He told them he admired what they were doing for Canadians, for Ottawa and the example they were setting. Composed, he also seemed happy and easy as though this was just another day with nothing extraordinary happening. “Thank you,” Ilya replied first, “does this mean I can have citizenship early?” The PM laughed. Everyone else did, too, and although Ilya was glad his joke landed, he'd wished the sought thread of seriousness had come through better. “You know,” Ilya commented as the PM wandered off, not stopping to speak with that many other groups before getting to his designated spot in the parade, “It is quite special that the head of your government supports this.” Unspoken were the words about Russia and the homophobia Ilya had left behind in his home country.

Chapter End Notes

As much as I think politicians need to stay in their lane and not turn the importance of their roles into gimmicks, if past or current PMs of Canada shove their way into cameoing in Heated Rivalry S2 I am going to probably laugh so hard I'll pass out. Thus prompting this fic, sorta, a bit. Also, I recognize that Fierte Montreal deserves to have shade thrown at it, as do quite a few similar organizations. Firstly, Pride is a protest, as we continue to see our community mistreated and put in precarious situations by institutions, and the capitalism of it all isn’t the point. Secondly, Fierte Montreal has been real shits about people protesting zionism and trying to bring awareness to the genocide in Gaza. Thirdly, there were stories out about Fierte Montreal putting a presenter in proximity to their abuser and washing their hands of it completely (if I remember correctly). However, I know when I marched with companies in the past, it also made my heart feel immense. Attending also yielded some fantastic stories (including heat exhaustion, stay safe baddies). I have hope that Pride can be better. I also believe it is still good and worthwhile, even if flawed.

Chapter 3: Eco Museum

Chapter Summary Shane and Ilya are invited to one of Hayden's kids’ birthdays at the Eco Museum in a Montreal suburb..

Chapter Notes

I'm sick so writing was a good way to do something other than sniffling on the couch, but this might be a little more disarray than I usually go for! Sorry! See the end of the chapter for more notes “Welcome to Ottawa, I hope you like boring museums,” that's what Ilya had told Troy when he'd joined the team. Now, here he was in Montreal being driven to a boring museum in the middle of nowhere. “It's peaceful,” Shane explained. “You'll see.” “Museum is museum,” Ilya shrugged. “And Hayden is Hayden.” Taking his hand, Shane said, “Well, thank you for coming with me.” As they pulled up, Shane thought the parking lot was surprisingly busy for 10am. Hordes of children ran errantly through the parking lot, making it stressful to drive through and park but they managed. Taking Shane’s hand, Ilya looked around and said, “Peaceful.” Inside, the party was gathering in the event room. The main hallway had a vague antiseptic smell, perhaps to ward off animal smell. The event room had tables and tons of seating as well as a vending machine. Children ran in circles around the tables, and whenever one decided to try to climb onto a chair, an adult was quick to pull them down. Spotting Hayden, one of his kids dangling and kicking delightedly from where he held them, Shane and Ilya wandered over. “Hey, guys,” Hayden smiled tiredly, “we’re waiting on the last couple of folks and we’ll head out.” The other parents seemed to be blissed out to be in a space where their kids could run wild and free with little supervision. “Reptile presentation, and then guided tour and then back here for cake, right?” One of them confirmed. “Reptile presentation?” Ilya asked. “They bring out a snake and a turtle,” Hayden explained, and then recognizing the last people to arrive, got the attention of the employee. Once all the children were sat in a circle, the presenter brought out a large snake, wrapped around their arm. It seemed sluggish and used to the chaos of children. The presenter explained how the snake at come to be at the Eco Museum, as well as the sort of diet and lifespan they tended to have in the wild. The children were allowed to touch the scales, and at this invitation, Ilya wandered towards the presenter and asked if he could, too. Following the snake, the presenter brought out a large turtle. “Now, remember, if you touch it you need to wash your hands after due to salmonella risk.” The turtle seemed less interesting to Ilya, and he took the opportunity to tease Hayden for being as slow as a turtle, which yielded lots of laughter from the children. Although they’d been engaged in the presentation, by the end the children were itching to move and run. The rustling leaves and birds in the distance were welcome sounds when they stepped outside. At first, Ilya seemed more interested in bothering Shane than enjoying the museum, although Shane didn’t mind getting used to his hands wandering around his waist, his shoulders, and arms. The owl, crow, and deer–at a far, far distance–didn’t seem to hold Ilya’s attention. When they came upon the foxes, though, Ilya suddenly was as engaged as the children; he pointed out where the foxes were hiding, helping kids see by lifting them up for a better vantage point, and was quick to ask the employee why all of these foxes were black, rather than red. “As I was going to explain,” the employee smiled patiently, “All these foxes were part of the same litter and are family. They’re red foxes but with a genetic mutation to have more melanin, just like how a panther is a melanistic version of a jaguar.” Ilya turned to look at Shane and repeated the information to make sure he’d understood. From then on, Ilya was far more engaged in the activity, having questions and commentary about the raccoons, the fishers, and the lynx. The otters had been a longtime favorite of Shane’s, and he hardly listened to the presentation, soothed by the spiralling forms of the otters playing with the other in the water. At the slightest notice, the kids took off running to the different lookout points, but Shane let the parents chase after them and supervise, not wanting to overstep. The patter of many feed over rocky paths or wood-slat bridges made Shane muse about his and Ilya’s eventual plans to have kids of their own, and then worrying about how he would handle them running around, ducking out of sight, in places like this. The white foxes had a remarkably huge enclosure and it was tough to get a good look at them. “If you come back one day in the morning when they’re being fed,” a parent commented, “they line up by the door and you can get a real good look.” “Are they babies?” Ilya asked. “Nope,” the employee overheard, “they’re actually full grown. Animals in colder climates tend to run smaller than their warm climate counterparts.” She then turned to redirect attention to the black bear enclosure and explained their hibernation habits to the children. “Now, I know its tempting, but please do not howl at the wolves! It can be distressing for them,” the tour guide declared before they’d even made it to the wolf enclosure. The wolf in question was perched on a hill, watching the crowd calmly. When children ran into the second lookout point, it swivelled its head to watch them, and then back to the presenter. “Magestic,” Shane commented softly to Ilya. Whispering conspiratorally to Shane, Ilya said, “I want to howl.” Glaring, Shane told him, “Don’t.” “I don’t know that I can resist,” Ilya grinned. Softly, he began, “Ah-woo,” but Shane clapped a hand over his mouth to silence him. “Everything alright, you two?” Hayden asked. “Oh, y’know,” Shane answered, “wrangling an animal of my own.” He still held his hand over Ilya’s mouth. Wandering past the coyotes and through the bird section, they came back to the wild turkeys and deer. Circling the deer, they followed the presenter towards the birds of prey, and other lookout opportunities for the deer. Headed back inside, the kids tore off towards the event room, and started chanting, “Cake! Cake! Cake!” Jackie started to prepare the cake while Hayden got Shane and Ilya to make sure all of the kids had washed their hands. The procession of chaotic children washing their hands and splashing erratically eventually resulted in Shane being covered in water. Tucking into the corner while “happy birthday” was sung and candles were blown out, Shane slumped exhausted into Ilya. “These kids are more chaotic than when we have camp,” Ilya commented, leaning his head on Shane’s shoulder. As the kids opened gifts, Shane helped Jackie clean up the cake remnants even though she insisted that she didn’t need help. As the event wrapped up and they wandered out, Shane asked Ilya if he had been bored. Teasingly pinning him to the car, Ilya kissed Shane and told him, “My favourite kind of boring.”

Chapter End Notes

I like the Eco Museum and fanfic means sticking them wherever I want. The Eco museum is a zoo, but the animals are only ones that would live in the St Lawrence habitat (around Montreal) anyways. They have large, beautiful enclosures. The animals there cannot be released to the wild either due to illness or injury, or having been born in captivity (although the Eco Museum does not breed animals). Also, when you have a birthday event there you don’t get a guided-tour, but they do tend to have a lot of employees around. I’d misremembered halfway through writing but then didn’t want to fix it. Forgive me. https://zooecomuseum.ca/en/visitor-information/

Chapter 4: Canada Day in Ottawa

Chapter Summary Everyone knows Ottawa is boring but perhaps the national holiday will liven things up a bit. WARNING: This one contains a blowjob in a bathroom. (Technically, I guess, would occur before Pride OR have to be a different year. Choose your own adventure on timeline, though)

Chapter Notes

Admittedly, I’ve never gone to Ottawa during Canada day because I’ve heard it’s way too jam packed. Besides, one can find comparable things to do in most Canadian cities (food, music, drinking, BBQs) The fact, however, that I got a lot of information off of a website called Ottawa is Not Boring is very funny. https://ottawaisnotboring.com/ Grass whistle: I’ve never been able to do it, but I’ve also never been able to do the loon call despite years of best Canadian efforts so https://www.reddit.com/r/LearnUselessTalents/comments/3udv6m/how_to_grass_whistl e/ Snowbirds, in case you’re unfamiliar https://www.canada.ca/en/air- force/services/showcasing/snowbirds.html “There’s free entry to museums today,” David offered. Pursing his lips, Ilya looked to Shane and tried not to smile. “I think Ilya’s a bit museumed out,” Shane admitted. “Besides, we already have lots of Canada day plans.” He smiled encouragingly at David and Yuna. “What are you guys getting up to later?” The sky was a pristine blue, with only the smallest clouds drifting on the horizon, and the sun and humidity were already intense even by 11am. The brunch spot’s terrace was lively and bustling, and they had had to wait a fair amount for a table; clearly, everyone else had had the exact same idea for kicking off the national holiday. Both of Shane’s parents had worn red, as many other attendees would likely opt to do, but David also sported a red cap. Meanwhile, Shane and Ilya had opted for a white t-shirt and tank top, respectively, and both were secretly hoping that the other would decide to go shirtless if they got too hot during the day. “Don’t forget sunblock,” Yuna advised, “and be sure to reapply.” Shane nodded, smiling politely. He had applied some that morning but didn’t intend to carry it with him at all times. When brunch wrapped, Shane and Ilya set off walking towards Byward Market. The streets were busy, and Shane made a few errant comments about how bad traffic would be as the day went on. “Do you not want to do our other plans?” Ilya asked. “I want to, we just need to plan ahead.” Ilya rubbed Shane’s back reassuringly but didn’t add anything else, recognizing that sometimes Shane needed to worry for the sake of worrying. From blocks away, they could hear the music echoing through the city streets. The area had been closed off to cars, and strip after strip of pop-up-tents had been set up for vendors selling crafts, food, subscriptions, and giving away information leaflets. As they passed a tent for a radio station, they picked up the pace to make sure that none of the producers recognized them, laughing embarrassed and giddy afterwards. Ilya got himself a beer, which was permitted so long as they were within the designated festival area, but Shane being the designated driver refrained from any alcohol that early in the day. He bit back the urge to warn Ilya to pace himself, and instead picked up a bottle of water which he inflicted upon Ilya once the beer was finished. In front of live music, Shane felt himself relax a little bit; here, he was allowed to stop, stare, and exist. The music wasn’t necessarily anything he’d listen to but he could appreciate the effort and artistry that went into the performance. Around 2pm, the sun was brutal. Their next plans weren’t until later in the afternoon, so they continued to wander to try to kill time. Although neither was especially hungry, they decided to wait in line for street food for something to do. “Just me, or is your country turning everything into poutine?” Ilya asked, draping an arm over Shane’s shoulders, holding a fresh beer in the other hand. “Since when do you have a problem with poutine?” Shane futilely fought his smile. “Me? No problem. Poutine’s great.” “Good, because I think they’d throw you out of the country for that,” Shane settled his arm around Ilya’s waist. “Probably just Quebec,” Ilya mused as they stepped forward in the line. As they got into the car to head to Harris’ sister’s BBQ--Ilya was delighted to have been so indoctrinated into the family–Ilya commented about being too hot. Almost as soon as they started driving, the AC in the car blasting, he started to doze off in the passenger seat. They arrived minutes before the Snowbirds flew by overhead. Having already exited the car, they had a fairly good view from the driveway of them cutting across the sky in formation. Startled, Ilya grabbed Shane’s hand. “Not so boring now, are we?” Shane teased. Still sleepy, Ilya simply shook his head. At the BBQ, Ilya settled into step with Troy and Harris easily. Once Ilya seemed situated, Shane started to bring over lots of water for Ilya, hoping that he was being subtle. Refilling their water, he explained to Harris’ mother he was trying to keep them both hydrated, and she offered extra sunblock if they didn’t have any. “Come inside,” Shane whispered in Ilya’s ear, the sunblock in his pocket. Grinning, Ilya followed him inside, slipping down to the room doubling as a powder room and laundry room. As the door closed behind them, Shane could already feel Ilya grabbing him, tugging at his pants. “Wait, no, Ilya, that’s not what I meant,” Shane murmured but his body was already responding. He floundered for the lightswitch, Ilya’s mouth already crashing into his own and silencing any protests. Thanks to his groping around, Ilya found and quickly removed the tube of sunblock from Shane’s pocket. Leaning back, he looked at it accusingly and set it beside the sink, “Boring.” Dropping to his knees, he peppered kisses along Shane’s waistband. “Asshole,” Shane breathed. “Should I stop?” Ilya looked up mischievously. Shane shook his head. Running his tongue along familiar skin, Ilya could taste the sweat of the day. “You boys find the bathroom okay?” Someone called. “Yeah!” Shane called back, “Thank you!” Putting a hand over his mouth after, he bit back any moans that Ilya was working to pull from him. “So polite,” Ilya commented, changing his tactic. His hand reached up and grabbed at Shane’s chest. “Shut up,” Shane blustered. “Fuck,” he put a hand over his mouth again, not trusting himself. With both his hands on Shane’s chest, Ilya pushed Shane firmly into the doorway despite being on his knees, sinking his mouth down onto Shane as far as he could manage. Grateful that he’d already done his best to keep himself quiet, Shane moaned into his own palm, writhing beneath the pressure from Ilya’s arms and sensation below. As he finished, muscles clenching, he didn’t dare look down at Ilya without risking being even louder. When Ilya stood, he gave Shane a kiss and poked his head into the hallway. “My turn is later,” Ilya told him and held out his hands for sunblock. “So patient?” Shane asked, feeling oddly insecure as he squirted sunblock onto Ilya’s palms, and then onto his own. Shrugging, Ilya said, “Too long and Harris’ family will realize.” As the afternoon turned into evening, Ilya switched to a vodka that he had brought as a party gesture. Shane rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything, but did notice that Ilya was starting to drink more water on his own, winking at him once as he chugged a glass quickly. “Am I misguided,” Ilya commented as he dressed his burger, “or when Canadians say BBQ they really mean burgers and hotdogs but when Americans say it they seem to mean ribs?” “Well, it can mean either. You can BBQ ribs.” “Right.” Ilya stared at Shane. He chuckled, “I’ll find a stupid American to explain it one day.” The sunset was at nearly 9pm, so they had to head back into the city for the fireworks while it was still daylight to make it to the display on time. Harris, his parents, and Troy were going to carpool and meet them, wrapping up a few things as people went off on their different various plans. As dark settled and they found a good spot, far too early, it seemed that delays in departure and a difference in route decision had landed Harris’s carpool in more traffic. Relaying their chosen location, Shane and Ilya set up a blanket on the grass to wait. “Tim Horton’s fireworks,” Ilya mused. “Explain Tim Hortons to me,” he lay down beside Shane, laying his head on his thigh. “You’ve been here for years, you know what Tim Hortons is.” Staring up at Shane, Ilya smiled, “Yes, but I like when you explain things.” Rolling his eyes, Shane put a hand on Ilya’s chest, which Ilya gripped onto. After a few moments, his eyes fluttered shut. For a second, Ilya looked so relaxed that Shane thought he might have passed out, but then Ilya cracked into a smile, “So? No great Canadian coffee history lesson?” Ilya opened his eyes, sparkling with mischief. “I don’t know. What do I say about Tim Hortons? They aren’t even owned by a Canadian company anymore.” Ilya made a dramatic shocked face. “Tell me more.” Unable to resist, Shane started talking. When he would drift off, unsure what else to say, Ilya would offer up another prompt–sometimes completely unrelated. Fairly quickly, Shane realized that Ilya was decidedly drunker than he usually saw him, and the combination with a day in the heat had rendered him sleepy and relaxed. Running his fingers through his hair, Shane felt a swell of protective pride over Ilya. Eventually, Shane pulled a remarkably long piece of grass from beyond the blanket. “Have you ever seen this?” He placed the blade of grass between his thumbs and made a grass whistle. Balking at how loud it was, they both started to laugh. “Sorry!” Shane said to everyone and nobody in particular around them. “Forgot how loud that was.” Ten minutes before the fireworks were scheduled to start, Harris spotted Ilya and Shane. Everyone got situated in a rush, and then they collectively giggled at the awkward silence after. The area had gotten incredibly packed, earlier groups having set up blankets to lay in the grass but some people were opting for standing room only, making it so that the folks laying on blankets would need to stand up to see properly for the actual show. When the first warning firework went off and they stood, Ilya moved to stand behind Shane, wrapping his arms around him and leaning his chin on his shoulder. Swaying gently, they watched the display, oohing and aahing along with the crowd accordingly. Heading back to the car, Ilya muttered, “Day drinking,” without context. “I’ll get you home,” Shane promised him with a kiss. Please drop by the Archive and comment to let the creator know if you enjoyed their work!