Rating:

Not Rated

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Rose Landry/Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Luca Haas, LaPointe (Game Changers), Young (Game Changers), Holmber (Game Changers), Rose Landry, Boston Bears | Boston Raiders Team Ensemble (Game Changers)

Additional Tags:

Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Time Travel Fix-It, not that kind tho, Time Travel, Bad Friend Hayden Pike, Good Friend Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, 2017 MLH All-Star Weekend in Tampa Bay (Game Changers), Good Friend Rose Landry, Shane Hollander & Rose Landry Friendship, Rose Landry & Ilya Rozanov Friendship, Established Relationship, Relationship Reveal, Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov Relationship Timeline Reveal, Secret Relationship, Married Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, i can add that tag now, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boston Bears | Boston Raiders Player Shane Hollander, Hijinks & Shenanigans, cliff is trying his best, it's not his fault the bears are dumb and smart at the same time, ilya rozanov's heart eyes keep getting him into trouble, Good Friend Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais, shane hollander & cliff marlow friendship, i cant believe i have to make that a tag

Language:

English

Collections:

Works to reread, Emeralds_Late_Night_Reads, Ilya loves Shanes stupid freckles, Zulie's Best of Heated Rivalry, TDH Game Changers / Heated Rivalry

Stats:

Published: 2026-02-28 Completed: 2026-08-02 Words: 73,251 Chapters: 20/20

time travel doesn't get you out of parenting

Summary

After winning the Stanley Cup in 2023, the Ottawa Centaurs Rookies are drunk and making wishes only to end up in Tampa Bay in 2017. Step one when something goes wrong and you need an adult? Find Team Dads Ilya and Shane. This can't go wrong.
--
Basically I drop the Centaur's rookies into 2017 as a plot device for shenanigans and fixing Hollanov's relationship. Then I send them home and let the butterfly effect run rampant.

Notes

The voices won again. i promise new chapter of operation R&J soon.

Chapter 1: a very weird day

Holmberg whispers "We've got to just do it. That’s the rule, if we fuck something up and need an adult, find Roz or Hollzy. Just because we’re in 2017 doesn't mean we don't follow the rules. That’s what Ilya would say. Besides, it's not like we have options."

“Yeah,” agrees Luca, “You’re right. Let’s go.”

They approach the couple, a very odd huddle of rookies moving as one toward the bar. They know they have eyes on them, but they can’t bring themselves to care. It’s been a very weird day. They won the Stanley cup last night, for the second time. Partying as a team was a given, but at some point the four of them peeled off, well on their way to drunk, towards a fountain. Bergy dared Young to make a wish with a coin they found on the ground. They remembered laughing at whatever he’d said, followed by a flash of light. Now they’re in Tampa, Florida, in 2017. 

“So you and her are not…” Ilya Rozanov is saying as they approach.

“No, we’re not,” says Shane in response. Luca clears throat to interrupt them. The look of confused panic on Hollander’s face is familiar, as is the look Rozanov is giving them. They’ve spun around in their stools.

“So sorry,” says Luca hurriedly, “This is going to sound really weird.”

“Really weird,” adds Lapointe

“But we promise we’re telling the truth. I’m Luca Haas, that's Young, Holmberg, and Lapointe. We’re your rookies. In 2023. Which sounds crazy, we know, but-" he cuts himself off, waiting for someone to say something. 

“Is this a prank?” Shane asks, in disbelief. 

“Nope.” Young shakes his head.

“We wish,” says Lapointe, “But we can prove it.”

“We need somewhere private to talk,” pipes in Luca, shooting the others a look. 

“Oh! Yeah, can we go to your room?”

Shane and Ilya look at each other, silent conversation passing between them. Ilya spoke up without taking his eyes off his (future) husband, “Yeah, we talk in my room.”

They give up on subtly and walk out together. It’s almost reminiscent of any other away game the rookies can recall, except the distance between their captains is palpable. They follow in the usual huddle to the elevator. The ride up to Rozanov's room is awkward, both groups of people shooting each other looks and only one pretending to be subtle about it. 

Roz holds the door open and ushers the four of them in, exchanging one last look with his (not yet) husband before following him inside and bolting the door. 

Young throws himself onto the nearest bed, scooching up to sit against the pillows where Holmberg joins him. Lapointe sits in his spot in the center of the bed, crosslegged, next to Luca who plants his feet on the ground and sits comfortably on the end of the bed. 

Ilya and Shane watch them do this, bewildered at the casualness of the arrangement. 

“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Shane refuses to take his eyes off the rookies, eyes bouncing between them. Ilya is conflicted about whether he should try and comfort Shane, but he sees the rookies watching them, eyes flicking between Ilya and Shane like they’re waiting for something. So he moves to grab the back of Shane's neck. 

“Hey, hey. Breathe, Shane. Is ok. They say they are rookies, we can take rookies, yes? Small, harmless, rookies. Rookies,” he turns towards them, voice hard, “who will explain now.”

“You’re kinda-”

“What happened was-”

“-where to start-”

Ilya holds up a hand to silence them, realizing they would get no where like this.

“You said, downstairs, you are our rookies, yes? Mine and Shane's, what do you mean?” He wants clarification. 

“Yeah. we all play for the Ottawa centaurs in the future.” Shane looks as shocked as Ilya feels. Neither of them were expecting that. 

“What do you mean, I'm sorry, Ottawa?"

Young interrupts, “Maybe we should start at the beginning? With the time travel thing?”

“Yes, I think that is good place to start.”

—

“— so the rule is if we need an adult, we find you guys, and we know that it’s only 2017, but we thought what would Ilya say about that? and realized you would tell us to follow the rules anyway, so we found you.”

Ilya rubbed a hand down his face. That does sound like something he would say. He's not 100% sold on the time travel thing because he still doesn't know anything more about the Ottawa or sharing rookies of it all, but Shane speaks for the first time. 

“You keep doing that.”

“Doing what?” Ilya asks. 

“Not you, them.” He focuses on the four children on the bed. “You keep referring to us, like, the rule is find us not find one of us, like we’re always together.”

The rookies exchange looks on the bed. “You are always together. Usually.”

Holmberg blushes, “This is maybe the part where we should tell you…” He trails off and gestures for Haas to take over.

“Well, in the future,” Luca says slowly, “Um, well, you’re married.”

Holmburg, Young, Lapointe, and Haas hold their breath as the news drops. It’s not every day you get to inform your parents they’re married to each other. It’s also not every day you find out that you’re married from four time traveling hockey players. The shock remains palpable, so they turn to each other and start whispering frantically.

“Should we tell them?” Young whispers. “You know, about playoffs this year?”

“I mean we’re already telling them everything else about the future, so?”

“It would help Hollzy.” They reach a consensus, nodding at each other and turning back to the hockey husbands. Shane and Ilya are both red in the face and staring at them. Haas clears his throat and says,

“Scott hunter came out first, like in a few months actually. Kissed his husband on the ice after winning the cup.” That gets a reaction.

“Technically his boyfriend right now.” Points out Holmberg.

“Yeah, and then, uh, Troy Barret comes out next. He’s also on the Centaurs and he's dating Harris, our social media guy.”

“Love Harris. He’s the best.”

“Yeah, great beard. He's an apple farmer.”

“And I'm queer.” Luca says, raising his hand. That gets another reaction from their captains.

“Haasy has a boyfriend.” Holmberg sing-songs. 

“I do not, he's just a friend.” Luca reaches over to hit his friend.

“You literally blush when you text him.”

“Shut up, I do not.” He pushes Lapointe's face away from him. 

“He wants you so bad, you’re missing every sign.”

“No he doesn’t, I'm not missing anything. He's just a friend.”

“In the wise words of our captain, that man wants to fuck you six ways to sunday.”

“Ew”

“Gross, don’t quote cap while he’s standing right there.”

—

Ilya and Shane watch this casual exchange. Friends teasing about a crush, ganging up on their friend, uncaring about the gender. It’s been a weird day for them too. Ilya arrived in Florida fully prepared to hear about a whirlwind engagement between the man he loved and Rose Landry, only to be told by four time-traveling rookies that he not only played on the same team as Shane, they won two Stanley Cups together as husbands. 

When the group had approached them and said they had proof but needed somewhere private to talk, Ilya had assumed the worst or a prank. Neither happened, instead they filed into the room and made themselves at home like they’d done it a million times. It was unnerving. Eventually he cut them off.

“Ok, enough. Let me be clear, Shane and I are married in future. We play for same team and you are our rookies. Also, Scott Hunter and Troy Barret are gay.” The four nod.

“And Haasy has a boyfriend.”

“And Haasy has a boyfriend.” Ilya repeats, rubbing his forehead again. He holds up a hand to cut off Haas before the argument can start again and amends, “Haasy maybe has a crush who likes him back.” More nodding. “Ok, I talk to Shane in bathroom, you wait here. Do not move, do not listen.”

Without waiting for an answer he directs Shane into the bathroom.

With the door closed firmly behind them, Ilya wastes no time in maneuvering Shane onto the closed toilet lid, his head between his knees. Ilya lets himself comfort Shane through a brief panic attack, reminding him to breathe and that everything would be ok.

“I didn’t get to apologize.” Is the first thing Shane says, muffled where his face is still buried.

“What?” Ilya is caught off guard by the statement.

“For running out last time.” Shane picks his head up to look at Ilya. “I’m sorry. I got scared and I ran. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry I hurt you. All of this happened before I could apologize.”

“Ah. Is ok, I think. I push too hard, too fast.” He wants to bring up the reason they’re in here, other than letting Shane recover away from prying eyes. “Besides, we are married, yes? I think that is enough sorry.”

Shane laughs, thunking his forehead onto Ilya’s shoulder where he’s still crouched in front of Shane. “Married. We’re married. I had this whole plan to ask you if it was real? This, us. I guess that’s my answer.”

“Is it ok? That we are husbands?” The word causes a jolt through Ilya, everything he wanted and never let himself dream of having for its impossibility.

“Yeah, it’s ok. It’s weird to think about this whole future we’re told we have, but I really like the idea of it. I get to have you and hockey.” Ilya agrees, getting to keep both Shane and hockey, getting to be out. They have a whole supportive team waiting for them somewhere.

Before Ilya can say anything, there’s a knock at the door. The room door, not the bathroom one. Shane meets his eyes in shock. Ilya moves quickly back out to the main room, the rookies haven’t moved from the bed, but now Cliff Marlow’s voice is coming from outside.

“Rozy? You in there? I couldn’t find you, but someone said you were in your room. You ok, man?” He freezes, looking to the rookies. He raises an eyebrow in a silent question, with a positive answer that soothes him, he turns to Shane, more silent conversation passing between them.

“Roz?” Ilya swings the door open, ushering Cliff inside quickly and checking the empty hallway. The door is shut and bolted once again before he swings towards his best friend. “Hi, Roz. What’s going on? Wyatt Hayes downstairs said you and Hollander left the bar together with a group of young adults he didn’t recognize.”

“Hi, Uncle Marlow!” Young and Bergy call from the bed.

“Um, hi?” Marlow waves back, clear confusion written on his face. “Uncle Marlow?”

“Cliff, I’d like you to meet my rookies. From future.” His kids agree enthusiastically, talking over each other to explain the whole time travel story. Ilya raises a hand again to shut them up. “Yes, they time travel from future.”

“2023!”

“The rule is to find the team dads, so even though we’re in the past, we still followed the rules!”

“Team dads?” Marlow definitely noticed the plural. 

“Ah, Marlow, this is part where I tell you I do not play for Boston in future.” 

“Don’t play for Boston? Who do you play for?”

“Ottawa.”

“Ottawa!? Seriously? Why the hell do you play for Ottawa?” Shane clears his throat behind Marlow, where he’s settled back into the chair. Cliff turns at the noise. “Hollander. Hi, I didn’t see you, and I forgot you might be in here.”

Shane is still a little pale when he responds, “Hi, Marlow.”

“So, what’s your role in this shit-show? Do you know what's going on or were you just in the wrong place at the wrong time?” Ilya lets a shit-eating grin spread across his face and he walks over to stand behind his future husband.

“Marly, Marly, Marly.” He tuts. “You have been very patient for many years. You have been asking for long time to meet my Montreal girl, yes?” He waits for Marlow to nod hesitantly. He places his hands on Shane’s shoulders. “I would like you to finally meet my Jane. I move to Ottawa to be closer to my husband, so we play on same team.”

Cliff’s mouth has dropped open at the news, “Holy shit! Jane? Montreal girl, Jane? Is Shane Hollander? Rozanov!”

Shane is smiling at him despite the palor of his skin. “The kids said you were safe to tell. You know in the future and were ok with it.”

“Well, shit, yeah of course. I’m just trying to recontextualize everything I know about Roz and Jane. This is crazy, man. Not bad,” he hurries to reassure, “just, didn’t expect this. But good for both of you. Hold on.”

Cliff spins to look at the children on the bed. “You called me Uncle Marlow, is this why?”

The rookies all laugh, Haas speaks, “Yeah. Roz and Holzy are team dads, so we call you Uncle Marlow sometimes.”

Young has a grin reminiscent of his father from a few minutes ago. “We also call Scott Hunter ‘Grandpa Scott’. He hates it, but he can’t make us stop. He thinks it was your idea, but it wasn’t. It was Haasy’s.”

Ilya looks delighted, so does Cliff. “Grandpa Scott! Like father, like son. You are favorite child now.”

“Haasy’s always been favorite child.” 

“Ok, wow. I need to sit down.” Cliff isn’t expecting his new nephews to make space for him on the bed, but accepts anyway. “So, I have questions if you’d like to answer. First, don’t think I didn’t hear you say husband. Second, congratulations, how does it feel to keep the best secret in the NHL? And third, tell me everything.”

Shane starts, “Yeah, uh, Ilya and I get married at some point in the future, I think before I move to Ottawa.”

“Lonely.” Ilya says. “To keep secret, lonely and hard.”

Shane takes his hand, trying not to think about the fact this is the first time they’ve ever been able to do this in front of other people. It’s also new for them, but no one else here knows that. “Yeah, lonely. But there’s really no other option right now. I don’t know what happens in the future that lets us come out, but knowing we get to someday, it’s a lot.”

“Oh, that sucks.” Marlow comforts. “Maybe my nephews have some insight?”

“It’s not the best story.” Holmberg looks at them. “You got outed, actually. Accidentally, but still. You were only a few months out from your wedding, which was when you were going to tell everyone during the summer.” He trails off.

“How do we get outed?” Shane is thankful Ilya is asking, he has a sense of dread about getting outed, even if they were already preparing to come out.

“Um, there’s this website called FanMail, it’s like, you can request videos from your favorite celebrities. You were kissing in the back of one, the guy uploaded it to twitter. It was a rough few days. The Centaurs were all fine, but the Voyagers weren’t. They accused you of throwing games.”

Throwing games? Him? Shane Hollander? 

“Bullshit!” Cliff has the same idea. “Have they ever played a game with those two? Throwing games my ass.”

Ilya’s blood is boiling at the thought, he turns to his man, “I would divorce you if you threw a game.”

Shane pats his shoulder, “We’re not married yet, but also I would kill you if I found out you let me win. I can’t believe anyone would accuse me of that. Was it all of them?”

Lapointe shrugs, “Most of them, but Boiziau apologized and came to the wedding. Pike was also there, I think he stood up for you in the locker room.”

“I want to know how we got caught kissing in the back of a video? There’s no way we were that reckless after all this time?”

That earns them another silent rookie conversation. “We don’t think you want to know. Not right now.”

“No, I think I do.” Ilya demands, to more head shakes.

“Ok, so who else is safe to tell?” Marlow tries to redirect the conversation, “I am, apparently, is there anyone else we could loop in? Hollander, should we tell Pike? He’s your best friend right?”

The rookies on the bed go quiet, and start looking at each other, avoiding making eye contact with any of the other men in the room. Ilya senses that it’s related to the rest of the Montreal bullshit.

“What?” Shane asks, “Did something happen with Hayden?”

“Well…” Luca starts. “I think he was the first person to know, and he did keep your secret. He was at the wedding and his kids all call you guys Uncle Shane and Uncle Ilya."

Shane can sense a but, dread filling his stomach, “But…?”

“But we,” Young gestures to the group, “don’t really like some of the comments he makes about Roz? Nothing like, homophobic or anything, but…”

Holmberg picks up, “It’s not really a secret that Roz likes to ragebait people, it’s his love language. That’s how Troy knew you didn’t like him at first, because you just ignored him. Pike uses the ragebaiting as an excuse, we think, to take potshots at Roz. Like, he started it I couldn’t help myself. Except Roz never goes low, but Pike will.”

“It’s clear he doesn’t like Ilya, but also clearly has to put up with him just for you. It’s annoying to listen to him complain, sometimes.”

Shane is stunned, he knows Hayden doesn’t like Rozanov, none of the Voyagers do on principle alone, but for his best friend to openly dislike Ilya as Shane’s partner isn’t something he expected. “What kinds of comments?”

“Stuff like you can do better, or he doesn’t know how you put up with him.”

“That’s the small stuff, I overheard him at the summer camp you guys run once, context doesn’t matter, but he apparently used to help JJ try and set you up with guys after you came out, but before anyone knew about Roz. Well, Pike knew about Roz, but no one else. I heard him say once that the easiest solution would just be to find you another man and he was disappointed they missed their shot before the wedding.”

“We don’t want you to think we hate him, we just don’t like how he talks about Roz. That’s our captain!”

“And your husband!”

Luca bites his lip again, “He’s not homophobic exactly, but… Obviously he kept their big secret and supported Shane when he came out, but he makes comments sometimes that come across bi-phobic. I think I noticed because I’m also gay, so maybe I’m reading too far into it and they could also just be regular slut-shamming or Ilya-phobic things.”

Shane would really like something to start making sense today. “What do you mean?”

“Rozanov will get bored of you and move on, or he’ll realize being with a woman is easier, or you’re gonna get your heart broken and Pike’s gonna have to pick up the pieces. It’s only a matter of time before he cheats on you. That kind of stuff.”

Ilya is pale, “Never.”

“We know that, Shane knows that, everyone with eyes knows that. You’re so in love it’s kinda gross sometimes, Bood calls you guys the dictionary definition of aggressive monogamy.”

“It’s just Hayden that refuses to see it, willfully, apparently.” Shane is angry now. “How did he find out about Ilya and I?”

Lapointe shrugs, “I think he guessed. He brags about it sometimes, being the first one to know.”

“So it is ego for him.” Ilya says, glaring at nothing while squeezing Shane’s knee in comfort. “He knows big secret before everyone so he is better than everyone. He is just upset about me. I am ruining his plans for Shane. Like doll he can, ah, manipulate.”

Shane feels sick. His best friend had guessed his secret and instead of being happy for him, had gone behind his back to try and break them up. Said awful things about his future husband, never to his face, probably because Hayden knew Shane would punch him. Even after they were married apparently, enough that kids from a different team had noticed. He turns to Ilya.

“If anyone, anyone, says shit like that to you, ever, tell me. Immediately. I don’t care if it’s my parents or Marlow or a stranger or Hayden fucking Pike. No one gets to say those things about you. Who does he think he is, trying to tell me I'm making a mistake? Going behind my back to help set me up when he knows I'm in a relationship, like I wouldn’t choose you over everyone. We didn’t make it this far just to be insulted by people who think they know better. Implying you’d cheat on me, you’d leave me after going through all the trouble to move countries and teams. Bullshit, it’s bullshit, I can’t believe him. My own best friend thinks I need to be protected from myself. I’ve known you longer than him. I’ve been fucking you longer than I’ve known him.

“Scary Shane.” comes a whisper from somewhere on the bed, Shane whips towards them, leveling his glare at all four of them, who cower. 

“Ok, sweetheart. We are ok, we can yell about 15th best Voyager later. I’m sorry he is not the friend you thought.” Shane turns and buries himself in Ilya’s arms. 

“So we’re definitely not telling Pike or Boiziau.” Cliff says. “Wow, that’s the shittiest thing I've heard. You said they were the only two at the wedding?” When he nods, he curses again, “Shit, that doesn’t look good for the rest of Montreal.”

“No, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.” Shane cuts off Luca, who opens his mouth, probably to tell the tragic tale of What Really Happened in Montreal.

Marlow wants to shove someone into oncoming traffic as he realizes something, “You said Pike was the only person who knew about them? Haasy, right? Was Pike the one that outed them?

Icy dread fills the hockey husbands as their rookies all immediately avoid looking at them. Shane can’t believe this, first Hayden guesses his biggest secret, then he outs them?

Holmberg says, “It was an accident, but yeah, he was filming and he caught you guys in the background.”

“Why was he filming a video to send to someone if they were around? Why didn’t he check the background? That’s such an easy thing to not fuck up, what the fuck?” Marlow rants. “If I had to keep a secret like this, I wouldn’t ever even have my phone out! Filming something? Really? That’s just careless. Sorry, Shane.”

“No, I’m livid. On top of everything else, he can’t even be careful with our secrets.”

“Is dangerous.” Comes Ilya’s quiet voice. “If I lose visa, I have to go back to Russia. My family is police, is not good if they know.”

“Shit, Roz, that’s right. You weren’t even married when you were outed it sounds like, you could have been deported or killed. That’s not just risking losing hockey, Pike threatened your life by outing you.”

“He’s not finding out. Not this time, I can’t believe he hates you so much he would be that careless. I’m starting to think he doesn’t even like me.” Shane is standing now, pacing the room, anger taking over every other emotion. “Ilya, if I said something crazy, would you hear me out?”

“Always.” Hasn’t Ilya proved he would do anything for Shane, that he’s just as crazy.

“Marry me.” Ilya wasn’t expecting that, neither was anyone else, because happy excited noises are being suppressed from the direction of the bed. “Not right now, but after we figure out this mess, marry me. We start the process now to get you citizenship, then you’re extra safe if we get outed. And it’s not going to be by Pike.” Shane falters at the end of his speech, clearing his throat. “Um, if you want to.”

Ilya strides across the room and kisses him hard, wrapping his arms around Shane’s back, pressing close. He pulls back just enough to say, “Yes.”

Cooing comes from the five other adults in the room.

“Aww, I can’t believe you just got engaged in front of me. How do the kids feel about this? Kids?” The kids in question are pushing each other over, delighted they got to witness this moment.

“Yeah, engaged.” Shane sighs, dreamily, before realizing what he said. “Oh! Engaged!”

Ilya buries his face in his fiancé's neck, laughing. “Yes Shane, engaged. Are we crazy?”

“Yes, I think so.” Shane doesn’t want to let go of Ilya, but Marlow gets their attention, drawing their focus to the time and the fact that they’re still at All Star Weekend and still have four time-displaced twenty-year-olds.

“Ok, so we don’t tell anyone else. We go downstairs and tell everyone you four are from the future, you’re Roz and Hollzy’s rookies and they’re on the same team. Nothing else, let them assume whatever they want. I’m going to keep an eye out for other safe people.”

“You and what gaydar, Marly?” Ilya throws out from Shane’s arms.

“My sister-in-law and her wife are both gay, I've got a good homophobic asshole detector.”

“Really?” Ilya is shocked, he didn’t know that.

“I don’t exactly advertise it, but yeah. Rookies, are there any other people that would be safe to tell, just in case? Or so we can build a good support system for our hockey husbands here?”

“The Centaurs, obviously, but not all of them are on the team yet, so…” Cliff listens to them list the current roster, surprised by a few of the names, mostly Troy Barrett, and then listens to the list of other hockey players who had attended the wedding.

“Ok, that’s a good list. I’m thrilled most of Boston is on that list, that makes things easier.” Cliff ends the conversation there, and redirects the rookies' attention to give his friend(s) some privacy before they go downstairs. It had been a normal day for Cliff, until he’d been pulled into his best friend’s hotel room. Now said best friend was engaged to his long term something, Shane Hollander, and time travel was real and had decided to drop their four kids on their laps. 

They traipse downstairs in another huddle, herding the group towards the pool outside. They got looks, a lot of weird looks. Cliff got them settled around a table and waved a waiter over to order drinks and some food. 

“Can we go swim?” Bergy asks Shane, who just gives him a long-suffering look, and waves them off with Roz’s room key. They take off to steal their captain’s clothes, returning to cannonball into the pool.

“Hey, what’s going on over here?” Wyatt Hayes, rookie-approved, appears before the three left. “I see you found Rozanov, Marlow.”

“Yeah, thanks for that. Join us.” He gestures to the seat next to him, across from Hollander. “Do you believe in time travel?”

Hazy gives him a weird look, “I don’t know? I guess? Is this hypothetical or are you about to tell me something about myself to freak me out?”

“Naw, I don’t have anything, but those rookies could.” He points out his nephews in the pool. “Apparently, if you win the Stanley Cup and make a wish, you can end up five years in the past.”

“Are you serious? You have to be yanking my chain.” Cliff shakes his head, and sees Ilya and Shane do the same. 

“I wish,” says Hollander, “but nope, they’re from 2023. They’ve informed us that Rozanov and I play on the same team in the future, with you actually. They’re our rookies.”

Ilya nods, Cliff can see his fingers twitch where he wants to grab his fiance's hand. That’s a crazy thought, now that Cliff knows that Jane is Shane, so many things are falling into place, re: Rose Landry. Also, now that he knows, it feels glaringly obvious. 

“You’re really not messing with me? Because that sounds insane. Rozanov and Hollander on the same team?” Hayes shakes his head.  “Wouldn’t you kill each other? You both seem way too calm about this.”

“I’ve given up on life making sense. I’ve had to deal with too much life altering information today, so I’m accepting that this is my life.”

“Also, Hollander and I won two cups together, so maybe we play good together. No one know, because of rivalry.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess we get to see how you play together today, huh.”

“They’re awesome!” Young has returned, dripping wet, to the table. “Hi, Hazy! I’m Young, we play together. Roz, can I have some of your soda?”

The table blinks at him, but Roz gestures for Young to do whatever he wants. He takes a drink from the cherry coke can, belches, and says, “Thanks, dad,” before turning and launching himself back into the water.

“Dad!?” Ilya shrugs at the goalie.

“Has been very weird day.”

“I can see that.”

Hollander starts laughing, slowly at first, then he’s hunched slightly, body shaking, lips pressed tightly together. “It,” he starts, “has been a very, very weird day.”

He doesn’t even say anything when Roz reaches out to grip the back of his neck in comfort. Massaging lightly until his fiance can sit back up, back in control.

Wyatt watches this whole thing happen and shrugs, “Ok, weird day, got it. What are you going to do about the time-traveling children?”

“No clue.” Marlow tells him. “We’re kinda hoping it just wears off and they go home.”

“You said it was a Stanley Cup wish? Then probably, that’s your best bet. They don’t normally last longer than twenty four hours.”

There’s palpable relief washing over the table at the words. They can deal with a day of this, especially because the rookies don’t seem adverse to telling people they’re from the future and seem surprisingly adept at avoiding any revealing questions.

Shane and Ilya exchange a wordless conversation, they can do this. They have a perfect excuse to hang out in public for a few hours, be friendly. And if the rookies leave and they still remember everything, they could start to plan for their own future. Revelations mean it won’t look exactly the same, but they’re both hoping it will be better this time around.

Chapter 2: what rookies get up to

Chapter Notes

ok, i'll continue this. I've got lots of ideas, but the magic time travel will only be for one more chapter before the rest of the fix-it starts.

“So what’s going on with the kids following you around?” One of their teammates asks. Most of the players had been given the pleasure (or misfortune) of meeting the time-traveling hockey players. 

Shane shrugs, “Stanley Cup wish. They’re from the future. They’ve imprinted on Rozanov and I.”

“Like ducklings.” Ilya adds, delighted. “They are our rookies.”

“Who’s ‘our’?”

“Rozanov and I. No, we don’t know why or how, but it’s Stanley Cup magic. I’ve just accepted the weird weekend.” That explanation gets mostly everyone off their backs. Cup magic is rare, and taboo to talk too much about at the risk of it never working for the individual who insults the Cup. When Stanley wants to interfere, Stanley will interfere. 

“Well try not to kill each other this weekend. That would be bad for the rookies, and our chances of winning this game.”

None of them had to worry. Playing on the same team as Hollander and Rozanov was its own distraction. Mostly because Shane and Ilya realized why they’d won two Stanley’s back-to-back. It was like there was no one else on the ice. Being able to play with Ilya for the first time was electrifying, but being able to play with the man who was, as of five hours ago, his fiance? Better than anything Shane could have ever imagined. This was not how he thought his weekend was going to go, but he could hear Bergy and Young (the loudest of the four) cheering from behind the boards. 

Those were his rookies. His and Ilya’s. It was odd, having them turn to him like an authority figure when they were technically only a few years younger than him right now. 

Ilya was having the time of his life, between Shane’s apology, getting engaged, telling Marlow, and adopting four rookies. His good mood was infecting Shane as well, not even he could be too anxious over small things like getting caught when their secret was now five people bigger and one very good excuse lighter. 

Ilya couldn’t resist planting a huge kiss on the side of his fiance’s helmet after the last goal of the game (Shane’s), and could hear cheering from where his rookies sat. 

—

For Luca, getting to attend the All Star game, the one where Rozanov and Hollander finally played on the same team, herald by the internet as the perceived ‘start’ of the great Hollanov Hockey Husbands Era. He knew better, but it was still awesome to watch. They’re given a list of instructions, but trusted to be left alone when it’s time for Shane and Ilya to go get ready for the game. He and his friends make their way to reserved seats right behind the glass. Perfect view of the ice. 

“This is gonna be awesome!” whisper-shouts Young, taking his seat between Holmberg and Luca, leaving Lapointe to sit on his other side. 

“Fuck yeah!”

Rozanov skates by where they’re sitting during warmups and waves. They cheer for him, jumping up and waving. Several other players on the ice shoot them weird looks, but they’ve mostly gotten used to the chaos. They already know what it’s like to both play with and watch Ilya and Shane on the same side of the ice. The most entertaining thing, they agreed, was watching everyone else’s reactions.

The first time Shane passes to Rozanov to score, less than a minute into the game, Lapointe points at the goalie. He has a look of pure terror on his face, looking around like he’s not sure the puck actually passed him. Luca is cracking up. The next face off only highlights the insanity of it all because none of the players have quite recovered. Only the hockey husbands are focused on the puck, Ilya flanking Shane, prepared to receive it. The other center barely remembers to get into position, openly staring at them and losing the face off because of it. By the time everyone else remembers what they’re supposed to be doing, Shane has the puck back and is scoring. 

Cliff Marlow is the only opposing player who can focus, but even he’s enjoying watching reactions instead of playing hockey. His attention is split between laughing at his fellow players and trying in vain to stop his friends. 

Cliff skates a lap, passing by his nephews, slapping the glass in front of them to cheers. He grins and points back at where they’re standing too close after Ilya kissed Shane’s helmet. Not subtle, he mouths at the kids. They laugh and shake their heads, it gets worse, Luca mouths back.

—

Wyatt Hayes is a goalie. Everyone knows goalies are weird. They just kind of come that way, goalie life chooses you and so on. Wyatt, especially, had a keen eye. He watched the way Hollander and Rozanov (thankfully on his team because what the hell was that?) forgot about everyone else on the ice, passing the puck cleanly where it needed to go, barely looking at each other to make it happen. Sure, it could be years of studying the other’s playing style after being pitted against one another for almost a decade. Maybe, he would have chalked it up to just a coincidence, a freak of the universe, at the end of the day it was just the two best hockey players playing really, really good hockey. But then, the universe dropped four twenty-year-olds from the future into Tampa. Rookies who followed Roz and Hollzy around like children, looking for permission from either of them before doing anything. Not even wandering off without checking in with their future captains. Because that was also a thing, Rozanov and Hollander, hockey gods, on the same team in the future. Ottawa of all places, where apparently, he was also going to play. That didn’t surprise him, he hated playing in Toronto, but to be on the same team as legends like those two…

Which is how Wyatt Hayes arrived at his current theory. The Stanley Cup magic had sent the rookies back on purpose. Rozanov and Hollander clearly had chemistry, so the universe was interfering. They’re going to hook up this weekend. Now he’s unsure about the sexualities of the both of them, but he does know what sexual tension looks like and they have a lot of it. So, the rooks are here to make sure it happens, probably fixing whatever lands them in Ottawa in the future. He cannot think of a good reason they would both be there except as a punishment from the league, maybe to cover up a gay love affair?

It’s stupid, he knows, but he can kinda see that they’re perfect for each other, so he’ll help the rookies with their mission. He corners them after the game, while they’re still alone.

“Hey, kiddos, rookies, how was watching the game?” Is how he opens.

“It was good. Everyone’s reactions were really funny, especially because they’ve never seen them play together.”

“Yeah, I saw. Roz and Hollander were pretty amazing together. Glad I wasn’t the opposing goalie.” Laughter, good. “Listen, about why you guys are here…”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, did you get sent here for a reason? Why Tampa 2017?” He’s fishing for information, watching closely to their reactions. He gets shrugs.

“Who knows.” says Young. “We’re just trying not to mess anything up until we go home.”

“Well, we might have changed some things, but not bad, just had to provide some top secret information to the right people.” Bergy continues.

“So you’re not here to get Shane and Roz together?”

“What?” Comes the incredulous reply. “What do you mean, get them together?”

“I thought that was why you’re here, like, the universe gave you a mission or something.”

“Nope, not that we know of, just a freak accident.” Haas narrows his eyes at Wyatt. “Why do you think we’re here to get them together?”

Wyatt looks around to make sure they’re alone and no one can overhear. “Well, they play really well together, and there’s the sexual tension, and just, you guys. I can’t think of why they’re on the same team except to be together or because they got caught or something. But you’re telling me they’re not together?”

Crickets. Then, “Pfft, holy shit.” Laughter from all of them, practically falling over each other.

“Do you want to help us get them together?” Wyatt, still confused, nods.

“Yeah, I mean, if it won’t mess up the future. That’s why I came to talk to you.” The rooks straighten up.

“Well, we can’t tell you, but keep watching them and see if you can figure it out.” Lapointe says. 

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” Haas deflects. “Just, watch them, don’t say anything. You’ll see it, goalie eyes. You’re pretty cool, Hasy, but don’t ruin this.”

Wyatt agrees and stays out of the way. Mostly. He does go over to talk to the trio of Rozanov, Hollander, and Marlow at one point. He’s welcome with open arms to the table. The rookies wander back and forth from the bar, busy bothering other people and trying to teach a small group a drinking game they’d learned from someone named Kyle.

He keeps his goalie eyes trained on the (maybe) couple in front of him. The kiddos are right, the tension is there, but so is a sort of softness Wyatt sees when Bood talks about Cassie. Oh, he realizes, they don’t need help hooking up. They have crushes on each other. It’s not just sexual, there are actual heart eyes being thrown across the table. Wow, ok. Wyatt wonders how long it will take them to realize and confess, since he’s been forbidden from interfering. 

Wait. 

No he hasn’t. The kids didn’t control him, also, none of them said he couldn’t nudge it in the right direction.

“So, Rozanov,” he gets the man’s attention to start a conversation, “How was playing wing for Hollander?”

—

Post-game celebrations at the hotel bar were going strong. Ilya and Shane had an excuse to sit next to each other at a table with Marlow and a rotating cast of other players and time travelers who were barely of legal drinking age. Luckily, they were apparently used to Shane forcing shots of water down their throats between drinks. The first time inspired a story about why they always listen. 

“—Roz showed up at our apartment the next morning, wayyy too awake and said ‘I think next time we listen to Hollander, yes? He knows what he is talking about, yes?’” Young is doing a rather accurate impression of Ilya’s accent.

“Omg, that was the worst hangover of my life. Never forgetting water again.” Lapointe adds, downing the rest of his glass.

Wyatt Hayes snorts beer out of his nose, which sets off more drunken laughter. That’s when Scott Hunter decides he needs to see what is happening for himself. 

“Grandpa Scott!” All four of them ring out, to more laughter from Marlow and Roz. Even Shane can't hide his delight at the complicated look passing over Scott's face. 

“What the fuck?”

“Hi, Grandpa Scott. I'm Luca Haas, it's nice to meet you.” Luca is trying to appear sober before his hockey idols’ hockey idol, but breaks down into giggles. Ilya is wheezing, half-way out of his chair, being held up to little success by his fiance a stool over.

“Grandpa Scott.” he crows. 

“Rozanov. Did you put them up to this?” Scott is scowling. Ilya shakes his head nope. 

“No, they came like that.” Shane, the only sober one, clarifies for Scott. “I cant fix it, sorry.” he doesn't sound very sorry. “Would you like to join our shit show?”

Scott doesn't move, which must be answer enough, because Marlow squints at him and says, “Hi Scott Hunter. How are you enjoying this weekend? Are you having fun? I'm having so much fun. I get to hang out with my best friends and I have nephews! Four nephews” he pulls the nearest one, Lapointe, into a headlock, ruffling his hair. 

“Nephews?” Scott questions, already regretting walking over here. He’s been insulted several times and Hollander is swearing. Also, he’s completely unfazed by whatever is happening, which should have been a warning sign.

“Yeah, I’m Uncle Marlow. Ya know, cause they’re Roz’s kids.”

“I thought they were rookies from the future?” Walk away, Scott, don’t ask questions.

“That too, they’re Roz’s tho, which makes me their uncle!”

“I don’t think that's how it works.” He’s cut off.

“Yes it is.”

“Ok, then why? I'm scared to ask, why am I…” Scott trails off.

“Grandpa Scott?” The man in question sighs.

“Yeah, that. I'm assuming Rozanov put them up to it, but apparently not?”

“Nope. They came up with that all on their own.” Cliff looks proud of them, the four giving Scott very proud faces. 

“Ok, this conversation is too weird for me. Goodbye.”

Unfortunately, all that gets him is another round of “Goodbye, grandpa Scott!”

Wyatt decides he needs to wander off too, leaving the group alone. Shane claps his hands. 

“What are we going to do about rooms? The four of you can't just sleep on the ground and I'd be surprised if there was room left in the hotel.”

He just gets stares back. “What?”

“You have a room right? Separate ones?” Marlow asks, pointing between the two. Ilya nods, seeing where this is going. 

“Da, I see. Shane will share with me, they can sleep in Shane’s room. Or in mine. Or with you Marly.”

Shane looks at his fiance, about to reprimand him for volunteering his room, but pauses and actually thinks for a moment. “Ok, that works. Ilya can come to my room, Cliff’s on the same floor so you can just say you roomed with him. Will you four be ok sharing Ilya’s room?”

“My room has two beds, so I can take Rozy’s room and you guys can take mine.” Cliff offers. “I'll ask the front desk for a few cots.”

“No need.” says Bergy. “We'll share. It's like a sleepover!”

Shane raises an eyebrow. “You’ll share? Beds?”

“Yeah? Two per. We do it sometimes. Usually when we crash at your place, it's easier to cuddle on the couch. Besides, there aren't enough guest rooms sometimes.” Shane is shocked at the casual admittance. No disgust or wariness about sharing a bed, platonically, with another man or how that might look. They don't care, it's not a big deal to them. Shane kinda wants to cry. He feels Ilya squeeze his thigh real fast before retracting his hand and shoots him a grateful smile. They’re both thinking the same thing, imagining their own rookie experiences. Younger Shane and Ilya didn’t–couldn’t–have this, but older them were able to give it to the next generation.

“Ok, then I go get my stuff and give you room key.” It's a room shuffle for the ages, but eventually everyone has claimed a bed and said goodnight. 

—

Troy Barret had almost declined this year's invitation to the All Star game. And he was seriously regretting the almost. Like most people at this hotel in Tampa, Troy heard about the time-traveling rookies from the future. He’d glimpsed them a few times, in the pool, in the hallway, trailing after Rozanov or Hollander or both. Rumor was they’d been the first ones to believe the rookies’ story (Troy absolutely did not believe they were on the same team in the future, no way), and the four had latched on like little ducklings as Rozanov was calling them.

Three of those four rookies had spotted him from the other end of the hallway where he’d just gotten off the elevator to crash in his room and sleep off how drunk he was. Instead, he was in a face off against three twenty-one year olds. One of them, the first to spot him, shouted his name all excited, only to be shushed by his friend.

“Troy! Hi!”

“Shhh. That’s Troy before, you know, when he was.” The kid made an odd hand gesture, communicating something to the group that flew over Troy’s head. He didn’t want to try and make sense of what they were saying.

“It’s fine, Bergy. It’s still Troy, but we just don’t tell him everything.”

“Tell me what?” Ok, maybe he did want to know what they were talking about. The group watched him approach. “You guys are Roz’s ducklings?”

He expected blushing, or denial and embarrassment at the childish nickname, but all he got was preening.

“Yeah, Roz is great. He doesn’t call us ducklings in the future, but we’re gonna try and convince him. Shane’ll hate it.” Abort, this was not going how Troy thought. He started to back away, stopped by sudden dizziness. Fucking alcohol.

“Should we tell Troy about you-know-who?” The first kid asks. 

“Who?”

Maybe he’s drunk, or maybe the synchronized turn they all do to look at him really is that creepy.

“Do you want to know about your future?” Creepy.

“No?” It comes out as a question. He really wants to go to sleep now.

“You sure?” The kid in the middle asks. “Because we can give you a hint. Or, like, do you need help finding your room instead? Cause you look drunk, dude, like, that time in New York, drunk.”

Troy isn’t sure what time in New York they’re referring to, or how they know what he looks like drunk, but he really wants to go to bed. “‘M fine. Not drunk, just trying to go to bed.”

“You’re drunk. Come on, where’s your room? You might be an asshole right now, but you’re cool in the future. We can’t just leave you like this.” He doesn’t quite hear it all, but Troy latches onto the not an asshole part. That sounds nice, like people maybe like him. He doesn’t realize he’s handed his key over until he’s being led down the swaying hallway to his door. The kids open it and kind of shove him inside.

“Apples.” What? 

“Yeah, keep an eye out for the apple farmer. That’s your hint about the future.” Troy just nods and continues to back away. They know something and Troy doesn’t want to find out what it is. He passes out and dreams about a talking apple with a really nice beard. He has the vaguest notion when he wakes up that something happened last night. Fucking apples? What?

—

Shane stands in his room, watching Ilya pull clothes out of his suitcase, unsure of how to proceed now that they were finally alone for the first time. 

“Shower?” Shane startles, focusing on Ilya. 

“Yeah. Sounds good.” His voice sounds exhausted with the events of today catching up to him. Ilya looks concerned, guiding his willing body into the bathroom and out of his clothes, speaking in the language they’re fluent in. Shane lets Ilya maneuver him under the spray of the warm water. He starts washing himself, Ilya taking over to wash his hair. 

“Is ok?” he asks, hovering his hands before he touches. Shane loves this about him, the gentleness, refusal to touch until he says it’s ok. The only verbal answer he can give is to hum his agreement.

“Hmm.” Ilya hums back, and starts scratching shampoo into Shane’s hair. He makes Shane tilt his head back, rinsing and then applying conditioner. Shane returns the favor, tugging curls between fingers, working shampoo then conditioner into the hair. 

In lieu of words, they dry off and make it into bed without removing hands from each other. Naked, they pull the sheets around them, Shane curled into Ilya’s chest, hand coming up to stroke his chest. 

“Can we talk tomorrow?” whispers Shane. “Please.”

“Yes, promise?”

“Promise.” Shane is quiet for a moment. “I really like you.”

Shane’s not sure if Ilya heard him until, “I like you too.”

They fall asleep like that, wrapped in each other, breathing in sync.

Chapter End Notes

if yall want to see our rookies get up to any more shenanigans before they go home, let me know.

Chapter 3: no place like home

Chapter Summary

time for the rookies to go home :(

Chapter Notes

Morning comes with a slow awareness of his body, feeling returning bit by bit as his brain starts to form thoughts. His arm is numb, a subtle pressure pinning it down. A jerking against his hips, something wet on his skin. Ilya comes back to himself realizing that Shane is draped on top of him, head on his bicep, and hips twitching forward in his sleep, grinding his hard cock against Ilya’s abs. There are little noises escaping his parted lips. 

The arm that isn’t trapped, comes up to grip Shane’s hip, urging him faster. That’s how Shane wakes up, gasping as his dick rubs against Ilya’s stomach. Shane registers what’s happening, whining and moving his hips faster.  

Ilya grabs both of their dicks together, jerking them both closer to the edge. Ilya leans down to kiss Shane, holding his jaw to force his head in place to reach better, panting while his fist moves faster and faster. “Ah, Shane, fuck.”

“Ilya, Ilya.” They lay there panting for a moment. Shane sits up and for a brief moment, Ilya panics, but all Shane does is lean up to kiss him better. When they pull back, Ilya, for the first time, says, “We should talk.”

Shane nods, “Yes. We should.”

So they clean up and maneuver to sit comfortably, still unwilling to move too far from the other. Then they talk. About Rose and running away, and Russia, and family, and what a future might look like for them if they do this. 

That turns into talking about getting married, or it would, but before they get too far, there’s a knock on the door. 

“It’s Marlow. You guys awake?” 

“Yeah, Marly. One minute.” Ilya rolls out of bed, throwing Shane a pair of boxers and sweatpants, which he slips on without getting out of bed. Ilya pulls on his own pair of boxers and shorts and opens the door to let Cliff in. 

“Good morning, you two.” Marlow scans the room, taking in the shirtless couple and Shane still in bed. “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

Shane goes red in the face at the implication. “No, no, just- no.”

“No, you are fine. Just talking. What is up?”

“Right. What’s the plan for today? If this wears off, it’ll be this afternoon. So, rescheduling flights or what? The boys are downstairs eating breakfast and terrorizing hockey players.”

Shane and Ilya look at each other, deciding what would be best. 

“I’ll reschedule our flights, I need to email Farah anyway. You go round up the rooks and grab us breakfast. Meet back in here in an hour?”

“Sounds good, dorogoy.” Ilya leans over the bed to give his fiance a kiss, which Shane accepts. He puts on a shirt, grabs a room key and his phone and herds Marlow out, leaving Shane behind. 

Once in the elevator, Marlow asks. “So Jane huh? What's the story there? How did you seduce him?”

Ilya lets out an exasperated groan, rolling his eyes.

“You say this. Probably everyone will say this. Ilya how did you do it? How did you seduce pretty Canadian hockey player? Even Shane probably tell you I seduce him, but I tell you secret, Marlow. You want to know secret?” Ilya leans in conspiratorially to stage-whisper, “He seduced me. Pretty Canadian with beautiful freckles found me and shook my hand and I gave him water after I beat him. And then I chase him for years and years. I ran away once, is ok, he ran away too. But now there is no more chasing, no more running, just choosing. He chose me, Marlow, me! He is Shane Hollander, and he chose me.”

“Wow Roz, secretly a romantic. For what it's worth, he seems thrilled you chose him too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I can practically see how much you guys love each other.”

Ilya winces at that. “Ah. Actually, we have not…”

Marlow stops in his tracks, whirling on his best friend. “What? You haven't said I love you? Roz! Roz, why haven't you said I love you?”

Ducking his head to hide his blush, Ilya shoves his hands in his pockets in embarrassment. “It is new, admitting feelings part, I do not want to ruin by saying too soon.”

Marlow is going to kill him. No wonder these fucks needed intervention. “Too soon? Rozy! The man proposed to you! Like, heard about how much danger you’re in and proposed.”

“Marly, he proposed because of danger. That does not mean–” Ilya is cut off, Marlow gripping him by the shoulders.

“Ilya, do you love him? Yes or No, do you love him?” Ilya nods. “Ok, how do you feel about Montreal kicking him out because they’re homophobic assholes?”

He’s glaring at his best friend, but Ilya answers, “I want to kill them. Take him away and never let them near again.”

Cliff eagerly nods, willing Ilya to get the point already. “So, when he hears about Russia, do you think maybe, maybe, he’s thinking the same thing?” He sees the lightbulb go off above Ilya’s head. “Do you think, maybe, he proposed because he loves you too? Obviously, for safely and shit, but that’s because he loves you.”

“Maybe, but…”

“No buts. Don't try and reason your way out of this. Listen to me, the man proposed. He asked you to marry him, you are married in the future, you have been chasing each other for who knows how many years–”

“Eight.” Ilya interrupts.

“Eight- eight?” Cliff stumbles over the new information, certainly not expecting that number. “Later. Listen, the point is: you have been chasing each other for eight years. You’re in love, tell him that. I promise it will be ok.”

“We are dumb.” 

“Yeah, you two are dumb.”

—

Luca and Lapointe shared one bed, furthest from the door, while Young and Holmberg were spread out on the other one. The former bed was awake first, Lapointe stealing the first shower before his teammates could hog the bathroom. Luca rolled over and groaned into his pillow, not ready to be up yet. 

“Shush.” Came a voice from the other bed, Young’s arm thrown over his face to block out the sun cutting right through the middle of the room. Luca groaned again, louder, just to be annoying. A pillow smacks him in the back, almost missing him. Before he can retaliate, there’s a knock on the door.

“You kiddos up yet?” Cliff Marlow called from the hallway. The door swung open to reveal Lapointe, out of the shower, towel around his waist, and three still in bed hockey players to Cliff. “Good morning.” He gets vague noises back.

“Hi, Marlow. It’s too early, why are you here?” Holmberg is sitting up now, leaning over the bed to grab his shirt.

“It’s like 9am, if you want hotel breakfast, you’ve got to go now.” That finally gets them out of bed, scrambling around the room to throw on their clothes from the day before, and out the door for food. They run into Scott Hunter in the elevator, the other man on his way down to the lobby and not expecting to be cornered in a small space with the rookies. When the elevator stops on his floor, Marlow steps out and winks at his nephews. “I’m going to go wake up your dads, don’t cause trouble.”

Scott eyes them warily, “Do I want to know?”

He gets four feral grins in response, feeling a little like prey. There’s probably some animal that gets hunted down like this, right?

“How’s Kip?” The tallest one asks, face passive, giving nothing away. Scott blanches and wills himself not to react.

“Who’s Kip?” More grinning, two in the back trying to discreetly slap each other.

“You do know we’re from the future right?” One says. “We’ve met Kip, he’s nice.”

Scott doesn’t know what to do with that. He wasn’t entirely sure he believed the time travel thing, but how else would they know Kip? They couldn’t possibly know about him, right? But then, none of them had said anything more then how’s Kip?

“You’ve met Kip?” Scott ultimately decided to ask, wishing the elevator would reach the lobby faster.

“Yeah.” The tall one is speaking again. “You’re really lucky.”

The ding of them reaching the ground floor is the best sound Scott’s heard, he does to bid an awkward goodbye and make his escape, but to his retreating back, one of the kids calls, quietly, after him.

“Congratulations, by the way! And thank you, for changing everything. For people like us. It means a lot.” Scott doesn’t turn around to confirm which kid it is (he has a good guess), but the words land anyway. He doesn’t have time to mull them over, dissect what is implied in them. He smiles anyway.

Once Scott Hunter is out of sight, the rookies fall over themselves laughing. Bergy wipes a tear away from his eye, “Did you see his face?”

“That was priceless. Also, good on you Haasy, for the last part.”

“I didn’t want him to feel too bad, besides, he should know.” Luca starts walking towards the free breakfast area. “Come on, I’m hungry.”

“Oh! We should make breakfast for Shane and Ilya, bring it up to them.”

“Good idea, Young. They’ve been really nice about this whole thing.”

—

They found Holmberg and Lapointe attempting to make waffles. It wasn't going terribly, but the small pile they already had wasn't exactly picture perfect. 

“Roz! Hey, we were going to bring you guys breakfast. As a thank you. We talked to Hazy. He says we should go home this afternoon, so we wanted to hang out with you guys until then. If that's ok?” Bergy tacks on at the end, pleading eyes turned to Ilya. 

“Yes, ok. You come with me to find other rookies, then we get real breakfast and go back to room.” Ilya steers them away from the waffle maker and towards the front door. Haas and Young are picked up from where they're harassing Ryan Price, who shoots them a grateful look Ilya will tease him about later. Their group ends up at a bakery/coffee shop not far from the hotel. They pick up food and make idle conversation on their way back. 

Shane is freshly showered and dressed when Ilya returns to their room, Marlow and rookies in tow, laden with breakfast. He shuts his laptop, flights secured for tomorrow morning, just in case. either they’ll have to make a long term plan for this whole mess, or they can spend another night together. Depends on when the rookies go home.

“Breakfast!” Ilya announces once he’s through the door. “And rookies have plan for us!”

He unpacks the food, handing Shane his meal and gesturing for the explanation.

“We were thinking, in the future, you guys have this whole charity foundation you started together, as a way to establish a public friendship. You should still totally do the camps and charity, but after this whole weekend, it wouldn’t hurt to speed that up? Like dealing with us is a good way to ‘bury the hatchet’ so to speak. Maybe you guys could actually start being friendly? Establish a friendship now, say being on the same team opened the door?” Luca is a little out of breath when he finishes. Shane lets himself consider it. He’s right, there's now an established friendliness between him and Ilya. If they pretended they’d swapped numbers and became friends because of this, it would give them reasons to be seen together. And maybe they got talking and found some common ground and decided to start a charity. He repeats all this out loud, “Tell me more about the charity. You said camps?”

They all start talking over each other to explain the Irina foundation and the hockey camps they run in the summer. He reaches out to take Ilya’s hand when he sees a tear run down his cheek at the mention of his mother. Luckily, their rookies seem to know that this topic is to be avoided as much as possible, because they gloss over most of it, instead describing the kids who come each summer and how much fun they have as coaches. It sounds perfect to Shane and a shared look with Ilya tells him they're on the same page. 

“Ok, is there anything else we should know?” The food is gone and cleared, and Marlow needs to get going. “Anything I can do other than keep on keeping your secret?”

Ilya shakes his head at his friend. “I don’t think so. Shane?”

“Can I have your number? To keep in touch?” Shane can see the obvious role reversal here, instead of Hayden being the only one to know, it’s Ilya’s best friend. The biggest difference here is that Cliff actually likes him, promising to not only keep in touch, but that they’re friends now so Shane’s not getting rid of him that easily. It’s amusing to see the torn look on his fiance’s face, trying to decide if Shane and Cliff potentially ganging up on him is worth the smile on Shane’s face at the thought of a new friend. 

Each rookie takes the time to say goodbye to Cliff, promising that they’ll be drafted in a few years and of course they’ll love him when they get to meet in this timeline.

He bids everyone farewell and leaves to pack and catch his flight. 

“Tell me about JJ.” Is the next thing Shane says. “You’ve told me about Hayden, now tell me what you know about JJ.”

The looks the rookies exchange aren’t the same as the Hayden bomb, closer to unsure than hiding something. 

“I don’t know much about him,” starts Luca. “He comes to some things, like, he coaches at the camps, but we don’t see him a lot outside stuff like that.”

“He’s not a bad guy, as far as we can tell. Since the wedding, he kinda stays away from Roz, but that’s more because he knows he fucked up, not because he doesn’t like Roz. Well, they don’t like each other, but it’s mutual and nothing against your relationship I don’t think, just clash of personalities.”

“Fucked up? Accusing me of tripping?” Shane has had enough time to mull over the limited secondary information he has and fill in a few blanks. If he knows JJ at all, and after this weekend, he’s reevaluating all of his relationships, then JJ was definitely jealous. He and Hayden were supposed to be Shane’s assistant captains, a solid trio of friends. So if Hayden had known and JJ hadn’t… he can’t blame himself for not telling JJ after what he can assume Hayden’s reaction was, but it hurts knowing that uncertainty might have been what pushed JJ over the edge. It sucked, knowing the cycle of hurt he can see from the outside. Shane still wasn’t going to tell either of them, to be clear.

Young nods. “Yes. But after you yelled at him, he’s good. I think it was shock more than anything or jealous that Pike knew and he didn’t. But like we said, we don’t really know him that well.”

“Well with the way Hayden must have reacted, I don’t blame myself for not telling anyone else. But I understand where JJ’s coming from.”

“Shane…”

“We can talk about it later, Ilya.” Ilya nods, resolving to do just that. 

“There is one more thing,” continues Shane, attention on the kids, “When you get back, tell Shane, other Shane, about Hayden. I’m giving you permission to tell me, got it.”

“Ok.”

“Yeah, we can do that. What if you don’t want to listen to us?” Shane raises an eyebrow, a little hurt at the implication. 

“Have I ever not listened to you?” 

“No, but still, this is your best friend.” Oh, Shane understands, he would feel like he’s being sent to the gallows. 

“How about code?” Ilya cuts in. “So you know you sent them. Like,” He waves his hand around, “You will listen if you know message is from you. So, code word only you know.”

“Ok? What kind of code would only I know?” Ilya finds the obvious answer rather quickly.

“1410. Rookies, do you know 1410?” he gets negatives

“Say 1410, only Shane and me know what that means, so he will listen to you.”

“1410?” 

Shane looks thoughtful, “Yeah, that’ll work, but make it clear you don’t know what it actually means or I’ll panic.”

“Got it.”

Ilya claps his hands, “Movie? Until you go?”

By the time the movie is over, everyone is asleep. Shane and Ilya wake up to an empty hotel room.

“I will miss them.” Confesses Ilya.

“Me too,” agrees Shane. “We’ll meet them in a few years.”

“Do you think it will be same? They get drafted to Centaurs, we play for Centaurs?”

“I’d say, why wouldn’t it be? But you’re right, we’re already planning on changing stuff, so who knows what will be different.” Shane’s mind is imagining possible scenarios that could arise from whatever they change. “It’s nice to have a list of people who are nice.”

“Yes. Weird too, knowing who is gay and comes out in future. New York will win cup.”

“I wonder if we could change that? Or if we even should try? Scott coming out is big, for him and for us and for, apparently, a lot of people. But how do we guarantee New York wins? We can’t be talking like this, fuck.”

Ilya is laughing against him, “Will be ok, I think. Stanley cup sent us rookies. If Stanley cup wants New York to win, New York will win. And Grandpa Scott will kiss boyfriend on ice.”

“You’re being very calm about this.”

“Yes, because I have everything I need right now.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” Shane feels Ilya move until he’s above Shane looking down.

“You. Here, under me. You, asking me to marry you to keep me safe. You,” Ilya leans down to kiss Shane, gathering his words, “coming back.”

“Oh.” Shane is looking up at him with wide eyes, taken aback by the honesty, “Oh. Ilya, I-”

Ilya kisses him again. “Ya tebya lyublyu. I love you.”

“I love you.” He says at the same time, freezing when Ilya’s words register. “Holy shit.”

“Fuck, Shane.” Ilya drops his head against Shane’s neck. Shane wraps his arms around his back.

“Oh my god, I love you so much. I realized you were going to say it and I wanted to say it first.” That makes Ilya laugh.

“Everything is a competition with you, Hollander.” He pushes himself back up, “I love you too.”

Shane grins, “I like hearing you say that.”

“I like saying it, I love you.”

“I love you.” Ilya kisses him, pinning him down. Shane whispers to him, “The kids are gone.” 

That gets him a growl; blindly grabbing under the pillow where he had stored the lube earlier, Ilya folds Shane’s legs up, prompting him to grab his knees. He works one, two, then three fingers in, enjoying watching Shane writhe on the sheets under his ministrations. Ilya finds the condoms, rolling one on and rolling Shane onto his stomach. He finds an angle that drives Shane crazy, fingers twisting into the pillow under his head, small gasps the only noises he’s making every time Ilya hits his prostate. He thrusts harder, angling just right for Shane to tighten around him, spilling onto the sheets and forcing Ilya over the edge a few thrusts later.

—

The rest of the afternoon is spent languidly kissing, whispering I love you into the space between them.  They know they’re due to return to the real world soon, burdened with the new knowledge that this is something they can have, but still only behind closed doors. 

Staying in bed that day is easy, no one can spot them if they don’t leave. Curled in bed that night, Shane brings up their next game in a few weeks, asking if Ilya wants to come over to his real apartment afterwards, not the condo they usually end up at. Ilya is thrilled to be invited to Shane’s real Montreal home. 

When they have to part the next morning for their flights, Ilya kisses Shane hard in farewell, promising to call him when he lands. 

—

Ilya was right about New York being destined to win the cup that year, because a week after All Stars, Shane is wiped out by one of New Jersey’s defensemen. He walks away from the hospital with a bad concussion and a dislocated shoulder. Not enough to take him out the rest of the season, but enough to knock Montreal out of the playoffs without him. 

He’s still benched for the BOS-MTL game, but Ilya winks when he wins Boston the game and (mindful of his sore injuries) fucks him about it later. Marlow had apparently shoved him out of the locker room, promising to cover with Coach and to just head straight to Shane’s. 

Marlow sent their group chat a single winking emoji, something Shane couldn’t feel embarrassed about, despite his blush. It was nice to be treated like a normal couple by someone. Ilya thinks it’s hilarious. 

That night, they’re laying together, when Ilya brings up marriage. 

“I have no reason to go back.” He’s speaking of Russia, his father’s funeral, his fight with his brother. “We could get married when season ends. After Bears win cup.”

It’s lightly teasing, but Shane can hear the honest insecurity beneath it. “The Bears aren’t winning the cup, asshole. But, yes, I would like to get married this summer. I’m already free, so I’ll look into our options, if that’s ok?” Ilya nods, content and relieved to let his fiance handle it all. “Ok. Should it be just us? Or should we invite anyone?”

“Marly will be mad if he cannot come.” Ilya points out. 

“We probably need a witness anyway, so of course Marlow can come.” Shane scratches his fingers through Ilya’s hair. The man sits up to look at him better. “What?”

“You should have friend there too.” Ilya says. 

“I’ll have a friend there. Cliff’s my friend now, I think.” he says. “Besides, who would I invite? Hayden?”

His fiance snorts. “No, but do you have no friends to tell? What about parents?”

Shane shakes his head, before stopping. Someone does come to mind, but he’s not sure if it’s a good idea. Ilya notices his hesitation. 

“Tell me.” He urges, eyes pleading at Shane. 

“Don’t get mad. Or jealous,” Shane points at the man on top of him. “We could tell Rose.” He hurries on before Ilya can say anything. “The rookies helped us, yes, but I-we- owe Rose a lot. She’s a really good friend now, and apparently, in the future. She understands the need for privacy and wouldn’t tell. Besides I think you’d get along, there’s a reason I thought I could like her.”

Ilya is pouting, thinking about what Shane has said. His immediate response is no, but Shane has admitted he’s gay and has no interest, and with the stunning lack of other friendships (besides Cliff, but that’s different), Ilya has to consider putting aside his jealousy. Marlow would say he’s being a hypocrite about the whole thing, but also he’s still allowed to be upset. 

“Ilya…” He kisses Shane. 

“Ok. I will meet her. I want to tell her together.” Shane melts under him at that. “And I will try not to be mean.”

“I think that’s the best I’m getting. Thank you.”

Chapter End Notes

this isn’t over, im working on editing the next few chapters, but im going out of town so mark your calendars for next tuesday.

also, if anyone wants to write about the rookies getting back to their time and talking to shane, feel free. idk if ill write that part.

Chapter 4: dearly beloved

Chapter Summary

Shane can’t help but join in the laughter. It feels good; he’s surrounded by friends, cuddling his fiance, and Scott Hunter just kissed a man on the ice in front of thousands of people.

Chapter Notes

an extra long chapter as an apology for taking so long? and because i'm going to disappear again for a week.
love all of you and your comments and kudos, they give me life and motivation.

also, i wanted to clarify that ilyas dad is dead, he dies like in canon, and the moscow phone call still happens, just maybe a little differently. by that point, shane is already injured, so he cant play the bos-mtl game where marly originally lays him out. the convo w sveta also happens, she will show up soon, im not leaving her in the dark for too long, dw.

Shane invites Rose to watch the playoffs with him and his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s best friend at his cottage. She shrieks when he gets the word boyfriend out. 

“Are you serious!? Shane Hollander, of course I want to meet him, are you kidding me? I’m booking a flight right now. What day is the game?”

She shows up at his cottage at the end of May to watch New York fight for the Stanley Cup. As soon as she’s through the door, hugged Shane, and complimented the home, Rose asks. 

“So, where’s this boyfriend of yours? I’ve been thinking, is this the same guy you told me about before?”

Shane laughs nervously, “Yeah, he’s with his friend in the living room. He promised to behave.”

He leads her into the living room where Marlow and Ilya are on the couch, fiddling with the TV. Rose’s jaw drops when she sees who’s sitting there. She whirls on Shane. 

“Rose, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Ilya Rozanov.”

“Bitch!” She shouts before turning and walking over to sit next to the hockey player, holding out her hand to shake. “Hi, I’m Rose. I’m so excited to meet you. I’ve heard nothing about you, but I want to.”

Ilya is eyeing her hand, shooting a look at his fiance before taking it. “Hello, Rose Landry.”

“Behave, Ilya,” comes Shane’s voice where he’s hovering between the living room and kitchen. 

“He’s fine.” Rose calls back. “So, I hear you were around before me. I’m sorry for dating your man, he’s very charming, but very dumb.” That earns her a smile. “Good thing he’s funny.”

“Yes, you see it. He is very funny.” Ilya can’t help but relax ever so slightly.

Cliff Marlow is sitting patiently, trying not to be obvious about the pretty movie star in the room. Rose turns to him next.

“Hi, you’re Rozanov’s friend, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Cliff Marlow. I’m also on the Bears with this guy.” He jerks a thumb at Ilya and shakes her hand. 

“Nice to meet you. Shane tells me we’re the only ones that know about this?”

“Yeah. I kinda walked in on them, but they need more friends who support them.”

“I’m right here.” Ilya grumbles between them, unhappy they’re talking over his head like he’s not there.

“That’s not entirely why you’re here though.” Rose raises an eyebrow at Shane’s voice behind her. 

“What do you mean? Shane!” Shane walks back in with drinks and passes them out. Rose scooches over, unprompted, so Shane can sit down between her and Ilya and take his finance’s hand. 

“Well, Rose. I keep calling Ilya my boyfriend, but actually,” they look at each other, silently conversing before Shane turns to face her fully. “Rose, we were hoping you’d be one of the witnesses at our wedding.”

Rose’s jaw drops. “Oh. My. God. Shane Hollander, you’re engaged? It’s been like four months! How long has this been going on for you to jump to engaged? I mean of course, I’d love to be there, I’m so happy for you, but I need the gossip.”

“Yeah, engaged. We want to get married as soon as possible. We have all the paperwork ready, and Farah knows, so we just need to sign and file it. We don’t even have to go to a courthouse or do anything formal. That doesn’t really matter to us. What matters more is having it done.”

“We are rushing because of Russia. I cannot have Russian passport and Shane. But not so rushed for relationship.” Ilya adds, deciding he likes Rose. There’s still a part of him that’s jealous of her and what Shane could have had with her. But Shane is here with him, getting married to him, and Rose is only happy to be included.

“That makes sense, even if it’s sad. So how long counts as ‘not rushed’?”

Shane buries his face in his hands while Marlow laughs. Ilya answers her. “Eight years.”

Rose has the same reaction as Marlow. “Eight years! Shane! God, I wish I had known you were gay immediately. I would have marched your ass to Boston myself.” Shane groans and Ilya laughs in delight. 

“I like you.” Ilya says. “Is ok, though. Shane needed you to tell him he was gay.” Rose gives Ilya her attention. 

“Do you want to hear what he told me when I told him he was gay and he finally admitted the sex was bad?” Ilya doesn’t want to hear about his fiancé having sex with a woman, but gestures for her to continue as Shane buries his face. “He said-”

“Rose.”

“I think I prefer being the hole instead of the peg.” Never mind, Ilya thinks, she can tell him every detail. He bursts into laughter alongside Cliff while Shane buries his face further into his hands, groaning. 

“Introducing you two was a bad idea.”

“Rose Landry, you are my best friend. Tell me everything.” Shane decides that’s enough. 

“No. Gossip later, or never, actually. Don’t talk about this.” He reaches for the remote to turn up the volume on the hockey game that’s starting. Rose mouths later to Ilya over Shane’s head. He nods, then smiles innocently at Shane, who is giving him a suspicious look. 

When the first period ends, Rose brings up the wedding again. 

“So when are you planning to get married? You said soon.”

“I don’t know. We want to do it this summer, but we want the both of you there. I was going to ask what your schedule looks like.”

“Well, you said the paperwork was mostly done right? It just needs to be signed and filed?” Shane nods. “I’m not doing anything else for the next few days, so if I extend my trip, we can do it tomorrow or something.”

Shane imagines it, getting married tomorrow instead of waiting a few months. Both he and Ilya are done for the season, planning on staying here at the cottage under the guise of a silent retreat while his parents are in Mexico for the summer. He’d decided to convince them to take the summer off, promising he was ok and they should take a break before next season. It was a selfish decision also, to keep them from showing up unannounced this summer based on a comment Luca Haas had made. He loved them, but this was something he wanted to keep to himself a little longer. Besides, knowing how they had reacted in this alternate future gave him both hope and pause. He was glad his parents loved Ilya, but he wanted the opportunity to tell them himself. He also drew several conclusions from the sparse information provided, deducing that he and Ilya had barely gotten together officially before Yuna and David knew and after speaking with Ilya, decided they wanted time to find their footing with each other before telling Shane’s parents. It was one thing to have their best friends and peers know, it was another to introduce Ilya to his parents and manager.

“Shane, let’s get married tomorrow.” Ilya is speaking to him, hand on his knee. Shane startles out of his thoughts, making eye contact with his fiancé. Ilya’s eyes are almost pleading.

“Tomorrow?” 

“Yes. Tomorrow. We have Rose and Cliff here. We have paperwork. We order rings tonight and get married tomorrow.” Ilya looks so damn hopeful, Shane can’t deny him, even if he wanted to. 

“Ok. Let’s get married tomorrow.”

It's decided, but set aside when the game starts again. Ilya has half his attention on the game, scrolling through jewelry websites, occasionally showing something to Marlow next to him. Rose is doing the same thing, occasionally turning her screen to Shane for his opinion until she realizes he’s more focused on hockey, so she moves to sit next to Cliff instead. He’s much more receptive to giving her his opinion. The two keep their voices low and communicate by turning their phone screens towards each other so Ilya and Shane can cuddle and watch the game in peace.

The game nearly goes into overtime, but New York scores a goal with a minute left on the clock, winning the game. The four people on the couch watch as Scott Hunter waves to someone in the crowd. Shane and Ilya grip each other in anticipation, watching the man they know is named Kip make his way down to kiss his boyfriend on the ice. Knowing it’s coming does not prepare any of them for the sheer electrifying relief of watching it happen in real time.

“Holy shit!” Cliff shouts, Rose jumping up beside him also cheering. 

“Wow! Look at him, go gay hockey player whose name– Hunter! Go Hunter! Kiss that man!” Rose looks so giddy, spinning to her best friend and spreading her arms out. “Look at that! Gay people win everything forever!”

Shane can’t help but join in the laughter. It feels good; he’s surrounded by friends, cuddling his fiance, and Scott Hunter just kissed a man on the ice in front of thousands of people. 

The group eventually migrates outside, deciding on an early campfire. Ilya has taken to being out to their friends with an ease Shane envies, not that he’s not also thrilled that he no longer has to restrain himself. Shane is carding his fingers through Ilya’s hair where his man has his head in Shane’s lap, stretched out along the rest of the couch they’re on. Rose is occupying the armchair next to Shane and Cliff is sitting across from the couch in a similar chair. The latter two have beers they’re still drinking from occasionally while Ilyas sits abandoned on the ground.

Rose brings it up first, “Why isn't anyone else here? Like your parents? Getting married is kind of a big deal.”

Shane looks down at Ilya, contemplating his words and thinking back to the conversation they’d had in Tampa about marriage. “We- if there weren't these big legal reasons to get married… We’re getting married because I can't imagine spending my life with anyone else. We’re not interested in having a big wedding or a wedding at all really, it's a commitment to each other, a step to getting what we want, which is to be together and out. I think if we were allowed to be a normal couple, we would just skip all of this. No one is here because this is just for us, deciding this is forever, not a party for everyone else to watch us. I don’t like the idea of performing being in love, which is what a wedding has always felt like for me.”

“Oh,” says Rose, softly in understanding. “Like, putting on a show. Acting out all of the steps for the sake of everyone else.”

Shane nods while thinking about the other part of the question. He chooses his words carefully. “My parents aren’t here because they’d turn this into a big thing. They don’t even know I’m gay, and I don't really know how to tell them without spilling everything. We want the chance to figure out us,” Shane gestures between him and Ilya, “before there are other people in our lives to judge it. You two don't count, you're the only people who know everything, and you've been nothing but supportive. Not that my parents wouldn't be, but they're my parents, it just feels different. And, you know,  mom is my manager. I just don't want this to be another thing. Something to worry about, optics and damage control and being prepared for anything. I’m already stressed with everything else, I'd like my relationship to be safe from that. Especially while it’s kinda new. Well, it's not new, but it also is.”

“I wish you two could have the normal you want.”

“Me too, but we’re working with what we have.”

“I would not have it any other way,” Ilya chimes in. “It is ours, yes? Is not perfect, but is ours.”

Shane smiles down at him, stroking his curls back and leaning down to plant a light kiss to Ilya’s lips. “Yeah, ours.”

—

Rose and Cliff stay in two of their guest rooms, wandering into the kitchen in the morning only minutes apart. Shane and Ilya aren’t up yet, leaving the two to figure out the coffee machine by themselves. 

“Ha!” Cliff exclaims, brandishing his hands dramatically at the brewing coffee. “Coffee for the pretty lady.”

When it’s done, he slides a mug to where Rose is sitting at the counter. “Thanks. So, our best friends are getting married today, in secret.” She waves a hand in the air vaguely. “I assume you know my side. What’s your side of the story?”

Cliff takes a sip of his own coffee. “All Star weekend a few months ago. I kinda walked in on them. Not like that.” He says at the look on Rose's face, explaining that he’d shown up to Roz’s room and found both of them and four time-traveling rookies. Cliff deviates briefly to explain the time-travel part, surprised at Rose’s non-chalance at the story I’m from Michigan, I know hockey is weird. “Roz skipped the denial part and just introduced me to his Jane.”

“Jane?”

“Oh yeah. So these dumbasses have been together basically since they met, but they didn’t admit feelings to each other until a few months ago.”

“That makes a lot of sense.” Rose is referencing her own time with Shane. 

“Yeah. And they’ve been texting almost the whole time too. They’re saved in each other's phones as Jane and Lily, so they don't get caught. I've been begging Roz to let me meet Jane for years.”

“Wow. That's not subtle at all, but also kind of sweet.”

Cliff takes another sip of coffee. “I’m just glad they're happy together. I thought for the longest time he wouldn’t ever settle down or find anyone, but Shane makes him happy. That's all I can ask for. That and a wedding invitation.”

Rose laughs, “When Shane and I broke up, he told me he’d been seeing this guy before me and totally fucked it up. I'm glad they figured it out because they're kind of perfect for each other. I know I only have like 24 hours of evidence, but I know I'm right.”

"They'll be glad you approve.” He means for it to come off joking, but something in his tone betrays him. Rose catches it, unsure if it’s directed at her in particular.

“Why wouldn't I approve?" She asks, mockingly offended.

Cliff leans in and lowers his voice. “So, the time travel and the rookies?” Rose indicates she’s listening from behind her mug. “Well they told us that Hayden Pike was the one who found out first last time, years from now technically, but he reacted badly enough that they didn't tell anyone else. He kept their secret until he accidentally outed them.”

“What!?” Her mug hits the table, luckily empty enough to not slosh onto Shane’s nice counters.

“Yeah, I know. And then for years would badmouth Ilya behind Shane's back. Said some nasty shit about him and about their relationship. This is all second-hand from the future, but it shook them enough that they’re gonna make sure he doesn't find out this time, that's part of why they're getting married so fast and only telling us.”

“Shit. That's awful. I met Hayden Pike, just briefly, and Shane always had good things to say. At least until recently, I guess. That sucks. He didn’t seem like a bad guy, or homophobic, but again, I only met him for a few minutes. I can't imagine trusting someone with a secret just for them to expose it, even accidentally. Ilya’s life is in danger for god's sake.”

“Thank you! That's what I said. He's not a bad guy, he just hates Roz, which unfortunately alienates him from this group.”

“Well fuck him. We're their best friends now.” Rose reaches across the table to fist bump Cliff, who returns it almost a little too enthusiastically. They nail it on the second attempt, giggling when Shane stumbles into the kitchen, Ilya following close behind. 

“Good morning." Ilya chirps, in an abundantly good mood. “We are getting married today!”

“Hell yeah!” Marlow shouts, going to high five his best friend. "What's the plan?”

“The plan is to have breakfast,” says Shane, already preparing his morning smoothie while Ilya dances around him to make himself an omelet. “Then I'm going over the paperwork and calling our agent. Then, I don't know? We get married?”

“Not best plan, but yes.” Ilya kisses Shane’s cheek when he walks by.

“Ok then, while you two eat, Cliff and I are going to go set up.”

“We are?” Rose shoots him a look and he stands up, “We are. Setting up. Leave us to it!”

“Set up what?” Shane asks. “Rose! Set up what?”

“Just eat and review paperwork. Don't sign anything yet, but tell me when you're ready.” With that she drags Cliff off to the back yard. 

When the fiances find them later, their friends have somehow found enough things around the cottage to set up an altar outside. It's very simple, with the deck table covered in an off-white tablecloth, flowers picked and arranged nicely in a vase at the center. Rose found some string lights Shane must have had somewhere, twinkling where they’re wrapped around the deck. Ilya thinks it looks perfect. It’s kind of messy and rushed, but it’s all they need. They have the only two people who really know them, supporting them, doing what they can to make the day even more special. Rose sees them approach.

“Good. Where’s the paperwork? Shane, go get it.”

“Bossy.” Shane grumbles. “It’s my wedding day, but sure.”

He’s already holding the stack of paper, marriage license on top, unsigned. 

“Good.” Rose says again. “Now Cliff will take Ilya to get ready. You’re coming with me. I know you don’t care and it’s not super formal, but you’re still going to look nice.”

Both Shane and Ilya protest being separated for this, but let their friends drag them to separate rooms, Cliff and Rose running things back and forth until everyone is in their nicest clothes. Well, Rose in the one dress she brought and Cliff in his nicest shirt and jeans. The grooms were dressed in slacks; Shane in a white shirt, no tie, and Ilya looking handsome in a black turtle neck. 

“Are you ready?” Marlow asks Ilya, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulders. 

“Yes.” Ilya takes a deep breath through his nose. So much had changed in a few months, and here he was preparing to get married. To Shane Hollander. “I am ready. Marly, I am getting married to Shane Hollander.” He says it like he can’t believe his own words. 

“Yeah, you’re getting married to Shane Hollander, buddy. You locked that down, everyone will be so jealous.” Cliff pulls his friend in for a hug. “I’m proud of you. Come on, let’s get you married.”

Cliff stands behind the table, Ilya in front of it, facing the open sliding door, waiting for Rose and Shane to come out. 

There’s a sharp intake of breath when Ilya sees Shane, holding Rose's elbow as she leads them both outside. He's handsomely dressed in slacks and a white shirt with the top few buttons undone. He blinks back tears, overwhelmed for a moment at the realness of this. He's marrying Shane Hollander. Shane Hollander is marrying him. 

Rose stops just in front of Ilya, turning her face up to press a kiss to Shane's cheek, and placing his hand into Ilya's waiting one. She pulls him down to kiss his cheek as well, “Take good care of him, he’s really special.”

He chokes back more tears, nodding, and finds he really means the words he says next, “Thank you, for looking after him when I couldn’t.”

Rose joins Cliff behind their makeshift altar. 

“Dearly beloved,” starts Cliff. 

“There's no one here.”

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander.” His voice fades into the background, Ilya’s focus is only on the man in front of him. Shane is also holding back tears, smile blinding, unable to tear his eyes from Ilya. 

“Do you two have any vows?” Ilya tunes back in, wordlessly checking in with Shane, who also is trying to gauge a reaction from him. 

“Yes, I guess. I have some.” Shane's voice is nervous, but he continues. “Ilya Rozanov, since the day we met, I knew I was going to be in trouble. Something about you drew me back in like a magnet every damn time. I wish I had the courage to kiss you at the draft like I wanted, I wish I had stayed that day in Boston. But here, now? I promise I’m not going anywhere ever again. I’ve fought too hard for this to let you go, so fuck what everyone else thinks, you’re mine. No one else understands me like you do, no one else makes me feel as safe. Ya tebya lyublyu, Ilya. 

Ilya has stopped trying to keep the tears in at the on-the-spot vows. He clears his throat to do the same. 

“Shane Hollander. My beautiful Shane Hollander. You told me I was very rude to you first time we met, I have never told you truth. Truth is I had very pretty Canadian with beautiful freckles come up to me to introduce himself, so I was very distracted. I could not remember my English. I wish I stayed too, first time in Montreal. I wish I had done many things different, to have you sooner, but I have you now. We will figure it out, together. I have been scared long time, but you are here; I am not scared anymore.”

Cooing is coming quietly from across the table. Cliff clears his throat, voice still choked when he says, “Well then, by the power invested in me by the hockey gods and your agent, I pronounce you husbands, you may kiss the groom.”

Ilya brings a hand up to Shane's face, cupping it gently and guiding him in for a kiss. For a moment, Ilya is back in a hotel room in Toronto, before he returns to the deck of Shane’s cottage. Shane pulls back, but keeps his forehead pressed to Ilya’s. 

Rose is clapping, both her and Marlow cheering for them. They sign their marriage certificate together, letting Rose take the stack inside to be scanned for Farah later. She comes back out holding her phone aloft. 

“First dance, do you have a song?” She’s asking. “I know Shane doesn't listen to music, but Ilya any requests? Or do I have to pick one? I can pick a good one, but it's your wedding.”

Ilya holds a hand out for her phone. He actually does have a few ideas. He searches for his own spotify account through hers, and finds his secret Shane playlist, labeled ‘boring’ and handing it back. 

“You pick good dance song from there.”

Rose is scrolling through the playlist. “Oh my god, we are going through this later, but ok. I think I have one.”

She clicks on the last song, letting music fill the air. Shane lets Ilya drag him a few feet away to a more open space on the deck to dance. 

It’s a beautiful moment, letting everything else fall away and just holding each other. For the first time it really feels like they're on the same page. 

Rose and Cliff quietly gather up the rest of the stuff and sneak inside to watch the newlyweds from the other side of the glass door, giving them some semblance of privacy.

“It’s sweet,” comments Rose. Ilya is trying to spin Shane under his arm to surprising success. “This is the happiest I’ve seen him look.”

“I should schedule a dentist appointment for the cavities.” Cliff is splitting his attention between staring at Rose and watching his friends dance with each other. The original song must have ended by now; Ilya is scrolling to pick a new one. “Come on, I’ll start on lunch if you want to help.”

Rose has a small half-smile on her lips. “I’m not a great cook, but I can supervise.”

“Sure,” Cliff swallows around his nervousness, “I work better when there’s a pretty lady telling me what to do.”

She giggles (success!) and grabs his hand to drag him towards the kitchen.

— 

Rose drags Cliff out of the house the next day to explore Ottawa from behind the wheel of Shane’s car, giving the newlyweds privacy for a few hours. Ilya woke up early and slipped them the keys before disappearing back upstairs with two cups of coffee. It was a silent gesture that was thankfully indulged in.

Ilya sets one of the mugs down on Shane’s nightstand, watching the rise and fall of his steady breathing, sheets pooling around his hips from where Shane moved to stretch across the warm spot Ilya left behind. He rounds the bed back to his side, climbing under the sheets to slot himself against Shane, crossing his arms over his husband’s chest and propping his chin on top of his hands to stare while Shane’s breathing moves him lightly up and down. Ilya’s counting the freckles he can see across the bridge of Shane’s nose, trying not to get distracted. He still can’t believe he’s here sometimes, everything he never let himself want is right here and the world hasn’t imploded. Shane starts shifting under him, stretching himself into the waking world, arm coming up to rub at his face so he can open his eyes, catching Ilya’s.

“Good morning, lyubimyy.” He says, earning a smile. Shane’s hands come to comb through his curls.

“Good morning, Ilya. How did you sleep?”

“Good, I like waking up next to you,” confesses Ilya. It makes Shane blush.

“I like this too.” His smile gets bigger, and he tugs Ilya up, “I want my husband to kiss me.”

Ilya claims his mouth, licking into it, growling against Shane’s lips. It’s not that he’d forgotten, but hearing Shane say it did something to Ilya. It was a claim, a brand, husband. It made Ilya shiver. He nips and kisses his way down Shane’s neck, digging his teeth in a little harder at the junction of his shoulder, feeling the vibrations of Shane’s moans against where his teeth were pressed.

“Don’t stop.” Shane moans. Ilya plans to do no such thing, thankful they fell asleep in boxers, making his way unimpeded to Shane’s tits, licking over a stiff nipple, sucking the whole thing into his mouth when Shane arches into him. “Fuuck.”

He keeps himself suctioned where he is, lathering as much attention as he can while his hand works both his and Shane’s boxers off, kicking them away. Ilya pulls away, barely giving Shane a chance to catch his breath before swallowing down his husband’s dick, pressing his nose into his pelvis, one hand coming up to squeeze the neglected pec. His other hand holds Shane’s hips in place, the rest of his body writhing the best it can under Ilya’s nonstop ministrations. Shane comes, orgasm hitting him like a train, back bowed off the bed while he shoots down Ilya’s throat. He’s panting when Ilya is back to kiss him, rubbing his hip in soothing motions.

“So good for me, my good boy.” Shane whines, chasing Ilya’s lips. He’s indulged for a few minutes, but Ilya still has plans. Plans that involve Shane being on his hands and knees. Ilya guides Shane to where he wants him, stretching across the bed to find the lube. He keeps talking while he works Shane open on his fingers. “Is ok, I have you. Is ok, my husband, taking my fingers so well.”

Shane is hard again by the time Ilya lines himself up, rubbing a palm along his lower back to soothe and press him into a deeper arch against the bed. Twin moans fill the air as Ilya pushes in, steady, until he’s sheathed entirely. He braces for a moment, watching Shane’s face, waiting for him to relax that little bit more.

He drags himself back slowly, adjusts minutely, and slams home, hitting Shane’s prostate in fast, brutal, thrusts. Short, breathy moans are all that’s coming out of Shane’s mouth, cock leaking onto the bed below him. His hands are twisted into the pillow next to his head. Without changing his pace, Ilya leans over him to press hot, open mouth kisses to his shoulders.

“Come for me like this, Shane. Be good husband and come for me.” Shane seizes around his cock, second orgasm landing harder. Ilya fucks him through it, spilling into him and stilling.

—

Their friends have perfect timing, arriving home from their sexile adventure while Shane and Ilya are getting dressed. Ilya had eaten his husband out until he came again, tears wetting his face and pillow. He’d carried his fucked out husband to the bath after, laying him gently in the warm water and climbing in behind him. 

“We’re home!” Rose’s voice echoes through the house. “Hope you’re decent.” Ilya emerges around the corner, sans shirt. Rose whistles. “Niiiice. I see what Shane sees in you.”

Ilya smirks, “Shane sees lots of me, but I am usually one in him.”

“Jesus Christ, Roz,” groans Cliff while Rose joins Ilya in laughter. 

“You have heard worse, Marley,” points out Ilya.

“Not in front of the lady.” Rose hits his chest, still giggling.

“The lady wants to hear more,” she says, with an eyebrow wiggle. Shane joins them then, walking into the kitchen, hair damp. 

“You’re back. How was it?” Rose grabs his arm, dragging him towards the living room. 

“Come on, I’ll tell you all about it.” 

“Are you stealing my husband, Rose Landry?” His tone is teasing, but Ilya is still surprised at how easily he relinquishes any lingering jealousy towards her.

“I’m stealing my bestie to gossip,” she calls back. “You can have him back soon.”

She directs her best friend onto the couch and flops next to him, leg folded in front of her to face him. Shane lounges back skeptically. “So…”

“Sooo, it was fun. Cliff is cute, he took me to get breakfast at this cute diner that let us order out. We found a quiet spot and ate in the car so no one saw us.” Rose is leaning in, telling Shane about her morning. She sees the moment he realizes. 

“Hold on, you think Marlow is cute?” 

“Oh, my god. Shane. Yes.” Rose launches into a more in-depth retelling of her morning, Shane nodding along and interjecting when appropriate. He’s happy for her, after everything. Happy for the both of them in the aftermath of their ill-advised relationship.

Eventually Cliff and Ilya join them, presenting sandwiches and drinks as an offering. Ilya sits next to Shane, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him back against his chest. Rose pats the spot next to her, inviting Marlow to take a seat. A look passes between him and Ilya before he sits. 

Shane watches the tips of Rose’s ears go pink. He’s happy she is still his friend, happy she sat him down months ago and held his hand through a conversation he desperately needed. He’s happy she’s here; they need one voice of reason. Ilya snaps him out of his thoughts, tuning back into the conversation happening around him. 

“It will be hard, yes, but we are used to it.” 

“God, that’s so sad that you have to do that. Keep it secret, even now that you’re married.”

“Is why we get married so fast. We want to be out someday, but…” Ilya pauses just enough for Shane to jump in now that he’s gathered context.

“If we’re outed, Ilya’s life could be at risk. Being married gives him an easier path to citizenship just in case. Once he’s a citizen, we’ll talk about coming out, but for now? There just aren’t a lot of options, so long distance it is.” He shrugs like it doesn’t kill him. It’s right there, everything they want, and they still have years to go. They haven’t decided if they’ll go to Ottawa, or another team, or retire and raise sheep. “We’ll have summer and All Stars and phone calls.”

Cliff makes a sad sound, “Damn, that sucks.”

Rose agrees, it’s depressing, which she says. Something else is itching at the back of her mind. “Is there a plan for dealing with it all? Like, emotionally?”

“What do you mean?”

“Shane, long distance is really emotionally taxing, which you already know. But, now that you’re not running around in denial anymore, what’s the plan?”

Shane and Ilya look at each other, unsure. “Umm, I guess we were just going to figure it out? That’s kinda what we’ve always done.”

“I’m sure that works and I trust if anyone will figure this out, it’ll be you two. But have you considered talking to someone? I know hockey isn’t really the sport to be supportive of talking about feelings, but have you considered a therapist?” She hurries on, “It’s just a thought! They legally can’t say anything, and I saw one during this one movie that was emotionally really rough and she helped. I just, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to have a little more support since you can’t tell anyone else.”

Shane just stares at her, bewildered. “You think we should see a therapist?”

“I think it would be good for both of you to have support from a professional. You can do a lot of research about it. It’s just a suggestion.” Her eyes are pleading, just a little. 

“I’ll do research.” Shane agrees, but doesn't agree to anything more. He looks at Ilya, making eye contact. A conversation happens between them in that moment, agreeing to talk later. For now, Rose takes pity and responsibility and changes the subject.

Chapter End Notes

lets get one thing straight, and several things gay:
1) i'm firmly of the position that if they had the option, shane and ilya wouldn't get married, they'd just end up with a domestic partnership. you're telling me shane 'i've been performing my entire life' wouldn't hate a formal wedding? their canon book wedding is perfect for them. they get married for paperwork and because everyone else wants to be there. 'wedding' to shane has probably always been a source of stress to him because of the intense pressure to perform that he's in love and for most of his life thought that would always be with a woman (why does that stress you out shane? i know what you are)
2) this drives me crazy in other fanfictions: shane is not against pda. hes not. hes scared of getting caught, nervous about talking about his sex life, but PDA? with ilya?? nope. every time someone finds out in the books or show, shane stops being nervous about pda. he's not going to stop himself from touching ilya or vis versa. as soon as his parents know? he relaxes. ryan price? shane never pulls away from ilya. that man only needs to know his secret is safe, then he settles right back into 'i need to be attached to my man at all times'. stop making shane a prude about pda, that man is a freak and it DOES extend to public once he's not keeping secrets. thank you.
3) rose is my favorite. so is cliff. they can be together. as a treat
4) rose/cliff functioning bisexual couple supremacy.
5) i'm imagining the song they dance to at first is This Love by TS because i think after hollanov get back together, Ilya adds it to his playlist (putting it last) and listens to it constantly. Rose of course, clocks this, and plays it. i want to write a one shot where ilya and rose gossip about shane and she roasts him for his shane playlist. they will be besties.

Chapter 5: plans in motion

Chapter Summary

Shane has a lot of conversations and comes out several times.

Chapter Notes

a look into shane's relationships and some hayden pike hate

“I’m thinking about coming out to Montreal,” says Shane, out of the blue. Ilya looks up from his phone. Shane sighs and puts the book he’s been ignoring down. “You’re a free agent next season, so if you want to move to Ottawa, we can make a plan. But,” Shane moves so he’s hovering over Ilya, leaning on his elbow, “I can’t stop thinking about how much you gave up, your country, your team. And when it was all over, my team was the one that didn’t want me. I just- I don’t want to stay with a team that doesn’t want me and I don’t want you to give up anything you don’t have to.”

“Shane, I would give it all up for you. So we can be together.”

“But I don’t want you to have to!” He lets out a frustrated huff. “If Ottawa is where we need to go, we’ll go. But if I come out now, my NTC stops them from sending me somewhere bad. It would open up our options, at least.”

Ilya is quiet, studying Shane’s face. “You would come out to team?”

“For this, yes. I’m terrified, Ilya, so fucking scared, but I would do it for us. Maybe I’ll still end up in Ottawa with you, maybe I’ll go to New York or Nashville, but—” Ilya is kissing him, hand on Shane’s chest to push him onto his back. 

“Ya tebya lyublyu.” Shane gets his hands on his husband’s face, cradling his cheeks. 

“I love you too.” Ilya’s face falls into his neck, pressing close there, breathing Shane in. “Ilya, have you thought about what Rose said?” Their friends had left two days ago, leaving behind the newlyweds to enjoy their summer while they went back to their lives. Shane was sad to see them go, but glad to have time to themselves. Even if most of their time spent not having sex was spent planning.

Ilya doesn’t move, except to tighten his arms around Shane’s torso. 

“Ilya. I did some research, I don’t know how I feel. At least not all the way, but I scheduled an appointment for myself. I found someone who works with athletes, she’s married to a woman, and does appointments over the phone, so I don’t even have to go in person.” He keeps going, telling his husband about doctor-patient confidentiality and the multitude of other things he’d deep-dived on. 

“Ok.” Ilya had shifted so he was laying against Shane’s chest at some point. “When is appointment?”

“Tuesday.” Ilya nods. 

“Ok. Maybe after, we talk again.” That was the end of the discussion, as much as Shane wanted to get on his phone and schedule something for Ilya. He knew pushing wouldn’t help, but maybe if things went well for Shane…

—

They’re laying on the couch when the phone rings. Well, Ilya is laying on the couch, scrolling on his phone, feet in his husband’s lap. Shane is on his laptop, replying to emails. The noise startles him out of the domestic bubble they’re in. 

Hayden Pike is calling…

“It’s Hayden.” Shane isn’t sure how to feel about his friend. He’s been trying to remain as normal as he can when they see each other, which, since his injury, has been minimal. But when Shane looks at Hayden, all he can think is he hates the love of my life; he outed us. That lingering thought kept him holding Hayden at arms length a little more. Even if it was an accident, Shane just couldn’t shake his anger and disappointment. 

“Hey buddy.” He answers the phone anyway. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ilya perk up. Shane keeps the conversation with Hayden going, even as his menace of a husband sits up and starts rubbing his thigh with a smirk, making his way higher. Shane slaps his hand away with a look. It doesn’t last long, Ilya returning to palm at his dick. He mutes Hayden. 

“What are you doing?”

“I think you know.”

Shane has to mute Hayden again as he comes down Ilya’s throat, groaning, fingers tangled in blonde curls. He pushes Ilya off, the man falling, boneless, red-faced back onto the couch. He says his goodbyes quickly and quickly moves to straddle his husband. 

“Why was that so hot?”

“Because is Hayden Pike, you are still mad.” Any retort Shane had disappeared from his mind, that wasn’t the answer he was expecting. 

“You blew me on the phone because it was Hayden?”

“Da. He is dumb, will not notice.” There’s something in the tone of his voice that Shane catches. 

“You just wanted to fuck with him.”

“Also yes. Fun to mess with, and easy target.”

“Fuck you, what if he did notice?”

“Ah, yes. Pike will hear weird noises and think Ilya Rozanov is giving my best friend a blowjob.”

“Fuck off, he figured it out somehow, but you’re right. He won’t assume it’s you…” Shane stops, considering something. “Boston Lily!”

“Boston Lily?” Ilya raises an eyebrow. 

“Hayden knows I have a girl in Boston. He must have realized I stopped having a Boston girl and started having an Ottawa girl. Right around the same time you moved to Ottawa. Fuck.” His brain is already running a million miles an hour, spinning through plan after plan. 

“Shane, Shane. Breathe, is ok. Pike will not guess this time, it will be ok, Shane.” Ilya comforts Shane, rubbing his arms and squeezing the back of his neck. Shane closes his eyes for a moment, resting his forehead against Ilya’s and forces himself to take several steadying breaths.

“Ok, I’m ok. I’m not rooming with him this season, I just decided. I’ll talk to Coach about having my own room and deal with the fallout later.”

“You are sure?” Ilya doesn’t want Shane to be hasty, but knows Shane well enough to know when his mind is made up.

“Yes, sure. I’m sure, Ilya. I don’t want to give him an opening, you’re too important for that.” Ilya’s face heats up, hearing Shane mention how much Ilya means to him is still novel and he hopes it never wears off. “I don’t think sharing a room with him will be good anyway, with how much I’m going to be on the phone with you.”

His voice is low, face inching closer to Ilya’s. Ilya closes the distance between their lips. 

“Hmmm,” Shane hums into his mouth before pulling back. “I’m going to have to deal with him knowing we’re friends.”

“Yes, friends, Hollander. That is what they call it,” Shane flicks him, “Maybe I call you my best friend in front of him.”

“Don’t you dare,” Shane warns, “He’ll punch you.”

—

The summer ends and the season starts, as it must. Ilya returns to Boston ready for the preseason. He enters the locker room with a new ring, a scheduled therapy appointment, three hickeys (hidden, for now), and the uncertainty of whether or not this will be his last season with the Bears. 

He’s greeted enthusiastically, like always, and he feels a pang. He doesn’t want to leave them. They’re not a perfect team, but they’ve been there for him. They listen to him, respect him. Everything the Voyagers aren’t. 

Three hundred miles away, Shane is thinking the opposite thoughts. Hayden and JJ are the only two to welcome him back, clapping his shoulders. He finds himself studying his friends. Listening to their words, watching what they do (or don’t) in the locker room and on the ice. 

It’s almost a waste of time, obviously Hayden won’t be in the locker room spitting insults left and right about Ilya, but while Shane flinches at every thrown slur, no one else does. He’s not sure Hayden even notices. 

Their first road trip forces the conversation. 

“Hey, we’re not rooming together? I think they made a mistake.” Shane freezes, then tries to remember the excuses he’d practiced with Ilya. 

“Um, yeah, sorry. I just- I asked for my own room this year. It wasn’t personal, just, after summer, I need the space.”

“Wait? What happened over the summer, Shane?” Hayden looks a little panicked. 

“No, nothing. It’s fine Hayden, nothing bad. I just could use my own space for a while. Again, nothing personal. We’re still friends, don’t worry.” 

“Shane, I’m not worried, it’s ok. I just wasn’t expecting you to change this. But, no worries man, enjoy your empty hotel room.”

—

He manages to wait until they’re about to fly to Boston for their first game against them of the season. Mentioning ‘casually’ that he and Rozanov have been friendly since All Stars, and he’s looking forward to seeing him in person. He throws in a very true chirp about buying Ilya a consolation drink after the game. Hayden thinks he’s joking at first before settling on horror at the thought that Rozanov could be friendly with his friend.

“Really? Him?” says Hayden, disgust coating his voice, “He’s an asshole.”

“Not really,” says Shane, through the urge to grit his teeth, “I mean, yes he is, but off the ice he’s not that bad. Kinda funny and he was helpful with everything the whole weekend. We play good hockey together, Hayd, you know how much I like good hockey.”

“Just, Shane, be careful. I get that Rozanov was nice to you, but just be careful ok. His reputation precedes him.”

“What are you saying, Hayd?”

“Rozanovs an asshole, I don't want you to get hurt because he's ‘kinda funny’, ok?” Shane gives him a blank look, trying to convey exactly how little Hayden’s words mean. “He hates you Shane, I wouldn’t put it past him to try and fuck with you because you trusted him. You’re not that stupid.”

Shane can tell Hayden regrets the last word out of his mouth, but Shane doesn’t let him back track. It’s an old wound that stopped hurting so long ago he’d forgotten it was there, the idea that Shane was the Pike’s practice kid. Hayden never really learned where to draw the line with Shane on that front and Shane hadn’t known how to vocalize most of his discomfort, so he’d stopped trying. “So I’m stupid now? Is that it Hayden? I’m a child who can’t trust strangers without talking to you about it first?”

“Shane, that’s not what I meant–”

“I know what you meant, Hayden. You think that I’m naive enough to let myself get duped. You think,” Shane points at his friend accusingly, “that I made a friend without consulting you about it. And you’re jealous.”

Hayden’s face goes red as he sputters, not expecting Shane to fire back, unsure what to say now that the tables have turned. He goes to deny it, “I’m not jealous of Rozanov, Shane–”

Shane is already walking away, bag slung over his shoulder. Alone in his hotel room after the flight, he calls Ilya, but not before a long shower. It’s where he does his best spiraling. Under the hot water, he angrily scrubs at himself. This is one of those things his therapist would tell him to talk to her about now that he has someone to talk to. Rose was right, having a professional completely disconnected from his life helped. Shane drops his chin to his chest, letting the water run over him for a minute. He never had the words for when Hayden would talk to him like Shane couldn’t make decisions. Early on, it had been annoying, then it had become normal when he’d been unable to convey his discomfort. Shane had eventually settled on the thought that he was missing some social cue; he’d never had a best friend before, maybe this was what they did. After spending a week with Rose and Cliff, those feelings had resurfaced like a reopened wound. The difference in friendship was staggering, even without foreknowledge. 

Hearing it so plainly now hurts. Did Hayden really not think Shane could make friends on his own? Hayden had been the one to reach out to Shane initially; inviting him to dinner, offering to room with him, making sure they adhered to his diet. Shane’s first friend. No, his first friend had been Ilya, years prior, even if they hadn’t really said so at the time. There had been an ease and understanding between them. To have Hayden react with disgust at the thought of being friends with the man…

Shane shuts off the water and calls Ilya as soon as his hand is dry enough to grab his phone.

“I told Hayden we’re friends,” says Shane as soon as his husband picks up.

“Oh?” replies Ilya, “What does he think?”

“He thinks I’m stupid to trust you.”

“Did he say that? Use that word?” Ilya’s voice is hard on the other end of the call, “You are not stupid.”

“Thanks, I know,” Shane sighs, “He implied that you’re just using me. That he ‘wouldn’t put it past him to fuck with you’. I accused him of being jealous that I made a new friend without telling him.”

His husband is laughing, “Pike thinks I am asshole and you are child. I see. Now can I tell him we are best friends?”

“I’ll nurse you back to health when he punches you.” Shane warns his husband not to give them away just for a moment of gratification. He actually doesn’t mind when instead of taunting Hayden verbally, Ilya just slams him into the boards several times. Never hard enough to incur a penalty, but he does leave bruises. The beginning face off, Ilya had spoken loud enough for Hayden to hear him say to Shane,

“Loser buys drinks tonight?” It’s tame, even by Shane’s standards, but it has the intended effect.

Shane fires back with, “Sure, if you’re buying I might actually come out tonight.”

—

They do go out for drinks after the game. Ilya plays up his grumbling, but is a good sport about buying Shane and only Shane a drink. They sit at a table with Hayden, JJ, their goalie Miitka, and several Bears. Shane, his husband, and Cliff seem to be the only ones relaxed about the situation. Other players from both teams are at the bar, but none have joined the odd group. Hayden is just kind of glaring at Ilya, who is enjoying ignoring him in favor of chirping with Shane. They might have lost, but Ilya scored more points than Shane and hadn’t tripped, sending the puck bouncing off the boards wildly.

“My skate caught a bad patch of ice, asshole, it happens!” Shane is scowling like an angry kitten at Ilya who has to remind himself they’re in public before he does something stupid. 

“Oh, yes, Hollander,” Ilya drawls, “blame the ice.”

“Fuck off, I’m beating you in the scoring race regardless. And we won.”

“What is happening?” JJ whispered to Hayden.

“We are friends now,” Ilya answers him, turning away from Shane and slinging an arm around the back of his chair instead. It was a casual enough movement, but it kept him touching Shane without drawing suspicion and he could see the gratitude in Shane’s face. “Hollander told you, yes? We have been talking since All Stars.”

“I literally told you yesterday, Hayden,” adds Shane, taking a sip of his ginger ale. He might have joked about drinking tonight, but Ilya could see right through him. Drinking was not going to be a good idea tonight. 

“I totally thought Roz was fucking with us,” Connors says, nursing his own beer.

“Uh-huh,” says Carmichael, “I wouldn’t believe it, with the way you two are arguing.”

“We are both competitive, is fun to have someone that can keep up.”

“Yeah, no one else really gets it,” Shane shoots a look at Ilya. “Except this asshole.”

Ilya laughs at his husband. It’s true that part of what had pulled them together in the beginning was hockey. The two best players, always at the top together. One of them might pull ahead, but third place was so far below either of them it didn’t really matter. 

“I had to play against them, they’re insane together on the ice,” Cliff brings up, “And then after, they just talked hockey. Like, I wish I had known I could just throw the two of them at each other and run away.”

“No, I remember watching that and thinking they would kill each other, instead it’s the hockey creature from the black lagoon. I’d hate to play a game against both, seriously.”

“What is hockey creature from black lagoon?” Ilya leans in to whisper to Shane, who pats his husband's arm.

“He’s saying we’re scary when we play together.”

“Ah, yes. We are both very good at hockey.”

The rest of the night is spent trading anecdotes. Carmichael enjoys teasing Ilya and is surprised when Shane joins in on the chirping. Really, he’s friends with Rozanov for fuck’s sake, he plays hockey. He can’t blame them for being surprised, but he wishes it wasn’t so shocking that he’s more than his reputation. JJ joins in more than Hayden, but both mostly just watch their friend interact with their enemies. Hayden has a look like he bit into a lemon, but seems to be trying to hold it back. JJ just looks confused, but relaxes into the environment with ease. 

Shane taps out early, making his way outside like he’s going to get a car back to the hotel, but instead waits in Ilya’s car for twenty minutes until his husband joins him to drive them back to his house. He puts Ilya’s hand on his thigh and covers it with his own, playing with Ilya’s fingers on the drive back.

“That went better than I thought,” he confesses. Ilya spares him a glance before returning his eyes to the road. “JJ behaved. I thought he would be more weird about it, but he wasn’t.”

“Is, uh, what is word for when no one has advantage? No one has high ground.”

“Neutral territory?”

“Da, neutral territory. Is just hockey players at bar, Boiziau knows this very well. Is easier for him to follow your lead.” Shane looks out the window, contemplating.

“I guess. I still have to come out to them at some point, so this was a good start, I think.”

“You do not have to.” Shane looks at him, eyebrow raised, “Fine, yes, I think it went well too. My team likes you.”

“They do?” It’s Ilya’s turn to raise his eyebrows at his husband.

“Yes, was obvious. They think you are funny, I can tell.”

“I’m too tired to argue, so I’ll believe you for now.” They’re pulling into their house now. Both of them are content to remain mostly silent while they head to the bedroom. Shane does have enough energy to let Ilya drop to his knees in the shower. He wants to return the favor, but Ilya has other plans. There’s a towel placed on the bed so Shane can fall asleep as soon as he comes a second time.

Ilya curls behind Shane, pressing his nose into his neck, falling asleep to the feel of Shane’s heartbeat and the smell of his shampoo.

—

November 2017

Montreal has a game in Ottawa in November, so Shane tells his coach he’ll be back before practice in two days and heads to his parents house post-game. If he wants to come out to his team, intentionally detonating a bomb, he has to tell his parents. Not everything, he isn't ready for that, but after several discussions with his therapist (a lovely woman named Emma) and his husband, he feels confident, if nervous, about telling him he’s gay. It’s a baseline he can use for telling them everything else in the future, wanting to start with the least life changing information. 

He waits until they’re eating dinner to tell them, setting his fork down and placing his hands in his lap to squeeze his own knee in a replication of Ilya’s soothing touch. 

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something.” He starts. Yuna and David look at each other, turning their attention to their son. “I, well, this isn’t easy, but I wanted to tell you. I'm sorry, I should have told you sooner—” He immediately starts to apologize, something he’s been coached not to say, but he can't help it. Shane stops himself and takes a breath. Yuna reaches a hand across the table. 

“Shane, it’s ok. Whatever it is, it’s ok.”

“I’m gay.” 

“Oh. Wow. Ok.” Yuna sits back, “That’s, thank you for telling us.”

Tears of relief spring to his eyes as his parents take in the news. He starts trying to apologize again, but his mom cuts him off. 

“No, no, no.” She rounds the table to pull Shane onto his feet and into her arms. “You have nothing to apologize for, you hear me? Nothing. I’m so proud of yiu.”

Shane crumples into her arms, hugging her back. “Thanks mom.”

David speaks up from where he’s sitting, “You’re our son, we love you no matter what, Shane.”

Shane pulls back to sit down again, Yuna sitting back down too. 

“So, what’s the plan?” She asks first. 

“I don’t want to come out publicly or anything, but I want to come out to my team.” Shane returns one of his hands to his thigh, pretending it’s Ilya's comforting weight, and tries to remember all the talking points they practiced. His mom is nodding along. 

“You’re sure?” 

“Yes. I’ve been thinking about this, it’s not some spontaneous decision for me.” Shane needs his mom to understand that just because they're finding out now, doesn't mean this is new to Shane. 

Yuna looks skeptical, but says, “Ok, Shane. Have you thought about every angle? What you’re going to do if they’re not as supportive as you hope? This can’t be on the spot, you need to have a solid plan here. What’s the plan if it leaks?”

Shane tightens his hand on his thigh, holding his panic attack back through sheer force and practice. He knows exactly how it will happen, knows there’s a possibility this time next year he’ll be on a different team. He hates that the first question was what’s the plan? have you thought this through? of course he has, extensively. What if it leaks?  It would suck, but it’s not something to be ashamed of. He’s suddenly grateful he’d convinced them to take a vacation last summer, giving him and Ilya the chance to settle into a real relationship without anyone hovering over their shoulders with watchful eyes. 

“Yes,” he grits out, “I’ve thought this though. I’m telling Hayden and JJ first, probably over our next break. Then I’ll find time to tell the team. I want to do it before playoffs. And, yes, I've anticipated every response and talked over options with Farah already. She can read you in so you can coordinate.”

Yuna and David both look shocked at Shane’s forwardness, but David recovers first. 

“Well, sounds like you have it figured out. What do you need from us?” David puts a hand lightly, but firmly on his wife’s back to stop whatever she’s going to say next. He’s always been better at spotting when his son is overwhelmed, inching towards shutting down entirely. David sees the hand Shane has on his own thigh, and files it away as a new grounding technique, noticing fingers aren’t digging into Shane's leg, rather the hand is wrapped around right above the knee, thumb and forefinger squeezing instead. Shane looks relieved. 

“Nothing right now, just…” Shane bites his lip, “Just support me? I already thought some things through and you might have opinions about it, but I really just need my parents, not managers. Please.” David exchanges another look with his wife. She looks as shocked as he feels. It’s not often Shane will assert himself like this with them, asking directly for what he wants, but the certainty in his voice stills them. 

“Of course, Shane.” Yuna agrees, a little unsteady, “We’ll follow your lead.”

—

December 2017

The four day break they get for Christmas is the time Shane decides to test run his coming out by starting with Hayden and JJ. Ilya had been against telling them on principle alone until Shane pointed out they would find out with the rest of the team anyway and it would be nice to have some kind of back up in the locker room, even if it was lackluster. 

Shane reached out to Jackie, asking if she would be willing to host JJ at their next dinner because he had something to tell them. He was grateful for Jackie. He would miss her the most when he moved. 

Shane takes a deep breath when the table is cleared of their meal. He’s nervous, but knows he has his husband waiting at his apartment for another two days. 

“I wanted to tell you guys something. It’s important, well, not really, I don't want it to be a big deal, but I also need to tell you and I hope you don't see me differently…”

“Shane, it’s ok. You’re my best friend, nothing can change that.” Hayden tells him. Shane internally cringes and hopes that can be true. JJ is nodding along, keeping his face open in support. 

“I’m gay.” Their faces morph to shock. 

“Oh!” says Hayden. “That’s- ok. Thank you for telling us. I meant what I said before, nothing changes.”

“Yes, captaine, nothing changes. Except, now I know to find you men not women.” JJ adds with an eyebrow wiggle. “No wonder it did not work with Rose Landry.”

Shane blinks a few times, relief flooding his veins. “I’m still not looking for anyone, but thank you. I was nervous.”

“You’re safe with us, Shane,” says Jackie, taking his hand. “Does anyone else know?”

“No, well, my parents, but no one else yet. I’m planning on coming out to the team soon, so I started with you guys.” He explains. 

“You’re gonna come out to the team?” JJ asks. 

“Yeah, I know it probably won’t be great, but after Hunter, I don’t want to hide any more, at least in my personal life. I’m not telling anyone else, or coming out publicly, so keep it to yourselves please.” His gaze lingers on Hayden unintentionally. 

“Your secret is safe with us,” he promises. 

—

Ilya is waiting on the couch when Shane gets home, opening his arms to let his husband crawl into them, choosing to redirect his attention away from the movie he put on. 

“How was it? Did Pike behave?” Shane sighs against his collarbone. 

“Yeah, they behaved. Still not looking forward to coming out to the team, but this time wasn’t so bad.”

“Good.” Ilya places kisses to the top of Shane’s head. “Shower and bed?”

“In a minute.” Shane burrows deeper into Ilya’s neck, content to recharge here for a while. 

—

January 2018

He calls Ilya as soon as he’s home. Seeing his husband's face is the last straw for the tears he's been holding back all afternoon to start falling. 

“Oh, solnyshko.” Ilya can tell that coming out to the Voyagers went badly. Being prepared for their reaction does not prepare Shane for the emotions of actually experiencing it.

“I knew it was coming. I knew it, and I still wasn’t ready. I’m relieved, but it hurts.”

“I know, Shane, I’m sorry it hurts. I wish I was there to make it better.” Shane lets out a watery laugh. 

“I wish you were here too.” Shane carries the phone with him to the bathroom to wash his face. “They pulled me into a meeting right after. Told me I could still change my mind and to think about my future on the team. I told them I’d think about it. Not like they can get rid of me right now, but I can't stay there. They’ll put me on waivers or something.”

“They can’t. Put Shane Hollander on waivers?” Ilya says several colorful things in Russian, Shane catching a few words (he’s been practicing).

“I’ll email Farah in the morning, let her and my mom deal with it.”

“Good idea.” Shane climbs into bed. He just wants to fall asleep listening to Ilya talk. 

“Tell me about your day? Distract me until I fall asleep?” Ilya nods and starts talking in a mix of Russian and English, lulling Shane to sleep.

Chapter 6: bad news, good news

Chapter Notes

short one today because i'm almost done editing the finished fic. so here to tide you over for a minute.

It was an open secret in the NHL that sometimes a player got traded because they no longer fit in in the locker room. Their ‘values no longer aligned with those of the team’. Sometimes that statement wasn’t as sarcastic as it sounded, unfortunately, it’s how whole teams end up with players like Dallas Kent. 

This though? The Montreal Voyagers were seeking to trade Shane Hollander? Because, if the rumors were to be believed, he was gay? Shane Hollander, who led his team to back-to-back cups, was being pressured into renegotiating his NTC. Coach LeClaire found it ridiculous, enough that he had a crazy idea. Reviewing his current roster, and keeping his ear out in his locker room, decided if Hollander was willing to negotiate just a little, he could have a place in Boston. 

When he’d caught his team whispering conspiratorially about the rumors surrounding Hollander, he was surprised to hear Rozanov shut it down, backed up by Marlow. He stepped in when they were done to solidify what kind of team they would be, on and off the ice. 

Coach LeClaire tracked down Hollander’s agent’s email that night, requesting a meeting. 

He left the trade negotiations with a smug smile on his face. Therilaut had given him a disgusted look and wished him luck with managing the faggot on top of voluntarily managing the Rozanov-Hollander rivalry. It's like he'd forgotten the magic that was All Star weekend months ago and the easy friendship the two had settled into since then. Nothing crazy, but they followed each other on social media and talked occasionally. 

Fuck you, Therilaut, the Rozanov-Hollander dynasty is coming to Boston. 

Meeting with Yuna Hollander was another beast entirely, even over skype. Her presence was demanding as he confirmed that yes, he was aware of the rumors and yes, true or not, Shane would be welcome in Boston and yes, the locker room would reflect that. 

Meeting Shane Hollander in person for the first time, officially as his coach for the 2018-2019 season, went well, all things considered. It’s not every day your divisional rival team asks for you in a trade. Hollander was polite, shaking his hand firmly. His voice bled nervousness around the confidence. 

“Shane Hollander, welcome to the Bears.” 

“Thank you. I’m excited to be here. I wasn’t sure where I’d end up, but I’m glad I'm here.”

“We’re excited to have you.” Hollander nods, adjusting the hockey bag on his shoulder. “Well, why don’t I show you the locker room and you can meet the team out on the ice.”

—

Shane and Ilya were curled together on Ilya’s bed in Boston. Since coming out to his team, the dynamic had shifted, creating a rift between him and his teammates. No longer trusted on the ice, the Voyagers were out of the playoffs by mid-March. The Bears, following a series of inconvenient injuries, were also out, so Shane had ditched Montreal and flown to Boston, determined to spend an uninterrupted weekend with his husband while Yuna and Farah yelled at Montreal’s management and worked on his contract. He’d left instructions for every scenario he could imagine, told Farah where he’d be, told his parents he was taking a weekend away, and gotten on the first flight to Ilya’s house. 

The ringing of the phone woke him up from where Shane had been drifting off in a post-coital haze. Annoyed, he grabbed for his phone and huffed when he saw the name of their agent on his screen. He reached behind him to slap Ilya awake before answering. Farah wouldn’t call unless it was important. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, Shane. I’ve got good news and bad news, which do you want first?” Ilya was sitting up now, still blinking sleep out of his eyes, listening where Farah was on speakerphone. 

“Bad news first,” says Shane, tightening his hand around Ilya’s. 

“Bad news, Montreal was so eager to trade you they accepted the option they thought would tank your carrier, but…”

“But?”

“Good news, they’re morons. You’re going to Boston. Coach LeClair personally asked for you.”

Ilya was sitting fully up now, “What? Boston? Farah, did you say Boston?”

“Hi, Ilya. Yes, I said Boston. Like I said, they reached out when they heard the trade rumors going around, it was the best offer on the table for multiple reasons, even Yuna couldn’t fight it.”

His mother wasn’t happy about how her son had been treated in the wake of his coming out. She’d enjoyed tearing every threat to shreds and unleashing her law degree upon the poor fucks to negotiate his contract. Yuna probably wasn’t thrilled he was going to Boston, but if she approved, they must have impressed her. 

“I’m going to Boston,” he says in a faint voice, “Ilya, I’m going to play for Boston.”

Shane is in shock, staring at his phone in disbelief until his husband tugs it out of his hand, thanking Farah and promising to call later. 

“Shane?” Ilya grabs his chin, forcing Shane to look at him, “Are you ok?”

Shane can only nod. Ilya squeezes once, pulling him in for a kiss before releasing him. 

“Shane, is ok? That you play on my team?” Ilya feels nervous that this wasn’t what Shane wanted, that playing together was only ok if it wasn't Boston. 

“What? Ilya, of course. I just wasn't expecting–I'm in shock, I think. But of course I want to play with you, I can't believe we get to do it from Boston. That’s, we didn't really consider it as an option.”

Ilya kisses Shane again, pushing him down onto the mattress. He doesn't stop, licking his way into his husband's mouth. Even after being married almost a year, it was novel to know he could kiss Shane whenever he wanted (providing, of course, they were in the same place and alone). He was also incredibly nervous about Shane changing his mind about everything. He knows he doesn’t need to be, his therapist and Shane both remind him regularly. 

Shane moans under him, arching his back. Ilya moves to bite at his neck. “I can’t wait for you to play with me. We will be the best team ever, you and me and us and Bears. Unstoppable.”

He says the last word in time with grabbing Shane's dick through his boxers. He gets another loud moan. Ilya rucks Shane’s shirt up, latching his mouth to a nipple while Shane tugs his fingers through Ilya's curls. 

“Ilya, Ilya, please.” Ilya pulls off with a pop. 

“Please what Shane?” He pants below Ilya, lips red and swollen. 

“Please fuck me.” How could Ilya say no? 

—

He’d wanted Hayden and JJ to hear about his trade from him, feeling bad about ditching them when the season ended. He didn’t want to fly back out to Montreal, especially without Ilya, but he reasoned he could use the time to make sure his condo was ready to be sold and he hadn’t left behind anything. JJ and Hayden are invited over to his apartment, which he’s only keeping until he really decides if he wants to keep it or not.

“I’ve been traded.” The reactions were immediate, Hayden shouting in disbelief and JJ pacing and rambling in French.

“You cannot be serious, Shane!” Hayden is waving his arm in the air. “Traded? Montreal wouldn’t trade you!”

“Right now? They would, Hayd.”

“You have a NTC, they can’t trade you,” tries JJ, who doesn’t quite believe the words he’s saying.

Shane shakes his head, “I’m not going into it, I don’t think I need to, but I waived my no-trade. It was the best decision to make and I’m sorry you have to find out like this.”

“You really got traded?” Shane nods. “Really, really? That’s why you’ve been in meetings and out of town.”

Shane nods, not offering anything more. 

“Wow. This is insane, Shane. Why?”

He sighs, sitting on the couch, running a hand through his hair. “Hayden, JJ, you’ve noticed. In the locker room? It’s not good, it’s downright bad. Ever since I came out, the team can’t force themselves to like me anymore, it’s affecting our play. I loved being a Voyager, but it had to end.”

“Captaine,” says JJ, softly, “We will miss you. Which lucky sons-of-bitches got you?”

Biting his lip, Shane looks away. “You’re not going to like it, but they asked for me specifically, and it was the only option that kept me in the same conference.”

Hayden narrows his eyes, “What? Did you end up in Boston or something?”

Looks of horror slowly spread over their faces when Shane only presses his lips together and doesn’t correct Hayden.

“Yeah, I’m going to Boston.”

“No,” whispers Hayden in horror, “No, you’re not going to Boston. What the fuck? They can’t do that. Boston doesn’t get to take Shane Hollander from us.”

That’s exactly what they’re doing, thinks Shane, taking me away from you, but says outloud, “I wasn’t going to Arizona. And, like I said, Boston wanted me, so…”

“This is crazy, Shane,” says JJ. “You have to know that.”

“I know.” He says, “But it’s what happened, so I do what I always do. Play good hockey.”

—

Playing for Boston isn’t as ground breaking as he thought it would be. At the end of the day, even with every change happening, it’s hockey; new team, new locker room, same old hockey. Practicing under Ilya as his captain isn’t as weird as he thought it would be. Walking into the locker room on the first day, Ilya–already there because he left the house first–walked up to Shane, half-dressed in his practice gear and shook his hand first. 

“Welcome to team, Hollander.”

“Thanks for having me, Rozanov,” he’d returned, shaking Ilya’s hand firmly. The few other teammates had introduced themselves, eyeing their captain like they'd been expecting a different reaction to the two (now former) rivals being in the same locker room. 

Ilya showed him his new stall, directly next to his own, winking discreetly. “Here you go, Hollander. Meet us on ice fast, yes?”

“Yeah, thank you.”

The rest of the team was already warming up when Shane joined them a few minutes later, following Marlow who had waited behind for him. 

He gets introduced to everybody one by one, committing names, numbers, and positions to memory. Coach has them run basic drills, switching up groups and lines to get a base for how everybody works together. Cheers break out when he gets paired with Ilya, seamlessly passing the puck back and forth around obstacles and eventually into the goal around Simmons, who can't help but also cheer every time he misses the puck. Goalies are weird. 

The locker room after is also different then anything Shane has experienced, getting changed in relative peace, exchanging conversation with Ilya next to him. 

Carmichael is staring openly at the two of them from Shane’s other side. “Wow. I thought the two of you would kill each other, but it’s like the rivalry was never real!”

Shane suppresses a smile while Ilya stifles a laugh. “Carmey, we were on same team for all stars last year. We are friends now. And on same team, we will not pretend to hate each other here.”

“What he said,” chimes in Shane. “You do remember, right? We’ve gone out after games together.”

“Ohhh, right,” Connors remembers, others chiming in, remembering that this isn’t new information, “It’s easy to forget! But yeah, you play too well together to kill each other before we get you out for an official game.”

“Hell yeah!” shouts Marlow, distracting the team, “We’re gonna win every game with these two!”

Cheers and laughter ring through the room. Shane smiles, a little more tension bleeding from his shoulders. He’s not quite waiting for the other shoe to drop, but old habits built in Montreal will die hard. Shane has the sudden thought that this is his chance. He catches Ilya’s eye, communicating to his husband that he should come out now. Ilya’s eyes say are you sure? Shane nods and takes a deep breath and turns around. 

“I have something to say.” Ilya whistles hard and loud to quiet the room and draw attention their way. Shane blushes at the sudden attention on him. “Thank you, Rozanov. I have something I'd like to address before we leave. I don't know if any of you have heard the rumors about why Montreal traded me,” he expects the lack of surprise around the room. “It’s true. I’m gay. I didn’t want to go into the season lying to everyone, so this is me telling you. I hope it won't be an issue, but if anyone has problems please bring them to me before the season starts. I don't want any problems on the ice or in here. I’m excited to be here and I hope that won't change.”

No one speaks for a moment. Then Connors speaks up, “We heard the rumors, but coach and Rozy shut down anything. I didn't know the rumors were true, but I hope the Bears are better than Montreal. It's the standard we aspire to and that doesn't stop now.”

“Especially now, they’re idiots for not wanting you. Their loss, our gain. Who you love doesn’t change that for us.” Marlow says, knowing exactly what Shane needs to hear from them.

“Yeah,” adds Simmons. “We support you and if anyone has issues, they can answer to me.”

“No one will have issues. We talked about this already,” Rozanov says.“Any issues come to me and coach.”

Shane gave him a grateful smile. No one else spoke up, just murmurs of no problems and happy to have you here echoing through the locker room. Completely different from Montreal. 

The Bears won’t be so bad after all.

Chapter End Notes

hey, if any of you recognized the hayden/jj scene, yes I did just plagiarize my own work. it's the same (almost) scene from my Romeo&Juliet story. i'm working smarter, not harder. unless yall didn't want a new chapter so soon? that's what I thought.

Chapter 7: write that down

Chapter Summary

Ilya Rozanov's heart eyes will never stop getting them into trouble

Chapter Notes

some filler, some content, really just trying to push the story forward.
cliff is suffering, jj is also suffering

Listen, Cliff loves his best friend. Loves his best friend's husband. Truly thought that  Roz would never settle down, get his girl, or boy, but here they are and Cliff is going to kill Rozanov because the man can't keep his eyes to himself. 

Cliff has been deflecting and distracting the team for months since Hollander was traded to Boston and Rozy became a cartoon character; floating behind his husband with heart-shaped eyes almost bugging out of his head. Ok, maybe it wasn't that bad, but Cliff's heart could only take so much. He’d been called into a meeting of Bears, minus their captain and his beau, to discuss the aforementioned captain and his beau. 

Cliff wasn't panicking because his friends had been found out, but it was close. 

“So, we’re all here to discuss whatever the fuck is going on with cap. Each of you has mentioned to me or someone else that they suspect Roz is acting weird,” Victor St Simon addresses the gathered group.

Nervous glances are thrown around the room, but everyone settles when they realize they're all here for the same reason. 

“We’re talking about the way he follows Hollzy around like a dog, right?” asks Connors, raising his hand.

“Or the way he smiles when Hollander isn't looking,” someone else throws out.

“Yes, that. The only time I've ever seen him look like that was back when he was seeing Jane,” confirms Vicky.

“Even that was less intense; that was over the phone, now it's in person. Probably why it’s worse,” Carmichael throws in.

“What do we do about it?”

“I don't know what we could do? Other than just,” he gestures vaguely, “now we all know we know.” 

“We do nothing,” Cliff interrupts, "Don't mention anything to either of them. Roz is Russian, remember, they're not exactly friendly to guys like him. I mean if he is, you know…” he trails off, hoping that was enough recovery that they won’t be suspicious. 

“Shit you're right, they're kinda the opposite, that's right. So Rozy might not know he likes guys and he wouldn't be able to go home if he did. Shit.” Some of the guys are looking around now, recontextualizing everything. Marlow is stunned, doesn't know he likes guys? Roz does know he likes guys, thank you very much. Cliff is abundantly aware of just how much Roz likes guys, one guy in particular. 

“So, we watch and hope Rozanov figures it out?”

“I guess,” Simmons chimes in, “Roz is smart, he'll figure it out and at least he knows he's got a shot with Hollzy if he goes for it.”

When the meeting adjourns with a new group chat and a few plans to try and get Roz to realize his feelings, he texts Rose after to make sure he's not at risk of becoming Hayden Pike. 

Cliff: hypothetically, if my team thinks roz is bi and has a crush on shane, should i tell them? 

Cliff: the husbands, not the team

Rose: wtf?

Cliff: im undercover, i didnt confirm or deny anything, but i did convince them not to confront roz about it

Rose: start over. people are onto them??

Cliff: Today (most of) the team got together to talk about ‘caps embarrassingly obvious crush on hollander’ and if they should do anything about it. They're supportive, so that's good. They said and I quote “at least when Rozy figures out he likes men and specifically Hollzy, at least he knows he’s got a shot”

Rose: Well, they're not wrong

Rose: just not right

Cliff: Do I need to tell Ilya and Shane?? or should i just keep playing double agent? 

Rose: if you tell them, at the very least Shane will freak out then it will become even more obvious

Cliff: good point

It's not that Cliff won't tell them, but Rose is right, Shane will freak out if he thinks they've been caught, which they haven’t, technically. He will tell Ilya the heart eyes are getting obvious, so maybe just tone it down before Shane notices. 

—

The first time they face Montreal with Hollander in Boston, the team is subject to all of Montreal targeting their newest teammate. It's a game of destroy Montreal, but also protect Hollander. Shane himself remains stone-faced through the whole game, not even flinching when former teammates spit faggot and traitorous cocksucker in his face. 

Rozanov decides that holding back is not worth whatever he's been promised for his best behavior because the last one gets repeated close to the end of the third, prompting dropped gloves and a broken nose. Not Roz’s, thank god. The fist catches Comeau off guard, probably because Rozanov has been busy guarding Hollander and pulling him away from the fights instead of jumping in. 

The clip of the fight goes viral, and the team has a great time chirping Roz for it. Some of the more pointed chirps stay in the group chat. Marlow groans, but secretly screenshots to send to Rose.

Cliff: screenshot 

Cliff: they’re adding it to the ‘proof’ list

Rose: oh my god??

Rose: guard dog roz, if only they knew lol

They won, a shutout for Simmons and four goals credited to the hockey husbands. Instead of ending up at a club or bar, the few of the team ends up in Cliff’s room with a bottle of vodka Roz procured from somewhere (that somewhere was Shane Hollander's favorite European market) and playing party games like teenagers. Rozanov and Hollander, the guest of honor, dip within twenty minutes of each other. 

“Ok, so Roz dropping gloves for Hollzy, 1-10 romantic scale?”

“Eight.”

“Eight!? Not a ten? Come on, fighting for someone is very sexy.”

“You didn't say sexy, you said romantic. Hollzy doesn't like to fight.”

“Which is why having someone defend your honor is romantic!”

“You know, in ancient Greece, they used to send gay lovers into war because they always performed better when they were showing off for their partner.”

“What the fuck, Connors?”

“What! I like history, especially Greek and Roman. I know a lot, ok. The Romans were very gay.”

“Roz has played better since Hollander joined.”

“Yeah, do you see how he looks over at Hollander sometimes after he scores at practice? Head. Over. Heels.”

Cliff snorts, “Cast your vote, guard dog or puppy dog, which is our beloved captain? The real answer will surprise you!”

“Breaking news: Boston's Ilya Rozanov found in wag box instead of on ice.” 

That sets off more laughter. 

“Look out every other team in the NHL who wants to be mean to Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov is approaching your location very quickly. He has a gun.”

Eventually, the jokes have to stop and they have to go to bed. Cliff kicks out everyone except his roommate, Carmichael, and turns out the lights, face planting onto his pillow and waiting for sleep to swallow him whole. 

“Marly,” Carmichael asks, to an answering groan, “never mind. Goodnight.”

—

They win the Stanley Cup. It's hard fought, several minor injuries forcing players into resting instead of powering through. Hollander, as much of a hockey machine that he is, understands the power of taking a break to rest your body and nurse it back into perfect health. In his own words, "I'm not retiring at twenty-nine because I skated through a twisted ankle.”

It doesn't help that Rozanov, to no one's surprise, is following Hollander's example and forcing them all to do the same through a series of home invasions and disappointed looks. (The behavior is noted in an ever growing notes app dedicated to Roz’s supposed crush; none of them believe it's anything else.)

In the end, they’re facing down LA, going into game five, hoping for a final win to secure the cup. With an assist that their rookie definitely deserves an award for, Hollander puts the puck in the net with a perfect Michigan, winning them the game with a minute on the board, which is easy enough to run down. 

Boston Bears, 2018 Stanley Cup Champions. Two in under a decade. Eat your heart out Montreal Voyagers; they’re coming after a third, just to rub it in that Hollander was their talent and they fumbled that bad. 

—

February 2019

All Stars this year was being held in Boston, so naturally, after all the hockey was done for the weekend, the Bears that weren’t invited, but stayed in town, joined Shane, Ilya, and a handful of other players for a night out. After the second bar, Shane tapped out for the night, stating he wanted time to himself to relax before he had to be back at the rink. JJ Boiziau watched as only two minutes later, Ilya Rozanov made like he was going to the dance floor only to follow Shane outside. JJ took this in and took off after him, unsure if it was coincidence or if Shane’s new teammate was trying something. He doesn’t notice Cliff Marlow clock the entire thing and follow him outside.

JJ freezes in his tracks at what he sees in the ally next to the bar. Rozanov’s hands are on Shane’s hips, pressing their lower bodies together while Shane’s shoulders are pressed against the brick wall. His hands are in Rozanov’s hair, tugging him closer, lips locked and, yup, JJ can see tongue as they shift. He doesn’t realize his feet start to move him closer until the world jerks and spins and he’s being dragged backwards.

Marlow shoves him against a different brick wall, probably on the other side of the building from where Rozanov had just been– been… he doesn’t know, assaulting doesn’t seem right, Shane looked into whatever was happening. Instead JJ directs his anger at Marlow.

“What the fuck, man?” His voice comes out as a harsh whisper, “What the fuck did I just see?”

“Calm down, Boiziau,” Marlow threatens, standing toe to toe with JJ, keeping him cornered where he is.

“Calm down? Calm down? Marlow–”

“I mean it, calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, tell me why I just saw Rozanov making out with Shane,” JJ crosses his arms. “Who does that asshole think he is?”

“Look,” Marlow says, scrubbing a hand through his stubble, “You can't tell Shane you saw. Not yet. Not until you get yourself under control.”

“I am under control, what is happening Marlow!” JJ hears himself, how exactly not calm and under control he is. He grits his teeth and tries again, “Shane and Rozanov were making out. It didn’t look new, are they hooking up or what?”

“It’s not just hooking up, fuck, I should not be the one telling you,” Marlow looks away, contemplating something, “Look, Boiziau, yes, they’re hooking up, more then hooking up, they’re dating, which is something they should be telling you because they deserve to come out on their own terms, not like this. Merde.”

“Dating? Rozanov and Shane? Dating?” He knows his voice sounds incredulous, probably because he’s not sure he’s wrapping his head around this. Fucking would be one thing, Rozanov at least has the reputation to support that, even if Shane doesn’t. But dating? Like romantically? “Romantic is not a word I’d use to describe Rozanov.”

“I would,” Marlow counters. “Have you calmed down enough, yet?”

JJ forces himself to take several deep breaths so it’s not entirely a lie when he says yes. The truth is he’s not sure that he is calm, but he needs answers, so he’s as calm as he’s going to get. 

“Good. Now, you can’t tell anyone, obviously,” JJ nods, he wouldn’t do that, out someone. “No one else knows, they’re not ready to come out.”

JJ sighs, “Just, fuck, ok, I get that. Why the fuck do you know about them? If they don't tell anyone. And Rozanov, really? Shane has better taste than that.”

“I walked in on them together. And my first reaction was ‘good job, how did you land that?’” Marlow raises an eyebrow at him, pointedly. JJ flinches, but concedes, if Marlow hadn’t stopped him, who knows what he might have said to them. “And questioning Shane’s judgement is a one way ticket to a broken nose, trust me.”

“Really?”

“Really, Boiziau. They’ve been together longer than you think and the list of people who know isn’t exactly long, just you and me. Some of our teammates suspect, but no one's said anything.”

“How long would that be, exactly?” He doesn’t like Marlow’s answering grin.

“That’s the fun part, guessing until they tell us. You just kinda have to piece together hints. Rozy said if I guess correct, he’ll tell me, but until then, zip.”

JJ stares, unsure what to say to that, so he just moves on, “Ohhh-kayyy, then I won’t ask. It’s really just us that know?” Marlow nods. “Merde, ok. I promise I’m not going to tell anyone, not even Hayden. Should I tell Shane I know?”

“If you want, yes. Or I can. Or I’ll keep it a secret that you know, but just know that if it leaks, I’ll know exactly who the source is, capiche?”

“Capiche, Marlow, don’t worry. Will you give me time to talk to Shane?”

“Yeah, I can do that. Just remember, it’s not about you. It’s about Shane and Ilya.” JJ nods then holds out his phone prompting Marlow to put in his number. “Catch you around, Boiziau!”

Chapter End Notes

JJ caught them, so he knows now... idk what i'm going to do with him, but he should probably tell shane he knows, right?
i'm so serious, this fic is almost done being written, so i'm going to focus on this until it's done, so patience for my other WIPs, ok? love y'all <3

Chapter 8: this is getting embarrassing

Chapter Summary

The Bears have a plan

Chapter Notes

we're jumping back in time by about a month, so yes, technically cliff lied to jj about who knows, but whatever.
i've had this chapter written for a long time, so im happy i can finally put it out.

December 2018

“It’s gotten worse,” hisses Carmichael, cornering St Simon, Connors, and Simmons. “I watched Roz fully walk into the door frame yesterday.”

“What are we whispering about?” Interrupts Marlow. Three of the four jump, Simmons just answers his question. 

“Romeo and Juliet over there,” he juts his chin towards Hollander and Rozanov. They’re standing a respectable distance apart, but Roz is openly staring at Hollander’s bare chest and pretending like he’s listening to whatever Hollzy is passionately explaining. 

Marlow sighs, placing his head into his hands. “He’s so obvious,” he mutters under his breath. 

Shane’s second season with the Bears was off to a great start. They currently had a seven game win streak going and were looking at continuing that trend on their next roadie. Unfortunately, Cliff was looking at year two of playing double agent. The rest of the team, sans their captain and his husband (not that they knew that), had started a new group chat dedicated solely to discussing Rozy’s crush on Hollander. It started innocently enough, trying to figure out why their captain was acting weird and devolved into new and increasing ways to get them together. (One of the earliest ones was to insist they share a room during away games. They’d been disappointed with the ‘lack’ of progress, but the arrangement never changed. Marlow had fun convincing the husbands that no, the team wasn’t on to them(technically, they weren't!) and not to look the gift horse in the mouth.) 

“We’ve got to step up our game!” Connors hits his palm with his fist. 

“Hell yeah!” 

“This is getting embarrassing, Roz is blushing, look at how red he is,” St Simon points out. “Hollzy isn’t much better, they’re so clearly into each other.”

“Do you think Roz knows about his crush yet? I just remembered he might not know he’s into men. Or maybe it's just Hollander?”

“What?” Marlow is confused, “The fuck?”

“Like, what if he doesn't know he has a chance because he's never been with a man before? He’s got all this game with women, he's probably never picked up a man. Never considered it as an option, ya know. We just have to help him apply those skills with Hollander and bam,” Carmichael claps his hands, “They kiss, go on a date, and then Roz plays better hockey because he’s trying to impress his boyfriend. Hollander doesn’t have to worry about being outed because we already know and can help keep their secret. And we get put out of our misery! Win-win!”

“That’s a stupid fucking plan.” Marlow says, tired. He sees the merit in what they're trying to do, but he doesn't know where to shut it down. They're trying to help, in their own way, but he needs to be prepared to stop it. 

“What? You think gay flirting is different then straight flirting? That's homophobic, love is love.”

“Not even close to what I meant,” Marlow tries, but he’s talked over.

“Yeah, Roz already tries to impress Hollander on the ice, if Hollzy isn't impressed now…”

“No, no, Micky’s right, it could work.”

“Of course I'm right. What's the other option? Keep watching this trainwreck? Shove them in a closet and lock the door? Rig spin the bottle like teenagers?”

“Alright, you've convinced me, let's get everyone else to make a game plan. We get one shot at this.”

Half of Bears assemble themselves in a conference room, the rest discretely keeping an eye on Hollander, who is still on the ice running drills. Connors leads their captain into the room, Andrews shutting the door behind them and locking it. 

“Connors, this does not look like you have question,” Rozanov crosses his arms, scanning the room with his usual intensity when he’s trying to solve a problem.

“Ah, no, sorry cap, we needed an excuse to talk to you alone.”

Roz raises an eyebrow, casting a glance to Marlow specifically who just shrugs and holds his hands up in surrender, conveying it’s ok trust me to his best friend. Ilya takes this into consideration.

“Why? You are being weird.” They all look around at each other, suddenly nervous and forgetting the game plan. “Well?”

“Have you considered liking men?” Carmichael blurts out. 

Rozanov blanches, his accent coming thicker, “Sorry, what?”

“That came out wrong,” Carmichael placates. He takes a deep breath and starts again, “Roz, this might come as a shock, and we support you, obviously, but have you thought that maybe you like men and women?”

A blank stare greets them. Rozanov blinks once, twice. Opens his mouth. Closes it. Tilts his head to the side. Brings his hands to press them together in front of his mouth and takes a deep breath. He translates the words into Russian, then back to English, just to make sure he’s understanding what they’re saying.

“Are you asking, no, telling me you think I am bisexual?” The assorted Bears nod. He looks at Marlow again, who shrugs again and mouths later, just trust me please. 

“We just kinda… have been noticing things and you're usually very…” Victor St Simon struggles for a moment to find the words, "enthusiastic about pursuing what you want, so we weren't sure if you noticed. Or if you just thought you couldn't have it—him. So we thought we’d tell you it was ok, we don’t care. We just want you to be happy. Also, we can't do another year of this, it's embarrassing.”

“I am still confused. Another year of what?” Ilya thought they were telling him they knew about him and Shane, but what they were saying wasn't quite in line with that idea. There are groans throughout the room. 

“Come on, cap,” Carmichael gestures wildly. “Ever since Hollander joined us, you’ve been, you know…”

“You’ve walked into various doorways twelve times, tripped on the ice seven times—all directly related to Hollander looking at you or doing something impressive.” Bugsy, one of the younger players, was reading from a notes app on his phone. “You’ve tripped on dry land thirty-two times, fourteen were over thin air. Again, Hollander related. Seven more counts of getting him breakfast on roadies while he was still in bed because and I quote, ‘I am good roommate’. You drive him to work because he lives closest to you. I can go on.”

Roz is just standing there, gaping at them. His face is redder than they've ever seen it, progressing in darker and darker shades the longer Bugsy read.

“In conclusion, Rozy,” says Marlow, taking pity on both parties, “You have a massive crush on Hollander.”

“And we’re pretty sure he likes you back! He’s harder to read, but you’ve definitely got a chance,” Vickey explains excitedly. “We just weren't sure if you knew you liked him.”

Ilya considers this, the assembled players, the evidence they’ve just laid out in front of him. Shane was going to kill him for being so obvious, but maybe he could get away with it if he played his cards right. 

“So, you all know I have crush on Hollander? Anyone else?” There’s excited whispering at his confession, but Ilya has more pressing matters. Like figuring out how deep this goes and why Marly is involved. He trusts his friend to not divulge their secrets, but he’s going to force his friend to sit down and explain himself to both of them. 

“The whole team is in on this. It started sometime last year,” Cliff explains to Ilya. 

“Whole team?” Nods around the room. Okay, a plan is formulating itself inside his brain. Ilya weighs up surprising his husband or clearing this with him first. He’s suddenly nervous for no reason, “You think I have chance?”

They scramble over themselves to reassure him, throwing out more evidence of Shane’s apparent requited crush, “For sure, Rozy. You’re a catch, you're hot, you're really good at hockey, all things that will appeal to Hollzy.”

Carmichael chimes in, "You've got to make the first move though. He doesn't know he’s got a shot with you.”

Ilya leans forward over the table from where he had sat down at some point. “So how do I ask him on date? It will be romantic, of course.”

“Flowers, for sure. Flowers are a classic, who doesn't like flowers.” Ilya nods along, more plans formulating in his head. 

Later that night, Shane asks him where his mind has wandered off to. 

“Do you trust me? Trust Marly?”

“Yeah, of course,” Shane’s confused face is very cute, Ilya can't resist kissing it. 

“You trust I would not put us in danger?” Some of the confusion melts away, but his tone is more guarded. 

“Yes, I do.” Ilya kisses him again. 

“I will surprise you at practice tomorrow, ok?” It's more a question than a statement. If his husband demands to know what the surprise is, he’ll fold like the laundry they do every weekend. He’d never want to make Shane uncomfortable, but he likes to exercise the trust Shane has given him. He leans in to kiss Shane again and whispers, “Our teammates think I have a crush on you.”

“What?” Shane pulls back to look at him, “You have a crush on me?

“Da, big, gross crush on Shane Hollander. That is what Carmichael says.” Shane’s eyebrows furrow. 

“Ok?” It hasn’t quite clicked for Shane that their teammates have several crucial pieces of the puzzle, but have put together the wrong picture. Ilya kisses his husband again, pushing him back into bed to distract him. He can’t wait for tomorrow. 

—

Shane doesn’t shut the door yet, scanning his husband. 

“Really? You’re going to be late.”

“You worry too much, Hollander. I will be fine, is fast errand. Go, I love you.” Shane huffs, returns the I love you and slams the door, headed towards the rink. Ilya peels out of the parking lot back towards the nearest grocery store. There wasn't enough time for a proper florist (he'd checked), but he found one last bouquet of lilies in the flower department. He purchased them with a smile, unable to stop his grin. Shane really holds the power in this little skit he's about to play out. Shane will decide how far it goes, how much to share. It’s the truth beneath their dynamic, Ilya pushes, Shane pulls, they find a balance. 

Returning to the rink pushes his right up to the start of practice. Most of the arrived Bears will already be on the ice, the stragglers will still be in the locker room. He stops there first, brandishing his flowers to cheers before going to hide them in the back office their coach rarely used. He then got changed and had the most normal practice. His team could sense his nerves (excitement) at asking out (teasing) his crush (husband). Shane kept shooting him looks, but Ilya just shook his head. After. 

He waits until Shane is changed, everyone else in various states, to fetch the flowers. The locker room has gone mostly quiet. Mostly, because they're trying not to be obvious, but they're being totally obvious. Shane looks up from where he's tying his shoes. 

“What’s going on?” Ilya emerges, holding the lilies behind his bare back. Simmons had whispered, shirt off at him and given an enthusiastic double thumbs up where Shane couldn’t see him. 

“Hollander?” Shane looks up at his nervous husband. The room holds its breath. 

“Rozanov.”

Ilya holds out the flowers, delighted at the surprise on Shane's face. 

“Hollander—Shane. Um, Shane Hollander, will you go on date with me?” Ilya doesn't expect to stumble over his words like that. This is his husband for fucks sake, they’ve been together in some sense for ten years. But, Ilya realizes, this is new for both of them. Ilyas never asked someone on a date before, not even Shane, the commercial notwithstanding. And now he's doing it in front of his friends with flowers. He feels seventeen again, trying to impress the cute Canadian hockey player with pretty freckles. Shane seems to be in a similar state, eyes wide in shock and joy as he takes in the scene, several things clicking together in his head. I have a crush on you, that's what Carmichael says. I have a surprise tomorrow. oh. 

“Ilya.” Shane realizes Ilya has once again put the power in his hands. He looks around the room, taking in the eager faces, ranging from trying not to be noticed watching to shamelessly leaning forward, “I’m your husband, Ilya, you don’t have to buy me flowers to ask me out. I love doing anything with you.”

A mischievous grin spreads across Ilya’s face, catching on as the room falls dead quiet in confusion and surprise. Shane takes the flowers from his husband, smiling as he examines them before kissing him on the cheek. 

“Lilies, though? You think you're cute.”

“Of course,” says Ilya, "anything for my Jane.”

The room erupts, demanding answers and shouting over each other. Shane blushes at the attention, but doesn’t move, letting Ilya raise a hand to corral the locker room into silence. He turns to his team, smugness written into every line of his body and face. He points at Carmichael. 

“What the fuck, Roz?”

“Is what you wanted, yes?” Carmichael splutters, gesturing wildly between Ilya and Shane. “I get flowers and ask Shane Hollander on date. He accepted, why are you surprised?”

Marlow starts laughing in the corner, hunched over, “Jesus Christ, Rozy.”

Ilya whirls on him, “I was ambushed, Marley. You did not help at all. Why?”

Cliff holds his hands up in surrender, wiling away tears. “I would have told you if it got out of hand. I didn't say anything, just kept an eye on it. I promise, I was going to tell you if they got close.”

Ilya glares at him for another minute until he sharply nods. 

“Wait,” asks Simmons, “Did Marly know?”

“Know what!?” cries Connors, "What is there to know, I'm so confused.”

“Ok,” Ilya claps his hands together once to silence them. He intertwines his fingers with Shane’s and is about to start when he's interrupted by Coach Leclair entering the locker room, pausing at the sight before him. 

"What's going on?” Theres nervous glances thrown around. Leclair scans the room, noticing the tram gathered around their captain and newest player, down to where their fingers are interlocked and the flowers in Hollander's other hand. “Ah. This is about Rozanov’s crush. Did he finally ask Hollander out?”

Ilya’s jaw drops and Shane bursts into laughter. Real, genuine, belly-shaking laughter. He leans on his husband for support. Said husband looks betrayed, pouting and wrapping his arm around Shane. 

“Sorry, Ilya. Just—I can’t—holy shit.” Shane pulls himself up and takes a deep breath, “Does everyone think you have a crush on me?”

“They also asked Roz if he knew he was bisexual. They were all ready to break the news to him,” Marlow throws in. Shane presses his lips together. Ilya grumbles next to him, embarrassed. 

“So?” Coach asks, holding up a hand to keep everyone from talking over each other. “What’s the racket about? Marlow, you seem to be the least confused.”

“Umm,” Marlow looks at his friends, question in his eyes. Shane nods his head, so Marlow starts to explain. “The team,” he gestures, “noticed that our dear captain has a crush on our newest teammate. A few days ago, they confronted Roz about it, told him they were sure that Hollander liked him back, so he should go for it. Today he showed up with flowers and asked Shane out in front of everyone.”

Coach lets the silence stretch until its clear Marlow has nothing more to say, “And Hollander said yes? So why can I hear you yelling from the ice?”

Shane decides to answer, “Probably because I said Ilya was my husband so he didn't need to ask me out so formally.”

“Da, they all started freaking out like babies.”

“No, I freaked out when you called him Jane," stresses Connors, who, judging from the distress in his voice, can't seem to decide if he’s being pranked or not, “but we’re definitely coming back to the husband thing.” 

“I heard Jane too,” says Andrews to more agreement from the crowd. It was amusing to see all these big hockey men looking so lost in their own room.

“Who is Jane?” Coach is rubbing his eyes, hoping someone will start making sense. Before anyone can explain who, exactly, Jane is to them, Shane takes pity on his coach. 

“I’m Jane. It was my name in Ilya’s phone for years, until I joined the Bears and we didn't have to hide having each other's phone numbers.”

“You’re Jane, you're Jane, you're Jane?" It was being said so many times in so many ways, but Shane didn't refute it, just let them process. Eventually the disbelief of Montreal Girl, Jane dies down and Ilya can get a word in edge wise. 

“Why is this big surprise?”

“Roz, we thought you broke up with Jane? Years ago.” Shane gets it a beat before Ilya does, squeezing their fingers together. 

“Right around the time I was dating Rose Landry?” He asks and sees them all register the timeline. “It wasn’t a good time for either of us, we’re not going to talk about it, but yes. We got back together at the All Star game and got married last summer.”

“So we thought you had a crush but actually that's just your husband?”

“Da, my husband,” Ilya's playful smile dims just a little. “This is ok still?”

“Of course, Rozy!”

“Yeah, no problem, we’re happy for you!”

More agreement fills the room. Coach Leclair approaches the boys, holding out his hand. 

“Congratulations boys.” Ilya takes his hand first followed by Shane. 

“Thanks, Coach,” Ilya says. “Sorry for not telling you.”

“In the future, I should be informed about these things, or at least HR, but I understand. I just wish I had known when I asked for him.”

Shane blushes and squeezes Ilya’s hand again. “We didn't know what was going to happen, but we’re happy to be here together. Thank you. And HR knows, I filed the paperwork, don’t worry.”

“Yes, my husband is very efficient. Remembers all boring paperwork for being adult.”

“Good. I don't want you to think you have to hide here. Sounds like everyone’s behind you. I knew we had to have you, Hollander, I’m glad it’s working out for everyone.”

Chapter 9: stark differences

Chapter Notes

instead of three short chapters or one short/one medium chapter, here's one mega chapter in three parts.
I decided what I wanted to do with JJ now that he's had time to cool off.

Shane dropped his bag pointedly onto the bench in front of him with a thunk, prompting those closest to him to look over. The rest of the room followed. It wasn’t that they were watching that particular corner of the room specifically because that’s where the Hollander-Rozanov’s lockers were. Ok, that’s exactly why they all noticed. Shane was not oblivious to the looks the team had been giving them the last week since he and Ilya had come out. At least, he consoled himself, the looks weren’t malicious, those looks he was all too familiar with.

“Ok, you’ve all been staring.” The statement sends a ripple through the room. His husband looks over at him, stilling where he’s been shoving things in his own bag. Ilya moves to stand next to Shane, schooling his look of confusion into what he hopes is support. Before anyone can offer excuses, Shane speaks again, “Marly ratted on you, when I asked. You have questions, I get it. So, in exchange for this,” he sweeps a hand around, “stopping, you are all welcome over to ask your questions and get it out of your system.”

No one moves or speaks. Ilya’s caught on and finishes pulling his shirt over his head before fixing his team with a pointed stare.

“Ok, ask questions,” Ilya prompts. There’s nervous shuffling around the room. Cliff breaks the silence.

“I’ll start, why lilies? Of all the flowers, why lilies?”

Shane blinks at the easy start and the easy segue, “I was Jane, Ilya was Lily in my phone. Hayden calls him my Boston Lily.”

“Lily and Jane?” Simmons asks from the floor. “Ilya and Shane? You’re lucky no one ever put it together.”

“I know, but no one did. In hindsight, we heavily relied on everybody being blinded by the whole rivalry thing.”

“Well it worked,” Carmichael points out.

“Yeah, I wanna ask about Jane now,” Connors raises his hand. “She’s been around since at least 2014, like, I remember Roz pouting about how much he wanted to spend his cup day with her–you–but couldn’t. He was so drunk, I don’t think he remembers.”

Shane has several emotions warring in him at that; 2014 wasn’t the best year for them, with the Olympics and the ghosting and Vegas, but to hear that Ilya wanted to celebrate with him warms him inside. Ilya is pointedly not looking at Shane. His cheeks are pink and he’s avoiding letting his husband catch his eye. He decides they can talk about it later.

“Yes, I was around in 2014,” is all he says. If the boys want a more specific answer, they’ll have to ask a more specific question.

“Come on!” Connors’ caught on to what he was doing, “How long? You said you’ve been official since 2017, so how long were you unofficial?”

Shane pinches his mouth to suppress his grin. He thought he would be more reluctant to share details about his and Ilya’s history, but the more he gets to admit that Ilya was there before anyone, even the NHL, the more he loves it. They might have wasted so much time, but there wasn’t anything to be done about it, but it was still there, it still existed, and Shane doesn’t want to pretend it didn’t.

Ilya isn’t suppressing anything, teeth on full display as he puffs up in pride, “Guess. You know at least 2014, yes? Guess how long.”

Murmuring fills the room, the guys whispering to their neighbors to try and come up with a year. Vicky leans over to poke Marly, “Man, you’ve got to have a clue, right? You’ve known longer than us.”

“I do know how long and I’m not telling you,” Marly grins. “I’ll take credit for getting dumbass number one to say I love you, though.”

“Really?” Shane asks his husband.

“Yeah, Hollzy, I had to knock some sense into him. He still thought saying it would ‘fuck everything up.’ His words.”

“Ilya…” Shane takes his hand, forcing Ilya to look at him, “We were already…”

“I know,” Ilya cuts him off, “Marly had to tell me we were being dumb.”

“Hold on, back to Marlow knew. You knew before they became official?”

“Before they became official? I was there when they became official.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means Marly was there for proposal,” Ilya clarifies, setting off another cacophony of surprise. Once everyone has calmed down enough for someone else to get a question out, Bugsy is the voice that finally reaches over everyone else's.

“Rookie season!” He exclaims, phone in hand and waving it excitedly. “There’s this interview from your rookie All Stars and look at you guys. Now that I know what to look for, it’s all here. My guess is rookie season, All Stars specifically for the first time something happened, so maybe there was flirting beforehand.”

That quiets the room for a brief moment, those closest to the young player leaning in to watch the muted video on his phone.

“I agree, those are Rozanov heart eyes for sure. Not as intense, but definitely something there between you two,” Carmichael agrees.

Ilya is delighted and surprised at their logic and how close they got to the truth. 2011 All Stars was important. He decides he’s going to mess with them a little more, “Yes, that was when I got Shane’s phone number, very important. But you are wrong.”

“Wrong!? Wrong about what?”

“You got his phone number as rookies, but that’s not when you– Ok, so are we too early then? You got his number then maybe something happened over the summer? Or the next season?”

Shane smirks, “Wrong direction.”

“Wait, you mean it was earlier?” Bugsy exclaims, “No way, it couldn’t have been before.”

“You’re making it sound like you started hooking up before you got each other’s numbers.”

“We were,” clarifies Shane, “You’re forgetting that Ilya and I have known each other since we were seventeen. The first time we played each other was World Juniors 2008.”

“Yes, and very pretty Canadian came and told me I wasn’t allowed to smoke and shook my hand,” Ilya looks proud as he tells their team how they met. “Made me forget all ten English words I know.”

“Oh, he’s got jokes now,” Shane teases. “I should tell them about draft day.”

Mouths drop open and the room radiates stunned.

“Draft day?” Someone shouts.

“Almost,” Shane says. “Nothing happened, but it was the start of everything. The next time we saw each other was World Juniors that same year, then the summer before our rookie season was supposed to start, we did a commercial together for the first time.”

“Was also first time we hook up,” interrupts Ilya.

“Someone didn’t want to wait until October to see me, so he convinced CCM that they should do the commercial with both of us instead, to really sell the rivalry.”

“Oh my god,” someone whispers.

“I agree, what the fuck do you mean you’ve been hooking up longer than we’ve known you?” Vicky asks. Shane shrugs, equal parts embarrassed and enjoying the flabbergasted looks.

“Longer than you’ve been in the NHL, that’s insane.”

“What’s insane is that it took you guys seven years to talk about your feelings.”

Hammersmith, who has been sitting very patiently and letting everyone else ask questions, raises his hand, “I want to go back to something, yes it’s relevant.”

“Shoot.”

“You said Marly was there when you became official, which Roz then clarified meant he was there for the proposal. What the fuck?”

“Is that your question, Hammy?” Ilya asks, “You want to ask what the fuck?”

“Don’t be an asshole,” Shane reprimands. “Yes, we became official and got engaged the same day.”

“Same hour, more like,” Marly says under his breath and grins when Shane flips him off.

“So you guys are like the hockey equivalent of high school sweethearts,” Andrews throws in.

“I guess?” Shane says, “It’s not like we were exclusive or anything. And like you said, it’s not like we were talking about feelings or anything.”

“Still, you’re admitting that something has been there since the beginning, ergo, high school sweethearts, or if you want to go with Connors nicknames, we can call you Romeo and Juliet, which is also accurate.”

Ilya raises an eyebrow at this, “Romeo and Juliet?”

“Yeah, rival teams, teenagers in love behind everyone’s backs, getting married in secret.”

“Don’t they die at the end?”

“Only because no one will let them be together and they’re dumb teenagers with dumb plans. You made it past that part.”

“Ok then? Any other questions?”

Simmons raises his hand, “I want to know about the scratches! Remember,” he looks around at the team, “when Roz went missing a few years ago, back when Montreal won the cup the second time, but before that because it was still the beginning of playoffs? He showed back up like three days later with so many marks we thought we had to stage an intervention. Was that you? That was you right?”

Things go back to normal after that. Or as normal as the Bear’s locker room ever was. When Shane and Ilya return to their normal behavior, it’s easy for the rest of the team to fall in line, remembering that all that’s changed is now they know the truth behind the heart eyes. The same behavior they’ve been watching and analyzing for a year is just two people in love. The only difference is neither of them check themselves before speaking or touching the other anymore. Eventually it escalates to small pecks exchanged and talking openly about their plans together without worrying they’re going to get found out. The Bears take it all in stride, enjoying the more open versions of their captain and alternate. 

Shane surprises himself with how relaxed he becomes in the locker room. Being near Ilya, even when unable to touch, has always calmed him. But it’s different from other rooms he’s been in. They like him, it’s as simple as that. The rookies take his advice, he gets invited out, but left alone if he says no, they tease and joke, and no one looks at him like he’s only good for hockey.

— 

June 2019

Riding the high of a second Stanley cup in a row and the second time he’s done that for a team, Shane is feeling almost reckless. When Ilya barrels into him after the buzzer goes off signaling the end of the game, Shane’s thankful for the two helmets in his way preventing him from kissing his husband right there at center ice. This second victory felt better than the last, the Bears having fought harder for it through teams that were determined not to be shown up by the Hollander-Rozanov dynasty. They never stood a chance with them at full health, but even working through bruises and sprains, they’d pulled out on top. 

Instead, Shane waits until they’re safe in the locker room to pull Ilya into what can only be described as filthy. Their teammates whoop and cheer around them, champagne Shane didn't notice being opened spraying down on top of them. Ilya is grinning into his lips and he’s grinning right back, teeth clacking together more than anything else. They’re pulled apart and Shane feels himself hoisted into the air on the shoulders of Andrews and Simmons, surrounded by their rookies who continue to spray him with alcohol.

“THREE CUPS! THREE CUPS! THREE CUPS!” the Bears chant, throwing in howls and roars in a display of utter cacophony. Ilya is standing on a bench leading the chant. He lost the rest of his gear and is standing in nothing but compression shorts, the image doing nothing to help any of the emotions coursing through Shane’s body. He’s elated, he’s horny, he’s relieved. There’s a part of him that will always mourn Montreal and the dreams that died in the Bell Center when he said, “I’m gay.” to his team, but with Ilya, most of him is just happy to be another guy playing good hockey. He’s still Shane Hollander, four time Stanley Cup Champion, husband of Ilya Rozanov. Shane’s having fun playing hockey again. 

The celebrations last all night. Ilya and him peel off around one in the morning, far later than either thought they would want to get back to their hotel. They’re both still buzzed with enough adrenaline to make it a few hours before passing out.

The morning arrives slowly around eleven am, sunlight finally waking an exhausted Ilya. He’s soothed by getting to enjoy watching Shane sleep, a rarity Ilya loves anytime it happens. He lightly strokes his husband’s skin, fingers brushing over freckles, lips following behind. Before his eyes open, Shane starts what Ilya would describe as purring, humming happily while Ilya trails kisses up the back of his neck. He nuzzles back, awake, but refusing to open his eyes to the world, choosing instead to let Ilya take his time with whatever he’s started. They’re both too exhausted to start anything, but that doesn’t stop Little Shane from giving a valiant effort. 

“Good morning,” Ilya greets in Russian. 

“Hmmm, good morning,” Shane repeats, “We won the cup.”

“Da, we did.”

“I almost kissed you on the ice,” confesses Shane, eyes still closed and pressing back into Ilya. 

“So did I,” says Ilya, distracted by his current mission to kiss every part of his husband’s body. Shane rolls slightly, dislodging Ilya to get underneath him properly, reaching to grab his face and finally cracking open his eyes.

“Nyet, I mean, I really almost took off my helmet and kissed you right there. I wanted to so badly.” Ilya stops what he’s doing to look at Shane, a hopeful question lingering in his eyes, “I wouldn’t do anything without talking to you, but I think, maybe, I’m ready to start telling people. Our friends and family, I mean. I don’t think I’m ready for everyone to know, but our team knows, and Scott’s out, so maybe we finally start making a real plan before we get outed?”

Ilya just continues to stare at him. It’s been two years since they got together officially and Ilya was willing to admit that he was surprised Shane was the one taking this step. His husband laughs when he says this.

“Ilya, ya tebya lyublyu. We’re safe, we’re married, our closest friends know. We have support and no matter what, we have each other. I’ve never felt better, honestly. I’m ready to tell my parents at least. Then, we can talk about a plan for coming out?”

Ilya can’t do anything but press Shane back into the mattress, claiming his lips hard. His hands are running over Shane’s sides.

“Da, Shane, yes. We can tell whoever you want?”

“Whoever I want?” Shane’s reply is cheeky, Ilya rolls his eyes. “Besides, we’re announcing the charity this summer and starting camps next year, so it would be nice to have the coaches in on our secret, make it easier. One less place to hide.”

“Ok, yes. We do that, now can I fuck you?” Ilya has been patient since Shane first said I almost kissed you on the ice.

—

July 2019

Shane was spending the evening at the Pike home with the residents and JJ. The kids had been shipped off to their grandparents house for the weekend, Shane suspected because he was in town and more likely to hang out if it was just adults. He loved the Pike children, he really did, but he also was not the kind of person to be good with kids especially for long periods of time. He expressed his gratitude to Jackie for taking initiative, but she just waved him off with, “It wasn’t just for you.”

Shane puts his mostly untouched beer down, prompting his friends to focus on him. Hayden lifts his in a facsimile of a cheer, “You done man?”

“No, maybe. I just wanted to run something by you guys.” That gets their attention, JJ sitting up and setting his own beer down. He’d been weirdly attentive to Shane recently. It wasn’t something Shane could put a finger on, but the last few months whenever they were in the same place, which wasn’t often, JJ had this look in his eye that Shane could decipher. 

“What’s up,  mon ami?”

“I’m starting a charity next summer,” he starts, “well, I’m not starting it alone, but I was hoping you guys would come be coaches at the camps we’re gonna do. Like, hockey camps.”

“Back up Shane,” Hayden says, putting his own drink down now, “Start at the beginning. Hockey camps?”

Shane takes a deep breath and starts again, “We’re starting a charity next summer. It’s already in the works, so we just need to figure out staffing for the camps.”

“Wait, wait, who’s we, Shane?” Jackie asks. Shane grimaces, not for any reason than this could be a make or break moment. 

“Ilya Rozanov and I,” is his answer. He nervously grabs his mostly full beer and takes another sip to distract himself.

“I’m sorry,” Hayden says, “I swear I heard you just say Rozanov and you are starting a charity.”

Shane just nods, tapping his fingers on his leg.

“Rozanov?” JJ asks, a note to his voice that matches the look Shane’s been noticing. He hopes he wasn’t wrong about JJ, that this wouldn’t be a deal breaker for him.

“Yeah, Rozanov. We’re on the same team, we’re friends, we got talking one day and came up with this idea. So, yes, we’re starting a charity together. We were thinking hockey camps for kids and then donating the money to mental health organizations. It’s something that’s important to both of us, and–”

“I think that sounds great, Shane,” Jackie says, elbowing her husband.

“Thanks, Jackie,” he blows out a breath and waits for one of his friends to say something.

“I agree, mon ami, hockey camps for kids,” JJ finally says, “Sounds fun. You said you needed coaches?”

He’s grateful that JJ just moves right on, even if he’s suspicious. “Yeah, we’re going to host in Ottawa.”

“Rozanov?” Hayden finally speaks, earning himself another elbow to the ribs from his wife. “I mean, of course, I’d love to help out. I’m just stuck on you starting a charity with Rozanov of all people.”

“Hayd, he’s my friend,” defends Shane, “And we’re on the same team, it’s not that crazy that we’re doing this.”

Hayden is frowning, “But, I get that. Why start a charity?”

“Because it’s important to him and to me!” Shane rubs at his face. He knew this would happen and he wants Ilya here with him. Although, that might not help the situation at all.

“Hayden,” JJ cuts in, “Obviously, there’s more to Rozanov than we thought. Of course we’ll help. I still think he’s an asshole, but I can work with him for your sake.”

Gratitude floods him. Shane smiles at JJ who claps him on the shoulder with a nod.

“Ugh, I keep forgetting you’re friends with that asshole,” Hayden complains, “But, yeah, ok. I’ll be there, just to make sure he behaves himself.”

Right, Shane thinks, behaves himself at his own charity camps in front of his husband, a ton of kids, and a bunch of hockey players who probably hate his guts. Ilya’s definitely the one he’s worried about behaving himself. Hayden is still going, having thought of something else, 

“Does Rozanov know you’re gay?” Jackie sits up to hit her husband upside the head.

“Hayden!”

“What!?” he defends, “I’m just asking. It’s a pretty big thing to hide from someone you’re starting a charity with!”

No, it’s not. Shane is a little fed up with the conversation, but knows he needs to power through so he can get back to Ilya. It is a little insensitive for Hayden to assume one, that he needs to come out to someone to work with them, and two– Shane actually just really hates the way the statement was phrased.

Shane rolls his eyes, “Yes, Rozanov knows I’m gay.”

“You told him?” Hayden’s voice is full of disbelief, like he didn’t expect an answer, and especially not that one, “I can't believe you told him.”

“It's my secret to share, Hayd,” Shane groans, wondering if he can go home yet, “It came up, so I shared it with him, ”

“And?” He demands.

“And what?” 

“How did he react?”

“He punched me in the face, spat on me, and called me a faggot.”

“WHAT!?”

“Jesus, Hayd, no,” he rubs his eyes, noting that JJ seems to be amused beside him. “He was fine. just told me to have better taste in men then Scott Hunter.”

“Oh,” Hayden’s tone sounds almost resigned. Almost. There’s a hint of something else there, “And he hasn't tried to use it against you?”

Shane throws his hands in the air, exasperated, “Hayden. Stop. I don't need your permission to tell people I’m gay. I'm not telling you to like him, just to trust me.”

The pleading tone must do something to his friend, because Hayden sighs, “Fine. I'd love to be a part of these hockey camps. I’ll play nice as long as he does.”

“Same, Shane, I’ll behave,” JJ promises. “You really trust him with this?”

“Yes, I do. I have my reasons and I'm not going to share them.”

JJ raises his hands in surrender, “No, you don't. If you trust him with this, that's your decision. But if that co–” JJ cuts himself off, “if that bastard outs you or tries something or holds it against you…”

“I’m sure it will be fine, JJ,” Shane says, gratitude coating his voice. 

“Really JJ, you're on the Rozanov train now?” Hayden has to ask.

“No, I’m on Shane's side and Rozanov, apparently, is also on Shane's side. So,” he shrugs, “as long as we keep beating him on the ice and he doesn't hurt Shane, who cares. I don't have to be nice or anything, but I can be civil if he is.”

“Civil? Rozanov? Do you have a concussion?”

“Guys…”

“We play hockey, Hayden! If Shane says Rozanov is ok off the ice, I'll try. Besides, if he's rude first, I have an excuse to punch him! It's not like we’re ever going to see him. Détends-toi.”

The evening comes to an end after that, Shane utterly exhausted after the conversation and itching to crawl into Ilya’s arms and forget about everything for a little bit. Or at least until they have dinner with his parents in a few days. They already know about the charity, his mother taking the helm with ease, but it’s time to tell them about Ilya properly, as his husband. It’s a conversation he’s dreading, because of the lying for a decade part. And the married behind their back part. 

His thoughts are interrupted by a knock at his passenger window. JJ is tapping and motioning for Shane to roll down the window or unlock the door. When Shane complies, he climbs in and sighs.

“Can I…” he starts, quickly changing gears, “You know there’s nothing you can tell me that would make me hate you, right?” Shane feels blood roar in his ears, JJ is still talking, “Just, I love you. You’re one of my best friends, not even moving to Boston could change that. I know you’ve got this whole new life and you’re not actually leaving us behind. Sometimes, I feel like you ditched us as soon as you could.”

“JJ–” he holds a hand up to silence Shane.

“I get it. No, maybe I don’t, but I’m trying and I didn’t want to say anything in front of Hayden. Especially after what he said.”

“JJ, what–” Shane tries again to equal success.

“Shane, what I’m trying to say is please don’t push me away. I still want to be your friend, even if that means being friendly with Rozanov. If you’re friends with him, real friends, not just teammates, there must be someone there worth knowing.” 

Shane feels overwhelmed with JJ’s earnestness. Whatever’s been coming is here and this conversation is happening now. Shane still isn’t entirely sure where it’s going, but he needs to figure out how to go with the flow here. He’s never been good at having deep conversations on the fly, but he knows he needs to try.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, “JJ, please, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to push you away, I don’t want to stop being your friend. You understand why I needed to leave Montreal?”

“Yeah, I do,” JJ says quietly, before confessing something that turns Shane’s blood to ice, “I also know why you picked Boston.”

“What? Boston asked for me–”

“I know what you said, just… Last All Stars, when we all went out into downtown after, I followed you out of the bar because I saw Rozanov following you and wasn’t sure– doesn’t matter. I saw you guys in the alleyway, Marlow followed me too, I guess, because he kinda threatened me.” Shane stays quiet, trying to still his racing heart, “I’m glad he did, because I didn’t understand what was going on and I’m sure I would have said something I regret. But you moved for him, right? Marlow said he was the only other person that knows and he also walked in on you guys. Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I wish you could have told me yourself sooner too. I meant it, Shane, when I said nothing will make you not my friend. Shane?”

He takes in a stuttering breath, “Fuck. I… fuck.” 

JJ reaches over, hesitating slightly before resting his hand on Shane’s shoulder. He’s not sure if it’s helping or not, but it does tell Shane that JJ hasn’t left. 

“I wasn’t going to hide it forever. We are going to tell people, eventually, but right now, it’s kinda, you know.”

“Marlow said you’re worried about people’s reactions.”

“Yeah, we’re not exactly the poster for world’s greatest love story.”

“I don’t know about that.” JJ considers something, “I really don’t know about that, because I don’t know the story. Not an accusation,” when he sees Shane going to apologize again, “just, I’d like to hear it. I’d like to meet Rozanov as your boyfriend.”

Lifting his head from where it’s hanging, Shane looks at JJ, eyes a little wet, “I didn’t want to tell only one of you, that’s why. Part of the reason. I didn’t want only you or only Hayden to know, and telling Hayden isn’t an option right now,” JJ understands, “So I didn’t want to tell either of you. Fuck, this is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I get his reaction to you guys, but that’s just as friends. I wouldn’t want to tell him about my secret boyfriend either. I’m sorry he’s being shitty, and I’m sorry that I would have also been shitty about it.”

Shane just stares for a moment, then he nods, then says, “You know, it might be a little difficult to meet him as my boyfriend.”

“What?” JJ looks very confused.

“You said you wanted to meet my boyfriend. That will be hard because he’s not my boyfriend,” Shane watched JJ’s face go from confused, to more confused, to understanding in under a second, “he’s my fiance.”

JJ twists in his seat to face Shane more fully, “Fiance!”

The look on his face causes Shane to start chuckling, “Fiance, yeah. I proposed. That’s what I meant when I said we were going to tell people eventually. We do want friends at our wedding.”

“Holy shit! You’re engaged!”

“Yes.”

“You, Shane Hollander, proposed. To Ilya Rozanov. And he said yes?”

“Yes.”

“Shit, ok. Now I really have to be nice to him,” JJ runs a hand through his hair and blows out a breath, “How long? Can I ask?”

“Do you remember Lily? Boston Lily?” JJ stares at him, Shane stares back, “I’m not sure if you ever knew about her or not.”

“Boston Lily, the chick you text when we’re in Boston. Who you deny exists even when someone catches you. That Boston Lily?” At Shane’s answering nod, JJ huffs again.

“Yes, that Boston Lily.”

“It’s been Rozanov this whole time?”

“Yup.”

“Wow.”

“I know.”

“So, longer than I think.”

“Longer than anyone thinks, JJ. My parents don’t even know, we’re telling them later this week.”

“Wow, ok. That makes me feel a little better about you not telling me. Not that it matters,” he hurries to reassure, “Things just keep being put into perspective. Where does Rose fit into this, if it’s longer than I think?”

“Depends on what you want to count as the start,” Shane bites his lip, “The first time we hooked up was summer before rookie season, but we’ve also been saying draft day. Ilya learned the term ‘indirect kissing’ from Rose and has decided our first kiss was then. As for Rose, Ilya and I weren’t exclusive, or official, or anything until after we broke up. I won’t get into it, and don’t bring it up to Ilya. They’re friends now, but it was rough. I hurt both of us and we want to put it behind us as much as we can. But, to be clear, I didn’t cheat on either of them.”

JJ is nodding along, “I’m going to freak out about the timeline when I can scream into my pillow and do several shots, so moving on, Rose knows about you two?”

“Yes, she does. She’s kinda the reason we even got back together, so we told her. She’s kinda one of the only people we got to tell instead of someone finding out.” He doesn’t mean to send a pointed look to his passenger seat, but JJ winces anyway.

“Sorry.”

“No, I’m glad you told me,” Shane sighs, “I wish I could have told you myself, but this does make it a little easier.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment, thinking, “Will you help me break the news to Hayden when I’m ready?”

“Of course, he might not be happy I knew and not him,” and fuck, Shane thought, wasn’t that the crux of everything, “But I’ll help with Hayden. Even if I have to hype your man up in public.”

That startles a laugh out of Shane, “Thanks, JJ. For being cool about this, for being my friend. Now get out of my car, I would like to get home to my fiance please.”

“Oh, shit, yeah. We’ve kinda been sitting in front of Hayden’s house for way too long," JJ climbs out of Shane's car, pausing to lean down one more time, "Hey, Shane? I love you, man."

"Thanks, JJ. I love you too."

Chapter End Notes

“How did he react?”
“He punched me in the face, spat on me, and called me a faggot.”
^^one of my favorite things I wrote, i love bitchy shane

also, proofreading, i realize i dont clarify if JJ climbs in through the open window or if shane unlocks the door, so it's up for interpretation. I thinks its funny to imagine shane rolling down the window and JJ just wiggling his whole body through so they can talk. and shane being reminded of the time ilya did the same thing, but he's not going to share that with jj for a little bit.

Chapter 10: indirect kissing

Chapter Notes

the first and last conversations take place right before and right after the car convo between JJ and Shane. I just wanted to give some clarification about why Shane says they're engaged when they're already married and then it turned into a whole piece, so i figured id post it even if it disrupts my flow a little.

I wanted to do a whole rose/cliff and our four (plus sveta makes five) besties interlude, but I wanted to get this out first, it makes more sense, and it's already done.

“What do we tell people? They're going to have questions about why now and why we waited and then people are going to be upset they missed the wedding and–”

“Why don't you tell them you're getting married?” Rose says, like it’s obvious.

“We are married,” dismisses Shane, still pacing.

“Yes, but only Cliff and I know that. So why don't you tell people that one of you proposed so you're getting married and decided this was a good chance to tell people. I know you said getting married wasn't a big deal to you guys, but everyone else will want you to eventually, right? It doesn't have to be anything crazy, it can be as simple as your real one.”

Shane considers this for a minute before conceding, “That might be a good idea, Rose.”

“Of course it is. Don't even deviate from the truth, Shane, say you proposed, you've been together in secret for years, became exclusive in 2017, and now you're ready to tell people and part of that is because you're engaged! Then when Ilya slips and calls you his husband it'll be extra sweet and romantic because he can't even wait for the wedding. That's how excited he is.”

“People are more likely to assume we got together during or after all stars,” Shane points out. 

“So let them think that. You don't have to clarify if you don't want to.”

“What if I want to?” Shane leans his weight into his husband, “There are parts that are just for us, stuff even you and Cliff don’t know. But it’s also nice to tell people. The team already knows we’re married and I liked telling them, but…”

“But…” prompts Rose.

Shane sighs, “But also if I drop the already married bomb, it’ll be pandemonium. But if I try and spread out the information, it’ll also be pandemonium. Obviously, I’ll tell my parents we’re married, I can’t keep that from them.”

“You should tell people you’re engaged. It tells people it’s serious, explains the rings, and means you can do a vow renewal with everyone there.”

“You’re right, I’ll talk to Ilya.” Rose laughs, “Yeah, ha ha. Tell me how things are going with Cliff.”

—

July 2019

Yuna received a text from her son asking if they could meet at his cottage for dinner so they could talk a few weeks into the summer. It absolutely did not send her into a spiral about what exactly they would be talking about. Adults, mothers especially, do not get worried over a we need to talk text. David did everything he could to talk her out of her worries, but the week between the text and dinner was too much time to not over analyze everything. 

Shane’s decision to come out to the Voyagers, his move to Boston, the announcement of starting a charity with Rozanov of all people, his brief public relationship with Rose Landry; all of these things were playing on a loop in her head. Too clean, reactions too smooth, changes made with nary a thought where previously her son would have despaired over to the point of panic. This wasn’t the first time Yuna had gone down this rabbit hole, nor was it the first time David had tried to get her to leave it alone, stating Shane would come to them when he was ready. There was no evidence either of them could find of anything illegal or illicit, but Yuna still worried. She hated being kept out of the loop and the text from her son was a clear you’re out of the loop. 

David put his hand on her knee before she could get out of the car, the cottage Shane had built looming before them. Never before had it felt so imposing. When was the last time they had been here? For the first time, Yuna feels like she’s walking into a stranger’s house. 

“Whatever he needs to talk about, we have to be prepared,” her husband reminds her.

“I know, I just… David, I don’t know what it could be. He’s already come out, so it’s not that. I think we would have noticed a relationship, but I don’t know. Is he quitting hockey? Moving to the AHL? I don’t know!” She puts her head in her hands, “I thought we knew him, but the last few years… We’ve been out of the loop more than we’ve been in it. We don’t even live in the same country anymore and…”

“It’ll be ok, he’s still Shane, still our son. He might have surprised us recently, but he’s an adult. He’s also a good kid. We’re fine.”

Yuna takes a deep breath, “You’re right. Shane is telling us, so we’ll go in there and listen.”

Standing on the porch, David has to be the one to rap loudly on the door. It swings open almost immediately, like Shane had been waiting on the other side, to reveal their son dressed in a blue button up and shorts looking incredibly nervous.

“Hi, Mom, Dad, come on in,” he stands back to let them inside, thumbs hooking inside his pockets and tapping his fingers on his thigh. “I don’t, um, why don’t we go sit down? Please. I’ll explain.”

They follow him to the kitchen table where Ilya Rozanov is setting down a pot of something that smells delicious. Of all the people they expected to see, this wasn’t one of them, but perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised. Shane told them they’d become friends since he moved to Boston, and they were starting a charity together.

“Ah, hello, Mr. and Mrs. Hollander,” Rozanov greets them. 

“Hi.”

Shane directs them to sit, taking the seat next to Rozanov. Yuna watches them from across the table while they have a conversation with only body language. The ease with which they navigate around each other boggles her mind. Shane waits until they’re dished up, plates full of spaghetti, before speaking. If she traces his arm from shoulder to hand, it seems to be resting on Rozanov’s knee, but she dismisses it in favor of waiting for Shane.

“So, um. I wanted to talk,” he starts, looking at Rozanov. “We wanted to talk–tell you something. It might come as a shock, but, um, Ilya and I are together.”

Yuna is glad her fork isn’t in the air, because she’s sure she would have dropped it, “Together?” she asks. Shane nods, not meeting their eyes. She looks at her husband who looks more thoughtful than shocked.

“Together, like, dating?”

Shane looks up at them briefly before looking at Ilya who gives him an encouraging nod. “Yes, well, no. We’re–” the words seem to get stuck in his throat, Yuna despite her shock tries to offer the word he’s looking for.

“You’re engaged?” Shane already isn’t looking at her, but the way his eyes stay trained on the table in front of him and the way Ilya reaches over to squeeze his knee feels pointed.

“No, we, um,” Shane takes a deep breath and forces himself to look up at her, “We’re married, actually.”

“Oh, wow,” is all David says next to her. At least he’s also as shocked as she is. Yuna thinks that the relationship between the boys didn’t surprise him as much as it did her, but this is something neither of them suspected. 

“Married?” She asks, perhaps harsher than she meant to, but she can’t take it back.

“Yeah, married, “ Shane is looking back down at his food, his hands holding Ilya’s where it’s resting on his thigh. “I know we should have told you, I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. There was just a lot going on and…” he shakes his head, trailing off.

Yuna looks at Rozanov. He’s not looking at them, but unlike Shane who casts his eyes down to avoid them, Rozanov is just watching Shane. He’s not ignoring them, just paying attention to his… his husband, Yuna realizes. Her son invited his parents over to introduce them to his husband. This isn’t just some relationship, they’re not boyfriends, they’re married. Yuna feels faint, of all the secrets to keep.

“Well, why don’t you start by properly introducing us and we can go from there,” David, once again, saving the day. Yuna shoots him a grateful look and misses Ilya taking his eyes from Shane for the first time to do the same. Their son looks up at Ilya, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

“Ok, mom, dad, this is Ilya,” he still hasn’t taken his eyes off the man, but his voice is strong, “he’s been the love of my life since I was seventeen. We made it official two years ago and got married a few months later.”

There’s a soft smile on Ilya’s face, “Da, was ah, love at first sight, I think. But we have too many concussions, took us long time to catch up.”

“Seventeen…” Yuna breathes.

“World Juniors, right?” David asks. He’s leaned back in his chair, abandoning his food in his shock.

Shane nods, finally looking over, “Yeah, I went up and introduced myself. The next time we saw each other was the draft, and um…”

“First kiss, in gym later,” Ilya adds.

“That is not when we had our first kiss,” Shane argues.

“Yes, Rose taught me this. Indirect kissing.”

“Indir– You know what, never mind. Yes, draft day was the start of something. But we knew it couldn’t be anything serious. Then eventually it just became too much, we both wanted more.”

“We were both scared, but Rose knocked sense into you, yes? Marly knocked sense into me.” Shane nods at his husband’s words.

“Yeah. Then Scott Hunter came out and by then we’d already made plans to figure us out, but that really put things in perspective. Then Boston asked for me and Montreal didn’t want me, and the rest is history.”

Yuna just listens, watching her son recount what is probably a very watered down version of the story. She remembers the day Shane was drafted, second to Rozanov’s first pick. How upset he’d been at losing, but then apparently, they’d kissed– or not?– later that day. Her heart is breaking amidst the confusion, for both of these boys who just wanted to be together and hadn’t because of the sport they played and the culture it fostered. David seems to be the only one of them able to form questions with actual words and not just nebulous thoughts free-floating around.

“So, two years, All Stars. I remember you two had so much chemistry. It’s hard to forget that was the first time you shared a line.”

Shane nods, smiling at Ilya, “We finally talked that weekend, actually talked. It was nice, to have an excuse to be friendly in public.”

And just like that, Yuna’s heart breaks even more. Friendly in public, because they couldn’t even do that, not at the height of their rivalry. Which wasn’t even real, she was learning.

“Who knows?” She finally asks, because she needs to do something other than sit here and it’s the first thing that comes to mind.

“Rose knows,” he starts, “Cliff found out All Start weekend. They signed paperwork with us.”

“Team knows now,” Ilya adds. Shane rolls his eyes so far into the back of his head, Yuna is a little concerned.

“Yeah, our team knows. They didn’t exactly figure it out, but they got close enough to tell them the truth. That was a few months ago. Someone couldn’t keep their eyes to themselves.”

“Hey!” Ilya protests. David and Yuna look at each other, there’s a story there.

“Don’t hey me, Ilya. Your entire team thought you had a crush on me.” David chokes at that. “Oh, yeah. Mr. Heart-eyes over here wasn’t as subtle as he thought. The Bears thought he had a massive crush on me and wasn’t doing anything about it.”

“I do have a massive crush on you, Hollander,” Ilya says with a quick kiss to Shane’s cheek.

“I know, I was there,” Shane’s tone is fond. “That’s everyone. Our team and Rose. And you guys. Oh, and JJ, but that was like three days ago.”

“I see,” David settles back once again, “I’ve got to say, Ilya, I’m surprised. You’ve got such a reputation as a ladies man.”

“Is not untrue, maybe outdated,” he starts, hand finding Shane’s again. “I have been with many women, but I have only been in love with one person.”

“Same here, only one.” With that, it’s finally too much for Yuna, who has to excuse herself outside. Once on the porch, she lets the tears fall. The Shane sitting at that table is her son, she knows, but it’s a version of her son she hasn’t met before. There were glimpses of it when he was a small child, and this version has existed just under the surface for a long time, but she’s never noticed. Never been able to see it hiding there. Seventeen, Shane had said. Not even an adult and already his life was synonymous with Ilya Rozanov. When had they been put into the same category as the rest of the world, who only saw two hockey prodigies and decided they needed to be pitted against each other. Was there a point when Shane would have told them, or was it already too late by then. 

She remembers suddenly the commercial they’d shot together before their rookie season. That had happened a year after the draft, so they would have already been involved. Shane hadn’t been able to look away. Rozanov–Ilya was on the ice for some solo shots and Shane had just stared at him, watching. This whole time, they’d been dancing in the background and she missed it.

There’s a sound behind her, of the door opening and closing, then the feeling of her cardigan being draped across her shoulders. Without looking, she knows Shane is standing next to her, waiting for one of them to speak.

“I’m sorry,” he starts and she whirls on him, pulling her son into a tight hug.

“No, no, there’s nothing you need to apologize for.”

“Mom–” He buries his face into her shoulder, “I didn’t want, I didn’t mean…”

“Listen to me Shane, look at me.” It takes a minute, but he does look her in the eye, “You did nothing wrong. There’s nothing wrong with falling in love. I’m sorry that you felt like you couldn’t tell us. That you had to hide. But you and Ilya did nothing to be sorry for. Understand?” She waits for him to nod before she asks, “Forgive me?”

“I forgive you, mom.” She holds her son tighter for a minute. 

“So, the draft?” She’s not expecting him to roll his eyes while wiping away tears.

“We’re making it sound a lot more romantic than it was, or at least then it felt like. I didn’t even get his number until 2011. We really were just trying to avoid it until we couldn’t anymore, but yeah, draft day. It’s always been us, now you know that us is a little more than you thought.”

“Right behind our backs. I’m impressed,” she laughs, “Let’s go rescue your husband from dad, huh?”

“Oh, I don’t think you need to worry about them.” But Shane leads them back inside anyway. Ilya and David are sitting at the table, now nursing glasses of vodka, the bottle and two more glasses waiting for use.

Yuna pours herself some and slides the bottle back to the center. She watches Ilya check in silently with Shane and vice versa, marveling at the silent communication happening. 

“Two years…” She says, almost unconsciously.

“Two years,” Shane confirms. “A week ago, actually.”

“I see,” Yuna takes a sip of her alcohol. “So, I want to hear the full story, who proposed, how, all of that. How was the wedding? I at least want to hear details.”

Shane and Ilya exchange another look.

“Shane proposed, was very romantic.”

“Fuck off, I wasn’t really prepared. Besides, you said yes.”

“He proposed at All Stars, in hotel room. Marly was there.” Ilya intentionally keeps the time-traveling rookies out of it. The knowledge of that hadn’t spread very far and even less people believed it, so they didn’t bring it up.

“Marly?”

“Cliff Marlow. He was looking for Ilya, came by the room, I’m going to skip some stuff, but there was a conversation about… doesn’t matter. But yes, I said ‘can I say something stupid?’ and asked him to marry me.”

“Ten out of ten proposal,” Ilya nods solemnly, but Yuna can see the corner of his mouth betraying his amusement. “Marly cried.”

“He did not.”

“Is ok, he cried at wedding.”

“I emailed Farah that weekend too, to figure out how to file paperwork discretely. She knows, also. That summer, we had Rose and Cliff over to watch the playoffs. They kinda set up the deck to look nice and Cliff looked up a speech and they officiated.”

“Rose made you wear suit.”

“Rose made us put on nice clothes and we danced. There’s not much else to it. We faxed the paperwork to Farah and bought rings.” Yuna’s eyes immediately find the rings on their right hands. She remembers when Shane started wearing that ring, two years ago. It hadn’t registered as anything more than something to help Shane’s anxiety, which was exactly what he’d told her, because it was on the wrong hand. Ilya notices her looking and lays their hands on the table to show them off.

“In Russia, we wear wedding rings on right hand.”

“Ah.”

“We were thinking over the next year or two starting to come out to our friends. Then when we’re ready, we’ll have a ceremony for everyone to attend and that’s when we’ll come out, like, publicly. We don’t have much of a plan beyond that. We’re probably not going to tell anyone else that we’re already married.”

“You want to come out?” Yuna asks. Plans are already running through her head at the idea.

“In a few years, yes. Most of the important people know, and we’ll tell the rest. Being on the same team gives us a reason to be seen together, but eventually we don’t want to have to check ourselves while we’re out.”

“You’ve been living together in Boston?” David suddenly asks, a look of realization dawning on his face. Yuna thinks he might be misremembering, they would have noticed if Shane was living with Ilya, but then, Yuna realizes the same thing David did. Which was that they’d never been to Shane’s home in Boston. They’d seen it on calls, but every time they’d been in Boston, something prevented them from actually going over. Intentional, Yuna thinks.

“Ah, yes,” Ilya says. A look passes over his face that Yuna can’t decipher. Shane looks a little like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Eventually, David and Yuna have to wave goodbye and force themselves out the door. Once safely in their car and far enough down the drive that they can’t see the cottage anymore, Yuna lets herself breathe.

“Well…”

“I did say you had to be prepared to be surprised,” David jokes.

“Oh, you,” Yuna huffs, “I can’t stop thinking about draft day. Draft day, David! This whole time and he didn’t tell us.”

“You know what I keep thinking,” David cuts her off softly.

“What?”

“He wasn’t alone.” It cuts her off at the knees, because wasn’t that what they were so afraid of, at the core of everything, a fear that Shane would be alone. Especially once he started pulling away from them? And he wasn’t. Every friend he made was held at arms length. Even the ones that got closer than others, like the Pikes, never got to see that Shane. This whole time, wrapped up close to his heart, under so many layers and layers of anything that would hide the truth, was Ilya Rozanov. Rozanov who checked their son into more boards than they could count, stealing pucks and goals and trophies, smirked into cameras, and played dirty. Ilya, who made dinner, easily teased Shane, looked at him with so much love his entire team noticed, and could calm Shane down from a panic attack before it could start. 

“He’s not alone,” she repeated. “They were so scared. Two years. They’ve been married for two years.”

“I know.”

“Ilya Rozanov, David.”

“What about him?”

“Just, him? I’m not saying anything against him now, I’ve just spent several hours being charmed by him. I’m just having trouble believing that Ilya and Rozanov are the same person. Is that so crazy?”

“I think you should keep those thoughts inside your head around Shane,” he replies in a half-teasing tone before turning serious, “I haven’t seen Shane that relaxed in a long time and I know he was still stressed.”

Yuna hums in agreement, “He’s happy though.”

“Yes, I think they’re very happy.”

— 

August 2019

JJ sat outside in his car, hyping himself up. It’s only Shane’s fiance. It’s not like that fiance is also Ilya Rozanov, or anything. This will be easy, go inside, eat dinner with Shane and Rozanov, don’t insult the fiance, don’t die, easy. 

“Fuck. Come on, Boiziau, you’ve got this,” he whispers to himself in French. 

Shane answers the door to his cottage, the location for tonight's dinner, and steps back to let him in.

“Thanks for having me,” JJ says, pulling Shane into a hug. His friend is pale with nerves and JJ needs to do what he can to reassure him.

“Thanks for coming,” Shane says, pulling back. “Come on, he’s in the kitchen.”

JJ follows Shane into the house and stops when he reaches the counter and spots Rozanov standing at the stove, stirring something. The man doesn’t stop what he’s doing, but turns towards them when they enter, his eyes tracking Shane, but JJ didn’t miss the flick towards him.

“Hi, Rozanov.” Might as well extend the olive branch first, he thinks. It appears to be the right move.

“Hello, Boiziau. You like stroganoff?” he asks and JJ can now identify the smell in the air. 

“Yeah, smells good. I didn’t know you cook.”

“Yes, good skill to have. Shane is very bad at this, is ok though. I can cook for him everyday now.”

“I think Shane can only cook like four things, everything else, eh,” he wiggles a hand back and forth, hoping his tone comes across as light-hearted as he intends. Shane looks a little offended.

“Hey!”

“Moya lyubov, is ok, you are very good hockey player, not good cook,” Rozanov placates his fiance. JJ is starting to suspect that the Rozanov he sees on the ice is left on the ice, because this guy isn’t him. Shane doesn’t look very upset, folding his arms and scrunching his eyebrows, but the rest of his body language is angled towards Rozanov.

“So, Shane tells me you’re engaged,” he says, just to move on. 

“Yes, did Shane say he proposed?” He watches the two move around each other to gather what they need to move the conversation to the table while they answer him.

“Yeah, he did. I also heard you said yes.”

“Was I supposed to say no? Look at him,” Rozanov wiggles his eyebrows and it startles a laugh out of JJ. Fuck him, Rozanov is funny. And totally thirsting after his best friend.

“Naw, you’re lucky as hell, don’t let go.” Rozanov gives him a look that is half approval and half jealousy.

“I know.”

Dinner is delicious, JJ gives his compliments to the chef. He’s surprised that Ilya isn’t trying to chirp him more, but he won’t look a gift horse in the mouth and so also refrains from throwing out his own. Not that he wants to. Fuck, the more time he spends talking to Rozanov and Shane, the more he likes them. Not just Shane or Rozanov, but them.

“How did telling your parents go, Shane? You said you were going to do that.”

“It went ok. They were shocked of course, but they liked him,” Shane takes Rozanov’s hand, threading their fingers together. “It’s nice finally getting to tell the story to people.”

“I bet, mon ami. We’re up to how many people now?”

Shane winces, “Actually, we’re up to like, twenty-five people now.”

JJ’s jaw drops, “What?”

“Our whole team knows now,” Ilya answers. “They, ah, got very close to truth.”

“No, tell him what really happened, Ilya,” Shane is holding himself like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Fuck you, don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not,” he totally is, “Ilya, our teammates thought you didn’t know you were bisexual. They tried to tell you that you had a crush on me.”

JJ choked, “They what?”

“They staged an intervention to tell him the heart-eyes were getting ridiculous and to just ask me out already.” Rozanov is hiding his face in Shane’s neck, either to hide his embarrassment, or to hide that he’s not actually that embarrassed.

“Fuck off.”

“Your coach knew!” That does JJ in and he starts wheezing. As funny as all of this is, there’s a part of him that hurts at the thought that Shane is much happier with the Bears. That Boston is such a welcoming team and he knows the Voyager’s wouldn’t–weren’t the same way.

“Fuck, Rozanov, your whole team noticed you have a crush?”

“Is not a crush. I am in love, they noticed,” defends Ilya. “Not my fault they have eyes but too many concussions to come to correct conclusion.”

“You were basically walking around with a sign that said ‘I love Shane Hollander’ and expected them not to notice?” he asks, baffled at the thought.

“Basically,” Shane answers him. “I didn’t even realize until he was standing in front of me with flowers and asking me out in front of everyone.”

“Are you serious?” Please say yes, JJ mentally begs.

“Yeah, I chose to use the moment to just come out as a couple,” Shane is still explaining.

“You should tell people that’s how you got together, that’s awesome. I’m having trouble picturing Ilya Rozanov nervously holding flowers like a prom date,” JJ confesses, to which the man in question scoffs.

“I am very romantic, Boiziau.”

“It is a more romantic version of what really happened,” says Shane, almost offhandedly, looking off to the corner, reminiscing.

“What?” Ilya and JJ speak at the same time.

Shane looks over at them, “Ilya, the locker room? The showers?”

JJ leans in, interest piqued. If there’s one thing he’s comfortable talking about, it’s sex. He’s never gotten anything out of Shane, for now obvious reasons, and he’s not sure he wants to hear about Rozanov’s more than he already knows from twitter, but this sounds like a story he wants to hear, “Excusez-moi? Showers?”

Shane blushes, but keeps looking at Ilya, who is defending himself against the non-romantic allegations, “What do you mean more romantic? Was showers not romantic?”

“You flexed your ass and started jerking off at me,” exclaims Shane. 

What? JJ thinks.

“You were hard,” comes Ilya’s exasperated reply, “And I asked for room number, and kissed you first.”

“Asking for my room number to hook up doesn’t count as romantic. The most romantic thing you did that day was set up the commercial in the first place and call me pretty. Everything else was you trying to get in my pants.”

“Was not hard,” Rozanov scoffs, “Commercial was also to get in your pants.”

“JJ, what do you think? Is setting up a commercial to see your arch rival that you’ve met thrice and flirted with once count as romantic? And is it ruined if you flex your ass at them in the shower later?”

“Don’t listen to him, ass flexing was part of flirting. Call him pretty, flex, show off dick, ask for room number. Is all part of plan.”

“I think you’re both very weird, not in a bad way,” he hurries to defend, “just, what the fuck do you mean jerked off in the showers?”

“You do not know what jerking off is?” There’s a real Rozanov chirp, good thing that asshole’s still in there.

“I know what jerking off is,” JJ shouts, what is he doing? “Fuck you, I guess setting up a date is romantic. I don’t know about the rest, depends on if you decide it is. Is that what happened, really?”

Shane sighs, “I was hard.”

“That is not what I asked,” JJ says incredulously, “I mean, happy after years of asking I’m getting details, but I didn’t expect you to be this blunt.”

“Sorry, JJ. I’ve never really talked about this stuff before, except with Rose, and Cliff more recently. I can stop.”

“No, talk about it, I’ll tell you TMI. You’ve heard enough about me, it’s only fair. I’m just surprised, so continue. You were hard.”

“Oh my god,” his head hits the table while Rozanov laughs. “I just didn’t want you to think he, like, accosted me in the showers. He didn’t. There were signals and stuff.”

“Like gaydar?”

“I have great gaydar.”

“He really does,” Shane agrees.

“Ok? I didn’t think he accosted you, but good to know. So, you hooked up in locker room showers the first time?”

“No, Shane would not.”

“I gave him my room number and he came up later,” Shane clarifies.

“Ah,” says JJ. The night moves on until he can’t stay longer. He wants to. Wants to get to know this happier, looser version of Shane, this less asshole-y version of Rozanov, but it’s getting late and he still has to make the drive back to Montreal. He leaves them behind with a hug each and a promise to keep in touch a little better. 

—

“Was I right?” Rose doesn’t even give him the chance to say more than JJ knows.

Shane sighs, “You were right. I told him we were engaged and it smoothed things over. I really, really hope he doesn’t find out the truth. But telling him it was that serious definitely helped.”

“I told you so,” she smirks. He can tell she’s put the phone on speaker and set it down to talk to him.

“Yeah, well fuck you.”

“Hmmm, no. We both have hot hockey player partners to do that for us, no need to repeat that disaster.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” Rose teases. “Come on, tell me how it went."

Chapter End Notes

I'm taking a posting break until may 1st (as anyone following other works knows)

keep commenting, it's my favorite part of the day. dopamine shot straight to the brain. jeg elsker dig!!

Chapter 11: cheap shots

Chapter Notes

i didn't forget about this fic, i promise. I just got caught up updating my series and actually writing. The front half of this has been done for a while and so i forced myself to finish the back half. I don't love it, but I wouldn't put it out if i wasn't at least satisfied with how it turned out.

I also didn't forget about the rookies, we just weren't at the right spot in the timeline. also, hayden's back and being hayden(derogatory)

i wanted to do a cliff/rose ilya/shane double date, but that'll remain implied (maybe ill do a one-shot). ill get them in a chapter together soon i promise.

September 2019

They saw the news, the draft pick that went to Boston. Neither Shane nor Ilya would believe it until the season actually started and they saw him in the locker room for themselves. There he was, nervously fidgeting with his bag in front of his new locker.

“Luca Haas?” Shane holds out a hand. Usually, it would be Ilya’s job to greet the new rookies first, but Shane takes the lead with this one, not wanting to scare him away with Ilya’s extra boisterous energy. “Shane Hollander, first line center, assistant captain. It’s nice to meet you. Are you settling in ok?”

Haas looks at him and his outstretched hand for a moment before taking it, “Um, yeah. Hi, I know who you are,” he winces, “sorry, that was rude.”

“No worries,” he reassures the rookie.

“Aren’t you– sorry, that’s,” Haas shakes his head.

“No, go ahead and ask, promise it’ll be ok.”

“Isn’t Rozanov supposed to be first line?” Shane nods his head in understanding.

“Usually, yeah. But we’re trying out something new this year. Coach wants to move Brown up and he thinks you’ll make a good linemate for him. Roz is going to be playing my wing so we can move me up and put you on second line. 

“Really? Why would he do that?”

“Ah, new rookie, yes?” Speak of the devil and he shall appear, or he’ll send Ilya Rozanov in his place.

“Rozanov, this is Luca Haas, our new right wing.”

“Yes, I remember.” Ilya remembers much more than this version of their rookie knows, but they’ll keep that wrapped up tight.

“I was just telling him that we’re playing the same line this year.” He turns his attention back to Haas, “Rozanov is a more versatile player than you’d expect. He can play wing pretty well, and he plays my wing very well. So Coach wants to put it into effect this year with you coming in.”

“Oh.” 

“Don’t worry, rookie,” Ilya claps his shoulders, “We take good care of you here. Bears, very good group, very nice about things. Good vibes.”

“Who is teaching you these things?”

“Hush, Hollander,” he waves off his husband, “I am doing captain duties. Now, Haasy, good vibes, yes? You have good vibes, will fit right in with Bears.” He nods decisively at Luca, who looks bewildered and keeps shooting looks at Shane when Ilya isn’t looking.

“Rozanov, let the rookie go,” he tries to intervene.

“In minute, yes. We must tell him things.”

“How about after practice?”

“Uggh, so boring Hollander,” Ilya blows a raspberry at him. “Ok, rookie, you get ready to practice, think of questions, we will finish talking after ok?”

Luca nods so fast his head almost comes off, shooting a final look at Shane as if asking permission.

Post-practice means they do have to tell Luca the team secret before one of the boys spills the beans. Marlow comes close when he siddles up to Ilya to ask, “Hey, Rose will be in town next weekend, double date? Triple if Svetlana’s here too.”

“Sure, Marly. Tell Rose to text Shane so he knows.”

Shane returns from his shower, tightening the towel around his waist and flicking Ilya to redirect his eyes from the water droplets trailing down his body. He hears a squeak and makes eye contact with Luca who quickly adverts his eyes, cheeks pink.

“What’s up, rook?” Marly asks, noticing the same thing.

“Nothing, sorry,” he keeps his eyes trained down.

“You sure? I know Roz gave you the ‘good vibes’ speech. He’s been practicing that for a week,” Marlow tries, earning more red and a head shake. “Roz, have you guys told him, you know…”

Shane looks up, “No, not yet, unless Ilya did while I was showering.”

“No,” Ilya turns to Luca, “Rookie, I said I had things to tell you still. This is important one,” he waits until Luca looks at him from the corner of his eye, eventually straightening up, but still averting his eyes. Ilya clues into what must have happened, “Haasy, don’t worry. My husband is very hot, only natural to check him out.”

“Ilya…” Shane warns.

“Do not be embarrassed. I said we are good here, I meant it. I am bisexual and married to a man,” he wraps his arms around a still mostly-naked Shane, “this man. Who is very gay. We are in love and married.”

“Oh,” breathes Luca, eyes very quickly darting from Ilya to Shane and back. He then chances a sweep around the rest of the room, most of whom haven’t noticed, but the few that have are only looking on curiously.

“Oh,” repeats Shane. “It’s ok, Luca. I apologize for my husband. The whole team knows about us and we ask that it doesn’t leave the team, but you’re part of the team so you should know.”

Luca just nods very quickly, having lost his ability to speak. He’s standing before two of his idols, a part of their team, and they’re telling him they’re married to each other. He feels lightheaded and has to sit down. Shane moves to steady him on his way down. “Sorry,” Luca whispers, mortified, “I’m not, not, I mean.”

“It’s ok, Luca. We don’t think you’re homophobic, it’s a shock. Believe me, shock is the most common reaction.”

He takes the offered water bottle and gulps down a few mouthfuls and tries to steady his breathing. When he finds his voice he croaks out, “I had your posters in my room.”

That’s not what he meant to say. Rozanov lets out a delighted laugh, “I see.”

“Ilya,” Shane warns again, “don’t.”

“Sorry, moy lyubov, is very cute, you must admit.” Shane just gives him a look to mean, duh, but not here.

“Luca?”

“I’m ok,” he answers. He’s not sure if he should be looking at his captains or not. On the one hand, they were his captains and checking in to make sure he’s ok. On the other, they’re kinda the reason he’s freaking out. Day one and he’d been caught looking at someone in the locker room. He thought he would be able to play it off as being a rookie and just nervous to be in a new room and amongst some of the best players in hockey. Luca was expecting the typical locker room talk and slurs, not whatever is happening right now. 

“Luca, hey,” Hollander is hovering his hand over his back, unsure if he should touch or not.

“I promise, I’m ok. Just surprised,” he reassures. “So, uh, you two are…”

“Married, yes,” Hollander answers. 

Luca nods quickly, trying to convey that this is weird but he’s not weirded out, “Ok, yeah. That’s… no big deal? Sorry, I don’t know what to do.”

Rozanov laughs, “No worries, rookie. Marly would love to answer your questions.”

“I would?” The husbands look at the man in question, eyebrows raised in twin expressions of yes, you would. “Yes, I would. Don’t worry, rook, I don’t bite. I’ve known these two the longest, so I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Oh, uh, ok?” Luca stares at Marlow with wide eyes.

“Finish changing and we’ll go out, get some dinner.”

—

Ilya picks up his phone where it’s ringing beside his plate. The caller is Wyatt Hayes, goalie for the Ottawa Centaurs. He picks up with a cheery, “Hello, Hazy.”

“Rozanov, where is my rookie?”

“Your rookie?” Ilya asks. He’s been waiting for a similar phone call since it had been confirmed they were getting Luca. “I remember he was my rookie.”

“You know what I mean, asshole,” hisses Wyatt, “I thought he was going to play for Ottawa?”

“Shane and I were also supposed to play for Ottawa,” Ilya reminds him, “plans change.” Wyatt growls and Ilya laughs, “You will get the others, yes? I don’t think Boston can take them.”

“Ugh, fuck you. I can’t believe you got him. I thought they wouldn’t be separated.”

Ilya shrugs, not caring Wyatt can’t see him, “We can set up playdates. No rules against it. Besides, not like they will know.”

Shane chooses that moment to walk back into the room, “Who are you talking to?”

“Wyatt Hayes,” answers Ilya.

“What?” The man asks, “Who are you talking to?”

“Shane,” is Ilya’s honest answer. He thinks Wyatt might already know, or at least suspect, that they’re together. Or like his teammates, assume they like each other.

“Oh, shit. I’m not interrupting, am I?”

“No, you’re fine.” Something occurs to Ilya, “Look, I think Barrett will be on your team next year, unless things have changed more. Make friends with him. You will be good at that, I think.”

“Barrett? Troy Barrett?” Wyatt’s voice is incredulous, “Why the fuck? Troy Barrett?”

“Yes, Troy Barrett. Trust me, ok. If he does not get better, we can forget it.”

“You know what? Fine, I’ll at least try, but not until he’s on the team, ok?” He waits for Ilya’s confirmation before continuing, “We get the rooks next year too, right? They’d better end up here, Rozanov, or I swear to god…”

“I don’t control draft, Hazy, but I will try, just for you.”

“Good, now get back to whatever. Sorry for interrupting, have fun!” His tone suggests he has an idea about what he interrupted, but Ilya ignores him and hangs up.

— 

February 2020

The flu, the goddamn flu kept him from attending All Stars this year. Ilya got to go, captaining the East team, while Shane was stuck at home feeling like death warmed over. Or he would be stuck at home if he was in Boston, but when the NHL announced the weekend would be held in Ottawa, Shane and Ilya had flown in the second their two week break started. Instead, Shane was stuck at his parents house, miserable, while his husband got to play hockey without him. He wasn’t even there to cheer him on. Luckily, the worst of it passed after 24 hours, but the lingering feeling of being ill combined with missing his husband shaped up to a miserable Shane Hollander.

The final day, Hayden called, inviting him and JJ over to watch the exhibition game together. It wasn’t that Shane didn’t want to go over, he just didn’t want to hear about how much of an asshole his husband is, or how much Montreal sucks right now, or whatever scheme the twins had gotten up to. He wanted to lay on the couch and be a bitch and watch Ilya play hockey. 

JJ: Come over, Shane. I’ll help convince Hayden your man isn’t that bad. Let’s hang out like old times. 

So, JJ picked him up and now Shane was sitting on Hayden’s couch nursing a ginger ale, surrounded by the noise created by a household of three loud hockey fanatics and three children who weren't double digits yet. Mittka was Montreal’s pick this year, playing goalie for the East. At least Shane doesn’t have to pretend to cheer for a different team than the one Ilya’s on. He’s pretending to be rooting for Mittka alongside his former teammates, but he secretly cheers whenever Ilya does something. When his husband scores a goal, JJ will nudge his leg with his own, silent support. He’ll also whoop out loud, cheering for each goal the East makes, claiming he can’t discriminate against his team just because it’s Rozanov scoring. 

“Come on!” Shane groans when the ref doesn’t call the penalty, “That was dirty and you know it.” 

“Shane, you know they can’t hear you, right?” Hayden jokes, sticking his tongue out when Shane flips him off.

“Maybe they should call it right,” he retorts, watching Vaughn skate gingerly off the ice to be checked out by medical. “Oh, oh!” Ilya scores off an assist by one of Florida’s players. He watches his husband narrowly avoid two players coming from opposite directions, deftly bouncing the puck off someone’s skate and into the goal.

“Fuck, that’s impressive,” breathes JJ. “I hate that he can back up his big talk. Like, we get it, you're the second best player in the league, no need to show off.”

“But then how would you know he’s the second best player?” asks Shane, with a grin. “He’s got to show off once a day or he dies.” JJ bursts into laughter. “I’m serious!”

“No, I know, mon ami. You’d know all about his exhibitionist tendencies, wouldn’t you?” JJ says with an eyebrow wiggle. Shane shoves him.

“Fuck off, dude.” 

“God, is he like that in the locker room too?” Hayden asks. Shane remembers that only half the room knows his secret and he deflates a little. He’d liked JJ’s joke about their sex life, but he’s grateful it went over Hayden’s head. He really needed to find the time to tell him, preferably without anyone else around. Now that they lived in different countries and removed from most of the circumstances that caused pullback in the first place, Shane felt better about letting Hayden in. The only issue was the persistent demeaning of his husband’s character. 

“No,” answers Shane, “kinda. He likes to be the center of attention, but he’s not rude about it. Just, you know, has the ability to command a room. It makes him a great captain.”

“You know, if you keep saying nice things about him, you’re going to make me believe you like him.”

“I do like him, Hayd,” says Shane. “We’ve been playing together for years now.”

“Yeah, as a captain. But I mean as, like, a person, outside of hockey.” Hayden frowns, “You’re too nice, Shane.”

Shane snorts. If there was one word no one on the Bears would use to describe him, it was nice. 

“Do you know he’s a person outside of hockey?” JJ asks Hayden.

“What?” 

“Hayden, you’re talking like he goes home and eats babies. Shane has vouched for his character, so maybe the hockey persona is just that–a persona,” says JJ, far more patiently than he probably felt. “He’s starting a charity with Shane. Does an asshole do that?”

Hayden grumbles, “Right, sorry. Not allowed to insult Rozanov.”

Shane rolls his eyes, thankful Hayden doesn’t see. JJ pats him on the shoulder and they go back to the game, which is in the final intermission and a kiss cam is making its way around the crowd. It focuses on a man and woman who immediately stand waving their hands to say no, not us. The man points to his other side, then pulls in the man next to him, kissing him passionately. They break apart and cheer for the camera and it moves to someone else. 

JJ lets out a whoop from the couch. Out of the corner of his eye, he doesn’t miss the way Hayden’s nose scrunches and he takes a sip of beer as an excuse to look away from the TV without being obvious. He catches Shane’s eye, who has a sad, disappointed, but resigned look. JJ couldn’t figure out Hayden’s behavior, and frankly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. White men already confused him, he wasn’t going digging into Hayden’s brain any more than he had to. If he couldn’t relax, JJ wasn’t going to make him more comfortable. Not about Shane being gay, not about Rozanov. 

The game starts back up, Rozanov is crouched for the face off, which he wins, sending the puck to his left and speeding towards the goal. He gets the puck back in time to score again. Ilya finds a camera almost immediately, blowing a kiss and winking. The crowd cheers behind him. Shane smirks to himself; that’s his husband. His. JJ rolls his eyes, and mutters under his breath in French, “He knows you’re watching, doesn’t he? Horney fuckers.”

“How many women think that kiss was for them?” Shane swings his head towards Hayden, who misreads why Shane looks appalled, “What? I’m sure there are a few.”

“I bet whoever it was for knows it was for them,” says JJ, interrupting. Fuck Pike for making him defend Rozanov like this. The bastard was going to be smug about it when he found out. 

“You’re implying Rozanov can do commitment,” scoffs Hayden.

“How would you know?” argues JJ, who’d seen first hand how well Rozanov did commitment. 

Hayden throws his hands up, “I was just making a joke about him being a womanizer and an asshole. I thought blowing a kiss to camera was a dick move. I don’t know why you’re on my ass about chirping Rozanov all of a sudden.”

“I thought chirps were supposed to be funny?” deadpans JJ. Hayden’s face flushes pink and he turns to Shane, looking for support. Shane shakes his head.

“You’re going too far, Hayd. We can enjoy the game without constantly calling him an asshole.” Hayden rolls his eyes, but settles back with a ‘Sorry.’ He’s quiet through the end of the game. JJ and Shane don’t speak much either, but JJ does discreetly nudge him whenever Ilya’s on screen. Shane appreciates it. 

The TV plays out the post-game interviews, Ilya doesn’t appear, which disappoints Shane and is a relief. His phone dings.

Lily: They don’t need me anymore. I’ll be home soon.

Lily: Are you feeling better?

Jane: Yes, I am. I’ll see you tonight.

Jane: You can’t wink at me like that.

Lily: I think I can. You like it.

Shane grins to himself, texting Ilya. He’s glad his husband isn’t being dragged out for any post-game celebrations. Shane really wants his husband to lay on top of him until he can barely breathe and his brain goes quiet. If Ilya isn’t putting up even a fake front about going out, he probably won’t be opposed. A nudge to his side pulls him back to the Pike’s living room.

“Sorry?”

“I was asking if you’re texting Boston Lily,” repeated Hayden. “If you’re in Boston now, are you guys finally getting serious?”

Shane wants to laugh. Yes, they got serious. Serious enough to put a ring on it, but that was a secret, “Yeah, we’re, uh, we’re serious.”

“Uh-huh,” says Hayden, “and are we finally going to meet this chick? Come on, man, it’s been years. And I guess she’s not a chick, huh. Because you’re gay.”

“Yeah, Hayd. Lily’s a guy,” Shane rolls his eyes. “I don’t know. I’ll talk to him about introducing him to people. He’s not out yet, so probably not, but I’ll ask.”

It’s a tall promise. Every time he thinks he’s found a good time to tell Hayden, something like today happens and Shane is just reminded why he hasn’t told him.

JJ drove him, so he loads back into his car and sinks down. Shane gets a side-eye from his friend at his uncharacteristic behavior. Normally, Shane would still be sitting up, tense, and waiting until he was alone to let the weight of the day settle on him in a way that was manageable. He spent so long wrapping every layer of protection he could around his deepest secrets. Without those barriers, there was no reason to keep himself miserably tense around people who already knew. Positive reinforcement from his team that his differences didn’t make him bad or wrong, his marriage was just as normal as any of theirs, was what kept him from falling apart completely some days.

“I’m fine, JJ,” he says, “just tired.”

“Yeah, I would be too.” His fingers drum the wheel, deep in thought. Shane appreciates the silence. He closes his eyes.

“Thank you for defending him,” Shane whispers. JJ glances over at him.

“Of course, I said I would.” JJ rolls his eyes with a smirk, “The guy grows on you, like a fungus. He’s going to be a pain about it, isn’t he?”

Shane huffs out a laugh, “Yeah, he will.”

JJ grins, “He’s such an asshole!” He says it like it’s an inside joke, like he’s laughing with Shane. Shane laughs again, shaking his head.

“Yeah, he is,” he says, a dopey grin on his face. “He got a hat trick and I’m going to hear about it for a week.”

—

“Solnyshko, I’m back,” Ilya walks through the door and is a little surprised Shane isn’t waiting by the door to jump his bones. But it probably has to do with the extra car outside. He wanders into the living room, “Boiziau, you are in my house.”

Boiziau flips him off, “I defended you today. Outloud. With words. I think I can sit on your couch.”

Ilya raises an eyebrow, looking over to his husband, who nods. Ilya recognizes the small smile on his face. Shane isn’t just agreeing with his friend, he’s saying something happened and JJ stepped up for Shane.

“Hayden wouldn’t stop calling you an asshole.”

“I told him chirps need to be funny.” Ilya laughs, sharp and surprised.

“Ok, yes, you can stay,” Ilya says, sitting next to his husband and pulling him in for a relatively tame kiss.

“Nope, I was just waiting for you to get back. I’m out.”

Once JJ was gone, Ilya asks Shane what really happened. Shane explains how the afternoon went. Ilya laughs at JJ’s dig at their sex life, “Please, you are exhibitionist.”

Shane shoves him, “I feel like we need to tell Hayden.”

“Ugh,” Ilya groans, but it’s half-hearted, a pantomime of disagreement, “do we have to?”

“I think so,” Shane says. “Listen, I don’t really want to. Every time he says something about you, it makes me want to tell him less, but it makes me want to defend you more. Do you see my problem?” Ilya nods, keeping his hands gently stroking Shane’s sides while he speaks, “If I tell him, then at least he knows why I’m pissed off every time he opens his mouth. Or, best case, he stops shit-talking you.”

Ilya snorts, “Ok.”

“Yeah, I’m just glad I’ve got JJ on my side.”

“I like Boiziau, he is funny and has good taste in clubs.” Ilya was telling the truth, he did like Boiziau. He gave JJ a chance after his story had been vouched for by both his husband and his best friend. “Do you want to tell Pike?”

Shane lets out a deep sigh, settling his forehead on Ilya’s, “I think I need to, for my own sanity, if anything.”

“Ok, so we invite him to dinner? Maybe you send him text.”

“I don’t know. Both sound like they’ll go terribly wrong.” Shane thinks for a minute, “Why don’t we invite him over next time Montreal’s in Boston? They always stay an extra day, so we can have him over for breakfast or something.”

“Ok, that is not bad idea,” Shane chews his lip, “what, dorogoy?”

“Can we– can we invite Marlow over, as like a buffer?” he asks.

“Of course,” Ilya nods, “Boiziau too?”

Shane shakes his head, “No, but I’ll let him know what’s going on so he can handle Hayden afterwards.”

“You think it will go bad?” Shane looks at him like he’s stupid, so he distracts his husband by flipping them on the couch, “It will be ok, but I will suck your brain out of your dick so you don’t think about it.”

Chapter End Notes

also, i thought id mention im on tumblr under the same username. i use it like an old person who just discovered the internet, but im there if anyone cares.

love you all, i'm writing as fast as i can because i love you and this (these) stories and want to get them too you asap.

Chapter 12: cliff marlow tortures hayden puke on my behalf

Chapter Notes

i didnt forget about yall! i was busy!!

fun fact about this chapter! I wrote the first 5000 or so words way back in february. it was originally going to be for my romeo+juliet series, but then i started writing out the full plot and then started writing TTDGYOOP, and realizes my hayden puke in r+j wouldn't have this kind of relationship, but canon hayden puke would, and it fit this story better. soooo glad i had it written. It came to me in a dream and it's one of the best things i've written. it's my favorite cliff + hollanov dynamic and my favorite way to torture Puke.

This chapter has existed longer then the bad friend hayden puke tag. seriously, i thought maybe i shouldn't be so mean to him, then i saw snowbii's anti hayden puke video and realized there was a community and so i became meaner and here we are.

i've been giggling kicking my feet waiting to post this. and i've got like three more chapters of fallout :)

March 2020

“Pike!” Hayden swung his neck around to have his eyes land on Cliff Marlow, who was waving Hayden over to where he was leaning against a parked car. He had received the invitation from Shane inviting him - finally! - to come over and meet his Boston Lily. Who was not named Lily, but that was okay, because Hayden was a cool guy who did not care if Shane was gay or that Shane was dating a man. Was Hayden a little peeved that Shane had kept it a secret? Refusing to even acknowledge that Boston Lily existed and that he was a guy? Maybe a little, but Hayden had been told and he was determined to be cool about this. So here he was in Boston, after a brutal loss to the Bears. Montreal was officially out of the running for the playoffs, so the Voyagers had gone out for consolation drinks, somehow avoided running into too many partying Bears fans, and Hayden had gotten himself invited to Shane’s house for breakfast to meet his mystery partner. 

Part of that plan had not been a phone call rudely interrupting his very nice dream at seven in the morning. He answered it without checking caller id, and said hello in a tone of voice that suggested whoever it was better have a good reason. 

“Good morning, Pike.” Who the fuck? “Shane gave me your number. This is Cliff Marlow. From the Bears.” Like Hayden had no clue who Cliff Marlow was. “I’m your ride, they said we were welcome anytime after 8 am, so I’ll be at your hotel at 7:45. Capiche?”

Hayden let the words process in his head as Marlow hung up. ‘They’ must be the happy couple, and for some reason had sent Cliff Marlow to pick him up. Now awake enough to pull himself fully out of bed, he checked the time. He had about 40 minutes to shower and make it downstairs. 

Hayden didn’t bother to greet him.  “Why are you here?”

“I told you, I’m your ride. Now get in the car, we’ll stop for coffee.” Marlow rounded the car to the driver's side and got in. Hayden sighed and sent one last prayer to the sky, got in the passenger seat. Hayden lets Marlow pull into traffic before asking.

“Why were you sent to pick me up?” Hayden feels a little like he’s being babysat and wonders if it’s on purpose. Marlow glances at him.

“Because I know where I'm going.”

“So you know about…” Hayden trails off, unsure if Marlow really is just his chauffeur, or if he's been let in on the big secret. Marlow’s answering laugh is proof enough.

“Yeah, I know. Lily is an old friend of mine.” Hayden’s eyebrows shoot up. “I didn’t know about Shane. Not for a while, but I’m working with a few more pieces of the puzzle, so eventually I figured it out. Turns out if you confront them directly, they’re really bad at lying about it.”

Hayden let that wash over him. He was jealous that Lily got to tell his friend about Shane, but Shane couldn’t tell his best friends about the guy? Something-

“Why did they send you to get me? Really?” Cliff shrugged.

“I don’t know, man. They went home early last night after telling me we - you and I - were expected over for breakfast in the morning. Hollzy texted me which hotel you were in and told me not to show up before 8am, so,” Cliff shrugged again. He was equal parts delighted to be in the know and to know Pike wasn’t, and worried about his best friends and the fall out from this breakfast. That’s why he had called Pike early. The sooner this was over, for better or worse. He had been friends with Roz long enough to know that people tended to judge him and then refuse to change their opinions on the man, especially hockey fans. And he had been friends with Hollzy long enough to know what had gone down in the Montreal locker room over the years. Cliff had high opinions of both Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov, and a high opinion of their relationship. What he did not have, however, was a high opinion of Hayden Pike. All he had were second hand comments, some good, most neutral. So Cliff was going to drive Pike to the Hollanav residence and they were going to have a goddamn civilized breakfast, and they (Pike) were going to act like goddamn adults. Maybe he would get to yell at someone (Pike) today. He didn’t know if he wanted breakfast to go that badly or not. 

Not. But yelling could still be fun.

They stayed silent the rest of the short drive through a Dunkin’ drive thru and out to the suburbs. Only a few minutes away, Cliff spoke up again.

“Hey, just letting you know, man, you’re going to be surprised. Like, full on shock. So I’m telling you now so you can be prepared to be shocked.” Cliff actually looks over to make brief eye contact with Pike in the passenger seat. He looks skeptical, so Cliff barrels forward, “I don’t need you to believe me, but I wanted to warn you. Try not to let your immediate reaction ruin the morning, ok? They don’t need that.”

“I’m not going to react badly, Marlow. I don’t care that Shane is gay. Or who he’s dating. I’m a little upset he felt like he had to keep it a secret, but-”

“I know all that, Hollander wouldn’t let you in the same house as his man if you were going to be a dick on purpose. Just don’t insult his taste in guys. And there’s no ‘felt like’. They chose to keep it a secret, and they both had their reasons. Individually and as a couple.” Cliff rolls to a stop in the driveway. There’s a lot more Cliff could say to Pike. Warn him that if he hurts Shane or Ilya, there will be hell to pay from several people, starting with whichever husband lets the other throw the first punch. Pike follows him to the front door, still looking grouchy, so Cliff does not feel bad about anything that is about to happen. (He’d put money on either of them, honestly.)

One does not become best friends with Ilya Rozanov without enjoying at least a little chaos, not even Hollander is immune - Cliff’s seen proof first hand. So when Rozy texted him separately last night with instructions to arrive as close to 8am as possible - less time for Hollander to freak out before - he knew, deep in his nads, Hayden Pike was about to get the welcome of a lifetime. The Hollanovs had an open house policy because there was a mutual trust and respect amongst the team. Pike didn’t get the same trust or respect, not from Rozy at least. Cliff was sure that Pike was going to get thrown immediately into the deep end. They were not going to be dressed, with food already on the table, and waiting nicely, like they usually did with guests. Pike insisted that despite the distance, he and Shane were still friends, and that extended to any partners Shane may have. So here, Hayden, we’re all friends. Roz could be very petty, and Cliff got a front row seat to the show. Using his key to unlock the door, he waved Pike in and made sure to relock the door behind himself.

The house was quiet, Hayden noticed. He followed Marlow’s lead and lined his shoes up on the rack by the door, more shoes than he thought any two men needed already neatly organized. Marlow had made his way deeper inside and Hayden found him in the kitchen, starting the coffee maker. 

“Where’s Shane?” he asked, unsure of what to do with himself, and wondering if Marlow hadn’t just kidnapped him. If he hadn’t seen the very Shane Hollander shoe rack (and said shoes on it), he might have assumed this was Marlow’s house with the way he moved around the kitchen. Marlow gave him a look he couldn’t read before starting the coffee machine, turning around and gesturing for Hayden to follow him down a hallway. He didn’t spare a glance at the pictures lining the hallway, already distracted by Marlow again.

“—probably still in bed.” Hayden tuned back in and must have made a face, because Marlow grinned, “Not like that, I just mean slept in, we’re a little early.”

They weren’t, Hayden thought, they were told after eight, it was 8:15. Rapping twice on the closed door in front of him, Marlow only waited a second before pushing the door open and walking inside, voice booming.

“Gooooood Morning, Romeo and Juliet! I brought one confused Voyager and started the coffee!” Throwing himself onto the foot of the bed, he gestured back to Hayden, still standing in the doorway. 

Confused Voyager was right, because he was having trouble comprehending the sight in front of him. Cliff Marlow, sitting on the bed, looking like a kid at Christmas. Shane was sitting up in bed, looking at Marlow over his glasses, eyebrow raised, and book held loose in his hands. Hayden let his eyes bounce between his best friend and the Bear as the last half hour of conversation replayed in his head. 

“Are you dating Marlow?” It was only as the words left his mouth, that Hayden noticed the lump under the covers. And only because said lump quickly became a person. 

“What the fuck, Marly? What are you telling him?” Ilya Rozanov, the Russian menace himself, was throwing the covers back, sitting up and turning over to stare incredulously at Marlow, who started shaking with laughter.

“I didn’t tell him anything!” Hayden could only watch as Shane sighed and put his book onto the nightstand along with his glasses. 

“Ilya.” Shane said something in what Hayden assumed was perfect Russian. He was doing a lot of assuming today, probably because no one seemed to be giving him answers. Rozanov turned back to Shane and said something, also in Russian, before pulling himself fully out of bed and pulling on a pair of shorts from the ground. This couldn’t be happening. There was no way Ilya Rozanov, the biggest motherfucker on the planet, Shane’s once sworn rival, and Voyager's biggest pain in the ass was laying in the same bed as his best friend while wearing nothing but boxers. Shane was also getting out of the bed. He, at least, was wearing clothes.

“Hayden?” Shane said from where he was standing next to the bed. Hayden just stared at him, mouth opening and closing as he tried to find words.

“Is time for breakfast, yes?” Rozanov was now herding Marlow towards Hayden, “We can talk in kitchen.”

Marlow marched past Hayden in the doorway, followed by Rozanov, who is shirtless, just because he can. Asshole.

Shane appeared in front of him, and that’s what finally prompted him to walk out of the bedroom, following Shane back down the hallway to where two voices were overlapping. He stopped at the counter and sat at one of the bar stools. He still wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. 

“Hayden.” Shane was talking to him. His eyes found Shane’s across the kitchen. “Are you ok?”

Damn, he actually looked worried. Also a little scared, because fuck Hayden still hasn’t said anything and there are two other men in this house and Shane is probably dating one of them and is worried about his reaction so he should definitely say something.

“I don’t know what’s happening.” Not that, but Shane just presses his mouth into a line, like he’s trying not to smile. Rozanov comes back into Hayden’s line of sight, pulling Shane’s attention and fucking communicates something via telepathy. Shane turns back to him.

“Ilya, you know Hayden Pike.” Rozanov nods.

“Yes, you have 15 kids.” Hayden feels his jaw clench, but Shane hasn’t finished talking.

“Hayden, I want you to meet my fiance, Ilya.”

Lily

Ilya

Fuck 

“Boston Lily. Your Boston Lily is Ilya Rozanov.”

“Yes.” 

“Ok, umm. I don’t know…” Hayden takes a breath, be supportive, “You know I don’t care that you date men, but this one? Really? How did this even happen?”

“Shane is very charming.” Rozanov's answer throws Hayden off, but something occurs to him before he can dwell.

“You said fiance. Not boyfriend, fiance.” Shane blushes, and Rozanov lights up.

“Oh no, you’ve asked about the wedding,” comes a sing-song voice from the other end of the counter.

“Fuck off, Marley.”

“Wedding?” Hayden has to ask. He feels light headed. 

Shane sighs, “Yes, fiance, wedding. Can we get some food first and we’ll explain.”

Rozanov seems to make the decision for everyone, “Of course, moy lyubov.”

He kisses Shane on the cheek and pushes him towards the coffee. When he’s finally at the fridge and has his back turned, Marlow whistles.

“Someone’s excited we made it to the playoffs.” Hayden feels his mouth drop at the sight of Rozanov’s back. Angry red scratches, from neck to hips. How the fuck did he miss that?

“Jesus fucking Christ.” 

“Yeah, Shane, what did you do to him?” Marlow being as unhelpful as ever, “We need him in one piece to win.”

That makes Shane turn to where Hayden and Marlow are sitting. He takes a sip of coffee, “If you want to win, then let me do my job.”

“I don’t know if you mean hockey or keeping Roz on a leash.”

Shane winks at him behind Ilya’s back in lieu of answering. Hayden is still sitting quietly trying not to stare.

“Hey, Shane?” He finally asks, “What the fuck?”

Shane can only shrug. Part of him feels a little bad for throwing Hayden in the deep end like this, but after the last few years of disparaging comments against his husband, he thinks this might be an acceptably mild form of payback. It’s not that he’s about to lie to Hayden about his perceived idea of this morning, at most he’s stretching the truth a lot, not much, just… Shane is used to hockey players in and out of their house and even used to people barging into their bedroom. With the newest rookies, Ilya had taken to ‘team gay uncles’ like a calling, and their open house policy was being exploited to the highest degree. Not that Shane was complaining, he liked that they were trusted enough to be sought out, even when they had kids barely remembering to knock on their front door, much less their bedroom (They’ve never been walked in on by anyone except Cliff, who Shane thinks just doesn’t care after years of knowing Ilya). So when Ilya had convinced him to stay in bed until Hayden and Cliff arrived, Shane might have caught on to Ilya’s plan and might have pretended not to notice and might have pretended not to hear the alarm system turn off and the front door open and might have thrown Ilya’s shorts across the room so he’d have to stand up shirtless to get them.

“Sorry, Hayd. I didn’t know Marly was going to bring you here this early,” he apologizes. “Or I thought he wouldn’t barge into our room with you.”

“I barge into your room all the time?” Shane flips him off, which only earns him a shit-eating grin. “I would have heard you having sex, you’re not quiet.”

“Fuck you.”

“No,” Cliff retorts, “even if I’m the only one of the group that hasn’t.”

Hayden has to jump in there, “What does that mean?”

“Means he’s jealous that his girlfriend fucked my husband,” says Ilya.

“Well I’m the only one who hasn’t slept with Sveta,” Shane crosses his arms, petulantly. Ilya can’t resist kissing the look off his face.

“Don’t worry, only me for rest of our lives,” he says. “We let bisexual sluts be bisexual sluts.”

“You’re a bisexual slut,” Shane blows a raspberry at Ilya, who laughs.

“Yes, but only slut for you, solnyshko,” Ilya says with a smile. Hayden is only watching this back and forth with something akin to envy and confusion. This version of Rozanov is unfamiliar, the way he’s teasing Shane and moving around the kitchen screams domesticity. Hayden isn’t sure what to do with it.

“So, you and Rozanov,” he starts, trying to get some control back.

“Ilya.” Hayden blinks at him.

“You and… Ilya,” he tries again, “are engaged?”

Shane leans against the counter across from Hayden, “Yes, we’re engaged. We’re getting married this summer, so we’re telling everyone we want to be there. We want to have you there Hayden, if you’d like to come. I know you don’t like him,” he jerks his head back towards Ilya, “but I do. I love him, actually, for a long time now. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner, but,” he shrugs, “we weren’t telling anyone. Some people found out on accident, but we weren’t trying to hurt anyone by keeping it secret.”

“You– Boston Lily's been around for a while Shane.”

“I know, longer than you think.” Ilya snorts from the stove where he’s plating eggs and toast for the group. Hayden watches as Shane not only accepts the plate of food he normally wouldn’t touch, but also starts to eat it without complaint.

“So this whole time, every time you said you hated him, or when you suddenly became friends, you were lying?” Hayden doesn’t see the hurt flash across Shane’s face. Ilya does, because he’s watching for it. Cliff does, because he’s facing Shane and is expecting it.

“I've never said I hated him. I've only ever called him an asshole, which he is." Ilya wiggles his fingers over his shoulder at Pike. "But no, I was protecting us. It's not lying to keep something private. Ilya’s still Russian, can still be sent back and I would never see him again. I was protecting us from the NHL and what they would do if they found out. I was protecting myself from the judgement I would receive for also being gay on top of everything else,” Shane wants Hayden to understand, needs Hayden to understand.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Hayden is sitting up, ramrod straight on his stool, “Why now? Why not the hundreds of other times I’ve asked about Lily?” Marlow can’t help the snort he lets out, despite the twin looks sent to him by his friends. 

“Hayd, I’ve been trying. How long have you known that Ilya and I are friends? And every time he was brought up, you had something negative to say about it. When was I supposed to tell you? After you called him an asshole, or after you told me I was stupid for trusting him? After All-Stars?” Shane lets the anger he’s been holding in start to seep into his voice. He keeps it reined in everywhere else for now. His one goal is to get through the day without punching his friend. Hayden sits, stunned.

“I… Can you blame me? He is an asshole!” defends Hayden, gesturing at the asshole in question, “What do you even see in him? I can name at least seven of Jackie’s friends that would be a better fit for you.”

“You really think so? You think I’ll be happy to settle down with a yoga instructor or a soccer coach? You think I’ll just give up the last decade of my life for, what? Some Canadian who’s just as boring as me?”

Hayden clearly doesn’t know what to do with the dismissive tone, “I don’t know! But your type can’t just be,” he struggles for a moment before just waving his hand and saying, “that. Come on, Shane. I don’t mean it badly, but you said it, you don’t exactly live an exciting life. You really think you can keep Rozanov, whose reputation precedes him, satisfied long term? No offence, but the compatibility meter is at zero. You have what? Hockey in common? Even that isn’t compatible, you were rivals for a reason.”

“Are you done, Pike?” Rozanov asks, a shark-like grin overtaking his face. He leans menacingly against the counter, not hovering over Hayden, just taking up space very intentionally, “Because it is my turn, yes?”

Hayden swallows hard.

“Rivalry was built on idea that only one can be the best, Shane and me always fighting for number one. Media built that, NHL built that, you built that, other people, not us. Not Shane and I. Hockey was very first thing we had in common, two kids who are better than everyone else. Our personalities are different, we play up for camera, on ice, for fans, but we are not that all the time. Sometimes, we are alone or with friends and we can not be that. Can just be Shane and Ilya, not Hollander and Rozanov. You understand?” Hayden nods, more fear than actual understanding, “Good. Shane is boring and I am, how did you say, exciting, yes? You think these things are not compatible. You are wrong.” It’s said simply, with a shrug of the shoulders. That, more than anything, unnerves Hayden the most, “I like boring. I am satisfied with boring. So is Shane. You can think what you want about our relationship in your own head, but do not come to our house and try and talk to Shane like child. We do not come to your house and insult your wife, do not think you can do that here. We are in relationship for a reason,” he mimics.

Hayden looks over at Shane. He’s sipping his coffee, both hands gripped around the mug, watching Hayden and Ilya with a blank expression on his face. Hayden looks at Marlow next to him, the man leaning on his elbows looking amused, eyebrows raised at him almost daring him to say something. He looks back at Rozanov, “I’m, ok… I wasn’t trying to insult anybody. I’m sorry,” he takes a deep breath, “Right, ok. You’re with Rozanov. I can deal with this. So, Boston Lily?” he tries. It comes out a little stilted, but anything that gets the air in the room moving again.

“Jane and Lily,” crows Marlow, taking the attention, “So glad you asked. Let me tell you about Montreal Girl. For years, anytime we’re in Montreal, there goes Roz, off to see the lovely miss Jane. Always denied she existed, of course, but we knew better. Then when we found out it was Hollander? Legendary.”

“Jane? Shane is Jane?” Hayden asks. He’s surprised to hear, although he shouldn’t be, that Rozanov had a ‘girl’ in Montreal the same way Shane had a ‘girl’ in Boston. What did he expect, that the texting was one sided?

“I was Jane,” agrees Shane.

“Hold on, your team knows?” 

“Oh, yeah.”

“Why does your team know?” He’s not expecting Rozanov to blush, Shane to grin, and Marlow to start laughing.

“We share locker room, Pike,” Rozanov raises an eyebrow at him, “They figured it out.”

“This is my story to tell,” Marlow interrupts, drumming his hands excitedly on the counter. “So, back when Shane joined, the rest of the guys caught on to what we’ll call Rozy’s weird behavior towards Hollzy. There was a group chat and everything dedicated to orchestrating ways to get Roz to confess to his crush. Last year, they cornered Roz and straight up asked him if he knew it was ok to like men and convinced him to ask Shane out on a date.” Hayden’s jaw dropped at some point during the story. It sounds like one they’ve told over and over again. What’s getting to him is last year, the Bears have known about this relationship for a year and Hayden, Shane’s best friend is only being told now. “He does. Shows up to practice the next day with flowers and asked his own boyfriend out in front of the team. It was very cute, but Shane came clean, very dramatically. Confessed that they were already together and all that.”

Shane is snickering while Rozanov pretends not to find the whole thing amusing, “Ilya warned me he was going to do something, but kept it a surprise. It was sweet. No one’s ever given me flowers before.”

“So your whole team knows?”

“Yup, like Ilya said, we share a locker room and a bus. They caught on. Came to the wrong conclusion, but yeah, they figured it out, so we told them.” 

“And they’re ok with it?” he asks. There’s no way the entire locker room was ok with their star players being together. They’d known Rozanov for years, didn’t they know enough about him that they should know that this would break down, and their dynamic would be fucked when it did? It was good for any other team in the league, but Hayden didn’t want his best friend ostracized because Rozanov was still Rozanov and his team would side with him. (He didn’t know that over half of the Bears had given Ilya the shovel talk threatening that they liked (or feared) Shane more and would help him hide Roz’s body.)

“Why wouldn’t they be?” retorts Marlow, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but they win us cups.”

“That’s not–” Hayden huffs, “I’m just surprised an entire room was all aboard the gay train. Most teams wouldn’t be ok with that.”

“Not every team is Montreal,” Shane says icily. “It’s not perfect, but it’s far better than we could have asked for.”

“Change starts with you,” Marlow nods, solemnly. Then he snorts, unable to keep up the facade.

“So who knows?” Hayden wants to redirect the conversation back into territory he can navigate. He feels like he’s one step away from a mistake and he doesn’t like the feeling. “Other than your team, and now me?”

Shane stares at him for another minute, draining the last of his coffee before answering, “My parents, Rose, and JJ.”

That surprises Hayden, “JJ knows? What the fuck?” He remembers last month when they’d been at his house to watch the All-Stars game. It’s obvious in hindsight that JJ had known then, with the way he kept telling Hayden to shut up about Rozanov. God, had they been laughing at him behind his back. They know a secret he doesn’t, so point and laugh at Hayden. The look of betrayal on his face only serves to pinch Shane’s face further.

“JJ hasn’t known very long, and we didn’t tell him, he figured it out,” Shane’s voice is weary. Ilya shifts his weight so Shane can lean his own weight into his husband. “Hayden, it wasn’t about– actually, it was. It was about the fact that I couldn’t trust you enough to tell you. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’ve had it. Hayden, you can’t be upset that I didn’t tell you when you did nothing to prove that I could tell you. It was fucking exhausting, Hayden. So, we’re telling you now because we’ve decided that it’s time to. Because I’d like to give you a chance to be at my wedding and meet my husband.”

“You’re my best friend, Shane. I thought we told each other everything,” Hayden pouts, a scowl overtaking his face. “But then Rozanov comes along and you don’t tell me anything! I get that you waited to tell me you were gay, that was super personal and I’m happy you told me. But you could have told me sooner, before I said all that stuff. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have said it!”

Ilya’s own body threatens to sag, but he forces his muscles to clench so he remains upright and supporting Shane. Years ago now, in a Tampa hotel room, he’d accused Pike of being a social climber, using Shane for status instead of actual friendship. (Not to say genuine friendship hadn't grown from it, but that was no longer the point.) Back then, it had sounded that way, especially combined with what Ilya had observed himself over the years. It was why he held such a dislike of the man, but he’d filed it away under jealousy that Pike got to see more of Shane in such an easy way. Hearing Pike now, those feelings bubbled back up. The feeling in Ilya was something he couldn’t name, but felt like oil sliding down his throat. Like disgust, or a deep lack of understanding. He didn't understand Pike. Ilya didn't know how Pike's brain couldn't see the freedom Shane got to enjoy at Ilya's side, instead of being conformed to the lifestyle Pike found reasonable. It wasn’t jealousy, nor was it possessiveness, not from Ilya. He knew possessiveness, so he could hear the possessiveness in Pike’s voice as he spoke. Pike was the jealous one, upset that his toy had gone off script. Pike thought he knew the rules to keep being Shane's friend. He thought Shane understood the rules, but as far as Hayden was concerned, he'd switched them up without telling him, making him look like the fool. He sounded like a child, so Ilya said so.

“You sound like child.” Pike narrows in on him.

“I sound like a child? Fuck off, Rozanov,” he hisses. “This is between me and Shane.”

A sharp grin curls Ilya’s lips back. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his husband agree with wherever he is going, so he focuses his attention onto Pike, “Yes, Pike, you sound like child. Boo-hoo, Shane does not owe you secrets because he is friend. You think, what? Shane chooses you so you are special? Only you get to be friend, no one else is worthy of the great Shane Hollander? My team tells me wonderful English word, perceptive. So let me tell you how perceptive I am," Ilya spits, "You hover behind Shane, in public, right there always. When people talk to him, you stand right there, like pavlin, desperate for spotlight. When he leaves, you try and follow. You cannot stand him where you cannot see. I think you are no better than a rabid puck-bunny who thinks her favorite hockey player belongs to her. Shane is a possession to you, not a person. He is no longer doing what you want or as you ask, so you are throwing a tantrum.”

“Threatening me in Russian won’t work, asshole,” growls Hayden. Cliff shifts in his seat, but a look from Shane stills him. He nods at his friend and settles back.

“Is not threat, is observation. Not my fault you do not understand, sometimes English is too stupid for what I want to say. Point I am making is you are like child whose favorite toy has been taken away. You think you have claim when you do not.”

“Well, I was there first, asshole. I was his friend first, I think you’re jealous that I’ll always have more history with him, so I don’t care what you think.”

“Ah, you forget then, that we are two best hockey players,” Ilya nods. “You forget that when you are good at hockey, you start playing young. I have know the name Shane Hollander since I was sixteen. We met and played each other first time at seventeen. We were drafted together at eighteen, we played again that year. Even before there was official relationship, Shane and I have always had history far longer than you, Pike. But let us talk about your friendship, yes? Tell me when you became friends.”

Hayden hasn’t stopped glowering, but he complies with the request, thinking he’s holding the winning card, “We’ve been friends since his rookie year. I was pulled up from the AHL the same year. I invited him for dinner after a game, a Boston-Montreal game, actually. That’s when we officially became friends.”

Ilya hadn’t been expecting to be handed his prize on a silver platter. He thought that he’d get to reveal that no matter what answer Pike gave, Ilya would always win, but there were only four games their rookie year. Ilya remembered all of them, because he spent the first two bemoaning his lack of foresight to get Shane’s number. The fourth game he did have Shane’s number, but little success wooing him. The third game hadn’t even been played, because they’d been snowed out.

Ilya feels his spine straighten, he smells blood in the water, and his husband smells it too, because he’s realized the same thing Ilya has. Cliff noticed the shift in their energy, but all he can do is watch curiously.

“Pike,” he says, too calmly, “which game was it?”

“I don’t know,” Pike shrugs, “the game was cancelled for some reason. I remember that.”

“Ah.” Just as he thought. The sharp grin becomes something more playful at the edges, and delivers the blow, “Yes, I remember that game. It was snowed out, we couldn’t fly to Montreal. Shane was so upset we had to cancel our plans.”

Marlow’s jaw drops, suddenly remembering that game. Roz had been upset they wouldn’t be playing that game, but Cliff had brushed it off at the time, there wasn't even a reason he should be remembering it now, after all this time. Hayden looks like he’s been slapped.

“No. No way, you’re lying to me because you don’t want to accept that I’m right.”

Ilya shrugs and settles back into Shane’s side, letting his husband answer, “Sorry, Hayden. He’s right. We did have plans already for after the game. I accepted your invite because he couldn’t make it. I did want to be your friend, I just wouldn’t have accepted that particular invitation if Ilya had been in town.”

“Shane… are you serious?” Hayden still hasn’t picked his jaw up, processing this information. All Shane can do is mimic his husband and shrug. He doesn’t know what Hayden wants him to say or what he wants to hear. Shane doesn’t know if there’s anything he can say to make this better except to suddenly announce that the whole thing has been a prank. “Shane.”

“I don’t know what you want from me, Hayden,” he says. “I’m sorry you’re finding out like this, I guess. I’m not sorry for my relationship or for not sharing it before I was ready. Ilya’s right, you’re my friend, but you don’t have some ultimate claim over my friendship.” He doesn’t want to address the entirety of what Ilya implied, so he doesn’t. “I’m not your kid, I’m a grown adult who can make his own decisions. I don’t need your permission or your blessing. You’ve been my friend for a long time, Hayden, but I won’t choose you over him. It was never going to be any other way.”

“Fuck,” Hayden droops, “fuck, fine. You pick him, you’ve made that clear. I’m just trying to look out for you, but you’re right. You can make your own decisions.” His laugh is a little bitter and Shane feels his heart sink. Hayden still thinks he’s making a mistake. He missed everything they just said and implied that Shane can make the ‘stupid’ mistake and Hayden will ‘let’ him. It doesn’t even piss him off, it just makes him tired.

“Hayden,” Shane says softly, “I think you should go. You’re upset and I don’t want that.” Hayden scoffs and Shane sighs in response, “Cliff can drive you back to the hotel or you can get a car. When you’re ready to talk…” he trails off and changes tactics, “Talk to JJ, that might help.”

Hayden looks like he wants to keep arguing, but instead snaps his mouth shut with an audible click and stands up, “Ok, then. I’ll go.” He hovers for a moment, like he’s waiting for someone to change their mind. When nothing happens, he walks towards the door. Cliff raises his eyebrow at Ilya, nods, then follows after him. 

“Come on, I’ll drive you back,” he says when he catches up to Pike in the entryway. Pike wants to argue, opening his mouth again, but just sighs and turns off his phone.

“Thanks.”

Chapter End Notes

cliff is having so much fun. he's giggling and kicking his feet. also, yes i implied that cliff and rose had a threesome with svetlana. i am an aromantic bisexual sveta truther. and isn't it funny that cliff is the only one who hasn't fucked shane of all his friends? cliff brings it up constantly, rose and shane think it's hilarious.

also, hollanov are not team dads, they are gay uncles that give you noisy toys and let you eat ice cream before giving you back to your parents but also pick you up from parties and let you puke in their toilet. if you forget something, shane just looks at you like 'that's on you. maybe i'll share, but i'm going to judge you for not being prepared.' ilya makes you drink and eat an atrocious combination then puts you on a rollarcoaster then refused to take responsibility for doing that.

also, is anyone interested in being a beta reader for my own runaway au work? im following 422’s on tumblr and its inspired me to take my original idea and make it darker. i would like some input on it once ive got more done, so closer to the end of the week (ill post about this on tumblr too)
also, go check out 422’s runaway au
also, also, did you know that theres a word limit per google doc? i just kept opening new tabs in the same doc and now i have to transfer what i was working on and start a new doc with a million tabs lol.

Chapter 13: fallout

Chapter Notes

the immediate fallout.

The car is silent except for the low croon of the radio. Cliff drums his fingers on the steering wheel, resisting the urge to look over at the lump of Pike in his passenger seat. He thought the morning had gone remarkably well, all things considered. No one had been punched, but he’d witnessed Roz verbally eviscerate Pike with his husband’s permission. Then, he’d gotten the pleasure of watching Shane give Pike his own dressing down, which was shorter, but equally devastating. Seriously, it was times like these that it became obvious that Shane and Ilya really complemented each other. Not just on the ice, but in everyday life. Cliff didn’t understand people like Hayden Pike, who almost willfully ignored what was right in front of them because they didn’t like it. 

They’re almost to the hotel when Pike says, “I don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“Them,” he crosses his arms, “Shane and Rozanov. I don’t understand how you’re just ok with this. Rozanov is your friend, shouldn’t you, I don’t know, not want him to settle down? Once he does, what happens to all the clubbing you do? You expect me to believe that Shane just lets him go out and party with you and girls and then come home like it’s no big deal?” He scoffs, “Don’t make me laugh. Maybe I didn’t know about the relationship, but I still know Shane best, he doesn’t do that shit. And he wouldn’t want to be with someone like that either.”

Cliff pulls into the hotel parking lot and parks before he answers, “Wow, you really are delusional.”

“I’m not–” protests Pike, but Cliff cuts him off.

“You are. Listen,” Cliff says, “the Shane you knew in Montreal wasn’t the real Shane. That’s not right, he wasn’t the full Shane. He couldn’t be himself without risking everything. Boston gave him space to grow. I know this because he told me, directly,” he emphasises for Pike’s sake, though he doesn’t think it will get through his thick skull. “Shane doesn’t control Roz,” he smirks, “well, not in any way he doesn’t want. Point is, we can go out to clubs, sometimes Shane even joins us, but if he doesn’t, Roz will go home with him, or go home early. Sometimes, he’ll stay out late with us, but Shane doesn’t worry about him. He doesn’t need to, he trusts Roz. I’m also in a relationship, but I still go out and my girlfriend doesn’t worry about me, because she trusts me and knows I love her and won’t jeopardize what we have. Shane and Ilya are the same way, just like any healthy couple. I don’t know if you’ve forgotten that they’ve been together for a decade, but I think that’s more than enough time to decide someone is your forever. How long did it take you to marry Jackie again?”

“That’s different.”

“Why?” Pike didn’t have an answer. Cliff snorts, of course any answer would sound shitty and homophobic. He thought that bringing another straight couple into the mix would get through to him, but apparently not. At least Pike had enough sense not to say something that he couldn’t take back and would make its way to Shane. “Look, Pike, they love each other. There’s nothing you or anyone else will be able to say to break them apart, so don’t try. But you’re not going to listen to me, so go talk to Boiziau. Maybe he can get through to you. Or maybe reevaluate why you think clubbing is only for single people. Do you not trust your wife? Or yourself?”

“Fuck you, Marlow. I wouldn’t cheat on Jackie and she wouldn’t cheat on me,” retorts Hayden with a scowl. “Rozanov has options that are easier than Shane, I’d hate for him to realize that and then it’s too late for Shane.”

Oh, so it’s biphobia. Rose had to teach him what that meant and he’s glad she did. Cliff sighs and rubs his face, “Get out of my car, Pike. And keep your opinions to yourself.”

—

Hayden slams the car door and stalks back into the hotel. JJ is standing outside of his room, typing on his phone. He looks up as Hayden approaches and raises an eyebrow, “No one punched you, so it didn’t go terribly.”

“Is everyone against me?” Hayden throws his hands in the air. He wants to collapse face down on his bed and scream.

“No, we’re on Shane’s side,” JJ shrugs, “if that means against you, that’s not our fault.”

“Fuck you, man, you’re supposed to be on my side here. I’ve been surrounded by Bears all morning.”

“I’m on Shane’s side,” he reiterates. “Do you want to talk?”

“Fine,” grumbles Hayden, unlocking his door and letting JJ in. “What? I bet Shane already texted you and told you all about it since you’ve been gossiping behind my back.”

JJ raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t deny it, just nods sarcastically, “Oh, yeah, gossiping about his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s massive dick,” he sees Hayden flinch when he says it. “Something Shane tried to tell you about today, but your head is so far up your own ass that you got kicked out.”

“I don’t need to hear about Rozanov’s dick, gross JJ.”

“Ok, so you don’t have to hear about it. I thought you’d want all the juicy gossip about our friend's love life now that he can finally talk about it, but if you don’t want to, I won’t tell you,” JJ shrugs, trying to appear as nonchalant as he doesn’t feel. Shane hadn’t been the one to text him, Rozanov was. And Cliff, when he’d dropped Hayden off, had shot JJ a text. “Look, Hayden, why don’t you tell me your side?” Hayden does, pacing back and forth around the room while JJ watches and listens from where he’s lounging in the only chair. 

“Oh, boo-hoo. They were clothed in bed together?” JJ rolls his eyes, “There was evidence of their healthy sex life? How terrible. Welcome to the club of ‘we found out because we walked in on them in a compromising position.’”

“Fucking hell, JJ, why are you doing this?”

“Because, Hayden, I don’t get why it bothers you so much.”

“Because it’s Rozanov,” he emphasises.

“So?” questions JJ, “It’s also Shane.”

“Shane isn’t like this! Come on, JJ. He’s been acting different since he moved and you’re telling me his personality swap is normal? The Shane we’ve known for ten years doesn’t party or have wild, back-scratching sex during playoffs. Rozanov is, I don’t know, pressuring him to change.”

JJ laughs, throws his head back and guffaws loudly, “Wow, Pike, wow. How would we know? He’s been in a secret relationship.”

“He’s changed,” Hayden insists, frustrated.

“I’m sure. I’m not gay, but I’ve heard that being out of the closet really helps people be themselves instead of being pressured into being someone they’re not.”

“God, you too. Fuck, does everyone forget that I’ve been Shane’s best friend for a decade? I think I’m allowed some sort of claim to my spot in his life without people accusing me of trying to control him.” JJ internally flags that, setting a mental reminder to ask Shane what that means. 

“I didn’t say you were trying to control him,” says JJ. He’s become amused at Hayden’s attempts to get him on his side. Like he told Shane, his fiance grows on people like mold, so Hayden’s tactics are no match to Rozanov’s bizarre charm. “If you’re really that certain this is going to blow up, you’re welcome to stay where you are and you can even say ‘I told you so’ but until then, figure out how to live with it before you get punched,” he shrugs, “or cut off entirely.”

“Marlow said the same thing,” Hayden grumbles, falling backwards onto the bed. 

“Yeah, Marlow would know best, I think,” says JJ. “He’s the founder of the club.”

“Club? The ‘walked in them club’?”

“No, the Shane Hollander fanclub,” says JJ. Then he laughs, “Seriously, dude’s like their guard dog. When he found out I knew, he basically threatened me on Shane’s behalf. Not even Rozanov’s, Shane’s!”

“And that’s not weird?” Hayden argues, “I’m being accused of being controlling, but Marlow can just be obsessed with Shane and it’s ok?”

“No,” JJ rolls his eyes, “you’re missing the entire point there. Marlow doesn’t mean anything by it except he genuinely loves Shane. The difference, Hayden, is that you’re trying to mold Shane into a version of himself that you like and that you’re comfortable with. Marly is just obsessed regardless, thinks everything he does is cool. Also, his best friend bagged the Shane Hollander, so there’s some light hero worship there, nevermind he’s dating someone arguably more famous. Also, him and Shane are, like, super compatible in a lot of ways. They’re very jock in a way that Roz isn’t, and I’m not.”

Hayden is staring at him incredulously. JJ shrugs again, waiting for his friend to say something. He’s not even exaggerating, as much as he loves his friend and as much as Ilya loves his fiance and as much as they both love the sport they play, Shane and Cliff just have this very bro-jock vibe together that is very easy. Shane’s remarked before that he appreciates Marlow’s company in a way he’s always craved from the spaces and locker rooms he grew up in and envied the easy brotherhood that came with them. Cliff can give him that. Not that he doesn’t love his other friendships, but is different with Marlow. 

JJ also doesn’t mind, it means he and Roz can egg each other’s more outgoing and flamboyant natures on. They enjoy antagonizing each other, often with wide grins and suppressed laughter. They don’t mean each other harm and JJ likes that Rozanov doesn’t hold back, but clearly has standards for his chirps. He and Marlow get along well enough too, but they’re more like friend-in-laws than anything. 

“I’m not trying to—ugh,” Hayden cuts off his argument before it begins, “What do you mean, dating someone more famous?”

“Oh! Marly and Rose started going out, it’s getting more serious.”

“Rose? Rose Landry? Shane’s ex-girlfriend?”

JJ nods, “Yup, Shane introduced them and they hit it off. Turns out a hockey player was what she was looking for, she just picked the wrong one.”

“You’ve met her?” he asks, voice pitched up. 

“Yeah, I’ve met her. I can take partial credit for introducing her to Shane, but I didn’t really know her back then. But Shane reintroduced us a few months ago when she was in town.”

“Fuck.”

Hayden rolls over and groans into his pillow. He wants life to make sense again, he wants to call Jackie, he wants to talk to Shane without it devolving into an argument or without his…fiance hovering over his shoulder.

“Look, man,” JJ starts, “anything else you wanna ask about or get off your chest? Otherwise, I’ve got to finish packing before we go to the airport.”

—

The front door clicks shut behind Cliff and both of them sag like puppets whose strings have been cut. Ilya uses his remaining strength to drag them back to their room.

“Did you really call him a puck-bunny?” Shane asks, pressing his face into Ilya’s neck and wrapping his arms around his husband. Ilya returns the hold and falls backwards, letting gravity do its job, and lands on the bed with Shane on top of him. His husband immediately adjusts, pulling his knees up to rest on either side of Ilya’s hips, but leaving his torso pressed where it is. Ilya’s hands stroke from Shane's hair, down his back, and up again.

“Yes.” Ilya doesn’t laugh, “What? Is accurate, I think.”

Shane huffs against his skin, “I’m disappointed. I also feel like I shouldn’t be surprised, but here we are.”

Ilya doesn’t speak, silently drawing shapes up and down his husband’s back instead. Shane doesn’t say anything either, ruminating on the morning. Hayden’s behavior hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary, which Shane was realizing went back farther than just when Shane became aware of it. Ilya’s puck-bunny comment might have been more accurate than he intended. Shane didn’t like when women wore his jersey and approached him with single-minded focus. He was never rude, but always turned them down, uncomfortable with the idea of them wanting his attention and a quick fuck. Hayden might not have been a literal iteration, but Shane often wondered if being close friends with someone always brought a feeling of discomfort and scrutiny, and there was a pattern of behavior Shane often dismissed. Now, though, he wondered why Hayden had been so insistent on one, being Shane’s friend, and two, insisting that he knew Shane best. 

The whole morning left a slimy feeling in his chest. 

“What do you want to do with rest of today?” Ilya asks, interrupting Shane’s thoughts. He picks his head up to stare down at his husband, contemplating. If he asked to stay here, Ilya would do a round and grab anything they may need and they wouldn’t leave this room. But hiding didn’t feel good, it left still waters for Shane to reflect and he just helped bring his team to the playoffs, again, so he wants to celebrate and he wants to move.

“I want to go hike,” he says. “Call up whoever, I don’t care, I just want to go out with my friends.”

Ilya doesn’t know the premier hiking spots around Boston, but he knows who does. An hour and a half later, Ryan Carmichael, Connors and Connors’ girlfriend are standing in his living room. Marly texted Shane, letting him know he would meet the group at the trailhead. Ryan is nervously applying sunscreen, warily eyeing Shane, who has Ilya shirtless and pinned to the couch, applying sunscreen to his complaining husband, and Sarah, who is applying her own while her boyfriend hangs his head and accepts each new dollop and rubs it in accordingly. Carmichael watched the argument start between the husbands, saw the warning, pleading look in Connor’s, and dutifully started applying it himself.

He’d be the first to tell anyone that despite his penchant for turning into a mountain goat, Ryan had never gotten a sunburn and had also never worn sunscreen. Ryan Carmichael also picked his battles.

Marlow does indeed meet them at the trailhead. The beginning is mostly flat, so they form a blob, Shane and Ilya next to each other, Ryan leading the front, the Connors’ in the back. As the trail narrows, and the longer they walk, Shane and Cliff end up in front, out pacing everyone except Sarah, who gets bored of listening to her boyfriend talk with his teammates, and joins them. 

Cliff glances behind him and realizes he can’t see the rest of the group, “Wait, hold up.”

Shane stops and turns, “What?” then he realizes, “oh, they’re fine. Probably.”

“Or we can take a break and laugh at them when they catch up.”

“I like Cliff’s idea,” huffs Sarah, already taking a seat on a fallen log. Shane rolls his eyes but joins her.

“Fine.”

Cliff continues the story he was telling from Rose, something about an incident on set that delayed production and Rose was pissed off. Shane closes his eyes, but indicates that he’s still listening. It only takes a few minutes for them to start hearing the chatter of the rest of their group. When Ilya emerges around the corner, Shane flips him off.

“Hey, asshole, where have you been?”

“I am not one who ran off ahead,” counters Ilya. “Also, we saw a dog.”

“There was a dog?” Cliff asks, pouting a little.

“Yeah,” Connor says, “there was another group coming down a different path, they had a dog.”

“I want a dog,” Ilya announces, to a chorus of we knows from his friends and husband. Shane is looking into it, but won’t let Ilya get his hopes up. He stands and pats his husband’s shoulder while the rest of them head on.

“One day,” he promises, hoping Ilya won’t ask when ‘one day’ is. They hurry to catch up, and as they slot back into the group, Shane feels something settle in his chest. He wishes JJ was here, but by now Montreal is back in the air. With a sudden clarity, he realizes he doesn’t wish Hayden was here. Even on one-on-one hang outs, Shane grew frustrated with Hayden’s presence after a while. His friends here weren’t an exception to his desire to be left alone most of the time, but he could feel the difference in their company. No one was going to stop him from leaving, or declining participation. He felt like he could relax around these people, even Sarah, who he didn’t know well.

“Hollzy,” Cliff calls from the front, “we’re gonna leave your ass behind if you don’t pick up your feet!”

Shane flips him off and jogs to catch up, not that he’d actually fallen behind, but the teasing wasn’t malicious.

Chapter End Notes

nagging wife shane needs to be eradicated, but i will cling to 'shane physically has to pin ilya down to put sunscreen on him' bc they are outdoorsy-city relationship gap.

i think we're reaching the end of what i have planned for this fic (which was only supposed to be the first, like, three chapters, so... whoops? I have plans for rookie playdates and bringing in ottawa a little. some cliff/rose stuff. is there anything else yall want from this story?

Chapter 14: schrodinger's advice

Chapter Notes

*puts on sunglasses* less than a month yall and i've got another chapter.

“Ok, what happened?” Shane asks when JJ picks up. “Cliff said he made some comment about clubbing being for single people and that Ilya would leave me for a woman before he got out of the car.”

JJ laughs, “Not surprised. He thinks that being on your side means I’m against him, which… don’t get me started on that. Just a lot of complaining about Roz, the usual. Oh! There was one thing that stood out. He said, like, he’s known you for a decade, he should be allowed to stake a claim without controlling you.” Shane rolls his eyes. “Oh, so you know what I’m talking about.”

“Yeah, I know exactly what he’s talking about. Him and Ilya got into a pissing contest about who’s known me longer–”

“Which Roz wins, no contest,” interrupts JJ.

“Thank you, JJ,” Shane groans. “Even if our relationship didn’t start when we met, we’ve known each other since we were teenagers. Hayden didn’t enjoy learning that. Ilya also might have compared him to a child having their favorite toy taken away. Then I had to remind him I’m a grown man and not one of his kids and I wasn’t looking for his blessing. 

“Mon ami, he did not.” JJ dissolves into laughter. “Have I told you how much I like your fiance?”

“I’m glad someone does,” Shane pouts. “But yes, you sent me the updated ‘mic-d up Boiziau best chirps’ and yes, I watched it. You’re getting creative.”

JJ grins, “I learned from the best.” His face drops when he realizes what he just admitted, “Don’t tell him that.”

“There are no secrets between husbands, JJ,” teases Shane. 

“Fuck off, not husbands yet.” Shane grimaces internally, but brushes it off. “He’s never gonna let it go.”

“Nope,” agrees Shane. “But I can’t say anything, we sound like each other and it’s more obvious now that we’re on the same team.”

“Not surprised. You’ve always had some of the nastiest chirps when you wanted,” says JJ. “And Roz is known for his chirping.”

Shane groans with a small grin, “Let me tell you about the time Hunter and I fought.”

“Really?” asks JJ, excited at the prospect of finally learning what had instigated the infamous fight. 

“I threw a chirp at him about being too old to play,” says Shane.

“As you do.”

“As I do,” he agrees. “Scott hits me back with you’re starting to sound like him.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That’s what I asked, and he said, you fucking heard me. So, I came to the obvious conclusion that he knew about me and Ilya and was threatening us.”

“No shit?” JJ’s eyes are wide and he looks like he can’t decide if he’s allowed to feel delighted, or if he needs to plan a murder. “Fuck, Shane.”

“It’s whatever,” Shane says, waving it off. “I’m almost positive he has no clue, but it scared me back then. When I called Ilya, he said he used a similar chirp the day before, so that was probably it. And when Hunter reached out to apologize, he didn’t sound like he knew anything.”

“That was it? The famous Hollander-Hunter fight was a misunderstanding because you thought the patron saint of gay hockey players himself figured out your years long, secret, illicit, love affair-slash-situationship from hell with your rival, Ilya Rozanov, because you two chirp the same, and you panicked and thought he was threatening to out you?”

“Well, when you put it like that..” grumbles Shane, but he’s chuckling beneath it. 

“No, no, you skated up to Scott Hunter and told him he was old and he turned around and told you he could hear Russian dick in your mouth.”

Shane bursts into laughter, “JJ!”

“Mr Hunter, you’re so old,” JJ does a high pitched voice to mimic Shane, then makes his voice deeper, “Sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of you sucking off your division rival.”

“JJ, JJ, stop,” Shane wipes a tear from his cheek. “I can’t breathe.”

“No, Shane. What if he did know? He’s also gay!” JJ laugh-shouts. “Instead of being all welcoming and letting you know you’re in good company, he said get out, and take your evil bisexual with you.”

Ilya chooses that moment to walk into their bedroom, and what he finds is his husband, tears streaming down his face, cackling, while matching sounds come from his phone, where he’s been on a call with JJ, who just said the words evil bisexual.

“You called him a dinosaur,” comes JJ’s cackling and distorted voice, “and–and he shot you with a gun.”

Ilya is confused, especially when Shane breaks down into more laughter, “What is happening?” That redoubles the laughter from both men. “Shane?”

“Is that Roz? Roz! Rozanov!” Ilya strides across the room to pick up the phone, lifting it to stare at JJ’s face.

“What? I am here.”

“Roz! We were making fun of Scott Hunter,” explains JJ, wiping a stray tear from his face. 

“Ok?” Ilya still doesn’t know what’s going on. Shane manages to get his laughter under control enough to take pity on his husband. 

“Ilya, Ilya… Ilya, do you remember back in like, twenty-thirteen, probably, before the Olympics. When Scott Hunter and I got in that fight?” Ilya nods, he remembers it very well, and how much he jerked off to the replay. Whether or not that video made a reappearance in recent history was between him and god. “I know you do, you would text me any time you thought about it and it made you horny. I told JJ what happened.”

“Yes, you thought Hunter knew about us,” says Ilya. “Why is this funny?”

“Because,” Shane snorts, “he’s gay. Why would he be threatening to out us?”

“Get out,” chimes in JJ, “and take your evil bisexual with you.”

“Ah, I am evil bisexual.” 

“The bisexual terror of Boston,” says JJ. “Queer hockey players quake in their boots at the thought of your incredible gaydar.”

“He’s never been wrong,” points out Shane.

Ilya shakes his head in agreement, “Best gaydar in NHL. Why are you chirping Scott Hunter?”

“I don’t rememb—oh! We were talking about Hayden and JJ brought up that he’s been taking lessons from the best chirper—” Ilta raises an eyebrow and puts a hand to his chest as if to say who? me? “—yes, you.”

“Aww, Boiziau,” Ilya purrs, stealing the phone from his husband to grin at JJ. 

“Fuck off,” JJ flips Ilya off. “Traitor, I literally just said not to tell you.”

“There are no secrets between us,” Ilya reminds him. “I am best chirper you know?”

“Fuck off,” repeats JJ. “Did you really call Hayd a child throwing a fit?”

“Da, I also called him a puck-bunny,” Ilya nods. 

JJ’s jaw drops, “You did not!”

“I told him he reminded me of puck-bunny obsessed with his favorite hockey player,” says Ilya. He settles back into Shane’s side. “In Russian, of course.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah,” Shane adds. “He kept flipping between trying to be supportive and starting a dick measuring contest with Ilya.”

“He would lose,” Ilya says confidently. 

“Did he say anything to you about the wedding?”

JJ looks thoughtful, then shakes his head, “I don’t think so. Did you tell him?”

“Yeah, I brought up the wedding a few times, but we didn’t really talk about it.”

“Do you even want him there?” JJ asks. 

Shane sighs and Ilya’s fingers come up to stroke through his hair. “Yes? I mean, I was at his, and it would feel wrong to not have him there.”

“But?”

“But I’m sick of the way he talks to and about Ilya. I’m just imagining dealing with the comments all day. Like, I’m about to say I do and he just leans in to whisper it’s not too late in my ear.”

JJ catches the brief annoyance mixed with something he can’t decipher cross Roz’s face. “No one's saying he needs to be in the wedding party. If you really want him there, he can come as a guest.”

“JJ,” Shane says. 

“Yeah?”

“I hate when you have a good idea.”

—

April 2020

Rose settles back against the pillows, stretching out her body and waiting for Cliff to get back from the kitchen. It was nice to be in the same city again, even if she was only in Boston for a few days before she had to be back in New York. Not that she wished harm on anyone, but thank god for the gas leak that was the reason she had the time off to visit her boyfriend. And the short flight to him, increasing the number of hours they got to spend together. 

Cliff comes back into the bedroom carrying a tray laden with breakfast, “The best for my love.”

“Awww,” she coos, accepting the tray with a kiss, “you’re the best. Hand me a shirt, I don’t want to accidentally spill on myself.”

Cliff has already rounded to his side of the bed, but he dutifully scoops up his shirt he’d thrown off last night and presents it to Rose. She slips it on, inhaling the scent deeply. Cliff climbs into bed, curling close and feeding his girlfriend grapes between the bites of pancake she takes herself. It’s quiet, the only sounds are their breathing and the consumption of late breakfast. 

“I have to leave for practice in an hour,” he says quietly. “It’s open practice, if you want to come, but don’t feel like you have to. Explore the city or something.”

“I’ll come,” Rose says, “I want to watch you. Besides, it means I’ll also get to see Shane and Ilya and I haven’t seen them in a while either.”

Cliff nods, “Do you want to see if they can do a late lunch after practice? The four of us? Double date?”

“Sure,” Rose agrees. Cliff notices the hesitance in her voice and raises an eyebrow. She sighs, “Is it selfish that I want to keep you all to myself? Like, of course I want to see our friends, but I also don’t get a lot of time with you and I don’t want to waste it.”

“I don’t think so,” says Cliff. “I also want to keep you all to myself, and if Roz didn’t know you were in town, I might be tempted to call in sick and stay home from practice.”

Rose laughs, “Not a chance. I’d make you go anyway, even if I also don’t want to leave the bed.”

Cliff leans in to kiss her, savoring the flavor of her on his tongue mixing with the sweetness of the syrup. The tray is keeping him from straddling her fully and he grunts in frustration. His girlfriend pulls back with a giggle, “Go shower, babe. I’ll clean up breakfast. Thank you, it was delicious.”

—

Roz notices when he trudges in for practice, “What crawled inside you and died? I thought it was time for happy Marly?”

“Marly is happy,” Cliff grumbles back.

“Hmmm, no, this does not look like Rose got in yesterday and you spent the whole night having reunion sex,” Roz bites back. “What is wrong?”

“Nothing,” Cliff dismisses. “Rose and I are fine. She’s coming to watch practice today, actually.”

Ilya hums, “Ok?”

“Do you and Shane want to do lunch with us after?” he asks, hoping to distract his best friend.

Roz shrugs, “Shane!” he calls, “Moy lyubov, lunch with Cliff and Rose?”

Shane looks up from his skates, “Sure. Is Rose coming to watch practice?”

Ilya nods at his husband. Cliff watches this exchange and sighs morosely. “See!” Roz says when he hears it, “What is that? That is not happy to see my girlfriend attitude.”

“How do you do it, Roz?” Cliff asks quietly, sitting down next to his friend.

“Do what?” Roz crosses his arms and looks down at his friend.

“Long distance?” clarifies Cliff. “How did you two do it? I’m thrilled she’s here and I get to see her, but I’m just thinking about how little time we get to see each other because we’re so busy. Which, we knew when we decided to do this, but I don’t think either of us really thought about what it would be like.”

By now, Cliff’s gathered an audience. His teammates aren’t crowding, they’re not even gathering, but he can tell they’re listening in. Partially because Cliff hasn’t had relationship troubles in a while, partially because this was Rose fucking Landry, and partially because any details about Shane and Ilya were a hot commodity. Shane has sat up fully from where he’s finished tying his skates and is looking over at Cliff. Roz is still looking down at him. The two tear their gazes away to communicate silently with each other before turning back to him.

“It was hard,” Ilya starts. “You feel like there is never enough time, even when you have whole week or two to yourselves. Maybe only a day, or a few hours, sometimes. It hurts to be able to count down without knowing the next time, or knowing the next time is very far away.”

Cliff rolls his eyes, “Yeah, I know.”

“Listen,” Ilya says firmly, “yes it hurts. But if you only let it hurt, it will… solnyshko, glodat? Like turn bad?”

“It will fester,” Shane picks up where Ilya left off. “You can’t not talk about it, but you have to enjoy the time you do get together.”

“Da, yes,” Ilya points at his husband. “Long distance is a lot of planning, when you are making it work. If you want it to work, you have to figure out all little things. Like, when to see each other, not just when you can, but when you want to, uh, force it. Plan extra time together, yes? Talk on phone a lot, too. Not just phone sex.”

“We’re rich, Marly,” Shane cuts in, “you can also afford to send flowers or gifts, if that’s what Rose likes. It’s all the things that usually fall to the side when a couple is together all the time. You don’t get that same time, so you have to make up for it in other ways. So, yeah, talking on the phone, scheduling time to yourselves around your schedules, that kind of thing. I used to send Ilya flowers before I moved to Boston. Ilya would send me postcards from whatever city he was in. I don’t know how applicable this is, but we also used to talk to each other in interviews, especially back when we were still in denial. Things other people wouldn’t catch on to, like doing a trick shot that I knew he’d see or blowing a kiss to camera after a hat trick cause he knew it would piss me off. Or saying something in an interview that only the other would understand.”

“You liked it,” Ilya drawls.

“I did like it,” agrees Shane, “but I was also pretending I didn’t. The point, Marly, is doing things to get her attention. Showing off a little, you know?”

“Yeah,” Cliff says, “I get it. It just sucks and I hate it. I can’t believe you guys did this for as long as you did.”

Shane shrugs, “At least you two don’t have to hide your relationship,” the room winces in unison at the reminder, “but long distance is hard either way.”

“Thanks, Hollzy.”

—

Luca skates up beside his captain. 

“Haasy!” Roz sounds delighted to see him. “I said break, yes?”

“You guys really did long distance?” he blurts out. “Sorry, that’s…”

Rozanov laughs, “Is ok. Yes, we did long distance for long time. Is that your question?”

Luca gulps and shakes his head. “Marlow, uh, he went over the basics, but um…”

“Ask,” Roz prompts.

“How do you know that it’s worth it?” Rozanov blinks, stunned by the question. Whatever he was expecting from the rookie, this wasn’t it.

“Is what worth is? Long distance?”

“Any of it,” Luca clarifies. “How do you decide that it’s worth being together even when you’re not together very often? How do you start that conversation? How do you decide the other person is worth it?”

Ilya leans back, eyes scanning his rookie, whose own eyes are cast down and his kicking the ice with his skate. He remembers that another version of Luca Haas had a boyfriend, but that’s all he knows. Taking another drink of water, Ilya looks for his husband, his eyes immediately landing on Shane down a few feet talking with Carmichael. What kind of advice would they have wanted? What advice would have worked? A different version of Luca Haas gave them the answers they needed. It was only fair that Ilya repay the favor, but how did one go about giving good advice when they themselves don’t know the answer. Everything with Shane had been a battle, a choice they both made. But every step felt inevitable, like there was no other way for it to go. Of course that’s how it played out, Ilya could think of any of their pre-Tampa interactions. 

Tampa was the turning point, not just because of a little magic, but because even without it, Ilya is sure that he and Shane could have worked it out–just maybe not as easily. Haasy looks hopefully up at him; Ilya can see that whoever this guy is, Luca’s already gone. He recognizes the look from his own reflection.

“I will be honest, I don’t know,” Ilya starts. Luca’s face falls, but Ilya shakes his head at him, “Shane and I… we made it work because we both knew that there was no other option for either of us. That is maybe not best thing for most relationships. It works for us, but… If you want to know if it is worth it, you have to have hard talks. Have them before it is too late, when the topic is easy–these topics are never easy, but there are times that it will be easier to talk about them. If you want it, the other person has to know you want it, or they maybe will think you don’t and they will move on. Sometimes they don’t want it as much as you and that hurts, but that is how it goes sometimes. Not everyone finds their soulmate at seventeen.” Ilya’s face softens at the contemplative look on Haasy’s and reaches out to pat the top of his head. “You are a good kid, Luca. You already have more support than we did.”

Luca blushes under the attention and ducks his head again. If there weren’t a hundred reasons not to be, he’d be more embarrassed that his captain managed to suss him out with the neutral pronouns. Instead he swallows around the mortification and thanks Roz for the advice and skates away with his helmet in his hands. A light chuckling follows him, but he ignores it. 

“Haasy!” Bugsy was waving him over to the huddle of younger players. Luca adjusts course, barreling right towards the group.

Ilya watches his rookie join the others and fixes his own helmet. Before he can push off the wall, there’s a noise behind him.

“That was good advice,” Rose says. Ilya doesn’t jump. He doesn’t. Skates are hard to jump in. “Probably also a good idea to let him know that following your example probably isn’t the best idea.”

“Are you calling me a bad example, Landry?” Rose laughs.

“No, but I am calling your relationship the exception to most rules instead of the standard. I love you two dearly, but sometimes I wonder how you ended up where you are, “ she says.

“I will not say you are right,” Ilya counters reluctantly, “but I will say our relationship is not something other people should have to go through. I wouldn’t change it, not to have him, but it was hard. And sometimes, when things are hard, it’s easy to quit.”

“But you two never quit–” Ilya laughs.

“We did, lots of times, just never permanently,” Ilya clarifies. “You should know, you were part of worst split.”

“Fair,” Rose concedes, “but I’ll argue that miscommunicating and going stretches without talking doesn’t count as quitting. Staying away wasn’t quitting. I’ve seen you quit smoking, Ilya Rozanov, if you really wanted to quit seeing Shane, you would have. You just never wanted to.”

Ilya shrugs, keeping a few thoughts about that to himself. “I quit smoking for Shane.”

“Can I ask you something else?”

“Shoot.”

“Do you think Cliff and I are the kind that can make it?” Rose asks quietly. She looks more nervous than Ilya has ever seen the woman, but he doesn’t need to think about his answer.

“Yes, I think that you both want it. You should have bigger conversation with him first,” he says. “If you want it to be long term, you have to talk about the far future. There’s a lot of things that can happen between now and then, but have a plan. And be flexible about the plan. You can’t just think about the next time, you also have to know about years from now.”

“Thanks, Ilya. I’ll let you get back to practice and I’ll see you guys for lunch.”

Chapter End Notes

i think we've only got another chapter (maybe 2, or just one mega one) before we're done. I know there's a lot we want to see, but I'd rather wrap this up for now and come back with a second work or some one-shots in this universe. I'm going to fit as much in as I can, but i've got a direction now and it's full steam ahead.

also, i'm going to shamelessly plug 'it's mine alone to disgrace' because I think it's the work i'm most proud of. I updated it yesterday. there is one more chapter + a social media part but both chapters wrap up nicely for those that don't like incomplete works. the last chapter at least should be out next week, i'm aiming for 4th of july weekend sometime.

thank you all for sticking with my crackish fic that was only supposed to be 3-5 chapters and now we're working on 15 (count how many of my works have 15 chapters, lol, it's not on purpose) I love you all and your comments and kudos and insights!!

Chapter 15: proposal... pt 2

Chapter Summary

Rose and Cliff

Chapter Notes

a little rose and cliff chapter. If you notice, the chapter count has changed again. i got some inspiration and i've got a real plan through the end.

Rose walks into the kitchen, scrunching the last of the water out of her hair. She skirts the edge of the counter to go throw the wet towel in the laundry room.

“Whatcha thinking about?” she asks her boyfriend, coming up behind him to wrap her arms around his middle. Cliff is mixing around the almost finished stir fry—not that Rose can see what he’s doing, but it smells amazing. 

“Something Roz said earlier.” Rose hums.

“During lunch?”

Cliff shakes his head and turns off the stove, “No, during practice. I was all mopey cause I only get to see you for a few days.”

“What did Roz say?” Rose releases Cliff to get plates and utensils so he can serve them. 

“Something about planning more time together and thinking about the future,” he says. “Being better about getting each other’s attention while we’re apart.”

“Ilya said something similar to me about planning further into the future than just the next time we’ll see each other,” says Rose. “Should we be taking relationship advice from two people who didn’t talk about their feelings for seven years?”

Cliff shrugs, digging into his food, “They kinda are the kings of long distance.”

“Hmmm,” Rose takes a bite of food. “This is good, you’re good at frying veggies like this.”

“Thanks.”

“I want to be together,” Rose says. Cliff looks up at her, a little baffled. “In the future. I just mean, like, years and years down the line, I still want to be with you.”

“I want that too.” Rose shakes her head.

“I believe that, I do,” she takes his hand. “We’ve been together for, what, almost three years? I can’t imagine ever coming home to someone else. I know we’ve got years of career ahead of us, but we’ve already talked about that and what it means for us. It’s hard and long distance sucks, but I want to work it out with you, Cliff. When you retire, and I’m still working cause I’m still young and hot–”

“Obviously,” Cliff agrees.

“–duh, but when you retire and we can live together, I don’t just want to have the kind of relationship that is like a waiting period for the actual relationship to start. Just because we only see each other every few weeks or months, doesn’t mean we can’t have an active relationship.”

“What are you saying?” Cliff asks. It sounds like they’re on the same page, but a handful of concussions makes him liable to miss the cues. Rose opens her mouth, starts to say something, catches herself, blinks in surprise, and then grins at Cliff.

“I think I’m saying I want to marry you,” she says. “We’ve been together for three years, we want a future and we can talk about what that looks like more, but I want to marry you.” Cliff’s jaw is on the floor. 

“I wanted to propose,” he pouts and Rose bursts into laughter, the nervousness gone. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be, I’m sorry I just dropped that on you,” she giggles, “I surprised myself.”

“I want to marry you, too,” Cliff tells her, “I really do. I agree with everything you said and you’re right. Just because we’re usually in different time zones doesn’t mean we can’t have a real relationship that doesn’t need to be put on hold.”

Rose grins, standing up to clamber into her boyfriend’s lap, and pulling him in for a kiss. His large hands land on her hips. “We should definitely talk more, but I went to the Shane Hollander school of fucking first, talking later.”

Cliff moans and stands easily, carrying Rose to their bedroom, “How funny, me too.”

—

June 2020

Two very disgruntled, injured hockey players sit pouting on the couch under the watchful eyes of their partners. Cliff throws his head back with a groan.

“It’s just a sprained ankle,” he calls over to Rose, who’s sitting at the counter with Ilya. “I can walk–”

“You tweaked it again because you didn’t stay off of it,” she says back, looking anything but impressed, “So now you suffer the consequences and stay off of it.”

“Why do I have to stay on the couch?” Shane complains from next to Cliff, “My lower half is fine!”

“You sprained your MCL–” Shane groans. 

“It’s not even that bad.”

“It is that bad,” Ilya counters, rolling his eyes. This is the same man that wouldn’t let him go to practice with a bad cold and practically sat on Ilya the last time he broke a finger. “You’re trying to ignore it, and also, you dislocated your shoulder, so you need to sit and rest.”

Twin moans from the injured parties do not sway the jury and they turn back to their own conversation, leaving Cliff to turn to Shane and ask, “Wanna watch something? Or do you think they’ll take the remote away for being too strenuous?”

“I think there’s a game on,” says Shane, reaching for the remote and searching for ESPN.

Rose rolls her eyes and shares a look with Ilya. “All three of you are ridiculous when it comes to minor injuries.”

“Hey!” Ilya tries to defend himself, but Rose just shakes her head and laughs. 

“Enjoy being the uninjured one,” she tells him. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Ok.”

“Cliff and I talked,” she starts. “I want to propose.”

Ilya sputters, choking on his drink, “What?”

“I want to propose,” Rose says again, “to Cliff.”

“Blyat, fuck, shit,” Ilya says. “Yes. You want to marry him? Why has he not proposed?”

Rose laughs, “Jesus, Roz. Yes, I want to marry him, keep your voice down. We talked about getting married, but not about proposing. So I want to do it. Even if he’s also planning on it, I want my turn.”

“And you need my help?”

“I wanted to tell you myself because Shane can’t keep a secret from you,” she deadpans. “I told him earlier, but I don’t expect him to keep it a secret longer then, like, twelve hours. He’s going to help me pick out a ring and stuff. I also wanted to tell you, cause, you know, you’re kinda the reason we met.”

“Please marry him,” Ilya says. “Yes, you can marry my best friend.”

Rose laughs. “Thanks, Ilya.”

—

Over on the couch, Shane is having a similar conversation with Cliff.

“You what?” Shane asks in disbelief. Not four hours ago, Rose was telling him the same thing, and it takes everything in Shane to not reveal that information on his face. “Dude!”

“I know!” Cliff laughs. “We talked a lot about it, but not really about an actual proposal, so I thought it would be nice to surprise her. And now that I know she wants to get married, I don’t have to worry about her saying no, just putting together a nice proposal.”

“Hell yeah,” Shane high fives his friend. “Have you told Ilya?”

“Not yet, I haven’t had the chance to get him alone,” Cliff gestures at his elevated foot. “Besides, as her ex-boyfriend, best friend, and my bro, I wanted your blessing. I have a call scheduled with her dad for tomorrow morning, of course, but I wanted to ask you.”

“Dude,” Shane looks at him like he’s stupid. “Of course. You make her so happy.”

—

“Shane,” Ilya whispers to him later in bed. “Rose told me.”

“Why are you whispering, they can’t hear us?” Shane asks, but grins. “Cliff and Rose both told me separately.”

“Fucking shit,” says Ilya.

“Holy fucking shit,” agrees Shane. “Our best friends are getting married.”

“Cliff hasn’t told me,” Ilya pouts. “Why did he tell you?”

“He’s been trying to get you alone,” says Shane. “But we’ve been on bedrest.”

“You. Are. Injured,” Ilya stresses. Shane swats at his chest, but settles back onto Ilya’s embrace. 

“I’m fine,” Shane argues. “If I promise to take it easy, how about I take Rose out ring shopping in Ottawa tomorrow while you and Cliff hang out here. He really shouldn’t be on his feet.”

“Oh, you’ll agree Marly is injured, but your knee is fine?”

“Yes, that’s exactly it,” Shane sits up to glare playfully down at his husband. “My knee and my shoulder are both fine, Ilya.”

”I heard you go down on ice, Shane,” Ilya argues right back. “And no, before you say something stupid, I do care about the cup. I care about you more. There was nothing you could have done except hurt yourself more.”

Shane snaps his mouth closed with a pout and lays back down on Ilya’s chest. He and Cliff had been involved in a five-man collision during game two of playoff finals. While their injuries had been relatively minor, it did keep them benched through the next four games until San Francisco won. It had been disappointing, but more embarrassing to be figuratively benched at home.

Ilya—not doing so hot himself, but at least free of doctor’s orders—teamed up with Rose to shuttle the four of them to the cottage and keep Cliff and Shane on bedrest. 

“I’m going with Rose to go ring shopping tomorrow,” mutters Shane. “I’m sure she’ll text you if something happens.” 

“Ok, solnyshko,” Ilya agrees sleepily.

The next morning, with their partners out, Ilya and Cliff sit down to do their own ring shopping and plan out Cliff’s own proposal to Rose. Ilya knows that Rose doesn’t plan on proposing during the summer, so he suggests their winter break to Cliff. Rose has the time blocked out on her calendar already to spend with Cliff in Boston, so it’s an obvious time to propose.

—

December 2020

“Shane,” Rose sounds as green as she looks, “I’m going to throw up.”

”You’re not going to throw up,” Shane reassures. They’re hiding back in the guest room while Rose runs over her plan with Shane. He convinced her to wait until now, instead of doing it over the summer. What she doesn’t know is that Shane and Ilya have been conspiring to have them both propose at the same time. “Look, we go back out there, you give Cliff the ring and he opens it. You ask him to marry you, he says yes, and we celebrate.”

”I’m going to throw up,” Rose repeats. 

Shane rolls his eyes, “You’re not going to throw up, come on.”

He marches them back into the living room, where Cliff and Ilya are waiting. Their heads are bent together and they’re whispering. Cliff slaps a hand over Ilya’s mouth when he spots them. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Rose smiles and nods, not trusting herself to speak. Shane nudges her and joins Ilya on the couch, sharing a secret look at what they know is about to happen. 

“This is for you,” Rose says, kneeling on the floor and handing the disproportionately large box to her boyfriend. He takes it gingerly with wide eyes. Shooting glances at the couple on the couch gives him no information. Cliff slowly starts to unwrap the box, eyes widening more when he spots the smaller box inside. Inside the smaller box is a velvet jewelry box and Cliff’s eyes fill with tears.

”No,” he pouts. Then seems to realize what he said and backtracks, “No! I just…” He scrambles for the identical ring box in his pocket. “Me too.”

Rose bursts into laughter, taking it from Cliff and setting it to the side, “No, me first.”

Cliff smiles, blinking back tears and opens the ring from Rose. Inside is a silver ring, engraved on the inside with their names and a small heart. 

“Cliff Marlow,” Rose rises to one knee, “will you marry me?”

He can’t help but laugh and hand her the box to put the ring on his finger, not even noticing his friends recording the moment. “Yeah, Rose, yeah I’ll marry you.”

Rose slips the ring onto his finger with a kiss and blindly reaches for her own gift and presents it to him, “Your turn.”

Cliff joins her kneeling and opens the box for her, “Rose Landry, will you also marry me?”

”Of course, you big lug,” she laughs, launching into his arms and kissing him. She pulls back enough to examine the ring. “We match.”

”What?”

”We match,” Rose repeats, whirling to face Shane and Ilya. “You two!”

”You both told both of us that you wanted to propose,” Ilya defends. “We just made sure it worked out.”

They had. Secretly texting each other while with their respective friend, colluding to make sure the proposals went off without a hitch, and conspiring to have their friends buy matching engagement rings. After everything Rose and Cliff have done for them, Shane and Ilya wanted to help. Rose untangles herself from her fiance and pulls Shane into a hug. 

“You’re the best friend ever, thank you.”

Cliff joins the hug, pulling Ilya to his feet too for a big group hug. “My fiance is right, you guys are the best.” His eyes go wide. "Holy fucking shit, I have a fiance."

Everyone bursts into laughter. "Yes, Marly, you have fiance now."

"Holy shit, Ilya," Rose exclaims. "Can you imagine telling yourself four years ago that I'd end up marrying Cliff?"

"Rose, four years ago, I would have kissed you on the mouth if you told me you weren't going to marry my Shane. Marly? You can have him," scoffs Ilya. Rose giggles and throws her arms around him.

"I know you hate to hear it, but I'm so glad I met Shane."

"Ugh, I hate to say it, but I agree. We would maybe still be stupid without you," Ilya groans and his husband hits him. "What? You know I'm right!"

"That's why I hit you," snarks Shane. 

Cliff ducks around Ilya to scoop Rose up into his arms, "Well, she's all mine now. No more gay boyfriends for you!"

"I knew switching from theatre kids to hockey players was a good idea," Rose laughs. "It just took a few tries."

Chapter End Notes

Cliff and Shane left alone together: Dude! Dude! Bro! Dude! My guy! Bro! Dude!

Chapter 16: change of plans

Chapter Notes

posted from the aftermath of the best concert i’ve ever been to, and i’ve seen some great shows. anyway, i’ve had that john mulaney bit ‘that is a stupid movie title. lost in new york? the streets are numbered!’ stuck in my head all weekend. at least it’s good advice for navigating new york. also there was a stabbing down the street from my hotel AND an armed robbery within like a half hour of each other and i didn’t know about it until my besties who found out from life 360 texted me and woke me up. anyway… who cares. here you go.

January 2021

“Our best friends are getting married,” whispers Shane into the dark. It had been a week since Rose and Cliff proposed to each other. Something has been lingering at the edges of Shane’s mind that he doesn’t know how to put into words. 

“Mhm-hmm,” agrees a sleepy Ilya. “What about it?” 

“I don’t know,” admits Shane. “I’ve just been thinking about our wedding, you know. It was just the four of us…” 

“Mhm-hmm,” Ilya mumbles again and Shane sighs. His thoughts are too big for his head and his husband is a good sounding board, even half-listening and half-asleep.

“I just… I don’t know. I know they’re planning a big—well, not big, but big thing. And that’s what they want, which I love for them.”

Ilya pushes himself up and wipes his eyes with the heel of his hand, “Shane, what’s this about?” 

“We also keep telling people we’re going to do a wedding. A big one for everyone to attend. My parents are still a little upset they missed the wedding. Plus, JJ doesn’t know we’re married, but pretty much almost everyone else who knows does. I don’t know, Ilya, I liked our wedding. I guess I’m thinking about Rose and Cliff and I don’t think I want to get married again. At least, not right now and not just so we can invite people who are sad they missed the first one.” Ilya is sitting up fully now, paying attention. “We didn’t get married for everyone else, we didn’t get married because we wanted to show off, we– I don’t… I don’t know if I want to put on a big ceremony for everyone. We eloped, that’s it. Maybe in a few more years, we can do a vow renewal, but…” 

“But you don’t want to, uh, shadow our first wedding with another one?”

“Overshadow, yeah. I liked our wedding, I don’t want to rewrite it. Does that make sense?” 

Ilya nods, “It does. I don’t care if we do it or not. I’m already married to you, which is what we wanted. I don’t need to marry you again in front of people. I like the little bit of showing off I get to do, and one day I’m excited to do more, but if you don’t want to have another wedding, we won’t have another wedding.” 

“I can think of, like, five people who are going to be upset about it. And they’re going to try and convince us to reconsider.” 

“Then they can be upset,” says Ilya, laying back down and pulling his husband down with him, cuddling Shane to his chest. “They are not ones getting married. They can get over it.” 

“I hate when you’re being reasonable,” chuckles Shane. There’s silence. “I need to tell JJ. Fuck.”

—

“You have to promise you won’t be mad at me,” says Shane as soon as JJ lets him in. Montreal is in Boston and Shane had told his friend that he wanted to talk. They’re in JJ’s hotel room–the first place they could get some privacy in the small window they had before the game.

JJ raises an eyebrow, “Ok? Why?” 

Shane puts his face in his hands, “Because I lied about something and I think you’re going to be upset.” 

“Ok?” JJ looks confused, but gestures for Shane to go on, settling back onto the bed.

“Ilya and I aren’t getting married,” he says, voice still muffled by his hands. 

“What!?” Shane realizes how that sounds and hurries to correct himself. 

“Nonono, we’re fine, don’t worry, just… fuck,” says Shane. “Let me start over. We’re not engaged. Ilya and I eloped.” 

JJ places a hand over his heart, “Don’t scare me like that, Shane. I thought… fuck. What do you mean eloped? Like recently? On accident?” 

Shane shakes his head and taps his fingers nervously. “Back in twenty-seventeen. Right after Hunter came out.” Then, in a rush of words, keeps going. “No one knew except Cliff and Rose cause they were at the cottage and kinda set the whole thing up–we were only going to sign paperwork and fax it to our agent. We rushed things because of Ilya’s visa and then just didn’t tell anyone else. Literally no one knew, not even my parents. Then I got traded to Boston and you found out and I didn’t… I lied and said we were only engaged. We were planning to have an actual wedding and invite everyone to that one, so I thought it wouldn’t matter. But Ilya and I were talking, cause Cliff and Rose are planning their wedding now, and we decided we didn’t want to do another wedding. And now I have to tell everyone who thinks we’re engaged that we’re actually married already and I have to tell my parents we’re not doing a vow renewal. Fuck.” 

“Go back.”

“What?” Shane asks.

“Go back,” repeats JJ. “What do you mean Rose and Cliff are planning their wedding? We can come back to the rest, but I’m focused on that right now. Cliff proposed?”

“Uh, yeah? They actually both proposed,” says Shane. “At the same time. Have they not told people yet?”

“I don’t think so, because I think I would be on the list.”

“I mean, they’ve only been engaged for, like, a week, so…”

JJ nods and leans back. “So, you and Roz are married.”

“Yeah,” says Shane nervously, looking down.

“And have been for four years.”

“Three and a half,” corrects Shane.

“You were already married when you told me you were engaged,” says JJ, voice neutral. Shane swallows hard and nods. “I think, by now, I get it enough that I’m going to swallow my anger. I won’t lie, I’m disappointed. But I’m mostly disappointed because I was really looking forward to the wedding, but thank you for telling me.”

“I’m sorry,” Shane says quietly.

“I forgive you,” says JJ. He sighs. “I think I really do get it. I wouldn’t have taken it well, but I’ve known how long now? I know Roz better and I know a little more about your circumstances, so… I’m choosing not to be upset. I’m going to be an absolute bitch about not getting to be a groomsman, but that’s all.”

“Thanks JJ,” says Shane with a faint smile. “It’s ok if you’re upset. If it will make you feel better, we’ll probably do a vow renewal at some point. We just don’t want to do it now, or any time soon. And we don’t want it to be a cover up for our elopement wedding.”

“You know what,” decides JJ, “that’s fair. As long as I get to be your best man this time.”

Shane laughs, “It’s yours. We’ll probably just get Cliff to officiate again.”

“Cliff what? Marly officiated your wedding?” JJ laughs. “Oh, now I am pissed off. I can’t believe I missed that, damn.”

“Rose gave me away,” Shane tells him. “Marly officiated just fine. He mostly read from his phone, but it was nice and lasted about ten minutes. Rose did make us dance, but I’m glad she did.”

“A ten minute, backyard wedding. Sounds efficient.”

“It was awesome.”

JJ leans back a little more on the bed and regards Shane in the only other chair in the room. “So who exactly is all on this list?”

“What?”

“The list of people you need to tell you’re already married and not doing another wedding?”

“Um…” Shane thinks. “The team already knows. We have to tell them the wedding’s off and they’re going to be disappointed. My parents too. Umm… then I think it’s just…” Shane’s eyes widen at the same time JJ’s do. “Hayden.”

“Fuck,” JJ giggles. “I take it back, I’m not mad anymore. This is going to be the funniest shit.”

“Fuck off,” Shane groans. “Shit, that’s going to go well.”

“Maybe just tell him in the middle of the game…” JJ suggests and ducks the pen Shane throws at him. “Ok, ok. I don’t know, man. I think this is something no one has advice for.”

“What if…” Shane groans and throws his head back. “Hear me out, I don’t tell him.”

JJ giggles and slaps a hand over his mouth. “Shane… I mean…”

“I could just not tell him,” repeats Shane, like he’s discovering the concept. “I’m just going to announce we’re married, whenever we do that, and deal with the fall out. I’m going to be getting a lot of phone calls, right? What’s one more?”

“But consider,” says JJ. “Then you can’t see the look on his face.”

“I don’t know JJ,” Shane sighs. “I don’t know if I care that much. I’m kinda just over it.”

“Fine. That’s fair. Will you tell me when you’re planning on announcing it so I can see the look on his face?”

“Sure, JJ. It’ll be my repayment for getting married without you and lying about it.”

“That’s all I ask, mon ami, that’s all I ask.”

—

Calling his parents is harder. Shane paces their living room for a few minutes, passing his phone laying out on the coffee table. His parents had taken the news of their secret marriage well, but telling them that they weren’t planning on doing a do-over wasn’t going to go over as smoothly as it had with JJ. Shane was still in a small amount of disbelief that he hadn’t lost JJ over the whole thing. 

His mom, especially, was going to be difficult. She loved to drop hints about how much they could do if they did it right. The brands lining up, the promotional opportunities, not to mention the general role-model position they could step into. Nothing Shane actually wanted to do with their relationship, but convincing Yuna to back off was an uphill battle. It was easier to keep her at bay because they were still closeted. But it was still obvious that Yuna wanted to make the most use out of a big, extravagant wedding between the two best hockey players who are also former rivals. 

If Shane was being honest, that was part of the reason he didn’t want to have another wedding. Not that he would tell his mom that. There was also going to be disappointment around not being able to attend their only child’s wedding—something Shane couldn’t do anything about now. He doesn’t regret how the wedding happened, as much as he wishes all of his loved ones could be there, and that might just hurt the most. 

Sitting on the couch, Shane finally picks up the phone and calls his dad. 

“Shane! How’s it going?” David sounds thrilled to be hearing from him. Shane relaxes into the couch and talks with his dad for a few minutes about this and that. Eventually, he has to get to the point. 

“Is mom there?” 

“Uh, yeah?” David says. “Do you want me to go get her?” 

“That would be great,” says Shane. “I have something I have to tell you guys.” 

“You’re not pregnant are you?” David must have sensed the apprehension through the phone and decided to lighten the mood, because Shane snorts hard.

“HA! Shit, no,” Shane laughs, feeling his body release some of its tension. “No babies, Dad, promise. Just something to talk about.”

“You got it, kiddo. Give me a sec.” There’s some shuffling on the other end and Shane can hear his dad call for Yuna. “Ok, we’re both here.” 

“Hey, Shane,” says Yuna. “What’s up? Dad said you had something to tell us.” 

“Uh, yeah.” Shane takes a deep breath and launches right into it, “Ilya and I decided that we’re not going to do another wedding. At least not until we retire… We just, we don’t want to throw something big. I know we said we would because everyone missed the first one, but we talked about it and that’s not what we want to do. When we come out, we just want to say we’ve been married since twenty-seventeen and leave it at that.” 

“Oh…” comes Yuna’s immediate surprise. “I thought you guys would… I just thought…” 

“It’s not anything against anyone,” Shane rushes to explain. “We just decided that we didn’t want a big wedding and we probably wouldn’t have wanted one if we weren’t already married. I’m sorry I got everyone’s hopes up with the idea, but we’re not doing it.” 

“Well, kiddo,” David says slowly, “that’s your decision. I won’t say I’m not a little disappointed because I wanted to be there, but… Well, I guess I don’t know. I’m proud of you for making the decision about what you want. And we love you and Ilya regardless. So, if you don’t want a wedding, there won’t be a wedding.” 

“I agree with your dad,” says Yuna. Shane can almost hear the frown in her voice. Not necessarily a bad frown, just confusion. “What about when you do decide to come out? Announcing your married without pictures—” 

“We have pictures, just not from the wedding. We don’t need to share every detail, that’s kinda the opposite of keeping it—not making it a big deal. Neither of us want to make it a thing, we just want to live our lives without worrying about watching our every move.” 

“Ok, well, we can still make that work…” Yuna trails off, deep in thought. “I can start vetting some companies discreetly until you’re ready so we’re ready when—”

“Mom! Can you please just take three steps back?” Shane pinches between his eyes. “Our relationship is not some—some PR stunt for sponsors to take advantage of. Please stop. Neither of us want to make a big deal out of it and you’re not helping.” 

“Sorry, sorry,” Yuna sighs exasperatedly. “It’s just the way my brain works. I’m just looking out for you, but you have final say. I’ll drop it.” 

“Thank you. If you really want to go on some gay press tour, I’ll put you in touch with Scott Hunter,” says Shane. “He’d probably be thrilled.” 

“That’s ok,” says Yuna. “Are you sure you don’t want me to—” 

“No, we don’t want to do interviews or pictures or anything.” Shane looks up at the sound of the key in the front door. Ilya’s home. “Ilya’s home, I’ve got to go.” 

“Oh, ok honey.” 

“Let us say hi, Shane,” David interrupts. Shane stands and walks over to meet Ilya in the entryway where his husband is taking off his shoes. He puts the phone on speaker. 

“My parents want to say hi,” he tells Ilya. 

“Ah. Hello, David and Yuna. How are you?” 

“We’re good, kid. Shane was just telling us your decision about the wedding.” 

“Ah, yes. I hope no one is too upset.” 

“No, no, not at all,” David reassures. “A little sad we weren’t there, but not upset.” 

“Oh. Yes, most people are.”

“Well, that’s their problem,” David says. “Look, we’ll let you guys go. Call us more, it was good to catch up.” 

“We will, David,” grins Ilya. “All-Stars in Toronto this year, yes? We will look at schedule, see if we can do dinner after.” 

“Sounds like a plan. Bye, boys.” 

“Bye, dad,” they say in unison. 

“That was easier than I thought it would be,” says Shane. He leans in to kiss Ilya. “Hey. How was lunch?” 

Ilya hums and wraps his arms around his husband, kissing him again. “Was fine. I missed you.” 

“It was a whole four hours, I missed you too.” 

“Then we should do something about that,” murmurs Ilya against his lips, bending slightly to lift Shane.

Chapter End Notes

i re-read this once and realized it's all just conversations. like a lot of dialogue and little else. oh well.

david will always make a pregnancy joke. he's been waiting to be able to make it without worrying since shane came out as gay. he knows there will be no surprise baby. he thinks he's funny. ilya thinks he's funny. shane also secretly thinks it's funny. if yall read romeo&juliet, you know this.

Chapter 17: assembling the gays

Chapter Notes

let's jump back in time just a little...

this is going in favorite coming outs i've written.

also, did i just make troy barrett grouchy? yes, i did. i'll confess that i have not read role model, so all I know about troy is from character breakdowns and fanfic. so, mytroy, in the absence of ilya on the centaurs and with the rest of the changes in this universe, and surrounded by the other three as soon as he joins the team, plus harris, means that he's just a little bit of a grouch. his self healing journey still happens, so inside he's happy-ish, but outside, he's a total grumpy-pants *dory saying 'mr. grumpy-gills' to marlin* actually, that's a good comparison. just imagine troy as marlin from finding nemo. and the rookies as three nemos.

October 2020

A few years ago, Wyatt would have sworn up and down that his worst nightmare was to be on the same team as Troy Barrett again. Except, when Troy joined the team just like he’d been warned would happen, it came on the back of Troy publicly calling out Dallas Kent. And when Troy was sent to the Centaurs, he kept his head down and his mouth shut. It forced Wyatt to groan, but take Rozanov’s advice the best he could—extending offers to hang out and generally being nice to the man. Troy was receptive, but still a brick wall. Their social media guy—Harris—seemed to have more luck and Wyatt was happy to foster off the responsibility. 

Until their three new rookies walked through the locker room door for the first time and his face went pale. Narrowing his eyes and looking between Barrett and the new rookies, decides on a new plan. Rozanov had stolen the other one, but he still had the other three. So, he fosters them off onto Troy with instructions to try and bring Barrett out of his shell. He calls it Ottawa's form of hazing combined with rookie bonding combined with putting the newest additions to the team together to get them on board. Not that the kids take much convincing.

Somehow it works. Wyatt finds a picture of a grumpy looking old cat surrounded by kittens, but clearly not going anywhere and sends it to Rozanov along with a picture from a BBQ of a grumpy Troy with rookies sitting at his feet playing a card game having a much better time than their elder. 

But Wyatt is still pissed at Roz for stealing the other rookie and taking Shane Hollander to Boston. He’s jealous of his alternate self, sue him. So when Boston is in town, and after a humiliating loss, Rozanov and Hollander stream into Monk’s flanked by their team. He's planning on cornering the couple and one, confirming that they're in a relationship and two, giving them a piece of his pissed off mind. Once he's done with that, then he can tell them about not-so-grumpy Troy Barrett and his mischief of rookies.

“Hazy! Where are your rookies?” Rozanov immediately asks. 

Wyatt jerks a thumb behind him to where the three have cornered Troy at a booth. He feels less bad for Troy because Harris has also been trapped at the table—something Wyatt’s been eyeing with suspicion, but is entirely some plan concocted by the rooks. Ilya notices immediately and nudges his partner to say something in Russian. Hollander raises an eyebrow and says something back. Ilya grins and turns back to Wyatt.

”I am going to introduce our rookies.” With that, he reaches to grab at Luca Haas and drag him over to the booth. Ilya pushes Haasy down and points at everyone in turn, introducing them. He then claps Luca on the shoulder, ignores Troy's grumblings, and says, “Have fun.”

When he finds his husband again, with Cliff, he leans in to quietly say, “Troy and Harris are good.” 

“Did you set this whole thing up so Haasy would have friends his own age?” Cliff asks. 

“Duh,” says Shane. “Have you met my husband?” 

“Fair,” says Cliff. 

"Oi!" Wyatt appears behind them, clapping Ilya and Shane on the shoulders. "I need to talk to you two. Come on. Marly... you can come to."

—

January 2021

“HA!” Ilya’s voice rings through the house. They’re due to meet the team in an hour and Ilya still needs to finish packing. Shane pokes his head out of the closet. 

“I don’t care what just happened, I want you to finish packing so we can go,” he says. “If you would actually pack early, we’d have time to fuck beforehand.” 

“Troy Barrett just came out,” Ilya says, ignoring his husband. “He and Harris are in a relationship.”

Shane drops the shirt he was holding and walks to Ilya’s side.  “What?’

Ilya turns his phone around to show Shane the instagram post and he takes it straight from Ilya’s hand. “Holy shit.” 

“I know!” Ilya crows. “I wasn’t expecting that to happen.” 

“Should we tell him?” Shane asks, handing Ilya’s phone back to him.

”About us?” Ilya asks and Shane shrugs. 

“It might be nice to start telling the other gay hockey players about us,” he says. “It would only be Scott and Troy. And their boyfriends, but I think there are enough of us now, it would be nice to not be alone.” 

“It would be fun to see look on Hunter’s face when we tell him,” Ilya grins. 

“Well, if you want to tell him, you should pack so we can fly to New York with the rest of the team,” Shane points out to his now pouting husband. 

“Ugh, fine.”

—

Dropping hints during the game is as far as they take it for now. Shane calls Ilya baby and Ilya makes a comment in Scott’s hearing range about their plans for the evening. A few more innuendos are dropped and Shane puts every effort into keeping his face neutral. It wouldn’t do to start laughing, Scott might get the wrong impression. 

Their teammates catch on and Carmichael manages to drop, “Too bad neither of them can get pregnant, their babies would be so good at hockey.”

To Scott’s bewildered, “What?” Carmichael had looked at him like Scott was the crazy one and said, 

“Rozy’s been trying, but Hollander’s birth control is too strong.” And skated away.

By the end of the game, Scott Hunter is pleasantly confused and Ilya is red from containing his laughter. There’s also a bruise forming on both his ribs and Shane’s leg where they kept hitting each other to keep from breaking.

The sleuth of Bears entering the Kingfisher is smaller than their normal group, but not any less intimidating to the patrons of Scott Hunter’s gay bar. They get a few wary looks, but when it quickly becomes obvious that they’re not going to cause problems, everyone relaxes. Ilya drags his husband to where he can see their current victim sitting with his boyfriend. 

“Hunter.” 

“Rozanov,” Scott sighs, rubbing his face with his hand. “Whatever new, fucked up, chirping style you’re trying out–”

“Ah, you mean Carmy’s pregnant comment,” interrupts Ilya, looking far too smug for Hunter’s liking.

“That,” agrees Scott, “and when you said, and I quote, he looks so sexy when he scores, maybe as reward I put puck in his goal, referring to Hollander. Hollzy–” Scott has to cut himself off because both Shane and Ilya are laughing, unsuccessfully smothering it behind their hands. “What the fuck is going on?”

Ilya loses his composure completely, leaning fully into his husband. Shane wraps an arm around him and looks Scott straight in the eye, “Look what you’ve done to my husband. You can’t take a joke and you broke him.”

“I–what?” Scott sputters. “What did you say? This is what I mean, whatever chirping this is–”

“Not chirping,” says Shane, patting a giggling Ilya’s back. “We just thought since there are now two out players in relationships, we should start–what did Rose call it, baby?”

“Soft-launch,” says Ilya, lifting his head. His lips are still pressed together to contain the full force of his delight. 

“Yes, thank you.” Shane turns back to Scott, “Soft launch our relationship. Just so people aren’t super surprised.”

Scott blinks and Kip finally joins the conversation. “You two,” pointing between them, “are together? I heard the word husband.”

Shane nods, “Yeah, Ilya is my husband. We’ve been married… what? Four years now?”

“Four years this summer,” agrees Ilya. Kip’s jaw drops.

“Hold on, that’s… Scott and I have been together for four years. Well, a little longer, but…”

“Oh yeah, you guys really gave us the courage to take the next step,” says Shane, forgoing the handful of details, like being told the information from the future months in advance or that ‘the next step’ was a real relationship and not pretending to only be casual. “Thank you for that.”

Scott recovers. “I’m sorry, I think I just heard Shane Hollander tell me he was married to Ilya Rozanov.”

“I think his age is finally catching up with his memory,” Ilya stage-whispers to his husband. “He can’t even remember all the times he almost caught us.”

“What?” Scott chokes and Shane chuckles. 

“Oh yeah, All-Star weekend a few times,” he says. 

“The awards that time,” adds Ilya.

“How about that one home game against New York?” asks Shane. 

“Ok, ok, I get it, Jesus fuck,” groans Scott. “What the fuck? You two.. the two of you…”

“You’ve got it, Scott,” encourages Shane. 

“Did you guys break Hunter?” Connors asks, popping up suddenly, kneeling in the booth behind his captains. 

“I think he’s processing,” says Shane. Scott’s eyes go wide when he sees their teammate. 

“Uhh,” he points. 

“Don’t worry, Scotty-boy,” reassures Connors with a shit-eating grin. “Best kept secret in Boston, ya dig me?” 

“Our team knows,” says Ilya. “They are dumb, but they’re good.” 

“Hey!” Connors protests. 

“You told Ilya it was ok to be bisexual and encouraged him to ask me on a date because you thought he had a crush on me,” Shane deadpans. 

“Ok, in our defense,” defends Connors, “we only knew you were gay. We thought Roz hadn’t considered men as an option and were trying to be encouraging. It worked!” 

Ilya snorts, “Because I was messing with you. We had already been married for two years!” 

“Hold on,” Kip looks delighted, “Your team thought you had a crush on your husband and they decided to set you up?” 

“Ilya bought me flowers,” sighs Shane, wistfully. “And asked me on a date without his shirt.” 

“I love the Admirals,” says Kip. “But they would never.” 

“I don’t think they’d notice,” says Scott, having recovered at some point. “Your whole team was ok with you being gay, and having a married couple on the team?” 

“The women’s leagues do it all the time.” Connors sounds offended at Scott’s insinuation. “Besides, they win us cups. Even the people on the team who didn’t really like it shut up about it cause we keep winning. They’ve come around though. Healing homophobia with good hockey.” 

“We disclosed our relationship with those that needed to know,” says Shane. “None of them minded that much.” 

“They were too excited to have Shane Hollander in Boston,” grins Ilya, smacking an exaggerated kiss to Shane’s cheek. “They’re not alone, I was also very excited to have Shane in Boston.” 

“Yeah, hold on,” says Kip. “You said you’ve been married for four years…” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“So how long have you been together?” Scott finishes for his boyfriend. Connors grins and claps the couple on the shoulders. 

“You would never guess in a million years,” he says. 

“Connors,” says Shane. “Go find someone else to bother.” 

“Aye-aye!” Connors salutes and dips to head towards another group. Once he’s gone, Shane turns back to Scott and Kip. 

“He’s right,” he agrees. “I don’t think you’d be able to guess.” 

“Now hold on,” argues Scott. He freezes with his mouth open and an accusatory finger pointed at the couple. A beat passes. Then another. “Shit. I’ve got nothing.” 

Ilya laughs harder while Shane says, “Do you remember back in rookie season when Ilya broke your record and I broke it again a few minutes later?” Scott’s jaw drops with his finger, a thunk on the table. “You told me you were rooming next to Ilya.”

“I did… Holy shit, since rookie season?”

Ilya shakes his head, “You cockblocked me. I’m still mad.”

“That wasn’t the first time we hooked up,” explains Shane, enjoying the mounting confusion on Scott’s face and the delight on Kip’s. 

“But it would have been if not for me?” Scott's voice goes high.

“Oh, no,” says Shane. “We still had sex, but that was what, Ilya? The second or third time we hooked up?”

“I finally remembered to get your phone number,” his husband says proudly. “It was second time. Unless you are counting the gym after the draft.”

“I am counting from then, so rookie season would have been the third.”

“Draft day?” chokes Scott. 

“Draft day?” Kip repeats, enraptured. 

Shane shrugs. “Love at first sight, what can I say?”

“Huh? But… now wait—” Scott stumbles over his words. 

“Don’t hurt yourself, babe,” Kip pats his arm. “I’m going to teach you about the horrors of tragic gay love stories. I’m guessing because it was, what, two-thousand ten or whatever, it was just casual for a long time?”

“Basically,” agrees Shane. “Long distance, plus denial, plus the whole rivals thing made it pretty hard, but we figured it out and now we’re married.” 

“Fuck!” Kip exclaims suddenly. “You guys are the first gay married hockey players. Damn, I know I don’t play hockey, but I thought Scott and I would be the first gay married couple in hockey.” 

“Sorry,” apologizes Ilya, not sounding sorry in the slightest. Shane kicks him under the table, but he’s also wearing a smug grin. 

—

All-Stars 2021

“That way,” Shane points to where Troy Barrett is standing with his boyfriend, Harris Drover. Ilya swivels his head far too quickly to be casual. Shane hits his arm. “Calm down. We don’t want to scare them off. They’re not Scott.” 

“I am not scaring them,” Ilya grumbles. The events had wrapped up and now they were loitering at the after party, trying to find a good time to corner the other (out) gay couple in the league. Shane rolls his eyes and starts walking over to them. Troy stiffens when he spots them. 

“What do you want?” he asks. It’s Ilya’s turn to roll his eyes. 

“Wow, we want to talk and now you’re being rude. Shane, they’re being rude!” 

Troy scowls and Shane pinches his husband, directing his attention to Harris. “There’s something Ilya and I want to talk to you guys about. There’s a good take out spot not far.” 

“Uh,” Harris blinks, a little surprised at the invitation. “Sure?”

“Hold on,” Troy interrupts. “Why should we go with you anywhere? I’m sorry for being rude, but forgive me if we haven’t gotten the warmest reception from other hockey players.” 

“Fair,” says Shane. “But I think you’ll find we have more in common than just playing hockey. If you want a reference, I think Scott’s around here somewhere, but every time he talks to us he says it gives him stress grays.” 

“What?” Troy says, but Harris lights up in understanding. He takes his boyfriend’s hand and tugs it. 

“We’re coming, I have to hear this.” With that, Shane follows behind Harris and his reluctantly dragged boyfriend. Once outside, they settle into a group and Ilya leads them towards a place he discovered with Marly the last time All-Stars was held here, way back at the beginning of their careers. 

“So…” Harris starts and Shane grins. 

“Ilya and I got to talking after you guys came out,” Shane says. “We’re—he especially—are in a lot more danger if we come out too soon. Being on the same team helps, as well as being married,” a choked sound comes from Troy, but he ignores it. “But we want to keep the information contained. We’ve done a great job so far, if I can pat myself on the back, but we thought it was time to share with the other gay players.” 

“So,” Harris points between them, “you’re both gay?” 

“I’m gay,” explains Shane.

“Super gay,” adds Ilya. “I’m bisexual.”

“I’m regular gay,” argues Shane. Ilya sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry at his husband. 

“Married?” comes Troy’s voice, cracking. “Married!?” 

“Da,” grins Ilya. “Married.” 

Troy is looking at them in disbelief, while Harris also stands stunned, but equally as delighted as Kip had been. “How long have you been married? How long have you been together? There were no signs!” 

Shane rolls his eyes. “Of course there were no signs! It was a secret.” 

“Forgive my husband,” Ilya says. “People keep asking the same stupid questions.” 

“At least our team didn’t ask stupid questions,” grumbles Shane, who can’t deny that he is getting annoyed about the same handful of questions. Ones that should have an obvious answer too. 

Troy chokes, “You’re team knows!?” 

“Yeah, Ilya has a hard time hiding his heart eyes,” says Shane, feeling smug. He does like retelling that story. “They tried to set us up, so we just told them we were already married.” 

“What? Did you get married when you moved to Boston?” Harris asks and Shane shakes his head.

"Before," he corrects.

“We’ve been married for four years this summer,” Ilya finally tells them. “We’ve been together a lot longer. See if you can guess, no one gets it right.” 

Troy looks distressed at the new information. Ilya is honestly having a great time revealing their relationship in small portions like this. It’s going to be a shit show once they go fully public, but Ilya is going to get as much enjoyment out of it as possible. 

“Is the answer something insane?” asks Harris. “Married for four years means at least since twenty-seventeen, so before then… I’ll put my guess at around the Olympics in twenty-fourteen. Maybe right before.” 

They’re both impressed at the unique answer. Ilya nods. “Closest anyone has gotten. Answer is two-thousand eight.”

With that, he and Shane turn and start walking, leaving the stunned couple behind. Turning their faces away means they can hide the immediate wave of laughter at the looks on their faces. 

“No!” shouts Troy. “No, don’t walk away. What the fuck do you mean two-thousand and eight? That’s insane. No way that’s the right answer. That’s before either of you were in the NHL!” 

Ilya loses his battle with laughter. “Yes it is Barret! We played in juniors together, remember? Hard to get alone time, but…” he trails off with a smug eyebrow wiggle, so Shane picks up. 

“Subtle gay flirting was easier to get away with, as I'm sure you know,” he explains. “We didn’t hook up until the draft… kinda… but…” he trails off with a shrug. He doesn’t feel like explaining to them the weird sexual energy in the gym that day, but he and Ilya agreed that draft day was the catalyst for their relationship, more than their initial first meeting. The fact that they had both gone and jerked off thinking of the other put the experience firmly in the ‘technically sex’ category. Plus it was fun to tell people draft day instead of the summer before rookie season. It not only felt more accurate, no one else could argue with them about it. 

“You hooked up at the draft?” Troy’s voice goes high pitched again in distressed shock. “I was… fuck I was still in middle school and you two…” 

“Yes, us two,” says Shane. “Come on. We’ll answer more questions over food.

Chapter End Notes

in the bears locker room, Ilya definitely jokes about getting shane pregnant and shane doesn't care. he plays along. it's a sex joke no one takes seriously. everyone else makes sex jokes no one takes seriously. these men don't know how gay sex works. they're not thinking about hollanov bedroom activities any more than they're picturing their other teammates having sex. also, they make jokes even about the things that don't reflect their real dynamics.
that being said, this is my absolute favorite hollanov bit:

Ilya, anytime that shane displays any symptoms of anything: shane... are you pregnant?
shane: I might be
ilya, pretending to be shocked: Shane! you said you were on birth control. best in the world!
shane, deadpan: you promised you knew how to pull out if we did it without the condom!
OR
someone: are you having kids?
Ilya: i'm trying, but shane is on really good birth control
shane: it's the middle of the season, I can't get pregnant yet :(
OR any such variation of 'shane is on really good birth control/having trouble getting pregnant' and Ilya is trying really hard, or implies he's trying to baby trap shane. the number of times shane has said to Ilya 'You said you knew how to pull out!' is not zero.

i am also a 'draft day first time' truther.

also, re troy and the rooks again. the plane accident still happened and troy and harris do get together and figure it out. the kid rookies are also doing a side plot where they're trying to get troy and harris together. maybe harris catches on. idk. does anyone want to write that?

I'm working on the last two chapters, but i got sucked into working on my runaway au cause i had a ton of inspiration. i'm hoping to be done with it by september, so the first chapter can go up for fall. love all of you, love reading your comments, love knowing you love this. see you soon!

Chapter 18: dearly beloved (pt 2)

Chapter Notes

if you notice… i did switch fully to past tense, just in case it throws you off.

anyway! only one chapter left and i think i can have it out sometime in august, maybe sooner.

June 2021

Ilya accepted the MVP award from the presenter, giving him a nod in thanks and clearing his throat before leaning into the microphone. He started his speech the way he always had, with things he memorized in English long ago before he’d ever really comprehended what he was saying in his second language. He made sure to thank who he needed to, throwing Rose Landry onto the list to the rippling shock of a portion of the audience. Right before he wrapped up, he grinned cheekily and leaned close to the microphone again. This was his moment.

“Lastly, but absolutely most importantly, I would like to thank the person who has been in my life since we were seventeen, and I was new to the continent and the language. He has been there for every important moment in my life. He has made me a better player and a better person. Neither of us would be where we are without the other and I am honored that of all the people, he is the man I’ve had the delight of sharing it with. Shane, I might have won this year, but I think this trophy will look great in our trophy room, next to all of the other ones I’ve won. Thank you.”

Ilya sauntered off the stage, giggling to himself as he passed several flabbergasted staff, crew, and NHL affiliates. The shock sweeping through the room was mostly confusion. Neither of them had ever called out the other in a speech, and Ilya just dropped one that could be reasonably described as romantic (he couldn’t wait to be asked about the our trophy room). Their team was definitely dying from being in the know, though Ilya was sure that the likes of Scott and Troy were probably more exasperated than anything. Joke was on them, the only thing keeping Shane and him from antics was the secrecy. Now that they’re coming out, everyone was going to have to get used to it. And god help the poor soul that tried to get Shane to ‘control’ him, they were in for a rude awakening about what exactly had attracted them to each other. 

He slipped into his seat between Shane and Carmichael. “What did you think, solnyshko?”

“Loved it,” Shane whispered back. “Also, that trophy might as well be mine. Marital assets, Rozanov.”

“If you’re going to pull that card, you need to remember my full name,” murmured Ilya. “That’s Hollander-Rozanov to you.”

Shane hummed with a small satisfied grin, relaxing fractionally into his husband’s side. Carmichael’s hand reached into his vision and Ilya gave him a high five and got a whispered, “Hell yeah, man.”

A table next to them saw the exchange, Ilya leaning close to whisper in Shane’s ear, the hand brushing his thigh, the little smile Shane gave his husband, and narrowed their eyes at the couple surrounded by their team, trying to figure out what was going on. Shane couldn’t help the smug little smile that grew bigger on his face at their confusion. For all that he and Ilya had been worried about their relationship being discovered if they were near each other, it seemed that unless they were observed in a relaxed environment by people who actually knew them—like the Bears—people didn’t tend to jump to the conclusion ‘they’re in a relationship.’

During the post-award mingling, somehow they managed to avoid, fend off, or redirect any questions about what the fuck Rozanov was talking about. Smithy found Ilya in conversation to pass on a message from his husband. 

“Hey man,” he sidled up to his captain. “Hollander is looking for you. He said, tell Rozanov he has four and a half minutes, so… I’d get on that.”

“Ah, I have been summoned,” Ilya smiled. He gave the person he was entertaining a nod and clapped his teammate on the shoulder in thanks. “Good talking. Smithy, I’ll see you tomorrow, yes?”

“Yeah, man. Have fun!”

Ilya bowed out and hurried as fast as he could without making it obvious all the way to where his husband was waiting near the elevators. 

“Took you long enough,” Shane griped. Ilya grinned at him. His husband wasn’t upset, but he was impatient and thought he should be rewarded for the restraint he’d been showing since Ilya publicly thanked him in an obviously romantic manner. “Usually we’re upstairs an hour ago.”

“Usually,” Ilya teased back, “we are not being stopped this much. I am used to it, as the best hockey player, you understand? Everybody wants a piece—”

Ilya was cut off by Shane yanking him forward towards the now-arrived elevator by the tie. The door closed, leaving them alone in the small space. 

“Too bad no one else gets a piece,” Shane said, haughtily. “You’re mine, Hollander-Rozanov.”

Oh, Ilya needed his husband’s dick in his mouth yesterday. He did have Shane’s dick his his mouth yesterday, but the sentiment stood. He let his husband drag him down the hallway to their room and shove him impatiently through the doorway. That’s as far as Ilya let it go, grabbing Shane’s hips once the door is locked and pushing him against it. He sank to his knees, using one hand to take Shane’s pants with him while the other kept him pinned. 

Shane moaned as his husband took his cock into his mouth, closing his lips around the tip and sucking as much in as he could, focused on drawing it out instead of getting Shane off quickly. Fingers tightened in Ilya’s curls. The sight of him in his fancy tux, on his knees for Shane, who wasn’t quite dressed all the way and visibly rumpled should anyone catch sight of him, was intoxicating. Ilya looked up through his lashes and took him deeper, prompting another moan from Shane. He almost didn’t let Shane pull him off, but after a moment's resistance, followed the direction to stand up, immediately finding another use for his mouth: against Shane’s. 

His husband went slack against him, being propped up by the door and Ilya’s grip on his body. Ilya walked them back to the bed, spinning to push Shane down and crawl on top of him. He took the time to kiss every inch of revealed skin as he finished stripping his husband, pausing only to fold the suit neatly enough to wait a few hours. Ilya only toed out of his shoes, stripped his jacket, and loosened his tie. He had plans tonight.

—

July 2021

The fairy lights from Shane and Ilya’s wedding—the catalyst for Rose and Cliff’s relationship—were brought from the cottage to be strung up around the bride and groom’s table. Colorful dahlias were on every table, bright against the green and white decor. Shane wasn’t sure what other flowers littered amongst the bouquets were, but he didn’t care to disrupt anybody’s day by asking a question he didn’t really care to know the answer to. 

The initial ceremony had been small, family and the handful of close friends of both Cliff and Rose. Shane and Ilya stood behind their respective friend, smiling at each other and trying to contain their joy while Sveta walked through the officiation of their marriage. There was a brief moment during the wedding planning that the group of friends realized they would all have to stand near each other with no one else near them and somehow be serious for the duration. And then they wouldn’t be able to all sit together.

“Fuck,” Rose had complained. “Cliff and I are going to sit at a table away from the rest of you guys. You have to promise to get all the gossip.”

Ilya and Sveta promised to divide and conquer the latest from each guest so the happy couple could know all the juicy information. Shane nodded along and also promised to try, to which Rose patted his knee and told him to just stand by his husband and try to remember what people said when they thought he wasn’t listening. 

Shane waved at Rose, who toasted her champagne class at him from the head table. He raised his glass back and mouthed, I have something.

She raised her eyebrow and he subtly nodded towards one of Rose’s LA friends who was chatting up Miles and St Simon. Rose gave him a questioning look and Shane smothered a laugh behind his closed lips to receive a betrayed look from Rose.

After, he mouthed. It’s good.

It better be, she mouthed back before turning back to her husband. Cliff’s attention could barely be swayed from staring at his new wife all day. Anyone who spoke to him had to be gracious enough to know they weren’t going to get eye contact, his eyes too busy making the gooiest expressions at Rose in her wedding dress. 

Ilya sat down next to him, effectively taking his attention away from their friends. “They knew each other.” 

“What?” Shane rolled his eyes when Ilya huffed. 

“Vicky and Rose’s friend. They went to high school together in Colorado. Who the fuck lives in Colorado?” Ilya scooched closer and lowered his voice. “They’re not just reconnecting. Sveta thinks Miles likes Jared, but won’t make move—I agree. Jared is making him jealous by talking to Vicky.” 

“Do you think it’ll end in a threesome?” Shane whispered back. Ilya had been doing this most of the night, wandering to talk to people and collecting information to give to Shane, who was casually eavesdropping on the people lingering at the tables in his vicinity. Together they’d gotten a nearly complete rundown on everyone they didn’t know to tell their friends.  

“Yes,” Sveta said, sitting down next to Shane. “Miles will sleep with whats-his-face if he has chance, and Vickey is becoming bisexual in front of our eyes. Or maybe gay. I don’t know.” 

“Usual bet,” started Shane, leaning close to his husband. “I think Vic’s gonna call one of us before the end of the weekend to tell us about it and-or freak out.” 

“I’ll take he waits to tell everyone in locker room at beginning of season—or he tells group chat.” 

Shane took his outstretched hand and shook it once. “Deal. Freaking out in group chat allowed, but half point for me.” 

“Deal.” 

“You guys are weird,” Sveta complained. “One bottle extra nice vodka and spa day that he tells Clifford first. Or Rose hears about it first from her friends.” At the husband’s twin looks, she defended herself. “What? I can’t participate in the usual bet, you have strict no thirds rule! I can’t even watch!” 

“Fair,” Shane said, extending his hand. “Deal.” 

Rose caught his eye from over Sveta’s shoulder and pointed her fingers between her eyes and Shane, communicating I’ve got my eye on you and I’m jealous. This better be good.

—

The happy couple would be making a pit stop at the Hollander-Rozanov cottage for a few days before flying out to Greece for their honeymoon. Svetlana would be joining them for the first day, but still had a busy summer ahead of her. 

“So,” Rose said. “Rough estimate…” 

“At least seven couples hooked up at or because of your wedding,” Sveta confirmed. 

“The two couples that hooked up at the venue were already in relationships.” 

“Yeah?” asked Cliff. “And was one of those couples you and Ilya?” 

Shane flushed, but leveled a look at his friend. “Sorry, three of the couples who hooked up at the venue were already in relationships.”

“So what? Eight other people found people to sleep with?” 

“Ten,” Shane corrected. “Two threesomes, two couples.” 

“I’m sorry… there were two threesomes at my wedding?” 

“And four fights!” Ilya chimed in helpfully. 

“That we know of,” said Shane. “There were several people who were clearly trying not to fight, but I bet the car ride home wasn’t very fun.” 

“Yeah, Rose, your Aunt Mildred either needed more or less wine.” 

“Oh my god,” she groaned. “She’s… god, she’s Auntie Mildred.” Rose covered her face. “Love her, but…” 

The group laughed. The entire guest list had been an odd mix of famous and non famous people who all had varying experience being around famous people. Rose’s brothers were awesome and spent the whole time hanging out with the Bears that were able to make it. (Not that many of them would have missed it.) It did make for some excellent people watching. 

—

The morning Rose and Cliff were on their way out the door for their flight, Rose told Shane to take the time to finally post about him and Ilya. The couple had been discussing how and when to fully come out and announce their marriage on social media. And whether or not to make it long, or just throw it out there and keep living their lives as to not make it a big deal. 

“You’re sure,” Shane asked again. “We can really do this?”

“Yes, Shane,” Rose rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Cliff and I are already big news, so, yes, please throw your secret relationship-elopement onto the fire. It’ll be funny. We get it all out of the way at once and hopefully it’ll burn out faster. Besides, rumors are gonna fly anyway after Cliff and I post.”

Shane gave her a side hug. “Have fun in Greece without us.” 

“Oh, I will,” Rose grinned. “Just me, my hot husband, the sun, an island no one knows about us, the beach…? I’m going to have the time of my life.” 

“Bye, Rose Landry!” Ilya shouted from where he was done helping Cliff put luggage in the trunk of the rental car. 

“Bye, Ilya Rozanov!” Rose shouted back. 

“Enjoy fucking your new husband,” Ilya grinned at her, also giving her a hug. This one picked her up and spun her around. “Married sex is so much better.” 

“I’ll take your expert word on it,” Rose laughed. “Is this when I tell you the first time Cliff and I had sex was on your couch?” 

Ilya’s face rotated through several emotions, landing on a mix of fascinated disgust and delight. “Where were Shane and I?” 

“Fucking upstairs, duh.” Cliff joined them at that moment, having done one last sweep through for anything they missed and being a good guest by throwing their dirty bedding in the laundry room. 

“What’s going on?” 

“You fucked on my couch,” said Ilya. 

“Oh, yeah, which time?” Rose went red at Cliff’s answer. 

“There was more than one?” Shane asked, starting to stifle laughter. “That couch has seen a lot of fucking.” 

“Uhhhh,” Cliff cast a wide-eyed look at his wife. “I think we’ve got to go now. Flight to catch and all, thanks for having us. Bye!” 

He slung Rose over his shoulder and took off for the front door. Ilya traded a look with his husband and held up the car keys he still had. “They won’t get very far.”

They made their way to the porch. 

“Forget something?” Shane called to the retreating couple. Cliff didn’t put his wife down and held up a hand. Ilya tossed him the keys and he caught them one-handed to three sets of cheers. 

“Bye guys!” Cliff called and spun so Rose was facing them over his shoulder. 

“Bye!” 

“Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do!”

—

[img] Shane next to Rose, Ilya next to Cliff. All in wedding clothes, taken right before the ceremony

[img] a zoomed in picture of Shane and Ilya dancing through a window.

[img] all four in a pile on a couch, cuddling

shanehollanderhockeyplayer Four years ago, @roselandry and @clifffffff07 were the officiant and joint maid of honor at our wedding. We’re honored to be the best men at theirs. We wish you a long, happy life together and we can’t wait for more adventures with you guys!

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[img] Shane next to Rose, Ilya next to Cliff. All in wedding clothes, taken right before the ceremony

[img] a zoomed in picture of Shane and Ilya dancing through a window.

[img] all four in a pile on a couch, cuddling

ilyarozanov81 a couple of couples! Congratulations on finally tying the knot. @roselandry, next time, I’ll introduce you sooner!

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[img] Rose and Cliff’s faces smushed into frame, smiling immediately post ceremony

[img] official wedding picture - Cliff sliding a ring onto her finger at the altar

[img] official wedding picture - Rose and her mom

[img] official wedding picture - both families

roselandry forever tied to my best friend 

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[img] Rose and Cliff selfie in a car from their first date

[img] official wedding picture - both families

[img] official wedding picture - the wedding party (Shane, Ilya, Svetlana, Rose’s brothers, Cliff’s sisters)

[img] official wedding picture - Cliff, his mom, his two sisters

[img] official wedding picture - the bears

clifffffff07 that’s my wife, suckers!

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Chapter End Notes

once this is done, my runaway fic will be ready to go up. Plan is to have the complete first draft done so a ready chapter one can go up on sept 1.

if you want to cast your vote for a title, i’m torn between three:

1. heaven is…
2. little pebble marks (on your car door)
3. (i can hear) the start of a long sigh

I don’t think i have anything else… happy reading, love you all, see you soon!

Chapter 19: what we tell the media

Chapter Notes

hehehe first some devastating pasta this morning, now I deliver some fun pasta by updating this work!

...yes the chapter count updated i have a troy barrett bonus chapter. (technically this chapter wasn't planned and the troy one was, but shhhhhhhh. another chapter!)

anyway, here is a few short scenes of the fallout from last chapter.

June 2021

JJ wiped the sleep from his eyes, grumbling under his breath in French while he mentally prepared to face whoever the fuck was at his door at nine in the morning. Didn’t they know hockey players didn’t wake up on the off season until at least noon?

He threw the door open to reveal Hayden Pike. 

“Hayden,” JJ sighed. “What the fuck are you doing here at fuck ass o’clock?”

“Shane eloped.”

“Huh?” JJ’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. Yeah, they’d eloped years ago and already told JJ about it.

“Shane eloped,” Hayden said, slower. “With Rozanov.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“What do you mean ‘oh yeah’?” Hayden asked, voice pitching up.

“I already knew,” JJ clarified. “Shane told me, like, a few months ago. Well, he and Roz sat me down and apologized for not telling me they were already married.”

“What?”

“They eloped four years ago, Hayden,” said JJ, leaning against the door frame. “They told everyone they were only engaged because they planned to do a vow renewal when they came out, but decided they didn’t want to do that.” He shrugged. “So they had to go around and tell everyone they were already married.”

“You knew?”

“I’ve known for a few months, that’s all.”

“But–”

“But what?” JJ wiped his hand down his face and sighed. “They only invited Rose and Cliff. I’m disappointed I couldn’t attend, but it’s not my wedding or anything so…”

Hayden Pike stood there, unsure of how to continue. When he’d been woken up by his wife, Hayden hadn’t been expecting her to tell him that Shane and Rozanov came out on social media, much less to discover that they were married. Not just married, but apparently they’d been married since longer than Hayden had known about the relationship. They’d been married since the summer after Shane and Rose Landry broke up. It might have been too soon, in Hayden’s opinion, but attempts to bring it up would only be met with reminders (painful reminders) that Shane and Rozanov had known each other longer than they’d known anyone else in their lives and had been involved the entire time. 

“Why would they–” Hayden cut himself off. He wasn’t sure what he thought would happen when he came over, but JJ was the only other person who had contact with Shane still. “Were they planning to come out like this?”

JJ shrugged. “I think so. They were waiting for the right time so I guess after the wedding was the time. They’ve got the whole summer to hide and wait for the–” he waved a hand, “you know to go away, or at least down.”

“Ok…” Hayden wasn’t really sure where to go from here. It was painful to watch his friendship slowly drift apart because Shane’s chosen partner didn’t like him, and visa versa. Not to mention the distance separating them. Now Shane had been married to the asshole since before he was even in Boston–a layer of betrayal Hayden wasn’t ready to examine yet. It reeked of subtle manipulation. Why else would Shane tank his career by coming out to Montreal? He had to know that it wasn’t going to go particularly well. At the time Hayden thought it was just a case of bad timing and poor judgement, but now he wondered how much say Rozanov had in the whole thing knowing that Boston could and would take his husband. 

And how did the Bears feel about this? He thought he remembered being told that Boston was aware on some level of their relationship, but did they feel the sting of betrayal from their captain hiding a marriage? 

“Can I go back to bed now?” Hayden blinked. Right, he was standing on JJ’s stoop.

“Yeah, sorry for bothering you,” he said. “I’m going to go call… Shane… I guess. Bye JJ, I’ll see you at practice.”

“Later, Pike!” was called after him before he heard the click of the door shutting.

—

September 2021

Connors blinked. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”

The reporter did. “With the recent news of the relationship between your captains, how has the team reacted to now having a married couple in the locker room? It’s unprecedented–”

“Oh!” Connors cut her off. “Yeah, I mean they’ve been married for four years, so…” he shrugged.”

“But how has the team reacted to the information? I can imagine it must be a shock–”

“Why? We’ve known for years?” That seemed to silence the reporters. Connors grinned and shot a look over to Hammersmith. “Yeah, you might have just found out about it, but the team’s known basically since Hollander moved here. It wasn’t exactly hard to miss.”

“He means the list we have of how many times we watched Roz walk into walls or trip over nothing cause he was staring with heart eyes,” Hammersmith added. “We do this thing now where we have a private practice but invite our partners to watch. It really just becomes an entire practice of showing off.”

“We started doing it because anytime Roz did something he thought was impressive, he would look over at Hollander like he was waiting for a treat.”

“He still does it too,” Smithy said. “It’s funny. When they told us they were married, it actually made a lot of sense.”

Shane chose that unfortunate moment to join the scrum, Ilya lingering behind him without joining the mass. He held his hand up to shut up the crescendo of shouting to get his attention.

“Hollander,” one of them said, after the noise died down. “Your teammates have said that the news of your marriage wasn’t new information to them–”

Once again, cut off, but this time because Shane–hockey robot Shane Hollander–snorted and covered his mouth to unsuccessfully smother more laughter. His teammates grinned, joining him in his amusement.

“Did they tell you how they found out?” he laughed. “Cause that story is hilarious.”

“Uh, no,” someone said. “Did you disclose your relationship when you joined the team?”

“We did,” Shane confirmed. “We disclosed it with management and HR, but not with the team. Not initially. We wanted to get settled into playing on the same team, and didn’t want to risk ostracization if we weren’t going to be safe. Turns out we didn’t have to worry.”

(Someone’s camera zooms in to capture a very red Ilya Rozanov covering his face with his hands. It will become a meme.)

Connors decided to jump in there. “We thought Roz had a crush on Hollander.”

Shane snorted again and couldn't help the wide grin taking over his face. “They–” he giggled. “They told him…”

The three were leaning on each other for balance as they dissolved into muffled laughter. Ilya was red and shaking his head in the background. “They told him… they had to… they thought Ilya didn’t know he was bisexual,” Shane finished. “They had an intervention where they helped him plan how to ask me on a date…”

All three finally stop trying not to laugh and crumple onto each other.

“We got him to buy flowers and everything,” Connors howled. “We had no clue we just helped him ask his own husband out…”

“We were so fed up with his crush,” Smithy added. “After a year of watching him just be a doofus around Hollander we thought we had to help them! So we did!”

“Ok, ok,” Ilya finally stepped forward to join them. “Yes, that is how they found out. Our team has been very good about us. The people who needed to know we were together, knew. Everyone else eventually found out. My husband thinks the story is too funny.”

Shane leaned into his side. “It is funny. You didn’t even tell me you were going to do it, you just dropped me off at practice and turned around to go buy flowers.”

“It worked out,” Ilya argued. “You said yes.”

“I’m the one who proposed, asshole,” Shane poked him. “You said yes.”

Ilya hummed. 

—

Hayden felt his eye twitch, but he answered the question anyway. “No, none of the Voyagers knew about the relationship before Shane left. We all found out at the same time as everyone else.”

“Is there resentment amongst the team that perhaps Montreal could have gotten both hockey husbands if given the chance?”

He squashed down the very real resentment that Montreal had been given the chance to at least be in on the secret. He didn’t understand why Shane had waited so long to tell him even if he didn’t want to tell the team. Hayden was his best friend–one of his best friends, but still he’d been left in the dark as long as possible. He still wasn’t happy about the confrontation at Rozanov’s house last March, but he’d shoved aside his own feelings to make Shane comfortable enough to still want to hang out with him. It hadn’t been for anything it turned out because Hayden was still left in the dark about the wedding. 

Hayden could answer honestly and say that there was resentment, but not because they would have wanted both Shane and Rozanov, but because the team didn’t like being made to look like fools. “No, we wish Hollander and Rozanov the best of luck on the Bears. Not too much, though.”

The joke didn’t quite land, but it got a few chuckles. 

“Boiziau,” one of the reporters directed their attention to the only other person trusted to handle the early season scrums without getting Montreal in trouble with the media. “As another close friend of both Hollander and Rozanov, how was the fall out amongst friends and family? From the posts it appears that the couple eloped with only Rose Landry and Cliff Marlow. Did this cause strife–”

JJ laughed. “Oh, no, no, no, not at all. I mean, there was some upset that we weren’t all invited, but when they got married, I wasn’t even aware Shane was gay, much less that he was in a long term relationship. I think the only people who knew were Marly and Rose, so…” he shrugged. “I can’t speak for them, I’ll never know what it’s like to be in their shoes, so what I can say is this: both Shane and Ilya are and were entitled to their privacy, both surrounding their personal lives and their relationship. I don’t think anyone will ever know the full details, but that’s not for us to know. I know that they would appreciate if everyone would focus on something other than them and their marriage. It’s why they waited so long to announce it. I’ll also say that they’re little shits who think they’re funny, so do with that what you will. Now does anyone have questions about hockey? I’d prefer if they were about the Voyager’s season and the game we just played.”

Chapter End Notes

one day I'm going to go through and actually edit this whole thing cause I was reading my google doc and wow... i need more eyes on my work... or i need to actually reread some of the chapters before i post them... anyway, off to work on my troy chapter (that i promise to edit before i post)

Chapter 20: the exact shade of his rug

Chapter Notes

troy barrett bonus chapter! I'll remind all of you that I've never read Troy's book, so everything I know about him comes from character breakdowns/think pieces/and fanfiction so bear with me. TT!Troy is very akin to Marlin from Finding Nemo, just a little grumpy pants fighting for his life with three chaotic rookies climbing all over him and his life. Or like an old cat who always looks one second away from killing everyone and himself except the little kitten that he definitely doesn't like, not at all.

The first time Troy saw the Centaurs’ newest rookies, he had a sense of deja vu so intense, he got nauseous. The three seemed to hone in on him for some reason that he couldn’t fathom and no one else was bothered by. With little help from the rest of his team, Troy got somehow fostered with three nineteen-to-twenty year olds determined to kill themselves by accident. Harris (cute, hot, wonderful, too nice, gay Harris) was his only ally, but even he couldn’t redirect the kiddo’s attention. Not that he was trying particularly hard.

Holmberg, Young, and Lapoint had all decided to move in together to save money, splitting a rather large apartment between them. Until a pipe burst and the only option (Troy was determined to prove that Wyatt, and by extension, the rest of the team were lying) was for them to stay with Troy for the week and a half the building was under repairs. 

Why they couldn’t get a hotel was a question that went unanswered no matter how many times he asked it.

So here he was, on a Wednesday night, watching The Greatest Showman while the two worst singers and one unfairly in-tune voice sing along to songs Troy was positive he’s never heard before despite being told they’re fairly popular. The kiddos–because what else was he going to call them–were making less of a mess than he thought they would, but he still wondered how that much popcorn was ending up on his carpet. Look, Troy wasn’t the neatest guy, but his brain was fully developed and with that came an appreciation for not finding smushed popcorn under his couch.

The movie was wrapping up when Troy noticed that it had been eerily quiet for too long. Twisting to look over his shoulder at the occupied couch, expecting to find three somehow-dead bodies, found instead three not-dead-only-sleeping-jesus-christ-why-are-they-breathing-so-slow-give-me-a-heartattck-why-don’t-you rookies. Letting out his sigh of relief, Troy debated for a moment about waking up the pile. He stopped, looming over them and chewing on his lip. First, he did what any good teammate would: took a picture. Staring at it did something funny to his heart that Troy didn’t want to examine, so he decided to delete it and what do you know! He sent it to Harris Drover instead, complete with a cute little caption, the fuckers fell asleep on my couch. What the fuck do I do with them???

The Troy Barrett from Toronto had a whole list of things he would have done, probably ending with waking them up in the most traumatic way he could think of. Ottawa Troy Barrett sighed and bent to pick up the empty popcorn bucket. A mostly empty popcorn bucket–at the bottom sat a handful of smushed popcorn kernels mixed with a few fuzzy red hairs, perfectly matched to the exact shade of his rug.

He grunted, clearing his throat and brought the bowl and the handful of empty soda cans and one lone beer bottle to the kitchen, leaving all of it where he could deal with it tomorrow. It’s only natural on his way back to the living room to go back via the other hallway so he can stop by the blanket closet he had to grab a few of the larger and softer ones. He’s only checking on the kiddos again to see if they’ve managed to wake up–or died–so he can send them back to the guest rooms they’re occupying. Troy draped the blankets over the still sleeping rookies, just because he happened to have them and was being a good host, that’s all. 

With one last look back, Troy clicked off the light and headed upstairs to his own room. By the time he was crawling into bed, there was a text from Harris.

Lol, they’re cute. Let them sleep, they’re fine.

Good night, Troy. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow!

It was too dark to see the non-existent blush on Troy’s face.

He smiled anyway.

—

Apparently, sitting down at a booth with Harris was an open invitation for Young, Holmberg, and Lapoint to join them, loudly arguing over the menu about what they could order to share. Harris couldn’t keep the amused smile off of his face and Troy couldn’t glare at him no matter how much he wanted to. He couldn’t even pretend to want to stay away anymore, or to be upset. Just having Harris at his side, sitting there and looking like that and doing absolutely nothing to corral the rookies Troy had somehow become everything but a legal guardian to. 

And just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, Ilya Rozanov showed up. Literally, at his table, Ilya Rozanov waltzed up and deposited another rookie at the table, shoving him down beside Lapoint. The asshole pointed at the kid.

“Barrett, this is Luca Haas, our rookie. He needs friends.” Rozanov turned to point out each of the other people at the table, one hand still on the kid’s shoulder. “Haasy, that is Troy Barrett, Harris, and fellow rookies: Lapoint, Young, and Holmberg. Ok, have fun.”

With that, the man walked away leaving the kiddo behind. Shyly, but seemingly used to his captain’s particular brand of chaos, he waved at everyone.

“Hi, Roz wants me to make friends.”

“Hey Hassy!” Young greeted. “I’m Young, duh. Do you like wings? Or mozzarella sticks?”

“No!” Lapoint argued. “Jalapaneo poppers! We never find good ones and I’ve heard good things about these ones, I literally asked Hunter if they were good.”

“He only said yes because he didn’t know what you were saying,” Young rolled his eyes. 

“The jalapeno poppers here aren’t great,” Luca piped up. The other rookies groaned, Lapoint loudest of all. “Sorry, but Roz literally warned me away from them. They’re better than other places, but not the best. There’s a place in Boston the next time you guys are there. I’ll take you.”

“Oh my god, Haasy,” Lapoint said, clapping him on the back. “You are my new best friend.”

Troy covered his face and sunk down in his seat. Now there were four of them. At least this one he only had partial custody of. Fuck you, Rozanov.

—

Announcing that he and Harris were finally dating was less of an announcement and more of this:

“Holy shit!” Troy ripped his mouth away from Harris’ “Guys! They’re making out. They’ve figured it out!”

Exchanging a wide-eyed look with Harris, the situation registers. They’ve been walked in on. Dropping his head to his boyfriend’s collarbone, Troy groaned. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, Troy,” Harris reassured. “I don’t think they care.”

He’s right, the rookie that walked into Harris’ office had turned right back around and announced it like they were the ones being stupid about it. Which, Troy had to admit, was fair. Emerging from the office knowing the entire locker room knew exactly what they were doing wasn’t any less embarrassing, even after fixing the ruffled hair and attempting to will the flush away.

—

“What do you want?” Troy glared at Rozanov as he approached. He still wasn’t over the rookie thing and with the added pressures of coming out, Troy wasn’t in the mood to deal with chirping from the menace-duo.

“Wow, we want to talk and now you’re being rude. Shane, they’re being rude!” Rozanov’s voice had a tone that was teasing, but made Troy narrow his eyes.

Troy scowled and watched Hollander pinch his teammate, before turning to Harris. “There’s something Ilya and I want to talk to you guys about. There’s a good take out spot not far.” 

“Uh,” his boyfriend looked at him in confusion. “Sure?”

“Hold on,” Troy interrupted. No way was he going anywhere with Rozanov just so he could get his ribbing in somewhere private. “Why should we go with you anywhere? I’m sorry for being rude, but forgive me if we haven’t gotten the warmest reception from other hockey players.” 

“Fair,” Hollander conceded. “But I think you’ll find we have more in common than just playing hockey. If you want a reference, I think Scott’s around here somewhere, but every time he talks to us he says it gives him stress grays.” 

“What?” Troy wondered what Scott Hunter had to do with this. Just because they were both gay didn’t mean he had anything in common with the dinosaur.

“We’re coming, I have to hear this,” Harris said, dragging his boyfriend along behind without giving him a chance to keep protesting. Hollander and Rozanov followed along behind until they were out of the hotel and leveled out into a more solid group, letting the other two lead Harris and Troy down the street.

“So…” Harris started, prompting the creepiest Hollander grin Troy’d ever seen.  

“Ilya and I got to talking after you guys came out,” he said. Here we go, Troy thought. Then was caught entirely off guard. “We’re—he especially,” Hollander pointed at Rozanov, “are in a lot more danger if we come out too soon. Being on the same team helps, as well as being married–”

Troy choked. On what? Absolutely nothing, but his buffering was ignored as Hollander kept talking. He swore he just heard Hollander come out to them. Not just Hollander, apparently whatever disease was causing his hearing to deteriorate also made him hear the words we and married in relation to Rozanov. 

 “We want to keep the information contained. We’ve done a great job so far, if I can pat myself on the back, but we thought it was time to share with the other gay players.” 

“So, you’re both gay?” He heard Harris ask.

“I’m gay,” explained Hollander. What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck?

“Super gay,” added Rozanov, who broke Troy’s brain further with, “I’m bisexual.”

“I’m regular gay.” Rozanov stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry at his partner in crime. 

“Married?” Troy finally managed to force out, voice going higher than it had ever been since puberty. “Married!?” 

“Da,” Rozanov’s diabolical grin turned on him. “Married.” 

Troy was staring in disbelief, while Harris also stood stunned, but practically vibrating in excitement as he continued to ask questions. “How long have you been married? How long have you been together? There were no signs!” 

“Of course there were no signs! It was a secret.” Hollander sounded exasperated, which was fair. Troy had a laundry list of things he’d done to hide his own sexuality, but somehow Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov hadn’t just managed to hide their sexualities, they’d managed to hide a whole relationship to each other. 

“Forgive my husband,” Rozanov said. And Troy really needed them to let him process all of the information. “People keep asking the same stupid questions.” 

“At least our team didn’t ask stupid questions,” grumbled Hollander. 

“You’re team knows!?” That was the last straw for Troy Barrett. He needed to sit down.

“Yeah, Ilya has a hard time hiding his heart eyes,” clarified Hollander, with an edge of self-satisfaction. “They tried to set us up, so we just told them we were already married.” 

“What? Did you get married when you moved to Boston?” Harris asked and Hollander shook his head.

"Before," he corrected. No. No, Troy did the math, Hollander’s insane transfer to Boston was over three years ago. 

“We’ve been married for four years this summer,” Rozanov said. “We’ve been together a lot longer. See if you can guess, no one gets it right.” 

“Is the answer something insane?” asked his wonderful, handsome, gossip of a boyfriend. “Married for four years means at least since twenty-seventeen, so before then… I’ll put my guess at around the Olympics in twenty-fourteen. Maybe right before.” 

Hollander and Rozanov look at each other, mildly impressed. “Closest anyone has gotten. Answer is two-thousand eight.”

“No,” shouted Troy. “No, don’t walk away.” Those fucking assholes, how dare they? How dare they drop something like ‘we’ve been in a relationship since Troy’s voice started cracking and he realized maybe boys were cuter than girls. “What the fuck do you mean two-thousand and eight? That’s insane. No way that’s the right answer. That’s before either of you were in the NHL!” 

The asshole started laughing at him. “Yes it is Barret! We played in juniors together, remember? Hard to get alone time, but…” 

“Subtle gay flirting was easier to get away with, as I'm sure you know,” Hollander explained, like Troy didn’t know that. “We didn’t hook up until the draft… kinda… but…” 

“You hooked up at the draft? I was… fuck I was still in middle school and you two…” Troy needed to sit down and soon. This was too much. Who did this? Just drop life changing information on two poor souls who will understand and keep your secrets? Troy couldn’t process it all. 

“Yes, us two,” said Hollander. “Come on. We’ll answer more questions over food.”

The couple, the husbands, led them inside a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant and Hollander led them to a booth in the back while Rozanov went to the front to order.

“Ilya will get a few things to share,” he said. “The food here is great.”

Troy stared at the wall over Hollander’s shoulder. Hollander. Shane Hollander was married. He was gay married. Shane Hollander was gay married to Ilya Rozanov. They’d been in a relationship for going on thirteen years. That’s twice as long as Troy had been alive. Every time he’d thrown out a homophobic slur at one of them (usually Hollander, less likely to throw a punch back) they’d been turning around and going home to each other. While Troy had been trapped in Toronto and doing everything he could to hide his sexuality and relationship, Hollander and Rozanov had been there, secretly fucking in the background. 

Jesus Christ, no wonder Scott Hunter complained about stress grays if this is what he had to deal with. The two of them on the same team was already a mind-fuck of epic porportions that no one was prepared to face. Not just on the ice, but the combined ruthlessness of their chirping was– oh, Troy thought, that makes way more sense. Of course they skated and chirped like they were the same person, they were married. Not just married, they were practically an old married couple at this point.

But now the two of them were joined legally. Bonded pair, do not separate.

“Are you planning on coming out soon?” Harris’ voice pulled Troy from his spiraling thoughts. “Like, to the public?”

The recently returned Rozanov nodded. “Yes, soon. We were thinking about the summer.”

“This summer?” Troy asked, wide eyes still bouncing between the couple. 

Hollander shrugged. “Ilya’s American visa is processed and I’m getting tired of hiding. Everyone important knows and I’m pretty sure most of Boston has caught on at this point.”

“Yeah…” Rozanov drawled. “Boston gays have good eyes. We get stopped together by couples all the time for pictures. None of them go on twitter, so who cares.”

“The first few times, it wasn’t great,” Hollander added. “I panicked, but eventually they realized and we realized that it was a gay vibe thing. We just ask them not to post and they get it.”

“Gay people are awesome,” Rozanov grinned.

Troy nodded. “Yeah,” his voice was faint. “Gay people are cool.”

—

May 2022

The Ottawa Centaurs hadn’t quite found their groove, but they’d found enough of a groove that they were staring down the second round of the playoffs. If they win this round of games, they’ll face Boston in the conference finals. (Not that Boston had won yet, but unless something drastic happened, there was no way they didn’t advance.)

“Ok!” Bood shouted. “Look, did we expect to make it this far? Don’t answer that, it doesn’t matter. We did make it this far, we are good enough to win and win consistently. We’re not going to be scared into thinking it was a fluke. The Centaurs are going to go out there and each and every one of us is going to give it our all, do you understand me?” He waited for the whooping to die down. “Good. Now, we focus on winning this, today. Don’t think so far ahead you forget the game you’re playing. Now let’s get out there and show. Them. How. We. Do. It!”

The Centaurs cheered and made their way out to the ice. They really had found their footing as a team. Each of them played like men possessed. Wyatt’s eyes had never been sharper, passes had never been cleaner, and each shot was carefully calculated. The groove was so refined that they were able to drag it out for the full seven games. They might have ultimately lost, but it was a loss they’d fought tooth and nail to prevent.

Disappointment abounded, but none of them could deny the pride at how far they’d gotten and how well they’d played. No one could say the Centaurs hadn’t played some damn good hockey.

They lost at home–not a great feeling–but it meant they could go celebrate at Monk’s. Troy was hoping he and Harris could duck out early, so he nursed his two-and-a-half beers to remain sober enough to drive them home.

“Hey!” a voice shouted. Troy watched Young perk up and nearly tip his chair over in his stumble to stand. Troy caught the back of it and another hand shot out to balance his rookie. 

“Careful!” he griped, to a quick apology before Young vanished towards the voice. If he thought that was the end of it, the other rookies around him (he’d given up on understanding why they always gravitated towards Troy’s personal space) started cheering. Twisting in his seat, Troy saw Young making out with someone he couldn’t entirely see. Their hair fell to their shoulders and they were the same height as his rookie. When Young pulled back and turned to drag them to the table, Troy got a good look at a tall, brunette man. 

“So, uh,” Young started when he got back to the table, fingers intertwined with his lip-locking partner. “You two,” gesturing to Lapoint and Holmberg, “have already met him, but I wanted to introduce him to the rest of the team.”

The guy waved nervously at the team. “Hi.”

“This is Sal,” Young introduced. “He’s, uh, he’s my boyfriend.”

“Hi,” Sal said again. “It’s nice to finally meet you all. Xander always has the best things to say about all of you.”

“Saaallllllllll,” Holmberg shouted. “Fuck yeah, man! Come sit, everyone’ll say hi.”

The kids took a seat and Troy watched and listened to everyone introduce themselves. His throat inexplicably caught on a few emotions bubbling up. His rookie had just come out. Just like that, like it was no big deal. He hadn’t paced it out by coming out to the team first, then introducing a guy. His boyfriend had just shown up and kissed him in public. Troy watched them lean into each other and when he found a moment where they weren’t looking, lifted his phone to snap a picture.

“Who are you texting?” Lapoint tried to lean over. Troy moved his phone out of sight.

“I’m texting Hollander,” he said. “You mind?”

“You know the hockey husbands?” Sal looked excited. “Xander said he’s met them, but…”

“Uh, yeah,” Troy nodded. “I can text them. They’re usually out here for a few weeks in the summer. They’d be thrilled to meet you.”

“Fuck yeah,” Sal said, a little more breathlessly. “They’re, like, huge inspirations. I mean, you are too. And Scott Hunter, of course.”

“Don’t worry, I know that the Hollander-Rozanov’s are a lot cooler,” Troy said. “But I’ll say, I’m proud of you guys. Even if we’ve all already come out, it still takes guts. Especially to just walk into a bar filled with hockey players and kiss.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, Troy!” Young slung an arm around his boyfriend. “Without you and Harris, I might not have figured out I’m gay. Being around a gay couple really put things into perspective and I realized that I wanted that. I wasn’t quite ready to tell everyone, and I kinda wanted to wait until we actually won the cup, but I knew the team would be safe. And I knew you would have my back.”

Troy nodded at the kid and turned his face away to blink away the tears. Fuck you, Rozanov. My rookies are better than yours.

“Can I…” Troy hoped there was nothing showing on his face to betray his soft, gooey insides. “Can I tell them we’ve got another one?”

Young lit up. “Yeah, you can. Luca might have already told them about me, but you can tell them about us.”

Troy nodded. He sent the picture of Young with his arm around Sal, grinning wildly while Sal laughed at whatever joke Dykstra made.

We’ve got another one, he typed. Don’t even think about stealing him. This one is mine.

Chapter End Notes

and that's a wrap on this work! another one done! how’d i do w troy?

there may be more from this universe one day, but it's time to lock in for runaways and finishing the Seattle fic.