Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Hayden Pike, Cliff Marlow, Montreal Metros Team, Jackie Pike, Wyatt Hayes, Zane Boodram, Luca Haas

Additional Tags:

Fluff and Smut, POV Shane Hollander, Hockey Jerseys as a main theme, Author knows nothing about hockey but is a confident liar, Spoilers for The Long Game, The Metros are assholes, Ottawa Centaurs (Game Changers), Angst, Anal Sex, Explicit sex in the final chapter

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-01-10 Completed: 2026-01-21 Words: 14,819 Chapters: 6/6

Your Name Across My Shoulders

Summary

Five times Shane Hollander worn Ilya Rozanov's Jersey.

And one time he wore 'their' jersey.

Notes

Chapter 1: The Time Shane followed Tradition

The first time Shane Hollander had ever worn Ilya Rozanov's jersey, it had been a show of solidarity with his teammates, and definitely not because the thought of wearing the sweat-soaked jersey got him hot under the collar.

It had been during a Boston vs. Montreal Game, around four years into their Rivals with Benefits ‘situationship’ (Shane still had no idea what to call this thing that they had together. All he knew is, every time he thought about ending it, about trying to find a girl or a more discrete guy to experiment with instead of his acknowledged rival, he found he couldn’t go through with it)

The game had been a tough one. Shane had only been the Captain of the Metros for a short time, and he was feeling the pressure, especially with Rozanov also taking on the Captain position with the Raiders, putting even more of a spotlight on their rivalry.

But unfortunately, that hadn’t been Shane’s main focus during the game. The Metros had a new rookie joining them that season, Ryan Reid and Shane had decided to personally help the kid out. He remembered well, being the rookie of the team and how intimidating it was while trying to prove himself and as Captain, he felt it was his place to make sure Ryan, or Reidy, as the others had taken to calling the kid, was comfortable and getting plenty of ice time.

Unfortunately, for some reason, some of the Boston players had decided to target Reidy.

The kid wasn’t a show boater by any means. In his first three games on the ice, he had managed to score three goals, nowhere near the insanity of Shane’s first season but he was a great team player, especially on the wing. Shane had taken to getting him on the line with him and Hayden but that game, it seemed Cliff Marlow, one of the Boston Defencemen, had put a target on Reidy’s back.

Every time the kid tried to move around the ice, Marlow was there, trying to box him in and separate him from the line. It was a testament to the kid’s endurance that he didn’t lose his head at the older and larger player, even though Shane could see it was flustering him.

The game had been tied, both teams playing exceptionally well when a break came in the Raider’s defence. Shane had managed to get the puck and was fighting his way down the ice towards the Raider’s goalie, Hayden Pike on his shoulder.

This was a normal strategy for them, one which most teams had picked up long ago. Which was probably why Marlow finally decided to give Reidy some breathing space as he and some of the other Raider’s charged over to try and block Shane.

Normally, when he knew he was boxed in, Shane would pass the puck to Hayden, hoping Hayden could get some distance before passing the puck back for an attempt at a goal. But the Raiders knew that, and Shane could already see their players moving to try and intercept. Rozanov was in front of him, ready to run Shane down and the rest were boxing in Hayden. Which was why no one was really paying attention to Reidy coming up Shane’s left side, free to move.

Shane took the opportunity, feigning a pass to his right to Hayden before immediately hitting the puck on the back swing, sending it instead to Reidy before he collided with Rozanov.

The trick worked, Reidy grabbing the puck and driving it to the end goal with ease.

A hard smack into the left corner, the puck was in, and the game was won.

The crowd was going wild, the Metros crowding around their Rookie to congratulate him. Helmets and gloves thrown everywhere so the players could more easily ruffle the kid's hair and slap him on the back.

Shane had managed to righten himself and was skating over to give his own congratulations when he noticed Marlow moving towards the group, pulling his jersey over his head as he moved.

Then, using his bulk, the Raiders player pushed through the small crowd to face Reidy.

Shane knew that swapping a jersey was a mark of respect to some hockey players although he had no memories of any players from Boston and Montreal doing so, the team's rivalry legendary and vicious. So he was a little taken off guard when Marlow handed the jersey to Reidy, offering the kid a smile and a fist bump.

Although Reidy looked a little stunned at the gesture, he immediately responded in kind, pulling his own jersey off and passing it to Marlow who just grinned before skating away pulling his prize over his head. It was a little small for the bulker Marlow, but the man made it fit as he moved towards his own team.

Then it was like a switch had been flipped, several players also removing their jerseys and approaching the opposing team.

Soon the ice was full of chaos, players swapping out jerseys left and right, making it impossible to identify which player belonged to which team in the huddle. Helmets, gloves and sticks littered the ice, discarded by their owners in order to make this ritual run smooth.

Soon, it seemed that only Shane was still fully dressed, his gloves and helmet still firmly in place. At least he had thought he was, until he saw the other man approach.

Rozanov had removed his helmet and gloves but had somehow avoided having his jersey stripped from him. And his grin as he approached Shane made it clear why he had not joined in.

He stopped on the ice before Shane, not so close as to cause suspicion but close enough that Shane had to force himself to remember that they were in public and he couldn't lean in and smash their mouths together.

Shane didn’t know if they had ever been seen standing so close together while on the ice when not actually playing before.

And it seemed the crowd had noticed.

It started with a few cries of “Hollander!” and “Rozanov!” amongst the cheers but soon the theme was picked up, the crowd soon chanting their names.

“Are you going to join your teammates, Hollander?” The Russian asked, in a taunting tone of voice.

Shane eyed Rozanov’s jersey. It was damp and stuck to Rozanov in weird ways which made Shane cringe to think about on his skin. He hated the feeling of damp fabric being placed on his body and he had no idea where Rozanov had been. Then he realised how ridiculous that thought was when Rozanov had physically been inside him for the first time only a few months before and he had been covered in Rozanov's sweat and other bodily fluids many times before that. Besides, Shane was still wearing his undershirt which would offer a little bit of protection from the damp.

The crowd was being whipped up into a frenzy at this point, waiting to see what he would do. Shane glanced around and saw the cameras focused on them, saw the fans. Saw his team watching.

“Fuck it.” He finally said and pulled his gloves and helmet off, carefully placing them on the ice where they wouldn’t be damaged. The crowd exploded as grinning, Rozanov grabbed the hem of his jersey and yanked it up over his head.

He skated a little closer, holding the jersey out in one hand but not close enough that Shane could grab it without leaning forward, into Rozanov’s face.

Pulling his own jersey off, Shane forced himself not to hesitate as he moved closer, ready to snatch Rozanov’s jersey and retreat.

Unfortunately, Rozanov had to keep pushing. As Shane reached forward, his own jersey in one hand, his free hand reaching for Rozanov’s, the man pulled his own hand back a little, tilting his wrist so their fingers brushed.

“I have always wanted to see you wearing my name and number Hollander.” He said, voice low enough that Shane knew no one would hear them but still louder than he was comfortable.

Shane felt his face flush red as he snatched the jersey away, shoving his own at Rozanov whose smirk only widened.

Without hesitation, Rozanov pulled the jersey over his head, winking at Shane before turning and skating back to his teammates, all now wearing the blue Metro jerseys instead of their own white away game Raiders jerseys.

As he skated off, Shane got a glimpse of his own name and number across Rozanov’s shoulders and …wow! Ok! Heat pooled in his lower body, his jock immediately becoming uncomfortable.

Shaking his head in a vain attempt to think through the sudden jolt of desire, Shane realised he was now the only one not wearing a jersey. Not wanting to look disrespectful, he quickly shook it out, hoping the airflow would dry some of the sweat before gritting his teeth and pulling it over his head.

Pulling it down to sit properly on his torso over the padding strapped to his body, he tried not to think about how well it fit, how right it felt to wear Rozanov’s jersey. And even how the stink of sweat from the garment wasn’t as terrible as Shane had thought it would but strangely arousing. A reminder of all the secret nights they had spent together around the country.

The crowd exploded but Shane ignored them, retrieving his gear from the ice and skating to the tunnel where some of his teammates were waiting, all looking odd in the Raiders jerseys.

Hayden threw him a sympathetic look while J.J. skated over.

“Don’t worry. We will burn that thing in the carpark after the crowd has gone.” The man said and Hayden nodded in agreement.

Shane turned, glancing around the ice. The Raiders were already starting to line up at their own tunnel, Rozanov at the entrance, ready to acknowledge each player as they went down to their locker room. As he moved to speak to each player, Shane could see the ‘H’ of Hollander on his back, shifting as his muscles moved.

And then his eyes caught Reidy, the rookie still grinning and flushed from victory and the acknowledgement of his peers.

It would be a bad look, after the kid had gained the respect of such players, for his Captain to burn a fellow Captain’s jersey.

“No.” Shane said, shaking his head to emphasize his decision. “I’ll send it back to Rozanov later.”

J.J and Hayden glanced at him but then followed his gaze to Reidy and must have understood what he was thinking. The two nodded in understanding before making their way down the tunnel to their locker room where the celebrations would really begin.

Later on, when Shane met up with ‘Lily’, he made sure that the jersey was left hidden deep in his sports bag at the bottom of his stall in the locker room. He didn’t want to chance Rozanov asking for it back.

Chapter 2: The Time Shane Lost a Bet

Chapter Notes

Still not sure if Shane is OOC or not but I am trying, I swear.

The second time Shane ever wore Rozanov’s jersey, it was because he had lost a bet.

Shane had never been interested in gambling. His parents had warned him off it when he was young but even if they hadn’t, Shane wasn’t sure if he was susceptible to the endorphin hit that some people apparently got when making risky calls. He found it boring and the idea of sacrificing his hard earnt money for something that didn’t interest him seemed dumb.

But during a BBQ at the Pike’s home, the Metros usual team hangout. An NFL game was on and because many of their team mates were from the US, the game had been playing in the background.

Shane knew next to nothing about American football. In fact, his knowledge of most sports outside of Hockey was limited. He knew a little bit about Soccer thanks to J.J and could follow tennis to a point because of his parents but anything else just confused him.

He had mostly joined the bet because everyone else was and it seemed simple enough. Guess which team would win and the final score. Nothing too bad. Everyone put $10 into the pot and the winner was whoever's guess was the closest to the actual score. But of course, everyone in the house was either a professional athlete or in a relationship with one and they all liked to add a little bit of danger to their fun. Which was why they had added a penalty to the game.

To be fair, it was Shane’s fault for not asking what the penalty was for whoever had the worst guess. Had he known, he would have actually put some research into it before placing his bet.

The game had progressed, Shane barely paying attention to as he helped Jackie in the kitchen and Hayden with the grill. He spent some time playing with the Pike’s twin girls and more of his time chatting with his team mates and their wives or girlfriends and enjoying the day.

Once or twice, he had glanced at the TV in the living room and quickly realised he had guessed the wrong team but Shane hadn’t been too worried.

The Metros players liked to make little bets all the time and generally the penalty wasn’t bad. Maybe Shane would have to go out and buy the next slab of beers. Maybe he would have to add some dumb celebration to the next time he scored.

Hell, the penalty couldn’t be worse than the time Hayden had to dye a pink streak in his hair for a week. Shane could deal with the penalty, whatever it was, if it kept his team in good sprites.

So he continued to ignore the game, laughing and enjoying his time with his team until the final siren rang and they all headed inside to see the outcome.

Unsurprisingly, Shane had lost badly.

Sitting himself on the couch, he waited to hear what his penalty would be. He hadn’t expected some of the guys to run out of the room before returning, huge grins plastered on their faces, a plastic bag like those from a retail store being carried between them like a holy item.

“Shane Hollander! Captain, our Captain! Your penalty for your abysmal guess at the final score, is to wear this mark of shame for the rest of the day!” Shouted Patrice Drapeau, the team's goalie who was slightly crazy and who Shane could already guess, had been the brainchild behind this penalty, just by the gleeful expression.

With a flourish, he reached into the bag, dropping it to reveal what was in his hands.

Shane’s mouth dropped open as he recognised the black and gold jersey.

“Oh fuck.” He muttered to himself as the room seemed to explode, half his teammates laughing and jeering as they recognised the jersey and the other half voicing their disapproval.

Shane could hear in the distance, Hayden trying to shout over the group that Drapeau was being unnecessarily cruel, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the Boston Raiders Jersey.

Even though Drapeau hadn’t turned it around, Shane could already tell by the yellow ‘C’ on the chest, that he would see the name Rozanov and the number 81 on the back.

Fuck. His penalty was to wear Ilya Rozanov’s jersey.

It wasn’t actually Rozanov’s jersey. The price tag still attached to it showed that Drapeau (and whoever else was involved in thinking up this punishment) had put their own money into buying it from a sporting goods store and it had never even seen the ice, let alone the player it represented. But still, the thought of wearing it. Of wearing Rozanov’s jersey, was making Shane shift in his seat, unsure if he was aroused or disgusted.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t worn Rozanov’s jersey before. The infamous jersey swap a few months back was still there, in the back of his mind and the physical jersey he had taken from Rozanov now lived hidden in the back of his closet in his apartment where no one would ever find it (after it had been carefully and professionally dry cleaned) But that time had been a show of respect, on the ice and performed in front of the fans. This, however, was supposed to be a humiliation.

“Shane!”

A voice jolted Shane out of his thoughts, and he glanced up at Hayden who had placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to do this.” His friend said. “Drapeau is just being a dick. No one will think less of you if you refuse.”

Around him, a few of the others muttered and Shane wasn’t sure if it was in agreement or in disappointment.

Shane weighed up his options. He could refuse. Since the rivalry between himself and Ilya Rozanov was legendary, the guys must believe this was a step above a humiliating punishment for him. But that would also be against the spirit of the team and Shane was all about teamwork. How could he expect the Metros to rise to the challenges he set them if he himself couldn’t do this simple thing?

Besides, it wasn’t like he had to wear it outside of the house. He had brought a jacket when he arrived which had been hung up in the hallway. All he had to do to keep everyone happy was wear it until the party ended, then hide it under his jacket until he got to his car and take it off away from prying eyes. No one would know he hadn’t kept wearing it.

The muttering from the others was becoming louder as Shane made up his mind. Rising to his feet, he took the two steps to stand before Drapeau, holding out his hand for the jersey.

This caused a chorus of cheers to break out as grinning, the goalie handed over the garment and Shane yanked off the tag before pulling it over his head, covering up the shirt he had chosen to wear that day.

Unlike the jersey he had swapped with Rozanov, this one was huge, the chest so wide and the hem so low, it came to rest around mid-way down his thighs. This made Shane feel better, since it was clear no one had been certain who would get the penalty and Drapeau had sized it to fit whoever was going to be the unlucky person. It hadn’t been targeted at him.

A few of the guys were still smiling and laughing at Shane as he turned to make his way back to his seat, the jersey swimming on him but Shane ignored them, only rolling up the sleeves to free his hands. Sitting down and accepting the fresh can of ginger ale Jackie kindly brought out for him, Shane casually rubbed at the fabric.

It was good quality. Much higher quality than the cheap and scratchy jerseys a lot of the mega stores tended to sell. Although the fabric was thinner than Shane was used to and wouldn’t survive a game like their actual jerseys would, it was undeniably nice. And softer than the players' jerseys. And of course, there were the carefully placed letters on the back.

No, it was the fine fabric that was making Shane feel good about wearing the jersey. It had nothing to do with the name or the number of the man it represented.

Bored now they hadn’t gotten the reaction they wanted, some of the guys turned the TV back on, searching for any channel showing some other sport they could bet on. The noise rose again, everyone becoming rowdy as more beers were brought out and an assortment of cakes were produced now the BBQ had finished.

Shane didn’t participate in this. Although he had a sweet tooth, his desire to maintain the training diet he was on overruled his wish for a piece of cake, even if Hayden did throw him a look when he waved the offered plate away.

The others, slightly drunk and slightly sugar high, finally settled on a movie when the sports channels were not up to their standards and put on Fast and Furious Five.

Shane remained seated for a while, chatting with everyone and occasionally stroking at the soft fabric of the jersey when no one else was paying attention to him.

Then he got up and went to the back yard where more people were. J.J. had started up a game of chase with the Pike twins as well as a few other teammates children and Shane soon found himself with baby Arthur Pike in his arms as Hayden hurried after his girls, trying to prevent J.J. from hurting them with his rough housing (or more likely, the girls hurting the defenceman)

Arthur, like most babies were want to do, had grabbed at the sleeve of the jersey, seemingly as taken as Shane was, with the soft fabric. Briefly, Shane considered leaving the jersey here for Arthur but decided against it. It wasn’t worth the aneurysm Hayden would probably suffer to have it in the house.

After a few more hours of socialising, the party was finally winding down, people making their goodbyes and gathering their things. The Pike kids were going to bed, and Jackie was very pointedly looking at her watch, every time someone tried to start up a new conversation.

A few of the guys were talking about possibly going out to a local bar but Shane could feel his social battery draining. He must have looked exhausted because Hayden had even offered him use of the guest room for the night but Shane refused. He had already encroached on Hayden and Jackie’s hospitality too much, even though both Pike’s had told him time and again, he was always welcome in their home.

So, with a kiss to the cheek from Jackie and a hug from Hayden, Shane grabbed his jacket and made his way out to his car.

It was only then, he realised he was still wearing the jersey.

Honestly, he had completely forgotten about the garment. The fabric was so soft and comfortable and briefly, Shane considered asking Drapeau where he had gotten it from. If they had Metros ones, he might be interested in buying one. But no, Shane didn’t need that. He had his game jerseys and the few items of merchandise he was contractually obligated to wear from time to time. Buying more Metros clothing just looked like he was being boastful. Not everyone made it to the NHL and Shane didn’t want to make it look like he was taking it for granted.

Briefly, Shane thought about taking the jersey off before he began his drive home but then decided against it. He had a few days off and planned to drive out to his cottage tonight. It was a long drive and he wanted to be as comfortable as possible. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone would see him wearing it while driving.

So placing his jacket on the passenger's side of the vehicle, he settled himself in the driver's seat and began the long drive out to his favourite place in the world.

It was dark when he finally arrived and Shane made his way directly into his bedroom, ready to rest and relax.

Finally pulling the jersey off, he briefly thought about what he would do with it. He could fold it up with the rest of his clothing, ready to go into the laundry the next day. He could maybe donate it to a local thrift shop (Although he was unsure how popular a Boston jersey would be in Canada).

And yet, he didn’t do either of those things.

Leaving the jersey on the bed, away from the rest of his folded clothing, Shane quickly made his way to the bathroom to prepare for bed.

Normally if the weather was mild, he tended to sleep in only his briefs or some loose-fitting pants. He had fully intended that night to follow that pattern and yet, once he returned to his bed, ready to slip under the sheets, his eyes fell again on the jersey again.

Technically his penalty had been to wear it until the end of the day, and it wasn’t midnight yet. Shane was a man of his word after all.

Grabbing the jersey, he slipped it over his head again, enjoying the feeling of the soft fabric against his chest now, not blocked by his shirt, the hem tickling his thighs where it met his skin past his underwear. Briefly, he wondered what Rozanov would say, if he knew Shane was sleeping in his jersey. Probably something mocking but hot. Shane shut that thought firmly down. Rozanov’s comments tended to make him horny, and he didn’t have the energy now to jerk off.

Not letting himself think further about it, he slipped between the sheets and relaxed on the bed. Later he would deal with the Jersey. Tonight, he was going to get a good night's sleep.

Chapter End Notes

Quick question for any Canadian readers. Do you guys use 'Mom' or 'Mum'? I swear I heard Shane say 'Mum' but I have no idea if that's common in Canada or if they more often go the American version (I am from a country that doesn't use British English or American English but a third secret thing I call, Bastard English)

Chapter 3: The Time Shane had a Panic Attack

Chapter Notes

The third time Shane wore Ilya’s jersey, it was a result of a plan on the man’s behalf. And yes, it was Ilya now, not Rozanov.

A lot had changed between then since the last time Shane had done this. For one, they were boyfriends now.

Boyfriends. The word made Shane feel warm all over, every time he heard it. He loved Ilya and Ilya loved him. They had said it. They had proved it. Hell, Shane’s parents even knew it now and had met Ilya. They had spent two weeks at Shane’s cottage away from the outside world where they could just love each other.

But now Shane was alone. Ilya had left the cottage that afternoon to return to Boston. He had a meeting the next morning with his management team. It would be the first time Ilya would make his request to be traded to Ottawa known and he needed the time that night to prepare.

Shane knew that. He and Ilya had run through the plan one last time when Shane had dropped him off at the airport. It had been a hard goodbye, harder than any other time but Shane knew objectively that this was important for them moving forward. Ilya needed to get out of the US and start his application for Canadian citizenship as soon as possible. And moving to Ottawa was a good move. It would allow Ilya to be closer to Shane.

But it still felt like he was suffocating, sitting alone in his cottage, knowing that Ilya was over a thousand miles away and there was nothing they could do about it.

Briefly, Shane considered jumping in his car and driving to his parents house to spend the night. He knew his mum and dad would welcome him and more to the point, know exactly what was on his mind but he also didn’t want to burden them anymore then he already had. He had already seen them the night before, when he and Ilya had gone over for dinner before Ilya left. It had been mostly to help settle Shane’s nerves, going over the plan again not just with Ilya but with his parents.

Both his parents had reassured him that the plan was sound, that there was nothing objectively to keep Ilya in Boston once his contract was up and his visa was not at any risk. Apart from the loyalty aspect, it was sound.

But still, Shane couldn’t help but catastrophise in his mind. What if the Raiders refused to let Ilya leave? What if Ottawa didn’t want him?

Ilya was one of the best players in the world and could draw a heavy price for his contract. Would Ottawa want to pay the money to have him on their team? Even though Ilya was willing to take a massive pay cut, would his management agree to that? And what if Boston did release Ilya but Ottawa didn’t take him? Ilya could end up without a team and if he was unemployed, that could put his visa at risk. He may end up back in Russia. And if someone found out about him and Shane, then what?

Shane tried to keep up on international news, but it was a double-edged sword sometimes. Because if Ilya was in Russia and they found out he was with Shane, Ilya ran a real risk of arrest. And if he was arrested? Shane had heard terrible things about Russian prisons.

Ilya, to his credit, had been very good over the last few days as these thoughts had run on repeat through Shane’s head, reassuring him that it wouldn’t happen, that he wouldn’t set foot in Russia again. Bringing Shane back to himself when the noises got too loud.

Although Shane had felt slightly guilty that Ilya was giving up his home country for him, he also felt relief. Ilya wouldn’t break his promise. He knew that.

Still, Shane missed him.

The cottage was Shane’s favourite place in the world and yet, being here alone now that Ilya was gone, it felt empty. Hollow. Every room was full of memories of them.

The couch, which Ilya had bent Shane over, railing him into oblivion. The guestroom, where they had destroyed the bedsheets seeing how long they could fuck without a break. The windows that still had handprints on them from when Ilya had bodily pinned him against the glass. The shower, the kitchen, the laundry room….well, they had sex a lot over the last two weeks.

But there were also more wholesome memories. Sitting at the table having dinner, spooning on the couch to watch movies, swimming in the lake together.

Shane had owned this cottage for years and yet, somehow in only two weeks, Ilya had carved out a space for himself and now his absence felt like a physical injury. Like a piece was missing.

Briefly, Shane considered jumping into his car and driving back to his apartment in Montreal, but it was already dark outside, and he hadn’t even begun to pack up to return to his real life. He still had two more days before the Metros first training session of the season and Shane had planned to spend every last moment possible away from the city.

He would just have to suck it up, he decided. Go to sleep early and reassess in the morning. If he was still feeling down, he would go back to his apartment.

Making up his mind, Shane decided it was time for bed. After all the late nights over the last two weeks, either because he was thinking about their plan or because he and Ilya were otherwise engaged, Shane knew he could use the rest.

So, on autopilot, he prepared for bed, washing his face, brushing his teeth and pulling on a loose pair of pants. They were Ilya’s but Shane was sure his boyfriend didn’t miss them. Once he was ready, Shane dropped the curtains in his bedroom, turned off the lights and lay down.

But sleep didn’t come, his mind once again pulling up all the bad thoughts. What if Ilya’s plane had crashed? What if he had changed his mind? What if Shane never got to see him again?

The bed felt too large, the room too empty now. Shane tossed and turned for what felt like hours. He kicked the sheets off, then pulled them back over his body. He flipped over the pillow, then swapped it out for the one Ilya had used during his stay but which Shane had made the mistake of washing that morning.

Finally giving up, Shane turned the light on and grabbed his glasses, planning to read for a while but once he had the book open in front of him, he couldn’t focus. Nothing was helping and he was feeling more stressed by the minute.

Normally, when he felt like this, Shane tried to find a quiet place to be alone where he could focus on the world outside to escape his racing mind. Listen to the sounds around him, feel the different textures against his skin, try to figure out the smells. But here he was alone, in his safe space and it wasn’t working!

There was nothing that was stopping this.

No, that wasn’t true. Shane knew there was one thing that could help. And as he spiraled, he was struggling to remember why it was a bad idea.

“Fuck!” He muttered to himself.

Throwing the book down on the bed, Shane groped for his phone, unlocking it with shaking hands and pulling up Ilya’s number before jamming it to his ear.

Ilya picked up on the first ring, almost like he was expecting the call.

“Shane? What’s wrong?” he asked.

It was like a switch had been flicked in Shane’s brain. The stress began to melt from him after hearing that heavy Russian accent. Then he registered the fatigue in Ilya’s voice. Fuck, he hadn’t meant to annoy his boyfriends. Ilya would have only just gotten home.

“I…fuck. I’m sorry. It’s late. I shouldn’t have called.” He muttered. The stress was disappearing but guilt was replacing it.

“No.” Ilya replied, short and sharp. “No. I like hearing your voice. Was just worried.”

Shane nodded, even though he knew Ilya wouldn’t see him.

“Ok.” He muttered, half to himself.

There was a pause, Shane unsure what else to say to express his thoughts while, in Boston, Ilya waited patiently. Finally, Ilya was the one to break the silence.

“Were you having panic attack?” He asked. “Because of the plan?”

Shane nodded again before realising what he was doing.

“Yes.” He muttered in a small voice. “And because you aren’t here. It's weird without you now.”

“Ah.” Ilya replied. There was another moment of silence and then, “Turn on your camera.”

Normally, Shane would question this. It was how it normally went, Ilya would tell Shane to do something, Shane would question it, Ilya would refuse to elaborate and instead repeat the demand and Shane would comply. But not now.

Pulling his phone from his ear, Shane quickly turned the camera on, making sure it was front facing so Ilya could see his face. Ilya did the same and Shane was pleased to see his boyfriend appear on the small screen. His hair was a mess from the travel and the room around him was dark, probably his bedroom back in Boston, but seeing him was exactly what Shane needed, the last bit of stress finally disappearing. Shane felt his shoulders relax, his racing thoughts fade.

Ilya looked at him for a long moment before he smiled.

“You have your glasses on.” He said eventually.

Shane fought the urge to reach up and pull the aforementioned glasses off. He knew from experience that Ilya had a glasses kink, and the Russian would demand he put them back on if Shane tried.

“I was trying to distract myself, but it didn’t work.” He explained instead.

Ilya hummed, considering something. Then finally…

“What are you wearing?” He asked.

Shane couldn’t stop the snort of laughter.

“Jesus Ilya.” He muttered. “We only fucked this morning.”

“Not thinking of that yet.” Ilya stated. “I need to know what I am working with first. Well?”

Shane bit at his lip for a moment.

“Just some pajama pants.” He finally said.

He saw Ilya smirk.

“The ones you took from my suitcase when you thought I was not looking?” He asked.

Shane’s cheeks heated up. He hadn’t realised Ilya would notice so soon.

“Sorry. I’ll send them back to you.” He muttered.

“No. Keep them. I like knowing you are wearing my clothing.” Ilya replied. “Do they make you feel a little better, wearing my pants?”

“A little.” Shane confessed. “But I still miss you.”

“I miss you too.” Ilya muttered. He seemed to consider something for a moment. “I have idea. Get up. Go to your closet.”

Shane narrowed his eyes, even as he automatically rose to his feet.

“Why?” He asked.

“I left a present for you.” Ilya explained.

“It’s not a sex toy, is it?” Shane said.

On the screen, Ilya shook his head.

“No. But is good idea. Maybe next time.”

Shane rolled his eyes. He missed his boyfriend, but he still thought Ilya was an asshole sometimes.

“Ok. I’m at the closet. Now what?” He asked. He knew Ilya expected him to follow the unsaid instructions to open it, but he was feeling better and a little bit rebellious.

“Open the door. Look in the back.” Ilya said, nonplus.

Shane placed the phone down on the bedside table, angling it so Ilya could see him open the closet. Then he pulled the doors open and peered into the gloom. There were his shirts, a suit he kept on hand and a few other items of clothing. He didn’t see anything different from the last time he had organised it. He peered further inside and then he saw it. A dark garment bag hanging up at the back. One Shane didn’t recognise.

Pulling it out, he glanced over at his phone, wanting to confirm this was what Ilya meant.

“Open it.” The Russian ordered.

Shane frowned. Grabbing the zipper, he pulled it open, pushing it aside to reveal the contents. He paused as black fabric shifted to show a yellow print of a canon.

Fuck. It was a Raiders Jersey.

Pulling the garment bag away revealed the yellow ‘C’ on the chest and the ‘81’ on the shoulder. Slight pilling around the armpits show it had been worn before.

This was not like the mass-produced jersey Shane had worn when he lost the bet years ago. This was Ilya’s actual jersey, worn during games. Fuck.

“Shouldn’t this be in your locker room?” He finally asked.

On the tiny screen, Ilya shrugged.

“We got new ones last month. I kept it as a souvenir."

Shane nodded. Normally, his old jerseys were signed and donated, either auctioned off for charities or given to kids. He had never even thought to keep one for himself.

“Ok.” He finally muttered. He had no idea why Ilya had brought this jersey to the Cottage, let alone left it in Shane’s closet.

“Put it on.” Ilya stated, finally making his attentions clear. Shane glanced over at the screen, eyebrows raised. Ilya saw the gesture and rolled his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I cleaned it after last game.” He added, knowing how Shane hated dirty clothing.

Shane nodded again before deciding to follow the instructions. He pulled the jersey over his head. It was nowhere near as big as the punishment jersey but still large on Shane without his usual padding. Not that his own jersey wasn’t. And it was comforting, like Ilya was right there in the room with him.

“I did wear it after I washed it.” Ilya added, once Shane had made sure the jersey was sitting properly on his shoulder. Shane glanced at the screen.

“Smell the collar.” Ilya instructed.

Shane did so, holding the fabric up to his nose and taking a hesitant sniff. Immediately he recognised the scent of Ilya’s favourite cologne and under that, a smell he could only describe as ‘Ilya’. It was a smell Shane was immediately familiar with.

Then Shane had a thought. Ilya must have planned this. Planned to bring his jersey to the cottage. Planned for Shane to wear it. He had even taken the time to clean and wear it so it smelt of him but not gross.

He glanced over at his phone again where Ilya was still watching him. Slowly, Shane took a step forward, wanting to see his boyfriend better while still allowing Ilya to see him wearing the jersey.

“Were you planning to fuck me in your jersey?” He asked.

Ilya gave him a sly smile.

“Maybe.” He said in fake disinterest. “But tonight, my intentions are much more pure.”

Shane frowned. He knew Ilya was currently in another country, but he was at least expecting the man to want phone sex. Ilya was insatiable

“Then what do you want?” He asked, uncertain.

“Get on the bed.” Ilya ordered and this was much more familiar. Shane complied, moving to sit on the covers. He moved the phone so Ilya could see all of him but instead of looking pleased, Ilya shook his head.

“No. Take off the glasses, lay down. Put the phone on the pillow so I can see you.”

Shane followed the instructions, still uncertain what was going on.

Once he was settled on the bed, he glanced at the phone.

“Now what?” He asked.

Ilya gave him a soft smile.

“Now, I want you to close your eyes and just listen. Breath slow. Smell the jersey. Feel it on you. I want you to relax and let those thoughts in your mind go.”

Shane did as he was told, closing his eyes and letting his body relax, Ilya’s smell consuming him, his voice over the phone becoming a gentle hum. Shane's breathing slowed, his mind finally quiet and the warmth of the fabric lulling him to sleep. He didn’t mean to. He wanted to keep listening to Ilya but he was exhausted and it was a battle he was losing. The last thing he heard before he drifted away was Ilya’s voice, soft and far away.

“Good night lyu’bov.”

Chapter End Notes

Thank you for everyone who offered up advice on the mum/mom issue. I decided to go with what I go with in my real life, since I have started reading the other books and noticed that Rachel Reid uses phrases which are clearly comfortable to her in her own work, rather then try to conform with a foreign writing style.

So Mum it is.

Chapter 4: The Time Shane grabbed the Wrong Clothing

Chapter Notes

I just got my hands on TLG and skimmed it quickly, so this is my take on the whole accidental outing and the fallout with the Metros. They (except for Hayden) were complete assholes and because I am a psycho, I ramped that up to 1000 and messed a little with the timeline (The marriage happens after Shane's first few games in this). It gets angsty as hell in some parts but know the next chapter is a lot lighter.

The fourth time Same wore Ilya’s jersey was by complete accident.

To be fair, Shane was allowing himself to be a little frazzled. It had been a horrible few months and he wasn’t exactly working at his best.

Not that his relationship with Ilya was bad. In fact, it was better and stronger than it had ever been.

Ilya had managed to get his transfer two years before, becoming the Captain of Ottawa and his application for citizenship had begun. The Ottawa team wasn’t brilliant compared to the top tier teams, but the Russian Star was working hard to make Ottawa a worthy challenger to any of them. They had announced the Irina Foundation and the Hockey Camps which would be used to fund it and the first one had been a roaring success. And they had decided to start coming out to their friends.

Shane had introduced Ilya to Rose Landry, not that the meeting had been completely comfortable to start with and the same could be said about Shane’s first meeting with Svetlana. The two women were both protective of their specific boy and with their complex histories, there was naturally some jealousy there. But soon they had all managed to feel out the beginning of some new friendships.

Shane had also finally been able to come out to his best friend, Hayden and even introduce Ilya as his boyfriend.

After Hayden had finished ranting at Ilya, they had even managed a semi-pleasant conversation. Thankfully Jackie was on Shane’s side and they had worked hard to make the two former enemies into, well, not friends but at least cordial. And Ilya had immediately become the favourite of the Pike kids, much to Hayden’s mortification.

Shane had also come out as gay to the rest of his teammates but was careful to avoid mentioning Ilya. Unfortunately, he had seen enough casual homophobia in the locker room over the years and that hadn't changed even after he had come out. He knew some of his team were not accepting of his sexuality, simply putting up with it. They definitely wouldn’t be accepting if they learnt he was dating Ilya.

He had been considering asking Scott Hunter how to go about it, given the New York Admirals had fully embraced their Captain’s sexuality without any issues. In fact, they were proud of being the first team with an openly out player. And maybe the man would have some ideas.

Unfortunately, an ill-timed video had destroyed Shane’s careful planning. In one single day, it had all come crashing down around him.

Shane couldn’t blame Hayden. He knew his friend hadn’t meant any harm. He had simply been fulfilling fan requests. It was Shane who should have checked his surroundings for a camera before he decided to kiss Ilya.

Like a wildfire, the video had spread, turning into the biggest sports scandal of the year. Shane Hollander, seen kissing his arch-rival Ilya Rozanov.

Initially, Shane had hoped to weather the storm if he and Ilya kept their heads down. Just a small statement and leave it at that.

But unfortunately, the casual homophobia in the Metros locker room soon turned to full on hostility. And then he had tripped on the ice during a game against Ottawa and the accusations began. That he had thrown matches, that he was Ilya’s spy, that he was untrustworthy.

Even J.J, who Shane had considered a friend, had turned his back on him after learning Shane was dating Ilya. The team didn’t listen to him on the ice, they ignored or back talked him off it. The Metros began to fall apart, and Shane knew there was no getting it back. His team didn’t trust him anymore.

Finally, after one particularly brutal game towards the end of the season, Shane was done. Arranging a meeting with the team's owners, he had made the offer they had so clearly been hoping for. His contract was done at the end of the year and he was done with Montreal. He would not seek a renewal.

Shane’s contract was airtight until the end of the season, thanks to his mum’s work and couldn’t be broken without some serious legal consequences and firing him so soon after he had come out would look terrible on the team's part, despite what the Commissioner had said. But if Shane left willingly, then the Metros would keep their good name.

Shane tried not to let that thought sting. Or feel bitter at the look of relief on everyone's faces, even as they feigned sadness at his decision.

He only had one game left, maybe two and then he was no longer the Metros problem.

That day came sooner than he had expected. It was quiet in the locker room after that last game, no one willing to talk to him. Hayden had kept throwing glances his way, but Shane didn’t blame him for not approaching him. Hayden’s contact still had a few more years and besides, he had kids. He couldn’t leave Montreal. He didn’t need to throw his lot in with Shane.

Finally, it was all over. Everyone had played nice in the end, not saying anything nasty but definitely not acting as if they were sad for his departure. Only offering handshakes and a few neutral parting words. As soon as he had shaken everyone's hands, Shane had gone to the bathroom to wait for everyone to leave. Finally, he heard the sounds of feet disappearing and knew he was safe. Then he left the bathroom, heading back to the locker room to grab his gear and leave. He had already decided he would not be back for any of it if he forgot anything.

As he had guessed, the locker room was empty and Shane had taken his time, gathering everything and even taking his name off his stall. Finally, all that was left was his jersey, hanging on a hanger waiting to be collected for washing.

Briefly, Shane wondered what the team would do with it. Burn it? Sell it? Hell, they would probably just throw it away and forget about it. Well, Shane wasn’t going to give them that last chance to execute a little bit of spite against him behind his back.

Resting his sports bag over his shoulder. Shane grabbed the jersey and walked with it out of the locker room and through the quiet arena to the small carpark. There was a garbage bin outside the back door, where some of the guys tended to throw the remains of their post game snacks as they left.

Walking to it, Shane tossed the jersey inside, letting it rest on the heap of half eaten food and wrappers.

Then, not allowing himself time to think, he turned on his heels and walked to his car, climbing in and driving out of the carpark. He didn’t drive to his apartment. Instead, he got onto the highway, heading out towards the Cottage.

Shane didn’t even feel the tears rolling down his cheeks until he got home and threw himself onto his bed.

He only came back to himself as he felt something shift on the bed. Ilya, guessing where he would be, had made the drive from Ottawa and let himself into the house, curling up around Shane and offering him silent comfort. It was all they could really do.

Well, that was what Shane had thought. He hadn’t realised Ilya would take his mum to a meeting with the owners of the Ottawa Centaurs. Nor had he thought his mum or his boyfriend would fight for the Centaurs to make an offer for Shane’s contract. Not until it had been made.

A few days, a few signatures and Shane Hollander was officially an Ottawa Centaur. He wasn’t going to be Captain, since that was Ilya’s position but at least it was the silver lining to this whole horrible situation. The fans, unsurprisingly, went nuts.

And the calls started coming.

Some from his new teammates, who Shane only knew of in passing, wanting to introduce themselves properly. Some from players Shane had played with over the years. His teammates from the Junior League, from the Olympics, from the many All Stars Games.

Even Scott Hunter had called him to check in.

To be fair, Scott had checked up on Shane several times over the months, starting almost as soon as the video had been dropped, when he had travelled all the way to Canada to see Shane and Ilya in person.

These calls were different to the supportive ones. And had a certain ‘Anti’ Metros theme to it.

Shane knew his old team were bending over backwards to make it seem that Shane’s transfer was not the result of some homophobic issue but the comments were there and were not going away. Social media was abuzz with people wondering why a famous player so recently outed as gay was suddenly out of the club he had led to three Stanley Cups.

But that was nothing compared to the backlash from the other teams.

Shane was still considered one of the best players currently in the League, only matched by Ilya Rozanov.

Shane hadn’t realised but most of the other teams not affiliated with them had banked on the fact that they were ‘rivals’ to keep the balance and not let one team absolutely dominate the rest. Ilya moving to a less successful team hadn’t caused too many issues but now that everyone knew Shane and Ilya were dating and Shane was moving to the same team, the rest of the League was sweating and they blamed the Metros.

Put simply, the Montreal Metros reputation had tanked and now everyone else was watching Ottawa, nervous of what would happen.

This coming from Scott Hunter of all people, had made Shane smile a little, despite the pain. It was nice to know some people had his back, even if it was for selfish reasons.

And so, Shane had started the slow assimilation into the Centaurs.

Despite the first few days of excitement, being on the ice with Ilya, Shane knew he wasn’t making it easy for himself or his new team. He wasn’t the most social person and was still a little raw from his former team's treatment so he wasn’t exactly willing to be friendly with the Centaurs just yet. It was a comfort to have Ilya there with him during those first few training sessions, guiding him and speaking for him when it became too much. None of his new teammates seemed upset by his behaviour. In fact, a lot of them seemed to completely understand and go out of their way to include Shane in their conversations, even when he didn’t engage.

It was nice, even if Shane was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for his new stability to be pulled away again.

Which was probably why the accident was so mortifying.

It was one of the first games Shane had played as a Centaur. A home game against St Louis.

They had all been in the locker room, strapping on their padding and lacing up their skates. There was a general hum of conversation, occasionally broken by laughter from the players as they shared jokes and anecdotes. No one was expecting to win this game but that didn’t dampen the mood at all.

Shane had been at his stall which was right next to Ilya’s, pulling on his skates hurriedly. His calves were feeling tight and he had already decided to try and get on the ice as soon as possible to do some extra stretches. Which was why he hadn’t been as careful with his routine.

Normally, the first thing he did before he began getting dressed was to hang up his jersey, but the day before, after practice, Ilya had insisted on breaking the rules by taking them home to clean them and test out the new washer and dryer Shane had bought him instead of sending them to the industrial sized washer the all the teams jersey’s were cleaned in.

But Shane was still getting used to the new routine with the Centaurs, which was why, when they were leaving, Shane had grabbed their jerseys out of the dryer and thrown them haphazardly into his bag, not even bothering to fold them like he normally did. And why he didn’t remember to take them out and hang them in the locker room.

Such was his hurry to get on the ice, to do his stretches properly so he was in the best condition possible for his new team, that by the time he realised his jersey wasn’t hanging up, he wasn’t even willing to pause. Instead, he reached into the bag, grabbed the jersey and was pulling it on, even as he headed to the door.

Honestly, he was just lucky Wyatt Hayes, one of his teammates who had always been friendly, happened to be changing at the stall closest to the door.

As Shane passed, Hayes reached out, grabbing his arm to stop him.

“Hang on Hollander.” The man said. “I think you need to get properly changed before you get out there.”

Shane had frowned at that. Yes, he had changed fast but that didn’t give Hayes the right to criticize him. Then Shane heard some of the muffled laughter from the others.

He glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the team. Some of them had stopped their own prep to look over. Others were still changing. And then there was Ilya. Shane’s boyfriend was still at his stall, but now he was frozen in place, staring at Shane.

Shane was about to ask what he was looking at and then he realised Ilya wasn’t looking at his face. No, he was looking at his chest.

Glancing down, Shane immediately realised what was wrong. The red ‘C’ on the chest and the 81 on the sleeves.

“Fuck!” He swore, his face already flushing with embarrassment. In his hurry, he had put on Ilya’s jersey instead of his own.

The laugher rang out throughout the locker room and Shane wished the ground would open and swallow him whole. Instead he braced himself for the jeers, the taunts to begin.

“It's just like the time Boodram wore Youngies pads for half a game, do you remember that?” Someone said.

From the corner, Zane Boodram gave a loud groan.

“Don’t remind me. That shit stunk!” he quipped.

“Yeah, fuck you Boodram!” Calum Young called from his own stall, casually taping up his stick. “Still not as bad as when Haas took Dillon’s dirty shorts home with him.”

“I thought they were mine!” Luca Haas shouted. “Why the hell were you keeping your dirty undies in my stall Tanner?”

Besides Shane, Hayes released his arm before slapping him gently on the shoulder.

“I think you can tell by now, they are all idiots.” He said in a low tone to Shane. “Don’t hold it against them. And maybe don’t be surprised if your clothes go missing occasionally. It’s kinda a thing here.”

Shane nodded, still a little stunned that the rest of the team hadn’t taken the opportunity to humiliate him.

Moving back to his stall to change, he was a little surprised when Ilya stepped forward to meet him. The Russian reached forward, grabbing the hem of the jersey and pulling it over Shane’s head. Then he leant forward.

“If you wanted to wear my jersey, you only had to say.” Ilya whispered in Shane’s ear, his lips brushing his cheek. Then he lightly kissed the freckle covered skin.

Shane blushed again but this time because of the suggestive tone instead of the embarrassment. He hurriedly glanced around to see if anyone had noticed the intimacy between them but the rest of the team had gone back to their own preparations so Shane let himself relax. He still wasn’t used to being able to display any forms of affection with Ilya, even though he knew it was safe. The Centaurs knew Shane was Ilya’s boyfriend, even before they had met him and they didn’t doubt him. He had no secrets here.

Taking a step back, Ilya smirked, knowing he had flustered Shane before reaching into the bag and retrieving Shane’s own jersey. He passed it over to the other man and Shane gave him a thankful smile before putting it on.

“See you on the ice.” he said before turning to once again head out of the room.

He had a game to play after all.

Chapter 5: The Time Shane chose to Wear It

Chapter Notes

The fifth time Shane wore Ilya’s jersey, it was in front of the whole world.

Well, that was not exactly correct. But it was in front of a sold out stadium of vocal fans in their home town of Ottawa.

Shane had been with the Centaurs for a few years now and he and Ilya were married. Yes, married. Ilya was his husband. Shane still occasionally had to remind himself that it was all real. That he had come out the other side of the chaos and it was amazing. He had his team, his husband. They even had a dog together, their fur baby Anya. Life was amazing.

And as Scott Hunter had predicted, the Centaurs had worked their way up from the worst team in the NHL to their current position, a team with a good shot at the cup this year.

But their game tonight wasn’t about the cup. No, tonight was a special night for another reason. It was Ottawa’s Pride Night.

All of the teams now hosted Pride Nights. It was a great excuse to raise money for charity while doing what they loved and it was finally starting to shift the perception of Hockey as being exclusively for heterosexual men but Shane knew that tonight was going to be special, even by the League's standards. And of course, the team they were playing tonight was the New York Admirals, which was making everything even more exciting.

The first team to have an openly gay player, playing against the team with the most openly out players (Troy Bennett was dating the team's media manager Harris Drover and Luca Haas had also come out as gay but as far as Shane was aware, wasn’t dating anyone at the moment)

The atmosphere in the locker room was electric, everyone laughing and joking as they prepared for the game.

The brand new Pride themed jerseys had been handed out and hung up in the stalls, awaiting the player as they went through their rituals.

Shane honestly thought that the jerseys looked fantastic, with the rainbow accents very prominent. Their logo and even their numbers were rainbow and eye-catching. He was proud to wear it. Even more proud now that he had a ring on his finger, not that anyone would see it under his gloves.

Of course, Ottawa wasn’t the only team wearing Pride Jerseys.

Harris had been stalking the Admirals social media accounts all week before the game, trying to get a glimpse of the New York team's new jerseys for the night. Everyone knew that they would have some pride theme but the question of what it would look like was up in the air. Harris was determined that the Centaurs would be the more eye-catching team on the ice, even as he repeatedly stated it wasn’t a competition.

Of course, that claim had gone out the window that morning when the Admirals media team had finally released the photo of the teams jerseys for the night. Specifically, Scott Hunter’s jersey.

It was Scott’s last season, the man announcing his retirement earlier that year. Shane was particularly interested in this turn of events, simply because Scott had already agreed that once he was done with professional hockey, he would be joining them as a coach at the Game Changers Hockey Camps which had become a huge success since the Irina Foundation had gotten off the ground.

The foundation had become his and Ilya’s baby and Shane was so proud of how it had grown. Most of the Centaurs and a few other players were already jumping in to help with things and Scott had been a huge asset so far but once he was retired, Shane was excited to see what else the man was going to do.

But that was still a few months away, depending on how the Admirals went in the playoffs. And of course, since this was a special Pride game, Scott’s last since the Admirals had already held theirs, his team had to make it a little bit special. So they had gotten him a special jersey with the usual rainbow edging like the Centaurs jerseys but also with his husband's name embroidered across his heart, right under the Captains patch. It was damn sweet and had Harris fuming at how cute it was.

Ilya may have already told Troy to come get his man, simply to try and calm Harris down a little. Which was why Troy was missing from the locker room and everyone was carefully avoiding the bathrooms for the time being.

Which was a little bit of a shame since Shane wouldn't have minded dragging Ilya into those very bathrooms if he wasn’t certain he was going to see Troy’s bare ass in there.

Sometimes, Shane had to laugh at himself and how he had changed. Back in his Montreal days, when he was still Captain, he would have taken a tough stance against any of his team mates doing such things only minutes before they had to go onto the ice. But now here he was, not upset because someone was hooking up in the bathroom but because he couldn’t do it himself.

Well, maybe after the game. Long after the game. Like, when everyone else had already gone home.

Then again, he may have to take a raincheck on that, since he and Ilya already had organised for Scott and his husband Kip to meet them for dinner after the game. They had even booked out a local restaurant for the catch up. It had become a thing over the last few years, ever since Scott had come out. Even before the video, both Shane and Ilya had tried to take the time to meet up with Scott off the ice every now and again. Ilya had even gone to a few gay bars with Scott before everything had happened.

Shane had been unsurprised that Scott had guessed neither he or Ilya were straight, just from Ilya’s casual patronage of Scott’s local gay bar and Shane’s continuous questions. Well, to be fair, Scott was remarkably observant when he wanted to be and as he had pointed out once over dinner with them both, that it was kind of hard not to guess when they had literally exchanged room numbers right in front of him.

Shane had to blush, even as Ilya had grinned at that comment. He remembered that night, of the All Star’s Game and how Scott had casually mentioned to Shane that his room was next to Ilya’s. Shane had been so terrified that the older man knew what they were getting up to that he hadn’t even considered that it had been Scott’s gentle way of telling them, not to not meet up, but to keep it down.

Although he could also thank Scott in a way for that. The warning may have been taken the wrong way but Ilya had been desperate to take Shane’s virginity that night and had Shane not been terrified of Scott hearing them, he probably would have given in. He didn’t think his first time with his now husband could have been anymore perfect and even thought it had frustrated Ilya to no end at the time, the fact that Shane had become nervous enough to wait a few months, had led to their first time that night long ago in Shane’s apartment, instead of a cheap hotel room.

So yes, this night after the game, was for catching up rather then fucking in the bathroom. And it was going to be a big party.

Hayden, Jackie and the kids had come over from Montreal for the game. J.J. Boiziau had also made the trip for the game. It had taken a long while but Shane was glad he had been able to reestablish his friendship with J.J. The man had reached out to Shane one day out of the blue, over a year after he had joined the Centaurs, wanting to apologise to Shane for his behaviour during that turbulent time. Shane's former friend and team mate had taken a lot of time to reflect since their parting and had realised how isolated Shane had become during his last year with the Metros. How keeping Ilya a secret had been destroying him.

J.J. hadn’t expected Shane to forgive him, he had simply wanted to grow and change so he wouldn’t hurt anyone else in the future. And to do that, he felt he needed to right his wrong.

Shane had surprised himself by accepting J.J.s apology although it had still taken a lot of work on the other man's part before he was willing to let their friendship reach anywhere near the way it had been before.

Still, he was glad he had some of his old friends back, along with his new friends in the team.

A few of the Centaurs players including Wyatt and his wife, Troy and Harris and Luca were also coming along.

Cliff Marlow and his new girlfriend were going to round out the group meeting up tonight. Ilya had maintained a firm friendship with the other man throughout the years and he had been one of the many who had supported them so it would be nice seeing him too.

In all, it was shaping up to be a great night. Once they finished the game.

Ilya had already given his Captain's speech to the team which had gotten more laughs than anything else and everyone was psyched and ready to go out there.

Shane had finished strapping on his padding over his undershirt and was about to reach for his jersey when he felt Ilya approach, in a similar state of undress. He turned as his husband reached out, cupping his face with one hand and turning Shane’s chin to face him. Almost automatically, Ilya’s thumb began brushing the freckles along Shane’s cheek, the slight coolness of his wedding band noticeable as his fingers threaded through Shane’s hair.

“You ready?” The Russian asked, eyes sparkling.

Shane leant forward, reaching up to place his own hand against Ilya’s face.

“Almost.” He said in a quick mutter. It felt good having Ilya touch him like this. A little sign of affection.

Ilya smiled before leaning forward, kissing Shane tenderly. It wasn’t a chaste kiss by any means but not as deep and filthy as the kisses they shared when they made love.

Shane repaid the kiss with a second one before pulling away, not wanting to get too carried away when he was already finished his routine.

“I love you.” He muttered. It was a simple statement, one Shane had uttered a thousand times before but it still felt special every time.

“I love you too.” Ilya replied, his fingers still in Shane’s hair. “And I have idea.”

“Oh?” Shane asked as Ilya finally released his face, the man turning back to his stall to grab the hanger holding his jersey. He turned, flourishing the garment.

“Wear this tonight.” The Russian said, holding out the hanger to Shane. “I’ll wear yours.”

Shane paused, giving the man a confused look.

“I don’t think that’s allowed…” Shane trailed off, looking at Ilya questioningly.

“Don’t care. If I was house husband, coming to see your game. I would wear your jersey with pride.”

“I would too.” Shane argued. Because he would, if he wasn’t playing.

“So?” Ilya asked with a shrug. “We are husbands. We wear each others jerseys to matches. At least for warm up. The fans will like it.”

Shane thought about arguing this. That yes, they were husbands but they were also professional hockey players about to play a game and there were standards they had to meet. But Ilya was looking at him with his puppy dog eyes and well…. Shane was a sucker for his man. Besides, Ilya was right. The fans would go absolutely insane to see Shane wearing his husband's name on his back. And it would make Harris happy too, with his one sided feud against the Admirals social media team. He smiled before taking the jersey.

“Fine.” He said, pulling it off the hanger. “But if we get in trouble, I am so blaming you.”

“Sure.” Ilya said, reaching into Shane’s stall for his jersey.

Shane pulled Ilya’s jersey on, letting it sit properly over his padding and undershirt. It fit perfectly, like it was always meant to be worn by Shane. Like he was always meant to carry Ilya’s name on his back, like he carried Ilya’s heart.

Ilya gave him a fond look before pulling on Shane’s jersey.

Then, picking up the rest of his gear and tucking it under his arm as best he could, Shane grabbed Ilya’s hand and together, they made their way out of the locker room and onto the ice.

Chapter End Notes

Here's the happy chapter, like I promised.

Chapter 6: The Time Shane wore 'Their' Jersey

Chapter Notes

Surprise sixth and final chapter that everyone saw coming.

I always planned this chapter but so many people still asked for it. Then AO3 went down and I had time to actually finish it without distractions.

So in honour of the Patron Saint of Chaos Gremlins, Hudson Williams, let's have a sex jersey chapter.

And the one time it turned into sex

Ottawa was going to win the Stanley Cup!

That was an indisputable fact. After so many years of work, of growing as a team and as a family, the little rag tag group that no one thought could succeed, was about to do the impossible. They were going to win.

The atmosphere was electric. The crown on their feet, already celebrating.

With 90 seconds left on the clock, they were two goals ahead and their opponents morale was falling apart.

Ilya and Shane were both on the ice, ready to form the line with Luca, ready to try for one more goal.

Shane had already scored once, Ilya twice and the two were grinning at each other under their helmets as Ilya moved to take the face off. Shane moved into position to flank him if he won.

It seemed like sweet justice that their opponents were the Metros.

Shane’s old team had had a nightmare few years after he had left but with a massive roster change and a very lucky run in the finals had seen them claw their way back into a top spot to face Ottawa.

Shane had long since moved past the conflicting feelings every time he had to face Montreal. Although he hadn’t forgiven them, he had decided his performance would silence the nasty comments that were still occasionally thrown his way far better than any arguments could.

Of course, it wasn’t everyone on the Metros who he was metaphorically giving the middle finger to. Hayden was still on the team, although his contract was up after this season. Shane hadn’t asked his friend what his plans were for the future, if he would extend his contact like everyone was saying but he hadn’t failed to notice, last time he had visited their house, the pamphlets for schools in the Ottawa area scattered around the house.

It could be for Arthur. The Pike’s only male child had been diagnosed with Autism spectrum disorder a year before and although the boy was perfectly capable of functioning on his own, Hayden and Jackie were determined to give him every advantage. They had even approached Shane’s parents for advice.

Shane was taken by surprise when that had happened. He had never thought of himself as neuro-divergant. He was a little anti-social, yes but had put it down as just being dedicated to his career and always wanting to perform at his best. It wasn’t until Hayden of all people had pointed out the similarities between his friend and his son, that Shane had even considered he could be on the spectrum.

A visit with several specialists and Shane had received his diagnosis. Ilya had been at his side the whole time. As Ilya had pointed out when Shane had spiraled, it didn’t change who he was or what he had achieved or how he lived his life. It was simply an explanation of how his mind worked.

In a way, it was a relief to finally understand why he felt the need to be in control all the time, control of his diet, his body, his mind. Why he was so scared of change. Why the only person he could ever give up his iron clad control to was Ilya. His safe person.

As much as it had thrown him, it had helped too. And allowed him to understand how he interacted with the world and with his husband. Once he could understand, he could use it to his advantage. Both on the ice to make him a better player and off the ice to make him a better partner. And if Shane was honest, it made their sex life even better.

Shane would love nothing more than to let his mind wander, to explore that thought and start thinking about all the things he planned to do with Ilya once the game was over, but there was still time on the clock, so he forced himself back into the his game headspace.

Ilya was saying something to the opposing player on the line, his smirk and the other player's face showing he was chirping. And it was landing.

Shane lowered his body, shifting his centre of gravity and letting his stick rest on the ice, ready for the play to begin.

The puck was dropped and unsurprisingly, Ilya won, breaking away with the puck as the Metro players gave chase.

Shane dashed forward to Ilya’s side, ready to catch the puck if Ilya decided to pass it. On the other side, he could see Luca mimicking him, also ready to get the puck if needed.

The Metros had already made a bad call, pulling their goalie in the last few minutes to try and recover the two points and their net was empty. And Ilya was very ready to take advantage. He was fast and clever. As the opposing players converged on him, he quickly made a feign, pretending to pass the puck to Shane before pulling a switch and knocking it to Luca. The feign worked, several of the Metros turning automatically towards Shane before realising their mistake and turning back to Luca, who had already managed to gain more ground.

This gave Ilya the chance to get behind their line before Luca knocked the puck back to him. Now there was nothing between Ilya and a clean shot at the net.

In the confusion, Shane followed him through the line of defence, ready to watch his husband win this thing.

What he wasn’t expecting was for Ilya to double back, letting the Metros players get close to him, trying to steal the puck away.

Then at the last moment, just before Ilya was boxed in, the puck was knocked across the ice again, right to Shane’s stick.

Shane quickly caught it, driving forward with a fresh burst of speed as the other players scrambled. Once again there was a clean shot to the net.

Shane didn’t hesitate. He hit the puck hard, sending it clear across the ice and into the center of the net.

The siren sounded, followed by the Centaur’s goal song but Shane could barely hear it over the sound of the crowd exploding in cheers. Suddenly, Ilya crashed into him, shouting in joy and wrapping his arms around him.

It was almost an afterthought, the countdown to the final siren. The crowd hadn’t even had time to catch their breath before it began and then, Shane’s team were racing across the ice, gloves, sticks and helmets scattered in their wake, to meet their two star players.

Not that Shane noticed. He only had eyes for his husband who had released him and was removing his own helmet and gloves. He knew exactly what Ilya planned to do.

Quickly removing his own gloves and dropping his helmet carelessly into the ice, Shane lunged forward, meeting Ilya mid way, their mouths crashing together in a deep kiss.

Reaching upwards, Shane threaded his fingers through Ilya’s hair, keeping him close, the Russian player mirroring his actions with Shane’s own dark locks.

Finally, after what felt like forever, they were forced to break the kiss to take a breath.

“You did that deliberately, you ass.” He muttered, referring to Ilya passing the puck instead of taking the shot.

Ilya didn't reply but his grin was confirmation enough. Ilya’s hatred of the Metros was still going strong. The Russian evidently thought the best revenge was to have the star player they threw away take their victory from them.

That was when Shane registered the cameras projecting their image onto the big screens, the crowd watching them and of course, their own team surrounding them.

The rest of the Centaurs had the decency to give them a moment for their kiss but as soon as they had broken apart, it was game on, the pair slammed into from all sides as everyone hugged and celebrated.

Shane couldn’t help but laugh as Bood crashed into his back, pushing him further into Ilya’s arms.

Hands were everywhere, slapping him on the back, ruffling his hair. It was a little precious on the ice but Shane had never felt safer than in Ilya’s arms, in the middle of his team, his family.

The celebration after the award ceremony, when they finally got off the ice, was epic, the team full of excitement and energy long into the night. In fact, it wasn’t until the early morning that Shane and Ilya finally made it though the front door of their home, hands and mouths everywhere, bodies crashing into doors and walls.

They finally settled on the couch, Ilya on top of Shane, kissing him hungrily, his hand snaking into Shane’s suit pants to grab him.

Briefly, Shane considered letting his husband continue his caresses, letting Ilya fuck him on the couch or on the floor or wherever he liked. But no, Shane had planned for this exact outcome and he was excited to see Ilya’s reaction to his planned surprise.

“We need to lock up.” He muttered against Ilya’s mouth, the curly haired man barely giving him room to speak. Reaching down, he gently pulled Ilya’s hand away from his dick which was twitching in interest.

“What?” Ilya gasped. “Noooo!!!”

Shane laughed.

“It will take two minutes.” He said, wriggling out from under Ilya’s body. Ilya let out a long groan and rolled over, hitting the back of the couch. “Besides, I need to use the bathroom.”

Ilya let out an exaggerated groan as Shane sat up, pushing his legs back over the edge of the couch. But the Russian wasn’t ready to leave him alone as a strong hand snaked around his waist, pulling him back against the other man's chest.

“Fine. I’ll lock up. But hurry up.” Ilya said, nipping at Shane’s shoulder. A warning and a promise in one.

Shane grinned before standing up, forcing Ilya to release him.

“Two minutes.” Ilya warned.

Shane laughed before bolting towards their bedroom and the adjoining ensuite where he had hidden his surprise before they had left for the game.

Normally, he would have Anya at his heels, their puppy happy to be involved in whatever her dads were doing but Shane had the foresight to ask his parents to babysit their grandpuppy for the night. It was just him and his husband all alone.

Shane quickly locked the bathroom door and pulled off his clothing. Then he reached into the small cupboard under the sink, unearthing the bag he had hidden there.

Inside were three things, a brand new bottle of lube, a new butt plug and the special order he had made weeks ago for this exact moment.

Shane felt his dick twitch in excitement but he pointedly ignored it, grabbing the lube and plug.

They had done things like this before and Shane was no stranger to preparing himself in a hurry so he paid no attention to the feelings it stirred inside him as he opened himself up, first on his fingers and then on the plug. He was sure Ilya would be more than happy to play after.

Finally, the plug buried deep inside him, he turned to the third item.

It had taken a lot of research and cost him a fair bit of money but Shane thought it was worth every dollar. Reaching into the bag, he pulled out the custom made black and red Centaurs jersey.

Unlike the thick and heavy jersey he had worn on the ice, this one was slightly different. For one, it was made of a silky, lightweight fabric that would feel fantastic on his naked skin.

And for another thing, it didn’t have his name on it. It didn’t even have Ilya’s name.

After their coming out, some fans had taken to ‘mash’ their last names together for something called ‘Shipping’. Shane hadn’t understood it at the time but Ilya had found it hilarious and fully supported it. In fact, it had gotten so common, some of their fans even started calling themselves the ‘Hollanov’ Army.

So of course, Shane, when he had this jersey designed, had decided to put their name on it. The red ‘HOLLANOV’ across the back.

On the left sleeve was the number 81 and on the right was 24. Their numbers.

This was their jersey. Not Shane’s, not Ilya’s. Theirs.

Pulling it on, Shane glanced at the mirror and smiled at his own reflection. The jersey looked great. Just a little longer than normal, hiding Shane's surprise.

Then he turned to exit the bathroom.

Ilya, unsurprisingly, was already there, his clothing scattered on the floor as he lounged on the bed like god awaiting his worshipers.

The relaxed pose lasted about 0.3 seconds as he saw Shane. Immediately, Ilya sat up, eyes on his husband. Shane decided to give him a little twirl, showing the name across his back.

“Fuck….” Ilya said in a long, breathy drawl, his accent heavy.

Shane hadn’t even managed to complete his turn when he felt Ilya’s arms wrap around his waist, pulling him backwards into the bed.

Shane laughed, which quickly turned into a groan as he landed on Ilya’s thigh, the plug inside him shifting.

Ilya’s hands were all over him, slipping under the jersey to grab at his chest, his thighs and yes, his dick. Ilya’s mouth was at his neck, biting at the flesh there.

Then Ilya’s hand traveled lower and Shane knew the exact moment he found the plug.

Ilya’s mouth pulled away from his neck, the other man gasping as his fingers nudged the base of the plug.

“Fuck Shane.” He muttered before pushing against it, causing Shane to moan again.

“Our name across your back. A plug in your ass. Fuck…” Ilya growled out between kisses to Shane’s neck.

“Ilya!” Shane gasped out as a hard press to the plug caused it to rub up against his prostate.

“Turn around. I want to see your face.” Ilya choked out, smacking Shane’s ass with his free hand and Shane did as he was told with some difficulty, Ilya refusing to release him for even a second. Finally, they were face to face. Ilya looked flushed, his cheeks red with arousal and lust and Shane was sure he wasn’t much better.

“Ride me.” Ilya gasped out, reaching to the hem of the jersey to hitch up over Shane’s hips, revealing his dick standing to attention.

Shane reached to the hem, to pull the garment off but Ilya grabbed his hands to stop him.

“No. Jersey stays on.” He ordered and fuck, did that do something to Shane.

Reaching back, Shane carefully removed the plug, trying not to cringe at the empty feeling or the trickle of lube starting to spread down his thighs. Not that he had to focus on that for long, Ilya almost immediately grabbed his hips and guided Shane to kneel over his dick.

Shane didn’t need to be told what to do next. The moment he felt his husband relax his grip on him, Shane was already lowering his body down, letting gravity assist him.

He felt the pressure and then the satisfying stretch as Ilya breached him. Their bodies merged into one, like it was always meant to be. Finally coming to rest, his ass flush against Ilya's thighs, Ilya's dick against his prostate, they both took a moment to simply feel each other.

Then Ilya was thrusting from below, Shane bearing down on him. Time seemed to both slow and speed up as they fucked, sharing biting kisses and heated caresses. Words of love and adoration in both English and Russian intermingling with groans and whimpers of pleasure.

At one point, Ilya pushed Shane onto his back so he could trust more deeply inside him. Another moment, Shane found himself on all fours, his hands on the headboard to stop his head colliding with the hard wood as Ilya slammed into him, the man's chest pressed against his back, the jersey hitched up around his shoulders.

Shane lost count of how many times he came. How many times Ilya came inside him.

But finally he felt Ilya gasp for the final time, grip tightening on him and Shane felt his own orgasm roll through him, almost painful now. Then they both slumped onto the bed, Ilya still buried deep inside Shane.

They liked to stay like that for a while after sex, just feeling each other as their racing hearts slowed.

Finally, Ilya pressed a kiss against Shane's now bruised shoulders where the collar of the jersey had been pulled down. Shane couldn't see it but he could tell his skin was littered with red bite marks. And he loved it.

“I like the sex jersey.” Ilya muttered. “You should wear it for next practice.”

Shane couldn't help it. He burst out laughing.

“No way!” He gasped out, followed by a louder gasp as Ilya finally pulled out of him. He tried to ignore the feeling of cum dripping out of him and soaking the jersey and bedsheets as his husband rolled over, pulling Shane with him. Ilya pulled the jersey down over Shane's torso again so he could admire it before finally settling, half draped over Shane’s body, his cheek resting on the soft material.

“No.” Ilya agreed. “Sex jersey stays here. With you and me.”

“You and me.” Shane agreed, smiling.

He didn't know what their future would bring for them. They were two famous hockey players. Two Olympic athletes. Two Stanley Cup winners with years left of their careers. And two husbands who loved each other so, so much.

Shane had no idea where this crazy ride would take them but he knew one thing for certain.

They were playing the long game. And they were playing it together.

Chapter End Notes

So I had to Google it but apparently two Canadian teams can go to the Stanley Cup finals. I wasn't sure.

Either way, this is fanfiction and I can do what I want so the Centaurs get to beat the Metros here.

It's also my one-month-aversery of being in the HR fandom, aka, one month since I posted my first fic here. Six fics later and I have learnt so much about hockey and Canada. And I am still a confident liar.

I am always looking for more ideas for writing and am open to suggestions. I try to keep this site as purely an archive but my Tumblr is whitenoisefanfiction if anyone wants to chat.