Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

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

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Hayden Pike, Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais, J.J. Boiziau, Patrice Drapeau, Gilbert Comeau, Rose Landry, Jackie Pike

Additional Tags:

There Are Other Unnamed Metros Players But I Can't Be Bothered To Come Up With OCs, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Romantic Comedy, romcom, Romance, Comedy, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, POV Shane Hollander, Drama & Romance, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fake Dating, Light Smut, no beta we die like Ilya's father, Mention of Career Ending Injury I'm Sorry, Mention of homophobia from Shane's teammates, Miscommunication, Dialogue Heavy

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-03-20 Completed: 2026-04-02 Words: 30,576 Chapters: 5/5

bad idea, right?

Summary

After making up a fake boyfriend so his teammates would stop setting him up on dates, Shane is suddenly faced with the task of finding a real one on short notice in order to avoid humiliation.

Shockingly, his old rival, Ilya Rozanov, is willing to do what it takes to help him. Even if that means pretending to be in love with Shane for a full weekend.

Chapter 1: one.

Chapter Notes

If you know me you know I can't resist a fake dating trope. Classic for a reason!

“Hollander! Are you listening?” J.J. asked. 

No, Shane was not listening. His ears had been ringing ever since Hayden had suggested the team use his cottage for their weekend getaway. The weekend getaway that had been at their coach’s insistence as some sort of weird attempt at bonding over the summer while they were in their off season.

He could have throttled Hayden for putting him up for it. 

And yet, Shane had been a good captain and nodded his head and forced a smile. “Sure,” he had said. Of course the team and their wives and girlfriends were “more than welcome” to come stay with him for three days. 

Sometimes, Shane really hated playing into that polite Canadian image. It got him into more trouble than it was worth.  

“So, it’s okay if we get there Friday afternoon?” J.J. pushed. 

“Yeah!” Shane replied like an obedient dog. “Sounds great.” 

“Does this mean we’re finally going to meet this mysterious boyfriend of yours?” Hayden asked, sounding a bit annoyed. Hayden was upset that, as Shane’s best friend, he had still not met his significant other. 

What Hayden did not know was that there was a very good reason he had not met Shane’s boyfriend. 

And that was because Shane’s boyfriend did not exist. 

“Oh, I’m not sure—” 

“Shane.”

He had not meant to let the lie get this out of hand. Really. Truly. 

It started over a year ago when Shane had come out as gay, unable to hide who he was from his team any longer. He had been terrified to do it, and forced himself to be relieved when most of the guys seemed to accept him, even if it was not in the most enthusiastic manner. There had been a couple of unsavory looks and impolite comments here and there since then, but his teammates recognized that he was still the best captain in the league and they needed him if they wanted to win another Stanley Cup. 

Shane would take it. He knew things could be worse. 

He had been pleasantly surprised when Hayden and J.J. started asking him about his dating life— of which, there was none. Shane went out and tried to enjoy casual sex as much as he could, but the truth was that he found it a bit too disheartening. He wanted something serious. He wanted a boyfriend. And his two teammates had actually been willing to help. They set him up on more dates than Shane had ever expected to go on in his life. However, after months of this and absolutely no connections made, Shane realized that Hayden and J.J. were easily the worst matchmakers in the world. 

And so, Shane told a lie. 

He told the team that he had met someone. He told them that they had an immediate connection. He told them that he asked the man to be his boyfriend after only one date. 

Shane had been dating this fake man for nine months now. 

He explained to everyone that said boyfriend was private, and Shane could not, would not jeopardize their relationship by letting anyone know any personal details about him. All his team needed to know was that they were in love. 

The explanation appeased the majority of the men because they did not want to bother to actually learn the details of Shane’s gay life, but Hayden and J.J. made it their mission to mention the man almost weekly, begging Shane to finally introduce him to them. 

“Uh,” Shane trailed off, looking around to all the prying eyes around him. 

The weekend was supposed to be for the players and their partners. It would be weird if Shane’s boyfriend of almost a year was not there. 

Still, how on earth could Shane just magically acquire a boyfriend in two weeks’ time?

No, his mind begged. Say “no.” Make up an excuse.

“Yeah,” Shane said slowly. “Yeah, he’ll be there." 

Hayden thumped him on the back. “Yeah, man! Cool!” 

“Cool,” Shane echoed. “Very cool.” 

Fuck. 

Shane needed to find a boyfriend. Fast. 

“Wow,” Rose mused. “You’re an idiot.” 

“Not helping,” Shane muttered, dropping his forehead to the table in a dramatic display of surrender.

“Okay,” Rose said, patting him lovingly on the head. “This is fixable, though. I mean, hello? I know plenty of actors. What do you need? What’s your type? You’ve never even told me. Cute and nerdy? Meathead? Tall, dark and handsome? I can ask Miles to do it.” 

Shane lifted his head back up. “What? No. I can’t ask one of your actor friends to pretend to be my boyfriend. That would be so mortifying.” 

Rose shrugged. “What other option is there? Plus, they can be discreet, you know?” 

“Yeah, but if I ever see them at one of your parties afterwards I won’t be able to look them in the eye,” Shane complained. 

“Okay, so what do you suggest?” Rose wondered. 

Shane sighed deeply. She had a point. “Casting” someone as his boyfriend was almost a failsafe option, as long as he could handle the humiliation that went along with that. “Maybe you’re right. Would Miles go along with it?” 

Rose snickered. “Yeah, I think we both know he would.” 

Shane suddenly felt nauseous. He liked Miles. And he was very attractive. But Shane did not want to lead the man on. That would just make him feel even worse about the whole situation. “I don’t know…” 

Just then, the door of the bar swung open, bringing a warm breeze with it. Shane inhaled sharply as he watched former Boston Raider, Ilya Rozanov waltz into the room. “God. As if this night could get worse.” 

“Hey!” Rose said, sounding offended. 

“Sorry,” Shane replied. “It’s just… It’s Rozanov.” 

Rose turned to look at the man and grimaced. “Oh. yeah. That is bad… Listen, I’ll be right back. I have to pee. Whatever you do, don’t make eye contact with him.”  

“Wasn’t going to.” 

Rose squeezed his hand and made her way to the bathroom, leaving Shane alone. He watched as Ilya made his way over to the bar, and Shane quickly hid his head in his phone. The last thing he needed was for Ilya to see him and—

“Oh my god! Are you Shane Hollander?” a young woman shouted, running up to him. 

Shane nodded and made quick small talk with the fan, hoping that no attention had been drawn to him as he took a selfie with her. 

No such luck.

He looked back over to the other side of the bar and saw Ilya stand up and saunter over to him. 

“Fucking hell,” Shane whispered to himself. 

“Shane Hollander,” Ilya said in that thick, Russian accent. “What are you doing here alone?” He looked at the drink in front of him at the bar. “Are you drinking ginger ale?”

Shane did not even bother to deny it. He knew what Ilya would say next. 

“Oh, Hollander, you are so boring,” Ilya smirked. “You never change.” 

Shane wished that Rose would hurry the fuck up. 

He and Ilya Rozanov had a complicated history, at best. 

The two had been reluctant rivals starting as far back as their rookie seasons— Mostly a fabricated story as it was easy for sports commentators to pit them against one another. But the narrative was not entirely wrong. Ilya had loved intimidating Shane. And Shane had loved beating Ilya. He would never admit it, but Ilya had made him a better player. Every single time they had gone face-to-face on the ice, Shane had felt an exhilaration unlike anything else he felt with other opponents. It was as if all the time he dedicated to training was worth it simply because he got to go up against Ilya Rozanov, the only person he was never embarrassed to lose to. 

That was until Ilya’s career-ending injury two years ago. Many people assumed Shane had been quite relieved to no longer fight for his spot at the top of the leaderboard any more, but that was not true at all. Shane felt such an immense guilt over the fact that he was able to continue to play while Ilya could not that he felt nauseous just thinking about it. Nothing about it had been fair. Shane knew that a knee injury like that could happen to him at any moment as well. It had simply been bad luck. 

Shane often wondered just how much Ilya hated him for being able to live out his dream. Every time they ran into each other, it seemed that he took great delight in belittling Shane. A part of him could not even blame Ilya for it. 

“What are you even doing in Montreal?” Shane wondered. This was pretty much the last place he had expected to see the man.

“I was doing commentary for the game last week,” Ilya shrugged. “You did not know this?” 

He returned the shrug. Of course Shane knew that Ilya did commentary. His quick career change had been quite the headline. It was always in the back of Shane’s mind, despite trying to forget it lest he stew in even more regret that he was on the ice and Ilya was not. His friends and family often told him just how harsh Ilya’s commentary was on him, but Shane never bothered to listen to any of it. He knew it would just mess up his game. “Right. Yeah, of course.” 

For some reason, Ilya decided to sit down next to him. “Too bad about the season, huh? Embarrassing for you.” 

Shane scoffed. “Boston lost too.” The Stanley Cup was going to the New York Admirals this year. 

Ilya nodded. “Hm. Yes. But they lost 2 to 1. You lost 4 to 1. Far more humiliating.” 

“Okay,” Shane relented, seeing Rose walk back from the bathroom, ending a phone call and smiling. 

“Great news,” Rose said, looking down at her phone and not paying attention to the scene in front of her. “Miles is down to pretend to be your boyfriend—” She stopped as she saw Ilya peek out from behind Shane and wave at her. “Shit.” 

Shane felt his whole body go numb. He could practically feel Ilya smiling next to him. 

“Your what?” he asked. 

Shane stared daggers at Rose who mouthed an apology. He did not even care that Rose had effectively outed him to Ilya. He cared that Ilya had heard the words “pretend” and “boyfriend” in the same sentence." Ilya was a dick, but he was definitely not homophobic. Shane remembered when Scott Hunter had publicly come out and Ilya had only taken the time to rib him about his hypothetical hip replacement working against his stamina in the bedroom rather than the fact that Scott would be in said bedroom with a man. 

“My nothing,” Shane responded. “It’s not important. I thought I needed a favor from a friend, but as it turns out, I don’t.” 

Ilya rolled his eyes, clearly not believing him. He signaled to the bartender. “I’m staying. I must hear this story.” 

“Well,” Rose began. “I should go…” 

Shane grabbed her hand. “Are you serious? Don’t leave me with him,” he whispered. 

“I’m so sorry, babe,” Rose apologized, keeping her voice down so Ilya could not hear them. “I have to be on set at six in the morning. Just… make something up. Say you needed a model for a photoshoot or something. Rozanov won’t know the difference.” 

“What’s the point of being an actress if you suck at lying?” Shane asked her. 

She kissed him on the cheek and ran out of the bar. “Good luck.” 

“So strange you two used to date,” Ilya mused, sipping a beer. 

Shane felt his face grow hot with embarrassment. Yes, Shane had attempted to date Rose for two months when he was in the closet and trying to convince himself that he liked women. It was not his proudest moment. He hated that the whole world knew about that. But mostly he hated that Ilya Rozanov knew about it as well, and could use it as more ammunition to make fun of him.

“Yes, well,” Shane began. “It clearly did not work out.” 

“Hm,” Ilya mused. “Yes. And now you are gay and looking for a boyfriend? A fake boyfriend?”

Shane contemplated just standing up and leaving. He doubted that Ilya would follow him asking for more details. “It’s… just for a photoshoot,” he supplied, using Rose’s lie. 

Ilya raised an eyebrow at him, challenging Shane to be honest. 

“I’m not going into detail,” Shane tried. 

“Hollander,” Ilya tried. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll just assume the worst. Or, I will tell everyone online that you are looking for fake boyfriend—” 

“Fine,” Shane exhaled, feeling so nervous he thought he would vomit. “Look, if you tell anyone I said this I’ll deny it. But… the guys are coming to my cottage for the Fourth of July weekend.”

“American holiday,” Ilya interrupted. “Canada Day was right there...”

“Yeah, I know,” Shane huffed. “Believe me no part of this story will make any sense whatsoever.” 

He watched as Ilya’s mouth lifted slightly, as if he wanted to smile at Shane’s lame attempt at a joke.  

“And,” Shane continued. “Everyone is bringing their significant other.” 

“Ah,” Ilya said. “I see. You feel embarrassed that you are big loser with no boyfriend.” 

Shane clenched his jaw. “No. I… I may have told everyone that I already have a boyfriend. They’re expecting to meet him.” 

Ilya laughed loudly. “Hollander! That is funny. I didn’t know you could be funny.” 

Shane turned away from the man and picked up his drink. For once in his life, he wished he was wasted. Maybe then he would have thought the whole situation to be just as hilarious as Ilya did. 

“Okay, so you need boyfriend,” Ilya continued. “That is simple enough.” 

“Sure,” Shane laughed sardonically. 

“This Miles guy seems willing?” Ilya pushed. “What is the problem?” 

Shane was struck by how weird the conversation was. He was sitting with his former so-called-rival, and though Ilya was teasing him, it did not seem as if he wanted to use the information to ruin his life. “Look, we don’t have to discuss this. Why don’t you go back to your friends and tell them how utterly pathetic I am. Have a nice little laugh about that.” 

Ilya almost looked offended at this. “You think I’m an asshole?” 

“I know you’re an asshole,” Shane corrected.

“So, you will ask Miles to do the job then, right?” Ilya reiterated. 

“Uh,” Shane panicked. Yes, he supposed he should just use Miles. He did not feel good about it, though. “I’m not sure.” 

“Why?” 

Shane hated to sound egotistical about anything other than hockey. “I think Miles might… enjoy it too much.” 

Ilya narrowed his eyes at him. “He likes you?” 

“Not in any serious way,” Shane corrected. “I just think he wouldn’t mind… sleeping with me.” 

“And you do not want to sleep with him?” 

“What’s happening here?” Shane interjected. He waved his hands in between the two of them. “We are not friends. Why are we talking about this?” 

Ilya smirked at him once again. “This is the best thing I’ve heard all week, Hollander. I’m very intrigued.” 

Shane pushed out his chair and stood up to leave. “Goodbye, Rozanov—”

“Wait,” Ilya grabbed his arm. “You need a boyfriend.” 

“Yes,” Shane sighed. 

“You need someone who is not attracted to you… Maybe even someone who does not particularly like you,” Ilya continued. “Someone who can take the job seriously.”

“Yes,” Shane agreed reluctantly. “I suppose so.” 

“Use me,” Ilya said as if he was suggesting that Shane order a Coke instead of ginger ale at the bar next time. 

“Wh—What?” Shane spat out. He could hardly believe that even Ilya would be that cruel.

The determination on Ilya’s face was telling a different story though. He did not look devious, or like he was suggesting the most absurd solution possible just to get a reaction out of Shane. Ilya looked like he was serious.

“What?” Ilya repeated back to him, pretending that what he was proposing was completely normal. “I am hot. I am bisexual. I do not like you as person. I am perfect fit.” 

Shane was awestruck. He almost felt a weird kinship with Ilya for moment. “You’re bi?”

Ilya nodded as if Shane should have known that information already. “Seems unfair to only let women fuck me, yes?” He pointed towards his body as if he wanted Shane to picture what was underneath his clothes.

Despite how ridiculous the suggestion to use Ilya was, Shane considered it for a minute. It would be helpful to pretend to date someone he had absolutely no feelings for other than annoyance. But it was still an impossible fix. “No. There’s no way the guys will believe we are together. And besides, they hate you.”

“Many people in Canada hate me,” Ilya provided. “So, what? This way it will make sense why you didn’t tell them about this fake boyfriend of yours.” 

Shane hated that this was starting to sound even a tiny bit reasonable. “I can’t just spring that on them.” 

“Okay, tell them beforehand,” Ilya replied. 

Why the fuck was Ilya so determined to make this work? “And what’s in it for you?” Shane wondered. 

Ilya sucked in a breath and waved his hand dramatically. “I think it will be… funny.” 

“You’re going to make me look a fool,” Shane guessed. 

Ilya did not deny it. 

Shane sat back down in his seat. “That’s not all though, is it? Why would you want to do this? We’re not going to be talking game strategy if you think you can get some sort of insider information out of us.” 

“Please, Hollander,” Ilya dismissed. “You overestimate my allegiance to my former team. I would not go back to them with Montreal’s strategies.” 

Shane somehow knew that was true. 

“Okay. Fine,” Ilya huffed. “I do not want to go back to Russia yet.” 

Shane knit his eyebrows together in confusion. “Then don’t?” 

“I won’t!” Ilya responded childishly. 

“Okay, jeez,” Shane said. “So… you don’t want to go home.” He watched as Ilya flinched at the word. “And you’d rather spend your time with me, at my cottage, pretending to be my boyfriend?” 

“You’ll pay me right?” 

Shane laughed loudly. Ilya Rozanov was not one to be desperate for money. Even as a retired player, he still made millions a year as a celebrity commentator. “Like you need it.” 

Ilya pursed his lips. “I don’t know. I could buy a new television or something.”

Shane squared his shoulders. “Let me get this straight. You want to help me out with this… incredibly humiliating task simply because you’re bored and don’t want to go home for the summer just yet?” 

Ilya nodded. “Da.” 

Shane felt light-headed. He was still unsure why he was even entertaining the idea. But he was desperate. He needed a boyfriend. And Ilya was right that the team would readily believe that Shane had not told them about said boyfriend because he had once been the captain from a competing team. The lie worked out quite nicely.  

“We don’t know anything about each other, though,” Shane stated, still looking for a way to forget this night had ever happened. 

“What is there to know?” Ilya asked. “You live boring life as boring hockey player. You can tell me your favorite color or whatever later. I’ll memorize it.” 

“You’re serious,” Shane realized. “You’re actually serious.” He blew out a breath. “Wow.” 

“What is worse that can happen?” Ilya wondered.  

Shane could think of many terrible outcomes that could occur from agreeing to this.

“Come on, Hollander. Don’t be—” 

“I’m not boring,” Shane interrupted him. He felt a small rage bubble up inside of him. He wondered if he should say yes just to prove Ilya wrong. “Maybe—” 

“Shane!” 

He turned to see Hayden walking towards him with a smile on his face that dropped the second he saw Ilya. 

Shane wondered if this was the only bar in Montreal. 

“Be cool,” Shane whispered to Ilya as he greeted his friend. 

“Rozanov,” Hayden said coolly, nodding at him. “What are you doing here?” 

Ilya simply rolled his eyes. 

“He was doing commentary,” Shane provided. “You know that.” 

Hayden narrowed his eyes, but nodded. “Right.”

“Uh, what are you doing here?” Shane shot the question back to him. It was unlike Hayden to go out late these days since Jackie was postpartum and unamused with him staying out past ten at night. 

Hayden sighed. “Jackie was craving the pizza from this bar, and this bar only. I’m just picking it up and heading back home.” He continued to glare at Ilya as if he could somehow make the man disappear with his mind. “So… you two were just… what? Catching up?”

Shane knew how this looked. Hayden had always disliked Ilya— mostly because Ilya had been a dick to everyone he went up against, but also because Ilya had been a much better player than him. And there was Shane, Hayden’s best friend, seemingly acting chummy with the man. “Oh. Yeah. Kind of…” 

“Honey,” Ilya said, reaching for his hand and making Shane’s heart stop. “Tell him the real reason we’re together. You might as well.”

Shane was ready to kill him. He glanced at Hayden who was furrowing his brows in confusion and Shane prayed the ground would open up and swallow him whole before he had to respond. 

It was too late. The damage was done. Ilya’s hand was on top of his own. Hayden knew that Shane had a secret boyfriend. 

“Ha,” Shane breathed out, hoping that was enough of a reply. “Um… I… Uh…” 

“You’re Shane’s boyfriend?” Hayden asked Ilya. The venom in his voice was hard to miss. 

Shane felt his whole body grow hot. 

“Guilty,” Ilya said. “Now you know why Shane wanted to keep me a secret.” 

“Yeah,” Hayden agreed slowly. He turned to Shane and widened his eyes as if to say: Please tell me this is a joke. 

The excuse would not even work now. Shane felt as though he had only one option. He looked at Ilya who was staring at him with a shit-eating grin.

Shane took a deep breath. “Yeah. Ilya and I… are together.” He almost added a “surprise” to the end of the sentence as if that would make the situation less awkward. Ilya, no doubt taking pleasure in everyone’s discomfort, casually moved his hand up to Shane’s hair to run his fingers through it. It took everything in Shane to remain completely still. 

“Shane,” Hayden said patiently as if he was speaking to one of his children. “Can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?” He nodded to an empty corner of the bar. 

He nodded and quickly followed his friend to a secluded section of the room. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Hayden asked, immediately slapping Shane’s arm. 

Shane knew he had two options: come clean to Hayden or play along with Ilya’s lie. He hated that the latter seemed to be the better of the two. “I know this seems crazy—”

“That’s the understatement of the century!” Hayden laughed maniacally. “Rozanov? How long has this been going on?” 

“I told you!” Shane said, feeling weirdly defensive. “Since… September.” 

“Rozanov is the guy you’ve been seeing? This whole time?” Hayden seemed to be hellbent on giving an Oscar-winning performance. “You’re kidding me, right?” 

“I’m… not,” Shane admitted, looking over to where Ilya was smirking at him at the bar, sipping his drink like he had just won a bet. 

“Did you…” Hayden paused and composed himself. “Did you fall and hit your head? Are you feeling okay?” 

Shane was not an actor. He was not even good at lying. He was unsure why he had allowed himself to get into this position in the first place. He drew his lips into a tight line and nodded. He knew he was just going to have to wing it. “This isn’t quite how I wanted to tell you.”

“No shit. He’s our enemy, Shane.”

“He hasn’t played against us in years.” 

“Doesn’t matter!” 

“Look, Hayden. I’m dating Roz— Ilya. I know you hate him, and I get that, but, just give him a chance. I think you’ll realize he’s not that bad. The way he acts… it’s just a cover.” 

As Shane said the words he wondered if there was any truth to them. He could have slapped Ilya for the way he went about it, but Shane supposed there was something almost nice about the way the man wanted to help him out with his stupid lie. It did not matter what Ilya said about not wanting to go home to Russia, there was truly no reason for him to do this.  

Hayden looked conflicted, but unable to find any more words to express his disgust. “Okay… I mean, I trust you, man. You know I trust you more than anything. But—” 

“I know,” Shane interrupted. 

Hayden shook his head as if he was trying to get rid of the image of Shane and Ilya as a couple and then put on a brave face. “The guys are going to give you a much harder time than I am. Doesn’t matter if you’re captain.” 

Shane closed his eyes. “Yeah.” 

“Good luck, dude,” Hayden said. He grabbed his order and walked out of the bar without even waving goodbye to Ilya. 

Shane took a deep breath and walked back over to his “boyfriend.” 

“What was that?” he exclaimed, pushing Ilya a bit too hard on his shoulder. “Now I have to pretend that it’s you!” 

Ilya seemed quite amused by the whole situation. “Relax, Hollander. I did you a favor. You’re welcome.” 

Shane groaned. “This is… such a bad idea.” 

“What is?” Ilya wondered, trying to sound innocent. 

“I cannot tell the guys I’m dating you,” Shane said, mostly to himself. 

“You can. 

“I can’t. This is ridiculous.”

“Hardly.” 

“Rozanov.”

“Hollander.” 

“This is so stupid.” 

“Just say yes.” 

“No.” 

“Yes.” 

“Fine,” Shane blurted out. He almost slapped his hand across his mouth, wishing he could take back the last five seconds. Why the fuck was he agreeing to this? 

For all this pestering, Ilya actually looked shocked that Shane agreed. “Great.” He pulled out his phone and handed it to Shane. “Put your number in. Send me the address to your cottage. I’ll stop by a day or two early.”

Shane wondered why Ilya felt comfortable enough to order him around. “I don’t—” 

Ilya pointed to the phone. “Number. Now.” 

Shane obeyed.  

Before he could even realize what was happening, they had exchanged numbers and tentatively planned to meet up two days before the Fourth of July in order to learn "everything” there was to know about one another. 

Shane was so incredibly fucked.

Chapter End Notes

Hmm... Ilya seemed pretty determined to be Shane's fake boyfriend. I wonder why.

This was originally a one-shot and then the word count got away from me and my I started going cross-eyed while I was editing. So, multi-chaptered it is!

Chapter 2: two.

Chapter Notes

Shane fluffed the dozens of pillows on his couch over and over again as he willed his nerves to disappear. He had felt skittish all day due to Ilya’s arrival. 

Telling the team that he was dating Ilya Rozanov, of all people, had gone over as well as Shane had expected. Most of the guys begrudgingly accepted it after the initial shock wore off, and some immediately canceled, claiming they could no longer find time to make it to the cottage that weekend, which was fine as far as Shane was concerned. 

Still, a good amount of them promised to get over any weird feelings they had and drive up for the weekend. 

Shane supposed he should simply just accept the fact that he was going to be uncomfortable for the foreseeable future and hope for the best. 

He was unsure what the “best” outcome would be. Everyone accepting Ilya as his boyfriend and acting normal? Or everyone hating Ilya and making it easier for Shane to “dump” him afterwards?

The latter. Shane definitely preferred the latter. 

His doorbell rang and his stomach flipped. Shane forced himself to walk slowly to his front door so as to not seem too anxious. As he pulled the door open, he leaned against the jamb, hoping he looked cool. 

“What are you doing?” Ilya asked, pushing past him.

“Sure, come on in,” Shane grumbled. 

Ilya unceremoniously dumped his suitcase in the foyer and toed his shoes off, looking around at the cottage. Shane suddenly felt even more nervous than he had before. He did not know why. It was not as if he cared what Ilya Rozanov thought of his home. 

“It’s nice,” Ilya announced. “I did not know you had style. Impossible to tell from your clothes.” 

Shane did not mention that he had hired an interior designer for the whole house. “Yeah, thanks.” 

He directed Ilya to the living room and nodded for him to sit down. “Can I get you something to drink?” 

“Do you have anything here besides ginger ale?” Ilya asked with a shit-eating grin. 

“Yes,” Shane answered, annoyed. His fridge was stocked with his favorite brand, but he was not going to let Ilya tease him about that. 

“Vodka?” Ilya wondered. 

“It’s, like, eleven in the morning,” Shane said. When Ilya simply stared at him over the edge of the couch, Shane got to work and opened the vodka, pouring some into a glass. “Neat?” 

“Yes, that’s fine, thank you,” Ilya replied. 

Shane joined him on the couch. “I know you’re Russian, but try to pace yourself. We have a lot to cover.” 

Ilya pinched the bridge of his nose. “Relax, Hollander. I’m not going to get drunk. I’ll be a perfect student. Go on, tell me about yourself.” 

Shane felt his palms sweat. “Right. Okay. Well, I was born in Ottawa—” 

“Not things I can find online,” Ilya interrupted. “I’ve read all that.” 

Shane tried to keep his expression neutral. Ilya Rozanov had searched his name online. Maybe more than once. He knew where he was born. “Uh…” he could not find the words to continue. 

“What was your first sexual experience like?” prompted Ilya. “Tell me in detail.” 

Shane felt his cheeks grow warm. “I’m not fucking telling you that. And why would that prove that we know each other?” 

“Boyfriends tell each other everything, yes?” 

Shane supposed that was true. “Yes, but… Look, most of the guys are still trying to wrap their heads around the fact that I’m gay. They’re not going to ask us what the other’s first sexual experience was like. We just have to know cute, surface-level details about one another. Like… what your favorite song is, or something like that.” 

Ilya pursed his lips, looking annoyed. “Okay,” he said. “What’s your favorite song?” 

Shane paused. He did not really have a favorite song. He rarely listened to the radio. He watched as Ilya rolled his eyes and fell back onto the sofa. “Fuck, Hollander. Do not tell me you don’t have a favorite song.” 

“Okay! That was a bad example!” Shane dismissed. “Color. My favorite color is blue.” 

“Blue, like the blue on your Metros jersey?” Ilya guessed. 

Shane nodded, unable to look at Ilya. 

“Fine,” Ilya said. “That’s something at least. My favorite color is green. Like the color you are wearing right now.” His eyes drifted down slowly. 

Shane looked down to his shirt. It was a nice forest green color. “Oh. Cool.” He weirdly felt self-conscious knowing that Ilya was staring at his chest. He thought of what to say next. “Favorite food?” 

“Chicken parmesan,” Ilya answered. 

“Really?” Shane responded. 

“Yes. Why? You don’t like it?” Ilya seemed offended. 

“No… chicken parm is good,” Shane rectified. “Um. I guess mine is grilled salmon—” 

Ilya stared at him. 

Shane sighed. “Chocolate,” he corrected. “I like a Snickers bar. Not that I ever have them. Once a year, maybe.” 

“Sad life,” Ilya observed. “Maybe I like cookies and cream ice cream more than chicken parmesan.” 

Shane smiled, immediately picturing Ilya eating an ice cream cone. Licking an ice cream cone.

He paused, swallowing a bit too hard. He was not sure why that image popped into his head. 

Maybe once this was all over, he would make an effort to find a boyfriend. A real boyfriend. He clearly was desperate for... some sort of affection.

Shane shook his head, forcing a laugh. “That’s a much better answer.” He fell back onto the couch, mirroring Ilya’s relaxed position. He hated what he wanted to ask next. “Should we think about… more couple-y things?” 

“Like what?” 

He took a deep breath. “Like… How do you think we got together?” 

Ilya tilted his head. 

“Obviously the guys know how we met,” Shane continued, feeling as if he was already rambling. “But, they don’t know how we…” 

“Sealed the deal?” Ilya provided. “Became lovers?”

“Ugh,” Shane muttered. “But yes.” 

“Late night locker room after working out? You stared at me in the showers. I took pity on you,” Ilya said, sounding sure in his lie. 

“What? No,” Shane blanched, hating the face that he immediately pictured the fake scenario in his head. “That’s not romantic at all.” 

He regretted the words the second they left his mouth. 

“Oh, I see,” Ilya taunted. “Okay. I can be romantic.” 

“Doubt it,” Shane dismissed quickly.  

Ilya leaned forward. “How about we met at a bar after a game? Empty. No one around. Me with my beer. You with your ginger ale. And we simply got to talking. Found out we have a lot in common.” 

“Like what?” Shane questioned, knowing there was no way they had anything in common. 

“Maybe we talked about our favorite cities to play in,” Ilya suggested. 

“Ottawa,” Shane supplied. 

“New York,” Ilya said. “Or, we talked about what position we played in high school.” 

“Center.” 

“Right wing.” 

Shane watched as Ilya took a long sip of his drink. “Or, we talked about our favorite moves,” he continued. 

“Datsyukian deke.”

“The Rozanov.” 

Shane shook his head, laughing. “That doesn’t count. You made that move up.” 

“It’s gaining traction," Ilya argued. “Will be very popular move soon. Not many can do it.” 

Shane drew his lips into a tight line. It was shockingly hard to keep himself from smiling around Ilya. He could have never predicted that the two of them could have a civil conversation that lasted this long. Most of their exchanges had been intimidation tactics on the ice, or in the gym. Shane could count on one hand how many times they had actually had a pleasant conversation instead of their usual ones that ended with Ilya trying to one up him. 

“What?” Ilya asked, staring him down. 

“Nothing,” Shane replied. “It’s just… I’ve never seen this side of you… You’re not… all that bad.”

“This is a compliment from you?”  Ilya wondered. “Shit, Hollander. Stop it. I’m blushing.” 

“I just mean, it’s surprisingly easy to talk to you,” Shane paused. “No, wait. That’s not true,” he corrected. “You make it incredibly difficult to talk to you. But, I’m just realizing now it’s actually easy to not care about you judging me when I talk to you.”

Ilya smirked and nodded as if he understood. “You are generally more guarded?” 

Shane’s first instinct was to lie. But for what reason? He and Ilya were already mixed up in the weirdest roleplay known to man. “Yeah… In a way, this is almost refreshing,” he admitted. 

Ilya looked like he did not believe him. “How is that?” 

Shane chuckled. “Well, I’m surrounded by a lot of sycophants. It’s, uh, nice that you don’t unnecessarily flatter me ever. Makes me feel like you’re always telling me the truth.” 

“I am,” Ilya replied. “I do not see any purpose in lying to you. Too much effort.” 

Shane smiled. “Yeah. I feel the same way.”

Ilya shook his head. “No. You lie all the time. You refuse to admit that I was a better player than you—”

Shane hit him with a pillow. 

“Yuna and David,” Ilya recited. “Yes, I know. I got it, Hollander.” He stuffed his face with pasta as Shane went over the notes he had meticulously written down to quiz his new “boyfriend.” 

“And what am I allergic to?” Shane asked. 

“Spontaneous fun?” Ilya suggested, winking at him in the most annoying way possible. 

Shane kept his face neutral until Ilya groaned, muttering “strawberries” under his breath.

“Good,” Shane replied. He placed his notebook to the side and crossed his hands in front of him. “So, what else should I know about you? We’ve covered almost everything including details I did not ask for—” 

“My boyfriend would know about my lack of gag reflex.”

“Right,” Shane dismissed, ignoring the odd feeling in his stomach once again. “You know… You’ve told me nothing about your family.” 

“Nothing to know,” Ilya dismissed. “My parents are dead.”

Shane sucked in a breath. He knew it was stupid to feel guilty for having two living parents, but he suddenly did. And he had just spent a good hour bragging about them to Ilya. “I’m sorry.” 

“Why?” Ilya said. “Did you kill them?”

Shane was about to apologize again when Ilya dropped his fork and rubbed his hands over his face. “Is okay, Hollander. I mean… not okay, but…” 

“Yeah,” Shane added uselessly. 

“My mother...” Ilya began. “She was great. She was beautiful and funny. And cool. So cool. You would have been very intimidated by her.” 

Shane could not help but laugh. “I’m sure.”

“I miss her very much,” Ilya finished, picking up his fork again and staring at his plate just to avoid eye contact. 

Shane had never seen Ilya look so soft. He almost did not want to say anything else, but his curiosity got the better of him. “And your father? I, uh… I think I remember him. He shook my hand once during rookie season. I don’t think he liked me very much.”  

“No,” Ilya agreed. “He did not like you. But do not take it personally. He hated anyone who won against me.” 

Shane nodded, unsure what to do with that information. “Well, you won against me as well. It wasn’t one-sided.” 

It was not as if it was a secret. Whenever Shane and Ilya had gone toe to toe it had been in public and televised. Still, admitting out loud to Ilya that he was just as good of a player as Shane felt oddly intimate. 

He watched as Ilya knitted his eyebrows together, like he was trying to find the right words. “My father was an asshole. Don’t worry about him. I would never talk about him to a significant other.” 

Shane decided not to push. “Okay.” He twisted his hands in his lap. “Well, if you ever wanted to talk to me about him, just let me know.” 

Ilya raised his head, narrowing his eyes at Shane. “Maybe,” he finally said after a moment of silence. 

Shane slid his notebook over to Ilya. “Just in case you want to study before bed later.” 

Ilya picked up the book and flipped through the pages. “Hm, yes. This will probably help me sleep. Thanks, Hollander.” 

Shane woke up suddenly to the sound of his front door alarm going off. He rushed to put on his glasses and grabbed his phone, carefully walking down the stairs and readying to dial the police. He stopped as he saw Ilya frozen in place at the door, his shoulders raised in surprise like a child who had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

“Jesus, Rozanov,” Shane said, relief flooding his body. “I was about to call the cops.” He took in Ilya’s very toned, very naked chest as the man turned around to face him. Shane quickly forced his eyes back up to Ilya’s face and saw a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. “You smoke?” 

Ilya removed the cigarette from his mouth. “Problem?” 

“No,” Shane replied, feeling childish. He ran to the alarm and turned it off. “It’s not good for you, you know?” 

“Woah,” Ilya gasped. “Are you serious? It’s bad for you?” 

Shane scrunched up his face in confusion. “Yeah. It’s incredibly bad for you. Do you really not know that? Did they not have those scary commercials in Russia—” He stopped as he saw Ilya trying to not laugh at him. “Asshole,” Shane muttered. 

“I am well aware it is bad for you,” Ilya said . “I am trying to quit, but uh…” 

“Being in my presence is stressful?” Shane guessed. He carefully looked Ilya up and down once again. Now that they were standing close together, he could see just how many moles decorated Ilya’s chest. He felt a weird desire to trace them with his finger. He snapped his eyes up to see that he had been caught staring. Ilya grinned at him. Shane opened the front door and ushered him out. “Go on. Be quick.” 

Ilya pocketed the cigarette. “I’m okay now.” 

“Not stressed anymore?” Shane wondered. 

Ilya seemed to ponder this. “No.” 

Shane closed the door and they both carefully walked back into the foyer. He took a sharp turn into the kitchen to get a glass of water, and was slightly startled to see that Ilya had followed him instead of going back up to his room. 

“Do you, uh, need anything?” Shane asked. “Water?” 

“Sure,” Ilya responded. Shane hated that every single time Ilya spoke it sounded like he was purring. Like he was constantly trying to seduce a person with even the most boring of sentences. It was a reason why people loved his commentary. They said he made discussing hockey strategy sound like pillow talk. 

“You wear glasses,” Ilya observed. 

Shane instinctively reached up to pull the glasses off. He had only just started needing them. He thought he looked absolutely ridiculous in them so he tried to wear his contacts as much as possible. “Yeah. Not even thirty yet and my eyesight’s going,” he tried to joke. 

Ilya tilted his head. “Well, put them back on then.” 

Shane did so, grateful he could see again, but annoyed that Ilya was staring intensely at him. 

“They suit you well,” Ilya said. “Sweetheart.”

Shane felt his whole body grow warm. Ilya was playing with him. And Shane’s body was reacting as if they were actually flirting. He hated the man. He hated himself. 

Shane pushed a glass of water towards Ilya and immediately walked out of the kitchen and back upstairs to his bedroom. He was so determined to get where he was going that he did not realize that Ilya had followed him once again until he felt a breath on the back of his neck as he reached his door. “What are you doing?” he asked, turning around. 

“Wanted to see your bedroom,” Ilya shrugged. “Since I’ll be sleeping in here starting tomorrow.” 

Shane inhaled sharply. He had forgotten about that. Of course Ilya would be sleeping in the same room as him. His teammates were arriving in the morning and they were not going to believe that he and Ilya had been dating for almost a year and still slept in separate beds. Shane had stupidly told Hayden that his mystery boyfriend was the “best he had ever had” late one night three months ago after he had indulged in one too many glasses of wine at a dinner party. He turned on the lights and waved his hands uselessly. “Okay. Here you go. Here it is.” 

Ilya decided to walk into the room and look around. “Very nice,” he said. “Very boring.” 

Shane threw his hands up in frustration. “Great. Well, goodnight.”

Ilya sat down on Shane’s bed, leaning back like he had no intention of leaving the room. “Hang on, Hollander. I just thought of something.” 

“What?” 

“We haven’t kissed.”

Shane almost dropped his glass of water. 

“We should kiss,” Ilya continued. 

“What are you talking about?” Shane exclaimed. 

Ilya just shrugged. He did not look like what he was proposing was utterly ridiculous. “We are a couple, yes? We would kiss. A lot. We should practice. Otherwise your teammates will not believe us.” 

“We’re not going to be making out in front of them,” Shane sputtered. “Maybe a peck here or there, but that’s all.” 

“Okay, come on, then,” Ilya said.  “Give me a small kiss.” He held out his hands and motioned for Shane to come towards him.

Shane stood completely still, waiting for Ilya to admit he was simply joking. He never did. Shane was certain if he did not just kiss Ilya and get it over with, they would be up all night. If there was one thing he knew for certain about Ilya Rozanov, it was that the man was stubborn as fuck and usually got what he wanted. Shane rolled his eyes and padded over to the bed. He leaned forward, using his hands to brace himself on either side of Ilya’s thighs. Without thinking too hard about the situation, Shane kissed Ilya as quickly as he could, trying not to linger. As he pulled back, Ilya reached up to hold the back of Shane’s neck to keep him close. 

“Not a kiss you would give Pike,” Ilya whispered. “A real one.”

“I would never kiss Hayden,” Shane whispered back. 

“Hollander.”

Frustrated, Shane kissed Ilya once more, slightly opening his mouth this time. This allowed Ilya the chance to suck on Shane's top lip which was far more pleasant than he expected. Shane hated how nice it felt to kiss someone, even if that someone was a former rival who did not like him very much. The second he felt Ilya’s tongue up against his lips, begging for attention, Shane broke away from the hold and backed away slowly.

“Happy?” he asked, feeling flustered. 

Ilya only smirked at him before standing up and walking out of the room. “Goodnight, Shane.” 

He felt his breath catch as he realized that Ilya had called him “Shane” for the first time since they had met each other. 

Shane could barely stand still as he waited for his teammates to arrive. He could feel Ilya’s eyes on him as he paced around his kitchen island. 

“Oh my god, Hollander,” Ilya whined. “Sit down. It’s fine. We quizzed each other all day yesterday and this morning. We’re good. Your friends won’t question our relationship.”

Shane sighed. “There’s a… chemistry though, right? That’s something you can’t fake. I certainly can’t… They’re gonna know. Fuck, they’re gonna know.” 

Ilya stood up and walked over to him, grabbing Shane’s arms and holding him still. “Relax. They won’t know. I am good actor.” 

“I’m not,” Shane responded. 

“Then I will be good actor for both of us,” Ilya said simply. He began rubbing his hands up and down Shane’s arms in an attempt to calm him down. It was, no doubt, something a boyfriend would do. “Trust me.” 

Shane was not sure why he believed him. He truly had no reason to. Before he could open his mouth to freak out even more, the doorbell rang. Shane whipped his head around to see Hayden and Jackie standing outside, staring at them through the window with confused faces, as if they still could not believe that he and Ilya were dating. 

Shane rushed to the door and let them in. “Hey! Come on in.” 

“Rozanov,” Hayden nodded to the man, not offering his hand to shake. “This is my wife, Jackie. Jackie, this is Ilya Rozanov.” 

Jackie at least stepped forward to introduce herself, remaining polite. 

Shane watched as Hayden pulled her back, wrapping his arm around her shoulder in a move so practiced it made him nervous. He looked up and down at the couple in front of them. He had seen Hayden and Jackie interact with one another a million times before, but now Shane was hyperaware of just how easily they gravitated towards one another. As if their bodies were meant to slot together. 

There was no fucking way that anyone would believe that he and Ilya were a couple, let alone one that had been seeing each other for almost a year. 

As if Ilya could sense that Shane was internally freaking out, he lightly grabbed the back of his neck and squeezed. The tension Shane normally held in his body at all times quickly melted out of him. Ilya then dragged his hand down Shane’s back slowly, the way a lover would. “Can we give you a tour? Shane?” 

Shane could only nod.

He watched as Ilya, who had arrived the day before, showed Hayden and Jackie around the cottage as if he owned it. It was a spectacle to behold. Shane wondered if Ilya had stayed up the whole night memorizing the layout of the house. He fit into the environment so well. 

“I can’t believe we've never been here before,” Jackie observed. “It’s great, Shane.”

“Oh, I tell him he should invite more people over all the time,” Ilya lied. “But this is where he comes to relax. Do not take it personally. Hollander needs his alone time.” 

“You sure know your way around,” Hayden said. 

“Well, yes,” Ilya retorted. “I’m allowed to come over whenever I want.”

“And how is being around you relaxing?” Hayden quipped.  

Ilya turned to smirk at Hayden. “I’m very good at getting Hollander to relax.” 

“Okay!” Shane interjected. “Let’s go outside. Wait for everyone else to arrive. Jackie— mimosa?”

“Yes, please.” 

“I’ll help,” Ilya offered, ushering Hayden and Jackie outside before retreating to the kitchen with Shane. “Is going well so far, yes?” 

Shane took a deep breath. “Please, do not mention our sex life in front of my teammates. Don’t even reference it.”

“You do not like it?” Ilya wondered. 

Shane felt his jaw drop. He was unsure who would actually enjoy talking about that in front of their co-workers. He ignored the small shiver down his spine as he thought about everyone knowing what Ilya did specifically in order to make him relax. “I… No, Rozanov, I do not like that.” He paused. “Also, we should call each other by our first names, right? We’re in love. We would use our actual names…” 

“Okay,” Ilya said simply. “Shane,” he drew out. 

It was only the second time that he had used his first name and Shane felt just as thrown as he had the night before. “Ilya,” he whispered. 

He watched as Ilya’s eyes dropped quickly to his mouth for a second before he turned on his heel and reached for the most expensive bottle of champagne that Shane had. 

“What are you doing?” Shane asked as Ilya expertly ripped the foil off the bottle and immediately started popping the cork. “That’s for special occasions only—” 

It was too late. The bottle was open. 

“This is special occasion?” Ilya said, sounding confused. “You are introducing your teammates to your hot boyfriend. Big day for you.” 

Shane rolled his eyes before he felt Ilya’s hand on his chin, holding his face still. The subtle dominance caught him off guard. He barely had a moment to compose himself before Ilya was kissing him quickly. “Hayden is looking,” was his explanation as they broke apart. 

Shane felt his breathing grow uneven as he thought about how many times he would have to kiss Ilya just because someone was “looking.” He forced a laugh. “Right. Yeah.” 

He walked back outside to where Hayden and Jackie were standing awkwardly, trying not to comment on the fact that Shane was seemingly in love with Ilya Rozanov. 

Ilya, however, could not sense any of the awkwardness. Or, if he did, he thrived on it. Unlike Shane who worried he was physically shaking with nervousness— Nervousness that did not go away as his other teammates arrived and assessed Ilya up and down like they had thought that Shane had been lying up until that very moment. Shane, who was normally the world’s biggest lightweight, was not even getting tipsy off the champagne that he was drinking. His body was simply too tense to relax. 

“Wow,” J.J. said to him in French as soon as they were alone. “This is so fucking freaky. I thought you hated the guy.” 

“He’s actually not too bad,” Shane replied, almost forgetting that he was supposed to be quite fond of Ilya. “What I mean is… Just give him a chance.” 

He looked over to where Ilya was rolling around on the ground. One of the guys had brought his dog to the cottage and it seemed that while Ilya might have had trouble charming humans, the same was not true with animals. Ilya looked like he had when Shane had first met him, back when they were rookies, young and mischievous. 

Shane turned back to J.J. who was staring at him in a weird way. “What?” 

J.J. simply raised his eyebrows, clearly trying not to look horrified. “You’re smiling like an idiot. I’ve never seen you this way… You really like him.” 

Shane had not realized he was smiling. He almost dropped it before forcing himself to nod. “Yeah. I really do.” 

He wondered why it did not feel like a lie to admit that. 

Hayden walked over to them, slapping Shane on the shoulder. “So, Hollander. When are you and Rozanov going to tell us the story?” 

“What story?” J.J. asked. 

“The story of how they got together,” Hayden provided. “I think we’re all a little… uh… curious to know how that happened.” He could tell Hayden was trying to sound excited, but the strain in his voice gave him away. 

Shane looked up to find the team and their partners staring at him, waiting for him to speak. Ilya was still on the ground, wrestling with a dog. “Right. Um… Well, it’s not that interesting—” 

“No way that’s true,” J.J. laughed sardonically. 

Shane wished that Ilya would look up at him and somehow sense how uncomfortable he was. But he was not sure that was something even real couples could manage. He thought back to the lie he and Ilya had invented last night. “It was… after a game. A rough one. I think we lost by three points.” 

“Tampa?” Hayden guessed, clearly doing math in his head to figure out what game it could have been. 

“Yeah,” Shane lied. “Yeah, I think you’re right. Tampa. I, uh, went out to a bar afterwards. Which, you all know, is not like me.” There were a couple of awkward laughs. It was true that Shane could be a bit of a homebody and rarely went out to bars unless he was meeting up with Rose. “Roz— Ilya had been doing the commentary for that game, luckily.” 

“What was lucky?” Ilya interjected, running up to Shane and throwing an arm around him, squeezing his shoulder in a way that was oddly comforting. 

Shane glanced at Ilya quickly. He looked like he was trying to silently apologize for leaving Shane alone with his teammates. Not that he had any reason to apologize for that at all. It was then that Shane realized Ilya had noticed that he was uncomfortable, even from across the yard. “That you were at the same bar as me… The night we met,” Shane explained. “After that terrible game against Tampa.”

“Oh yes,” Ilya said, digesting the lie. He leaned forward and kissed Shane quickly on the cheek. It was so natural that Shane felt his breath catch at the gesture. “I could tell that Shane felt he had let the team down. He’s so hard on himself.” 

Hayden reluctantly nodded like he could not believe that he and Ilya agreed on something. 

“I’ll admit,” Ilya continued. “I went over to tease him a bit. He’s always so fun to rile up.” 

Shane could not help but scoff at this. Ilya never teased. He purposefully perturbed. It was relentless. It was constant. He had no doubt that if this story about how they got together actually were to be real, it would have involved Ilya annoying Shane to the point where he kissed him just to shut him up. 

Not that Shane would ever do that. 

“But after a minute or two, I could see that he was really hurting,” Ilya said. “So, I tried to take his mind off things—” 

“By…” Jackie pushed, raising her eyebrows. 

“By asking him questions about his next game, of course,” Ilya supplied, pretending to look scandalized while Jackie laughed. 

Shane rolled his eyes, hoping that people found the gesture playful. “We talked for a long time that night,” he told everyone. “About hockey. And just life in general. And, um, we found out we actually didn’t hate each other at all.” 

“Oh, I never hated you,” Ilya clarified. 

Shane raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, right.” 

“I didn’t,” Ilya insisted. 

Shane stared at him. Ilya was good at this. Really good. Shane almost believed him. 

“Ugh,” J.J. said, disrupting the moment. “You two are a bit too mushy for me.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Jackie announced. 

Hayden downed his drink. 

Somehow the group, a bit too drunk for their own good, decided on charades. Shane did not even want to participate. He was not great at party games. He got weirdly competitive, like he was back out on the ice, and often had to end up apologizing for an outburst, but Ilya opened his big mouth and claimed that they were an “excellent” team whenever they went up against Yuna and David. 

“That was a stupid lie,” Shane whispered as everyone sat down. 

“It will be fine,” Ilya told him. “Relax, Shane.” 

Shane opened the first clue and silently cursed. 

Titanic. 

Shane had no fucking clue how to look like a boat crashing into an iceberg. And what was worse was that he already felt a great anxiety over the fact he and Ilya would not get the point. 

The timer started and Shane immediately focused on Iyla who was sitting forward on the couch urging him to go for it. 

Film, Shane mimed. One word. 

“Okay, film, one word,” Ilya repeated back. 

Shane thought back to the movie he had not seen in years. He was not, admittedly, a big movie person save for the ones he watched on planes, or anything Rose was in. He looked over to one of the gigantic windows that made up his cottage and got an idea. 

Ignoring the annoying tick of the timer, he ran over to the window and slammed his hand up against it in a dramatic manner.

“Oh, Titanic,” Ilya said easily. “Car sex scene. Of course.”

The rush of adrenaline Shane felt was akin to scoring a goal. “Yes!” he shouted, reaching out and high-fiving Ilya. Shane realized that was something that boyfriends might not do. “Good job, babe,” he added, leaning forward to kiss Ilya. Shane suddenly felt everyone’s eyes on them. Someone coughed awkwardly. 

“Wait a minute,” Hayden interrupted. “That feels like cheating. Are we allowed to use props?”

“Window is barely a prop,” Ilya scoffed.

Shane hated his best friend at that moment. He felt that horrible competitiveness itching to make itself known. “Ilya guessed the word. And in less than ten seconds. That’s all that matters.” 

“I’m just saying…” Hayden held up his hands. 

“Boo!” Ilya shouted. “Boo, Hayden, boo!” 

The women in the room, including Jackie, joined in. Shane smirked at Ilya. He knew that was hardly for his benefit, but he felt grateful to Ilya nonetheless. He joined him on the couch and tried to ignore how Ilya’s arm instinctively went around his shoulders. 

Ilya was a fucking natural at this. Shane wanted to ask if he had ever been a fake boyfriend for someone else before he realized that Ilya had probably just been a real boyfriend to someone and he was the big loser who had no experience being in a relationship. 

“Put your hand on my thigh, darling,” Ilya whispered in his ear as the next pair stood up for their round. 

Shane debated this. He looked around. Most of the couples were leaning into one another, but none of them looked that comfortable. “You’re crazy,” Shane whispered back. 

Ilya only winked playfully at him. 

Still, Shane wondered what it would feel like. 

He ignored the urge to grab Ilya’s thigh for the rest of the game. 

“You are upset,” Ilya guessed as they climbed into bed together that night— an action so odd to Shane he was completely ignoring it so as to not freak out. 

“I’m not mad,” Shane lied, putting on his glasses to read a book to calm down.

Ilya laughed out loud. “Shane, it was just game of charades. Not hockey. You don’t have to win everything.” 

Shane sighed deeply, shutting his book as quickly as he had opened it. “I know that.” 

“So, you want to be big spoon or little spoon?” Ilya asked as he ripped his shirt off. 

Shane opened and closed his mouth several times before speaking. “No one is being a spoon. And put your shirt back on.” 

“This is hard enough for me,” Ilya protested. “I usually sleep naked.” 

Shane’s mind betrayed him as he pictured it. 

Huh. 

That was weird. 

Shane was not blind. Ilya was very attractive. But he was not attracted to Ilya. The man was simply not his type. 

Not that Shane knew what his type was. Handsome. Athletic. Curly hair. Nice eyes. 

He paused again. He was describing Ilya. Fucking hell.

“Fine,” Shane said eventually, hating where his mind had taken him. “You can sleep with your shirt off, but stay on your side.” 

“Yes, Captain,” Ilya joked, turning away from him and resting his head on the pillow. 

Shane sat there, unmoving. For a minute or for an hour, he could not be sure. 

Ilya calling him “captain” had made his stomach drop. 

No. That was not it. 

Shane swallowed. Hard. 

It had turned him on.

He quickly shut off the lamp on his nightstand and shut his eyes tightly, willing himself to fall asleep and forget what had just happened. 

Chapter End Notes

Don't worry, Shane. Probably means nothing.

Chapter 3: three.

Chapter Notes

After taking hours to fall asleep, Shane was almost shocked to be stirred awake by his alarm. He had been certain he would be up all night. As he gained consciousness he realized he was draped over something hard and warm. 

Shane pulled back violently. 

Ilya slowly turned and smirked at him. “Hollander, if you wanted to cuddle, you just had to ask—” 

“Shut up,” Shane interrupted. “That was a mistake.” 

Ilya rolled his eyes and got out of bed. “Whatever you say.” 

Shane tried hard not to look as Ilya walked into the bathroom in just a pair of black boxer briefs.

He was simply a lonely, horny man, confused by the fact that there was another body in his bed. That was all. He did not have a crush on Ilya, or anything like that. Even if he had been extremely fun and shockingly pleasant to be around the day before. 

“Get it together,” Shane whispered to himself. “It’s all fake.” 

He tried not to think about how he was so desperate for connection that the minute someone gave him fake attention he had confused it for something real. 

“It’s five in the morning,” Ilya announced as he walked back into the room.

Shane nodded. He knew this. He always woke up that early. 

“What the fuck, Shane?” Ilya asked, looking incensed. “I haven’t woken up this early in years. We are on vacation.” 

“Well, you can go back to bed,” Shane grumbled, quickly being reminded why he found Ilya so irritating. 

“No, no,” Ilya denied. “I’m up.” He looked around the room. Shane desperately wished he would put on a shirt. “So… What do you do when you wake up this early?”

“Uh, yoga,” Shane admitted. “Then sometimes I go swimming in the lake.” 

Ilya threw his arms up in the arm. “Okay,” he said. “Teach me yoga.” 

Twenty minutes later Shane was trying hard not to laugh as he demonstrated pigeon pose. Ilya, though in incredible shape, was not flexible at all. He moved off his mat and tried to adjust Ilya as best as possible, ignoring how hard the man’s muscles felt in his hands. 

“Is impossible,” Ilya groaned, falling over. “Why would anyone need to be this flexible?”

Shane felt flushed at the question. He did not want to answer it. “Stretching like this is good for you, Ilya. Especially in your old age.” 

“You are older than me,” Ilya reminded him. 

They had exchanged birthdays the other day. Shane was only a month older than him. He rolled his eyes, pulling Ilya up and attempting to get him into a perfect warrior two pose. Shane stepped behind him, sliding his hands over Ilya’s shoulders and attempting to expand the stretch as far as possible. Shane’s fingers met Ilya’s own and suddenly he was struck by how intimate the whole thing was. “Reach forward a bit more,” Shane said quietly. “Keep bending your knee.” 

Shane looked down to where the large scar lived on Ilya’s right knee and wondered if he was perhaps pushing him too far. Shane resisted the urge to ask Ilya if he was okay to perform the move, knowing that he would only be met with disdain for that question. 

Ilya did as he was told, slowly shifting forward, and in a split second lost his balance and fell sideways, his back leg somehow tripping Shane and taking him down with him. Shane caught himself with his hands, making sure to not fall completely, but Ilya only laughed and pulled him down on top of his body. 

“Jerk,” Shane laughed with him, trying not to think about how he was draped across Ilya’s hard muscles once again that morning.

“I’m sorry,” Ilya said, not sounding sorry at all. 

Shane entangled himself from Ilya as the two sat up and stared at one another, simply smiling. He wondered what Ilya was like in a real relationship. If he was silly like he was now. Shane could not help but feel bad that he had seemingly had the wrong idea about Ilya Rozanov this entire time. 

“What?” Ilya asked, clearly aware that Shane was sizing him up.

“I, uh,” Shane began. He wanted to tell Ilya the truth, but that seemed far too pathetic. “The water’s probably still a little too cold for swimming right now. I was going to ask if you wanted to go to this coffee shop nearby. They open early. It’s only a fifteen minute walk from here.” 

Ilya shrugged. “Yeah. Okay.”

As they walked to the café, Shane felt the need to fill the silence, even though Ilya seemed quite content with it. “So, is this better than Russia?” He wanted to ask Ilya why he did not want to go back home, but Shane reminded himself that they were not actually friends and Ilya probably did not want to talk to him about something so personal. Still, the curiosity ate at him. 

Shane wondered why he felt so desperate to know Ilya Rozanov. 

Ilya snorted. “Yes, Hollander. Better than Russia.” 

“Will you try to get an American passport, or something?” Shane wondered. “If you don’t want to go back, that is.”

“It is… complicated,” Ilya replied, explaining nothing. “I have a friend. Svetlana. She said she would marry me if I wanted to stay in America. In Boston.” 

Shane felt his whole body seize up for a reason he could not explain. He stumbled forward a bit, pretending he had tripped on the uneven sidewalk. “Oh. Well, that’s nice. That you have that option… Would you… Would you do that?”

Ilya turned his head slightly to look at him. Shane did not dare return the stare. “Probably not,” he finally said. 

This time, Shane snapped his head towards Ilya. “Really? So, what’s the plan then?” 

“Maybe I marry Canadian citizen,” Ilya suggested. 

Something fluttered in Shane’s stomach once more. “Yeah?” he laughed. “You like Canada that much?”

Ilya looked around at their surroundings. “It’s growing on me. I like the people. I like the nature, even if I’m not used to it. I like coming to games here. I like watching you and Montreal lose.” 

Shane snorted. “We don’t lose that often.” 

“Eh,” Ilya tutted.  

“You’re the worst,” Shane said, not meaning it at all. 

They reached the coffee shop and  Ilya opened the door for him in an incredibly dramatic fashion. It was annoying how cute it was. 

“You should be nicer to me, Shane Hollander,” Ilya told him, ushering him in. “I am a good boyfriend.” 

Shane could not even deny it. 

“So,” Ilya continued. “What do you get here?” 

Shane suddenly felt embarrassed. He had made Ilya walk all the way to this coffee shop and his go-to drink was usually—

“Hollander, no,” Ilya said, reading his mind. “Don’t tell me it’s black coffee.” 

“It’s really good here. And I get it iced,” Shane confirmed in a small voice. 

Ilya groaned. “How can you drink five ginger ales in one sitting and stick your nose up at vodka, but then only drink black coffee?”  He muttered something in Russian that Shane was positive probably translated to “stupid, boring, Canadian.” 

He had a point. Shane had no answer. 

“No,” Ilya protested. “Get something fun. Iced latte, at least. I’ll pay.” 

Shane felt a weird sort of panic. He really did not like to steer from his routine, especially not with food or drink, but Ilya was nodding at him, encouraging him to order anything else from the menu. 

“We are on vacation, Hollander,” Ilya reminded him. 

Shane stepped forward and ordered an iced latte. Then, just to show off, he asked for a pump of vanilla syrup in it. 

“Ooh, crazy,” Ilya joked, ordering the same. He looked Shane up and down. “I like this side of you.” 

“What? Rebellious?” Shane deadpanned. 

“No,” Ilya replied. “Obedient. Following my orders. It’s hot.” 

Shane felt numb all over. “Shut up,” he dismissed, turning his face away and hoping that Ilya could not see the blush he felt on his cheeks. It was nothing. It meant nothing. Ilya was flirty with everyone. It was his thing. 

Suddenly, Shane felt a pair of eyes on him. No, not him. On Ilya. He glanced towards a woman who was seemingly trying to send Ilya a telepathic message that she was down to fuck in the public restroom if he was. She was gorgeous with dark hair and freckles that covered her whole face. Shane glanced at Ilya and saw that he was smiling at said woman. “Are you serious?” he asked before he had a chance to recognize how jealous he sounded. 

Ilya’s eyes snapped back to Shane’s face. “What?”

“Are you flirting with that woman? It’s seven in the morning.” He grimaced, knowing how stupid he sounded. 

“Is flirting only night time activity?” Ilya wondered. 

“No,” Shane scoffed. “I just think it’s a bit inappropriate because…” 

“Because we are fake dating and she should know that?” Ilya guessed. 

“That’s not— I’m not—” Shane choked, trying to come up with an excuse as to why two single people should not be allowed to flirt. Luckily, their drinks appeared and Shane took the opportunity to grab his and rush out of the store. 

“Oh, calm down, Hollander,” Ilya yelled, running after him. “I was not going to do anything. I cannot help it everywhere I go people want to fuck me.” 

“Yeah, that must be hard for you,” Shane said, secretly grateful that Ilya had followed him rather than trying to get that woman’s number. 

“You would know,” Ilya countered, sounding weirdly angry. 

Shane stopped walking, staring at Ilya. “What? What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Hockey’s golden boy?” Ilya practically spat at him.

“I’m twenty-eight,” Shane argued. He was hardly a boy. 

Ilya gestured towards Shane’s body. “Everyone wants to be you or fuck you. You know this.” 

Shane was not stupid. He knew he was handsome. He knew he kept his body in excellent shape. Still, he was not vain enough to think that everyone wanted to live in his skin or sleep with him. “I definitely do not know that.” 

“No?” Ilya pushed. “So, what? You thought that Calvin Klein ad was a joke?”

Shane was definitely blushing now. He had not even wanted to do that stupid ad. “My mom agreed to that. It’s nothing—”

“Not nothing,” Ilya protested. “You didn’t read what people said about you? What people say about you?” 

“No,” Shane exclaimed. That was not a lie. He tried to never Google his own name. 

Ilya looked like he did actually believe him. “Well, they all want you. Everyone. Women. Men. They want to be your friend. They want to be your boyfriend. You cannot be surprised. You own mirror, yes?” 

Shane nodded. “Obviously.” 

“Well, look in it,” Ilya responded. “And look around when you go out. About five people in that coffee shop stared at you as well. You didn’t notice.”  

The back of Shane’s neck felt hot. He had no idea if that was true or not. “Sorry. I’m sorry.  You… You should be able to flirt with whoever. We’re not at the cottage. It’s fine.” 

Ilya observed him carefully. “No, I’m sorry. I wanted to make you jealous.” 

Shane’s head snapped up. “What?” 

Ilya started laughing. “It’s a joke. Since we are in relationship?”  

Shane relaxed his shoulders. “Right.” The two of them began walking back to the house. “So, you’re the type to try to make their partner jealous, then?” he wondered. 

He was unsure why he wanted to know. 

“Hm,” Ilya hummed. “Maybe. If it turned him on.”

Shane tried not to notice how Ilya had used “him” rather than “them.” He nodded along. “A menace through and through. Good to know.” 

“How is the coffee?” Ilya asked. 

Shane looked down to the beverage, unaware that he had already drunk more than half of it. It was probably the best coffee he had ever had in his life and it was all milk and sugar. “It’s okay.” 

“Liar,” Ilya teased. 

Shane and Ilya made breakfast together as they waited for everyone else to wake up. It felt like they were parents cooking for the rest of their family. If his teammates were his annoying, barely tolerant children, that was. 

Shane tried not to take notice of how easily Ilya moved around him in the kitchen as if he had lived in the cottage with him for years. It was too weird to think about. And Shane definitely did not want to think about domesticity and Ilya Rozanov in the same sentence. 

“Could you—?” Shane nodded to the pancakes that needed flipping and Ilya walked over to the stove, reading his mind. 

When no one woke up, even after nine in the morning, Shane wrapped up most of the food and took what he could outside so that he and Ilya could enjoy breakfast at least. 

“Your teammates are lazy, then?” Ilya said, stuffing a pancake in his mouth.

Shane laughed. “You’re the one who wanted to sleep in. And if memory serves me right, you said we were ‘on vacation’ not even two hours ago.” 

Ilya dismissed this with a wave. 

“Do you think we’ve convinced them?” Shane asked, suddenly feeling very self-conscious over the fact that anyone could wake up at any minute and walk out and see him with his fake boyfriend. 

Ilya furrowed his eyebrows like he could not believe that Shane was asking such a stupid question. “Of course. No one suspected anything… You think they are not convinced?” 

“I’m not sure,” Shane admitted. “I don’t know if they believe us or if they’re just waiting for me to crack.” 

“They’re your teammates,” Ilya reminded him. “Do you not know them well?” 

Shane felt weirdly defensive. Of course he knew his teammates. But it was not like they were best friends. He loved Hayden and J.J., but besides that his team was mostly just a bunch of co-workers rather than companions. It was why their coach had suggested this stupid weekend. “I… I guess maybe I don’t.” 

He waited for Ilya to make a joke. Instead the man looked down at his plate and continued eating his breakfast. “I can taste protein powder in pancakes. You said I would not be able to.” 

Shane rolled his eyes. He should have known that Ilya would not let a minute go by without some sort of dig. “You cannot taste it.” 

“I can.” 

“Cannot.” 

“Can.” 

He was about to continue their silly back and forth when Ilya suddenly held his hand up and moved it slowly to Shane’s cheek. He barely had time to register Ilya swiping his thumb underneath his eye before the moment had passed. 

“Eyelash,” Ilya explained.

“Right,” Shane answered, his skin burning where Ilya had brushed it. “I’m supposed to make a wish.” 

Ilya held his finger in front of Shane’s mouth, allowing him to blow.

Shane did not even think of a wish in time. He wanted the moment to end. He wanted Ilya to stop looking at him like they were actually a couple. He wanted that feeling in his stomach to stop making him nauseous.  

And then, very suddenly, Ilya leaned forward and captured Shane’s lips in a kiss. It was not like the other kisses they had shared. This one was slower, more methodical. Shane felt his own mouth open slightly of its own accord before Ilya was pulling away and looking behind him. He nodded curtly to someone Shane could not see. 

“Hey. None of that,” Comeau’s voice said as he stuck his head out from the glass door. “Not before breakfast.” 

Shane let out a breath he had not realized he was holding. Ilya had only kissed him because he had heard someone coming. Of course he had. What other reason would he have had to kiss Shane?

Ilya gave Comeau a tight smile while muttering a word Shane was sure was a Russian curse under his breath. Shane forced a laugh and turned to his teammate to tell him where the leftovers were. 

“Uh, good work,” he said under his breath to Ilya. “You’re kind of a natural with this PDA thing.” 

Ilya only shrugged as if this was something he did regularly and there was no reason for Shane to be misinterpreting anything at all. 

Because that was what Shane was doing. Misinterpreting. He violently cut his pancakes in half as he silently cursed his own stupid body for having a reaction that was out of his control. Shane had not been out on a date in over a year. Anyone, even Ilya Rozanov, giving him any sort of attention was bound to mess with his emotions. 

Monday morning.

He just had to make it to Monday morning.

Shane’s eyes blurred as he absentmindedly stared at the burgers on the grill while his teammates were in the water, playing chicken like they were a bunch of teenagers. He forced himself to look towards the lake, feeling the exhaustion of his early wake-up call finally getting to him. Perhaps Ilya had been right about sleeping in while on vacation. 

He shook his head violently to prevent himself from falling asleep next to a dangerous cooking appliance. 

“Looks good,” Ilya said as he walked up to Shane, a towel around his shoulders that was doing nothing to prevent droplets of water from sliding down his very chiseled body. 

Shane made a mental note to find a stranger to sleep with as soon as possible. He had not realized just how desperate he was to fuck someone until Ilya had taken his shirt off in front of him. “Oh, yeah. I got this recipe online. Hopefully it’s good.”

“You need recipe for burgers?” Ilya asked. “Don’t you just get patties and then… grill?” 

Shane scoffed. “Not if it’s homemade.” 

Ilya groaned. “Hollander. Did you put protein powder in burger patties as well?” 

Shane swatted at him with the spatula. Ilya grabbed it quickly and stepped behind Shane, wrapping his arms around him. Shane could not even care that Ilya was getting him wet. It felt too nice to be engulfed in someone else’s embrace. Ilya placed the spatula back in Shane’s grip and brought his hands to his waist.  

When Shane felt Ilya’s lips graze his ear, he involuntarily shivered. “No one’s watching.” 

Ilya kissed him quickly on the back of his neck. “Not true. J.J. is staring. Probably jealous.” 

Shane laughed, begging himself to focus on the simple task at hand rather than Ilya’s body heat. “Yeah, right.” He glanced over to where J.J. was sitting by the lake with Comeau and Drapeau, glaring at them. 

“He does not like me,” Ilya whispered. 

“No one likes you,” Shane joked weakly, wondering if he was even making any sense at all. He watched his hand tremble slightly. 

“No?” Ilya wondered. "I think you like me.” He pushed up the bottom of Shane’s shirt and lightly squeezed his hips. 

“There’s really no need to do all of that…” Shane began. “You were right earlier. I think they’re convinced.”

“Hm,” Ilya hummed. “But you are not. So, I do this. For you, of course.” 

“Of course,” Shane repeated quietly. He continued flipping the burgers while Ilya rested his head on Shane’s shoulder, being entirely unhelpful. 

“Gross!” Shane heard his teammates shout as they all made their way out of the lake. “Get off him, Rozanov. You’re distracting him.” 

Ilya pulled away, muttering more words in Russian that Shane could not understand. Rude as they were, Shane’s teammates were right. Ilya had been distracting him. 

Fifteen minutes later, Shane had never been so grateful to sit down for lunch, even as Ilya's thigh brushed up against his over and over and over again.

The man was going to drive him crazy.

Ilya jammed his elbow into the side of Shane’s stomach, causing him to practically double over. Still, Shane could not stop the laugh that escaped his mouth. Ilya was just as ridiculous as he had been on the ice, not caring just how dirty he played as long as he won. 

“We’re on the same team, Ilya!” Shane explained, nudging him harshly as he grabbed the handle of the foosball table once again. 

“Sorry,” Ilya said, calling him some sort of pet name in Russian. Shane looked up to see J.J. and Comeau practically scowl at the endearment despite the fact that none of them spoke Russian and Ilya could have been calling Shane a “son of a bitch” for all they knew. 

Ilya scored the winning goal and jumped up and down as if they had just won a Stanley Cup. He hugged Shane, picking him up and spinning him around. 

“Stop,” Shane ordered weakly, still laughing at how ridiculous Ilya was being. 

“We win!” Ilya shouted as he put Shane down. He looked toward J.J. and Comeau. “You suck.” 

“Ilya,” Shane chastised, trying to hide a smile. He could not feel too bad. He fucking loved winning. 

J.J. and Comeau stared at Shane like he had two heads before they walked away and back up the stairs out of the basement. Shane tried to ignore the sting of hurt he suddenly felt. His teammates were looking at him like he was a stranger. He reminded himself that revealing he had been in a months-long relationship with a former rival might be a bit of information that was tough to process. Had he been in their shoes, Shane might have had the same reaction. 

He turned to Ilya, forcing a smile before following his teammates upstairs. 

“So, we just look at it?” 

“Yes, Ilya, we just look at it. It’s nice, isn’t it?” 

Ilya stared back at Shane, saying nothing. 

Jackie snorted from the couch across the fire pit where she was wrapped up in Hayden’s arms. “I’m with you, Ilya. It’s kind of stupid.”

“Thank you, Jackie,” Ilya replied. “Hayden, your wife is clever. I don’t know why she married you, but make sure you appreciate her.” 

Hayden pulled Jackie even closer to him as she laughed probably a bit too hard for his liking at Ilya’s harmless joke. Everyone, save for Shane, was pleasantly loose from drinking all day long, and Jackie looked like she was one glass of wine away from falling asleep despite it being only seven at night. Shane laughed along with her, feeling a tiny bit buzzed from the beer he had at dinner, or from Ilya’s presence— it was unclear which was making him more dizzy. His breath caught as he felt his “boyfriend” snuggle up against him, placing a hand on Shane's knee for good measure.

Ilya. Ilya was definitely the reason he felt dizzy. 

Shane playfully slapped Ilya’s arm for Hayden’s benefit, but hugged the man close to his body in order to keep up their charade.

“You two are so cute,” Jackie said in a sing-song voice. “I can’t wait to double date. Oh! And Ilya, I’ll add you to the group chat. Wives and girlfriends. And I guess boyfriends, now.” 

Shane immediately felt defensive on Ilya’s behalf. He had been one of the best players in the league before his injury. And now he was one of the most popular hockey commentators. Shane did not want Ilya to be reduced to something as simple as “his boyfriend.” He took a deep breath. “Oh, Jackie. I don’t know—” 

“Yes, please,” Ilya interrupted. “Add me.” 

Shane opened his mouth to protest before realizing he could not quite tell Jackie to drop it since that would ruin the whole pretense. But Ilya would never be part of a group chat. He could not be. They were not actually dating.  

“So, what is it?” Hayden spoke up, somewhat loudly. “About Shane. What is it that you like about him?” 

Hayden was definitely drunk as well, struggling to form a full sentence. Shane forced a laugh. “Come on, man. Enough.” 

“Sweetheart, it’s fine,” Ilya said, tipping his head back slightly to try to look at him. He looked adorably ridiculous. Ilya quickly straightened himself out and stared at Hayden. “Okay. You want to know why I love Shane.” 

Jackie clapped her hands together as Hayden nodded, encouraging Ilya to list the reasons. 

“He is best hockey player in league. Best,” Ilya began as Shane felt himself almost choke on air. Ilya barely ever admitted that the two of them were evenly matched in skill, and here he was now saying Shane was “the best.” It made his palms sweat. “No one works harder than him. He says what he means. He has cute habits like tapping his stick on the ice twice before faceoff for puck, or only drinking ginger ale. He did not treat me different or with pity when I was injured and had to quit— he still gives it back to me. Hard.” 

“Ilya,” Shane interjected, unable to help himself. 

“And he is boring,” Ilya finished.  

Hayden raised an eyebrow. “What?” 

“What?” Ilya snapped. “I like boring. Boring is good. Boring is nice. Stable.” 

Ilya’s voice was so forceful that Shane was almost convinced he was telling the truth with that last assessment. 

Hayden whistled. “Jeez, dude. I’m sorry.” 

“Huh?” Shane asked.  

“No, Ilya,” Hayden continued. “I’m sorry, Ilya… I thought… I don’t know what I thought. But, fuck, you really do love our boy, huh?” 

Shane felt Ilya relax against his chest once more. “Yes.” 

“Good,” Hayden said. Shane wondered if his friend would be this nice had he not had so much to drink. “Good. I’m glad. Shane deserves it.” 

Shane looked over to Hayden as he tried, and failed, to wink at him with encouragement. “Thanks, Hayden,” Shane whispered. 

He begged his mind to stop feeling guilty for deceiving his friend and the rest of his teammates as he felt tears sting his eyes. There was a part of Shane, and he was not sure how big that part was, that wanted this weekend to be real. He wanted to be able to relax at his cottage, in front of a fire, with his boyfriend in his arms as his friends accepted him fully. 

Shane wondered if he would ever get that. 

He felt Ilya squeeze his knee tightly.

Hours after Hayden, Jackie and the rest of the Metros went to bed, Shane and Ilya remained outside, watching the dying remnants of the fire flicker into the air. Shane knew he was tired, and he was certain that Ilya was as well, but he could not bring himself to even suggest going to bed. He did not want to. He did not want the day to end. 

Even though they did not need to put on a show, Ilya remained close to Shane. “What are you thinking?” he asked as he studied Shane’s face. 

“I…” Shane trailed off, unsure if he should be honest. “I had a good time today. Thank you for what you said. To Hayden. Even if it was a lie.” 

“Is no problem,” Ilya replied, looking down at his lap. 

And then Shane did something stupid. “I think you’re great, too,” he admitted under his breath, hoping that Ilya heard him and he would not have to repeat it. “And if I’m the best, it’s only because you made me so.” 

Ilya’s head snapped up. He looked weirdly vulnerable for a moment before clicking his tongue and tossing that signature smirk Shane’s way. “Ah, yes, is true. I am out of competition, so you are the best now.” 

Shane could not help but laugh. “Maybe,” he confessed. “But… What I mean is… you made me as good as I can be. I owe you quite a bit. You were always my favorite player to go up against.” He paused, unsure why he was allowing himself to be so honest. After Monday, he and Ilya would go their separate ways and this weekend would just be a terrible fever dream that Shane looked back on in amusement, if that. 

Ilya picked up his drink that he had been nursing for the last two hours and drained it. “You were my favorite as well. Only person who ever challenged me.”

Shane nodded. “I feel the same way.” 

“You miss me?” Ilya asked, his accent making the word “miss” sound unfairly cute. 

“You’re right here—”

“On the ice, Hollander,” Ilya clarified. 

Shane bit his lip. Yes, he missed Ilya on the ice. He missed Ilya on the ice all the goddamn time. Shane knew that if he told the truth there was no coming back from it at all. “I miss seeing the look on your face when you lost." 

Ilya blew a puff of air out of his nose, as if he knew that Shane was being cagey on purpose. 

“Do you miss…” Shane stopped himself from asking the same question. “....it? Hockey?” He glanced down at the scar on Ilya’s kneecap.

Ilya scoffed, sitting back and creating a bit of distance between them. “Don’t ask stupid questions.” 

Shane physically recoiled as well. It was a stupid question. He immediately felt guilty. “Sorry. You’re right. That was stupid.” 

Ilya stared at him. Shane watched as his face grew soft. “No… It’s… I’m sorry. It’s not— Yes. I miss it.” He took a deep breath. “But maybe not in the way you’re thinking. Playing hockey is not as important to me as it is to you.” 

Shane could not even deny the insinuation. If he were to get an injury that forced him off the ice, he would not know what to do with himself. He was not ready to retire. Shane still hoped he had a good ten or more years left in his career. He was not resilient like Ilya. He would have never been able to make lemonade out of lemons. 

Ilya seemed to understand that Shane’s mind was reeling. “It’s not an insult, Hollander.” 

“Shane.” He was unsure why he corrected Ilya, but suddenly he felt as if he needed to hear his name from the other man’s lips. 

“Everyone is inside,” Ilya reminded him. 

“Maybe I prefer you call me by my name,” Shane told him. 

Ilya gave him a small smile. “Shane.” 

“Thank you again, Ilya,” Shane said, sitting up straight. “I… god, I owe you a lot. You saved my ass this weekend. Even Hayden thinks we’re in love… How did you even remember that stick thing?” 

“What stick thing?” 

“That I tap it two times on the ice for good luck,” Shane explained. “I’ve never even told anyone about that.”

Ilya turned his head to fire, avoiding eye contact. “You are not big mystery.” 

Shane laughed. “No. I guess I’m not. Still, I… no one’s ever noticed anything like that before.” He bit the inside of his cheek as soon as he admitted it. Maybe acknowledging that no one ever took the time to study him was actually something deeply embarrassing to confess. He stood up abruptly, unable to sit with his thoughts for any longer. “Should we go to bed?”

Ilya did not respond. 

Shane, emboldened by the night, stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on Ilya’s shoulder. “Sweetheart?” he joked. 

Ilya’s head snapped up and he gaped at Shane. “What?” 

Shane suddenly felt self-conscious. “It was a joke. I was just— Because you called me that earlier…” 

Ilya nodded vigorously. “Yes. Ha! Of course. Let’s go.” 

Shane offered him his hand and pulled Ilya up from the couch, dragging him back to the house before he was unceremoniously backed up against the glass door that led into the kitchen. “What are you—?” 

Shane’s words were cut off as Ilya pressed their bodies together and kissed him hard. 

He almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. This was everything that Shane had been desperate for all day, and he was finally getting it. He was unsure what Ilya was doing, but their bodies slotted together in the most natural way possible. Shane barely registered his hands sliding into Ilya’s hair, gripping it tightly. He suddenly needed to keep Ilya close. Not that that was impossible. Ilya was going nowhere. He immediately deepened the kiss, opening Shane’s mouth with his own and slipping his tongue in. 

Shane heard someone moaning. He could not tell if it was him or Ilya. 

His brain was yelling at him. This kiss was different. This kiss was very different. That was extremely clear from the way that Ilya’s hands were drifting lower and lower until they reached Shane’s ass. He knew he should probably push Ilya away, but instead he found himself tugging the man even closer. Shane did not even care if Ilya could tell he was getting hard. He wanted this. He wanted this so desperately. 

Shane vaguely registered a loud bang on the glass he was currently pressed against and Ilya pulled back slowly, forcing Shane to almost slump to the ground. 

He felt out of breath. 

Shane turned around to see J.J. inside, looking angry at the fact that he and Ilya had practically dry-humped in front of him. Shane could not necessarily blame him. J.J. shook his head and walked out of the kitchen to his bedroom. 

Shane’s mind finally caught up with him. He looked back at Ilya who was still smiling. “Did you just kiss me like that because J.J. was watching?” 

“He and Comeau have been giving us dirty looks all day. Drapeau too,” Ilya explained. “I wanted to make sure they knew they couldn’t intimidate me.” 

Shane tried to ignore how turned on he still was. “Ilya… That’s… Just, leave it, okay?” 

“Leave it?” 

“They’re my teammates,” Shane said. “They’ve never seen me like this. And you know they don’t like you. This is a lot for them.” 

“A lot for them?” Ilya scoffed. “Who cares?” 

Shane faltered. “Well, I do.” 

“Do you?” Ilya asked. 

Did Shane care about how “difficult” it was for his teammates to accept his fake boyfriend? “Uh...”  

“You should not let them get away with those looks and comments,” Ilya continued. 

Shane stared at Ilya. His lips were still swollen and his hair was sticking up all over the place, but his face was determined. It was clear this was a serious subject for him. Shane felt warm all over. And not because of the kiss, which was still hanging in the air between them. “I… No, you’re right.” Of course Ilya was right. Shane had no problem with any of the women his teammates dated, there was no reason for them not to return the favor. 

“Yes,” Ilya agreed. “I am right.” 

Shane laughed. 

“You know it is bad when Pike seems like the good guy, Shane,” Ilya continued. 

“Ilya,” Shane warned. 

“Shane.” 

“Hayden is a good guy,” Shane said, feeling the need to defend his friend again. Hayden might have had a bit of trouble accepting Ilya as well, but he had not been shooting Shane dirty looks all day long. 

“Whatever you say,” Ilya replied. “I suppose I should get used to him since he is your best friend, yes?” 

Shane felt his face fall. He had not even realized he had been smiling. Ilya would not have to get used to anything. “It’s only one more day,” he reminded him, trying to keep his voice light. “I think you can manage.” 

Ilya looked oddly put out. “Yes. Yes, only one more day.” 

Shane leaned back against the cool glass once more. He was unsure if he should bring up the kiss now. He wanted to talk about it. He wanted to ask if it had been different for Ilya as well. 

He wanted to do it again. 

He wanted to drag Ilya to his bedroom and ride him into the mattress. 

Shane could not believe it. He and Ilya had spent years being “rivals” when they could have been fucking instead. 

Ilya stared at him as if he could read Shane’s mind. For a minute, Shane wanted that to be true. He desperately wanted Ilya to make a move. 

“Bed?” Ilya asked. 

“Yeah,” Shane replied quietly. “Sure.” 

He ignored Ilya’s smirk as he later climbed into bed without his shirt on as well. 

It was much harder to ignore just how close Ilya slept next to him, breathing evenly as if nothing had changed between the two of them.

Chapter End Notes

Okay, we've had enough foreplay boys! Time to make some moves.

Chapter 4: four.

Chapter Notes

Sorry, I meant to post this chapter WAY earlier and then I got sick for a couple of days and now I'm behind on everything. Annoying!

Shane blinked his eyes open, savoring the foreign feeling of waking up without an alarm. He waited until his eyes adjusted to what was right in front of them. Ilya’s nose. He pulled back slowly, suddenly very aware that he had just been open-mouth-breathing next to Ilya’s face. It was only as he attempted to shimmy to the other side of the bed that he realized that Ilya’s arm was thrown over his body in an almost protective way. 

It was sweet. 

It was too sweet. 

Shane continued to roll out of bed, not allowing himself to get caught up in anything like he had last night. Not that he had had much of a choice in the matter. Ilya had slammed him up against the wall and claimed him with his mouth.

Don’t lie, his brain supplied. You loved it. You loved the feeling of Ilya’s body pressed up against your own. You wanted him to feel just how much it had turned you on—

“Good morning,” Ilya’s sleepy voice interrupted his thoughts. 

Shane took a deep breath, throwing on his glasses, and turning around to face Ilya, who was, of course, half naked, sprawled out in all his glory. “Morning.” 

Ilya smiled at him before glancing at the clock. “Seven. You let us sleep in.” 

Shane shrugged. “Your bad habits are rubbing off on me.” 

Ilya rolled his eyes and hopped out of bed, once again allowing Shane to ogle the hard muscles of his body. For once, he was grateful for his prescription lenses. 

“Let’s go swimming,” Ilya shouted from the bathroom. “Before everyone wakes up. I don’t care if it’s cold. Get ready, Hollander.” 

Shane stood up, moving to get dressed and wishing that Ilya would suggest an activity with far more clothing involved.

“See?” Ilya said. “Is good. You get used to the temperature.” 

Shane nodded, feeling like he might start shivering for another reason entirely. “Yeah. I forgot I was Canadian for a minute there. The cold is pretty nice.” 

Ilya splashed him before diving headfirst under the water to do a handstand. Shane raised an eyebrow, wondering if that display was for him. He laughed and swam over to the dock to sit down for a bit. 

“So, do you think you’ll sign with the Metros again next year?” Ilya asked as he stuck his head above water again.

Shane felt all the air leave his lungs. “What? Yes, of course. Why would you say that?” 

Ilya shrugged. “Well, they do not seem very accepting of you and your super hot boyfriend—” 

“Not this again.”

“And they should be happy you are on the team at all,” Ilya finished. “You got them three cups. Metros were shit beforehand." 

Shane felt himself blush. He almost wanted to say something to piss Ilya off just so they could return to their old dynamic. The compliments were messing with his head too much. “It’s fine, Ilya. I’m fine. I’m going to talk to them about it. This is just… a weird weekend. They’ll come around. And besides, it’s not as if they have to learn to accept you. We’re going to have to pretend to breakup in a week or so.” He swallowed hard, not wanting to accept that truth, but knowing there was no other option moving forward. 

Ilya pursed his lips. “Yes, but you are missing point.” 

“Which is?” 

“You should not have to make excuses for them,” Ilya continued. “A good team would have accepted you with no questions asked. It would not have taken them weeks to ‘come around.’” 

Shane knew, once again, that Ilya had a point. “It’s not enough for me to quit my job, Ilya.” 

Ilya scoffed. “Quit? I am not saying you quit. I am just saying look for other teams. Here in Canada, maybe. Ottawa needs men.” 

Shane chuckled. “The Centaurs? I don’t know about that.” He was well aware that Ottawa needed players. Ottawa needed a fucking miracle, quite honestly. 

“I like them very much,” Ilya stated. 

This made Shane laugh harder. “You do? Since when?” 

“Rooting for underdog is kind of nice, yes?” Ilya asked. “Maybe with new star center they could be something great.” He ducked his head underneath the water once again. 

Shane could not help but be struck by the fact that the Ilya he knew in the past, or rather, the Ilya he thought he knew would have never said something so… nauseatingly sentimental. And then he thought back to the Raiders before Ilya had joined. They had been good, but nowhere near as successful as they had been when Ilya was their captain. Maybe Ilya had always been partial to an underdog. “So, that’s your plan for me, then? Join the Centaurs? You want to be my manager? I think you might have to battle my mom to the death for the job.” 

Ilya laughed. “Oh, no. From stories you told me… I know I would never win against Yuna.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t,” Shane agreed. 

“I just think you are… rigid,” Ilya mused. “Is that right word?” 

Shane narrowed his eyes. “Probably. But I don’t like that you used it.”

“I want you to know there are options,” Ilya reiterated. “Is important thing to know. Was a hard lesson for me, but doesn’t have to be for you… You do not have to stay with homophobic Metros if it makes you uncomfortable.” 

“Homophobic or Ilya-phobic?” Shane asked. 

“Eh, probably both.” 

Ilya swam over to where Shane was sitting and joined him on the dock. He involuntarily shivered as Ilya’s arm brushed up against his own. 

“Cold?” Ilya asked. 

“No,” Shane responded. He let his thoughts of the kiss consume him again. He wanted Ilya. Badly. There was no denying that. Shane knew that if he did not figure out what was happening between the two of them, he would probably obsess about what could have been for the rest of his life. “Ilya… About last night…” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Ilya dismissed. 

“But I—” 

“Seriously, Shane,” Ilya interrupted. “A lot of people ask me about it.” 

Shane paused. “What?”

“Many people want to know if I am sad and regretful about having to quit,” Ilya said slowly. “Maybe they want to know if I am depressed or something." 

Shane inhaled sharply. They were not talking about the same thing. “Oh. Right. Yeah… Sorry again.” 

Ilya traced the scar up and down his knee, staying silent for a moment. Shane wanted to hold his hand so desperately. 

“Worst part was that it happened before my father died,” Ilya continued. “He was so mad at me… I played my last game, hurt my knee, and he died the next month. I almost wish he had died sooner. Could have felt a bit prouder of me that way… Not that he ever felt proud of me. But it would have been nice for him to not know his son was big loser.” He shrugged nonchalantly like the words he was saying were not devastating. 

Shane suddenly felt like he was going to cry. “When you hurt your knee… I was only watching the game on television, but it was impossible to tell how much pain you were in because of how well you were hiding it. I think a lot of people thought you might just get back on the ice that same night.” 

“What is your point, Shane?” Ilya wondered. His voice was a bit harsh, but not angry. 

“I was amazed by you,” Shane admitted. “You never let it show. Just how much it hurt. How devastated you were to not be able to get back up.” 

Ilya said nothing, continuing to stare at his scar.  

“You’re not a loser, Ilya,” Shane continued. “I kind of think you’re the bravest person I know.” 

Shane watched as one tear fell down Ilya’s nose and he turned his face away from Shane, not allowing him to see the display of emotion. Without thinking, Shane lifted his hand up to Ilya’s chin so they could face each other once more. Shane moved his hand gently to brush the tear away with his forefinger. 

They both knew no one was out there observing their every move. There was no need for them to act like this. Like a couple. 

Shane felt like he was choking with the intimacy of it all. Ilya furrowed his brow at him, like he could barely understand why Shane was acting this way. He pulled his hand away from Ilya’s face quickly. 

“Shane,” Ilya began. 

“Hey you two lovebirds!” Jackie called from inside the house. “We’re leaving in an hour to go to town! You want to share a car?” 

Shane cleared his throat, aware the moment was over. “Yep!” He turned back to Ilya. “We should… go get ready.” 

“Shane—” 

“Come on,” he said, standing and walking away from Ilya to stop himself from kissing him when no one else was watching.

Shane was not great at shopping. He did not find any joy in it unless it was for something practical like hockey gear, or kitchen appliances, or special lighting for his meditation room. So, while the rest of his guests and Ilya browsed shelf after shelf for tchotchkes, he watched his fake boyfriend out of the corner of his eye. It seemed only Jackie had grown quite fond of him, no doubt excited to have a built-in best friend after Rose had broken up with Shane years ago and dashed her hopes of a weekly couples’ hangout. Shane tried not to laugh as Hayden trailed behind them, interjecting when he could, not wanting to miss out on any of the fun the two of them were having. 

Shane felt a dull ache in his whole body as he thought about the fact that none of this weekend was real. It had truly been way too easy to get used to Ilya. Shane could have never expected it. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” J.J. asked in French as Shane absentmindedly ran his hands up and down a selection of shirts, pretending to be looking for something.

Had J.J. somehow figured out the whole ruse? “Huh?” 

“About Rozanov,” J.J. explained quietly. “I just— Did you tell Hayden before me? He seems to be totally okay with the situation now.” 

Shane wanted to roll his eyes. “No. I did not tell Hayden first. I didn’t tell anyone, okay? We kept it a secret because—” 

“Because Rozanov asked you to?” J.J. guessed incorrectly. 

“What? No,” Shane sighed. “I was the one who wanted it to be a secret. Don’t blame Ilya. I asked him to not tell anyone because I wasn’t ready for everyone to know” 

“You could have told me,” J.J. continued. “I would have listened. I’m not some monster.” 

“Because you’re taking the news so well now?” Shane snapped. 

J.J. had the decency to look ashamed. 

“Sorry,” Shane said, knowing that if Ilya were there he would tell him he had nothing to apologize for. “Ilya’s been… trying to teach me how to stick up for myself a bit more. I won’t lie, it’s been rough these past two days seeing the way you look at me. You, and Comeau, and Drapeau. And everyone else, quite frankly.” 

J.J. scratched his head awkwardly. “Don’t lump me with them, please. The things they’ve been saying…”

“Homophobic shit?” Shane wondered. 

J.J. nodded solemnly. “Yeah. You might have to get coach involved. I didn’t know they felt that way, you know?” 

Shane blew out a frustrated breath, willing himself not to get emotional. Deep down he had always known the majority of the Metros were only fine with Shane being gay as long as he never spoke about it or acted on it. He shook his head and stood up straight. “Okay. That’s for next season. But you’re still not off the hook. You’ve been pretty bad this weekend.”

“Yeah,” J.J. admitted. “You’re right. I’ve been acting poorly. I’m not… It’s just… It’s Rozanov, you know? He hated you. He still acts like he hates you whenever he does his stupid commentary!”

Shane had forgotten all about the commentary. The supposed digs Ilya took at him whenever he played a game. From J.J.’s perspective, Shane could see why none of it made sense. It barely made sense to Shane himself. Why had Ilya simply flipped a switch this weekend? Shane knew that he was doing it for his own benefit in order to convince everyone they were in love, but he still had not imagined Ilya acting anything like he had over the past two days. 

Devoted. Sweet. Playful.  

“Look I get it. It… took me a minute too,” Shane said. “And if things hadn’t worked out the way they did… If Ilya and I hadn’t ended up at that bar at the same time, I don’t know… Maybe I still wouldn’t know the real him. But I do now. And I’m asking you, as my friend, to trust me on this. He’s a good guy. That persona on the ice? It’s just an act.” 

J.J. looked down at the floor and sighed before raising his head and nodding. “I do trust you, Captain. You know that. I always do. I’m sorry.” 

Shane moved to hug him, glancing over J.J.’s shoulder and seeing Ilya watching them carefully. Shane smiled at him and nodded slightly, hoping that he understood what he was saying. 

Ilya smiled back. 

Shane sensed Ilya coming up behind him to walk in step with him as they made their way to the restaurant they were going to for lunch. He felt Ilya slip something into his hand and paused slightly, looking down at the trinket. It was a small wooden loon. 

“I saw you looking at it,” Ilya explained. “Not sure why you like ducks so much, but I thought it was cute.” 

Shane smiled. He had been looking at the little figurines earlier. “It’s a loon.” 

“A what?” 

“A loon,” Shane corrected. “It’s like a duck. There are a bunch near the cottage… Thanks. I don’t have many knick-knacks in my house.” He placed the tiny loon in his pocket. 

“Oh, I know,” Ilya said. “I saw. Shelves filled with books on how to play hockey and nothing else. You are so wonderfully lame.” 

Shane opened his mouth to protest before Ilya reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers. Suddenly, Shane was very aware of the fact that they were walking around town pretending to be a couple. He felt his body go numb. What if someone recognized them? Then Shane’s stupid lie could make the news and everyone would know that he and Ilya were a “couple.” 

“Relax,” Ilya whispered, reading his mind. “I do not care if people know. You think your teammates have not told everyone they know already? There are probably posts about our alleged affair all over the internet by now.” 

That possibility, which Shane had not thought about until that moment, did not make him feel relaxed at all. “Ilya…” 

“So, we stage a public break up if we have to,” Ilya shrugged. “So, what?”

Shane stopped walking. He told the rest of the group to make their way to the restaurant as he pulled Ilya into the first secluded alleyway he could find. 

“Oh, much better,” Ilya laughed. “Now everyone will think we are fucking in alleyway.” 

Shane ran his hands across his face. “Fuck. I did not think this through.” 

Ilya continued to snicker at him. 

“Rozanov,” Shane warned. 

“Uh oh, I’m ‘Rozanov’ again. Must be bad,” Ilya mused, not sounding perturbed by the whole situation at all. He walked forward to grab Shane by the arms. “Shane. I am okay with this whole thing. I don’t care if someone sees us holding hands on Ottawa sidewalk.” 

“And what about me? Shane asked, annoyed. “Am I not allowed to be freaked out by that possibility?” 

Ilya puffed up his chest. “I am not so bad. You could do worse than me. Way worse.”

“That’s not— Jesus. That’s not what I meant,” Shane replied, feeling his face flush. Of course he could do way worse than Ilya. Ilya looked like a fucking Greek god. And if this weekend was anything to go by, he was a very attentive and caring boyfriend. 

“Then what is it?” Ilya asked, his voice sounding small for the first time ever. 

“It’s… I…” Shane paused. He dropped his gaze to the ground. “Being gay and coming out to my teammates is one thing…” 

Ilya nodded. “Being gay and actually acting on it in public is big deal. Yes, I get it.”

Shane looked back up at Ilya, realizing then just how overwhelmed he felt. Ilya brought his hands up to Shane’s neck and rubbed his thumb up and down his ear in an oddly soothing way. Their roles had reversed since that morning on the dock. Now it was Ilya’s turn to comfort him. It made Shane’s head spin. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Shane wondered out loud. 

“You are my boyfriend, yes?” Ilya responded, smirking at him. 

“Ilya,” Shane sighed. “Why are you…? Why did you even do this for me? I know it can’t be simply because you don’t want to go back to Russia.”

“There is nothing for me there,” Ilya explained. “I told you about my family. You understand that now, right?” 

Shane nodded. “Yeah, but… You could have just taken a vacation anywhere. The cottage wasn’t your only option. You don’t even like me.”

Ilya exhaled loudly through his nose in a slightly frustrated manner. He then shook his head in disbelief, laughing slightly. “Let’s get back to the group, Shane.”

He did not let Shane respond, dropping his hands and walking out of the alleyway towards the restaurant. 

“Are you laughing at me?” Shane yelled. 

“Definitely not!” Ilya lied as he chuckled and turned the corner. 

Shane did not follow him for a full minute, trying to figure out what the fuck he was going to do next. 

Shane had indulged in two very large glasses of wine at lunch. Shane never indulged in two glasses of wine before dinner time, but it had felt necessary. The rest of the team and their significant others had been drunk or high all weekend long. It was only fair that Shane turned off his brain for a bit as well. 

Ilya had stared at him the whole lunch, watching each sip like a hawk. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Ilya asked. 

“I feel great,” Shane replied. Which, thanks to the alcohol, he did. To convince Ilya further, he moved closer to him and threw an arm around his shoulders. Of course, in his drunken state, he found Ilya’s cologne a little too intoxicating and Shane realized he wanted to crawl into the man’s lap. He stared at Ilya and pouted. 

“What?” Ilya snorted. “Why are you making that face?” 

Shane looked around, making sure no one could hear him. “I asked you a question in the alleyway and you didn’t answer,” he said, realizing immediately that he was far too loose-lipped to have this conversation. He should definitely stop talking. 

Unless this new liquid courage would help him to uncover what Ilya’s endgame was here. 

“What question?” Ilya wondered. 

“I said…” Shane paused, his tongue feeling a bit fuzzy. “‘Why do you hate me?’ And you said ‘Hollander, let’s go to lunch.’” 

“Wow,” Ilya drawled.  “That was a terrible Russian accent.” 

“Wait. Did I do an accent?" Shane asked. 

Ilya looked at him with an amused face.  “You are lightweight, Hollander. Is cute, I won’t lie. But you are making up stories.” 

“I am not,” Shane said petulantly. 

“You never asked me why I hated you,” Ilya continued, taking a long sip of his own drink. “You assumed I did.” 

“Because of the rivalry,” Shane added, gesturing vaguely in between the two of them. 

“Yes,” Ilya laughed, leaning in, tapping Shane’s nose sweetly and calling him a word in Russian. “We now know that rivalry was, uh, what’s the phrase?” 

“Fake?” Shane suggested. 

“I think term I was looking for was… ‘a bunch of horse shit,’” Ilya said. “But, yes. Fake.” 

Shane laughed out loud. “Yeah… fuck. So, you really never hated me?” 

Ilya only smiled at him, slowly shaking his head.

Shane laughed again. “But the taunting? The digs in interviews and whatnot…” 

“Is how we… show respect towards one another, yes?” Ilya said. “How we push each other on the ice to be better.” 

“Yeah,” Shane agreed, feeling dizzy. “But I still don’t get why you agreed to—” 

“Hey, you two!” Hayden said, interrupting them. “What are you talking about?”

Ilya plastered on a smile and turned to Hayden. “Shane was just telling me about how slow you are on ice, Pike. Is unnecessary. I’ve seen it up close.” 

Hayden flipped him off, but Shane could tell he was trying his best to playfully accept the dig. Shane smiled at him, silently thanking his friend. 

Ilya pushed a full glass of water towards Shane. “Drink this.” 

“Bossy,” Shane protested as he lifted the glass to his lips to take a sip. 

“More,” Ilya instructed. 

Shane tipped the glass back and drank all the water once.

“Good boy,” Ilya said, placing his hand on Shane’s thigh a bit too high up to be misinterpreted as a friendly gesture. Shane felt himself go still. “Is okay?” Ilya asked, his eyes dropping to Shane’s lips for a second.

Shane swallowed, feeling emboldened by alcohol. “Yeah. It’s okay. More than.” Suddenly, every question he had wanted to ask Ilya disappeared from his mind. 

He shifted in his seat slightly and threaded his fingers through Ilya’s hair. He wondered for a second if he should just crawl into Ilya’s lap. Shane could feel eyes on him even as multiple conversations around the table continued on. He supposed that was not too shocking— he and Ilya were currently staring at each other like they were going to eat one another. Ilya leaned forward to capture Shane’s bottom lip in a slow, lazy kiss. It was not enough. 

Shane wondered if it would ever be enough. 

“Let’s get going!” Comeau said to the group. “Rozanov? Pick up the check for us, will you? Least you could do if you’re gonna manhandle Hollander like that.”

Shane snapped his head towards his teammate. “Comeau… what the fuck?” 

Comeau simply shrugged as most of the table stood up to leave the restaurant before the waiter came back with the bill. Shane felt Ilya release his grip on his thigh and he wanted to scream. 

“Very charming,” Ilya monotoned. 

“Don’t worry,” Shane said, pulling out his wallet. “I’ll pay.” 

Hayden pushed his credit card towards Shane. “Sorry, man. He’s a fucking dick.” 

“I’ll say,” Jackie agreed.

“I’m sorry again,” J.J. piped up from where he was seated at the end of the table. “For acting like them for the past two days.” 

Ilya took a deep breath, pushing Shane and Hayden’s credit card away from the check and placing his own down while calling the waiter over. No one said anything as Ilya clenched his jaw over and over before downing the rest of his drink. As soon as he signed the bill, he turned towards Shane. “Shall we?”

Shane could only nod as he took Ilya’s hand and they all walked out of the restaurant.

As the group made their way around town to a bar to watch a baseball game, Shane made sure to not let go of Ilya’s hand the entire time. He wanted to leave the group and go back to the cottage, but he knew that that would only draw attention to the fact that Ilya had been put out by his teammates’ actions in the restaurant. Still, he brought Ilya over to a corner booth so the two of them could talk without anyone listening in. 

“I’m fine,” Ilya said as they sat down. “Let’s not do this here.” 

Ilya’s expression told Shane to drop it. So he did. “Let’s change the subject, then.” 

Ilya slid over in his seat. “Come over to this side, first. Couples sit on the same side.” 

Shane rolled his eyes, but stood up and moved in next to Ilya. He had a point. Couples did do this. As annoying as that was. However, once he was sitting next to Ilya, feeling the warmth that radiated off his body again, Shane found himself wanting to be the most annoying couple in the world. He wanted to make everyone in the bar uncomfortable. He wanted to talk about the kiss from last night. 

“The kiss?” Ilya asked as Shane’s body went numb. 

Fuck. 

He had said that out loud. 

He knew taking even one sip of a third drink would come to bite him in the ass. “Huh?” Shane returned, playing dumb. 

“You just said, ‘I want to talk to you about the kiss from last night?’” Ilya reiterated. “Was it… It was bad? It was too much—” 

“No,” Shane protested, a bit too forcefully. “It was… It was nice.” 

Ilya’s face relaxed. He smirked as he looked at Shane’s lips once more. “Shane, is there something you want to ask me?”

Shane felt his heart in his throat. How on earth could he tell Ilya that he wanted to suck his dick for hours on end and then maybe see where they could go from there? He took a deep breath. He was Shane fucking Hollander. He could do this. “I think I liked it.” 

He scrunched up his face. That was not what he had meant to say. 

Ilya’s smile only grew. “That’s not a question.” 

“Ilya…” 

“You think?” Ilya continued, humming. “But you are not sure?” 

“Don’t be a dick,” Shane replied weakly. “This is hard enough for me to say.” 

Ilya tilted his head and put his hand back on Shane’s thigh. As if he knew that was all Shane wanted since they left the restaurant. “Is difficult to admit you liked the kiss? Why? We both know that’s true.” 

Shane rolled his eyes. He was getting annoyed. And definitely turned on. “You can’t tell me that kiss wasn’t… interesting, at least. It seemed like you were into it. Really into it.” 

Ilya moved closer, rubbing Shane’s thigh. “Maybe I am just good kisser. Have you not been kissed properly before?”

Shane wondered if that was true. He felt his chest move up and down with how labored his breathing had become. 

“This will not do,” Ilya continued. “I should kiss you again…” He leaned in until there was only an inch of space between their lips. “My boyfriend does not need to be this desperate for my mouth when all he has to do is ask.”

“Asshole,” Shane retorted. 

“Go on,” Ilya told him. “Ask me.” 

Shane knew he was a goner. He would never be able to look Ilya in the eye ever again after this weekend. 

But he did not care.

“Please.” 

“Please what?”

“Please fucking kiss me,” Shane demanded. 

Ilya did not make him wait another minute, closing the small distance between them and kissing him. They took their time, exploring each other’s mouths before Shane felt his body practically vibrate with need. He quickly fought for dominance, grabbing hold of Ilya’s curls and tugging slightly to let him know what he wanted. Ilya’s mouth opened in response and Shane took the opportunity to slide his tongue past his lips, desperately needing to taste him. 

Shane was so caught up in a sensation akin to drowning, he barely registered Ilya’s hand sliding higher and higher up his thigh. They could not have been making out for more than a minute or two and Shane was already hard. Shane reached down to grab Ilya’s hand and both of them went still. 

He pulled back slightly, pressing their foreheads together while they panted into each other’s mouths. And then, like a man possessed, Shane moved Iyla’s hand up a bit farther so he was palming him through his shorts. 

“Shane,” Ilya breathed out, sounding desperate. 

Shane shifted in his seat, making sure that Ilya’s body was blocking what he was doing. What he needed Ilya to do. 

“Shane,” Ilya repeated. “We are in public. Your teammates could be watching.” Even as he said the words, he worked his hand slowly over Shane. “You are being very bad.” Ilya reached forward to nip Shane’s jaw.

“Is this… Is this something you want?” Shane asked, feeling a bit silly questioning the situation at all.

Ilya kissed him once more. “My hand is on your dick. What do you think?” 

Shane tried to regulate his breathing as Ilya continued to touch him. “We should go back to the cottage.” 

“And what will we do there?” Ilya wondered, sounding out of breath as if he was the one being brought to orgasm underneath a sticky bar table.

Shane groaned as he reached down again to hold Ilya’s hand in place. He really could not afford to come in his pants in front of all of his teammates. Plus, Ilya was asking him a question and Shane wanted to be polite and give him an answer. “What do you think?” he proposed, throwing the question back at Ilya. 

“You want me to fuck you?” Ilya asked bluntly. 

Shane felt like a rabid animal. “Yeah.” 

“You’ve been thinking about it?... Since last night?” Ilya questioned even though Shane knew he knew the answer. 

“I can go get someone else to help me out if it’s too much for you…” Shane began, knowing that they clearly both got off on this weird, sweet torture they inflicted on one another, but secretly wanting to admit to Ilya that he would not dream of asking another man to fuck him. 

“No,” Ilya practically growled. “I will fuck you into mattress. I will do this for you. Almost like act of charity.” 

“Watch it,” Shane warned.

Ilya licked his lips and nodded. “I’m going to go outside to smoke.”

“Stressed again?” Shane asked. 

“Yes, Hollander,” Ilya responded, sounding annoyed. “I’m one second away from jerking you off under this table, so I want to calm down a bit.”  

Maybe Shane needed a cigarette as well.  

“Meet me there in a minute. I’ll call for a car.” 

Shane suddenly felt as if the walls of the bar were closing in on him. He realized then that this was something neither of them could come back from. “Should we talk about—” His sentence died on his lips as Ilya moved in closer. 

“No,” Ilya protested, shaking his head slightly and kissing Shane once again. He stepped out of the booth and winked. “See you soon.”

True to his word, the second they arrived back to the house, Ilya got to work, ordering Shane around the bedroom in such a practiced manner he wondered if this was his usual routine or if he was simply that good at improvisation. 

Shane soon found himself on all fours, wondering if he had ever been this horny in his entire life while Ilya’s tongue swirled around his hole and his fingers moved deftly to open him up for what felt like hours. 

“Fucking hell,” Shane whined, falling forward slightly. “I’m ready. I’m ready… Just get in me now. Before everyone gets back.”

Ilya slapped his ass, but obeyed the orders, making quick work to line himself up and push into Shane in the most agonizingly perfect way. “I think you wouldn’t mind,” Ilya teased. “If they saw…” 

Shane felt every comeback die on his lips as Ilya pulled back almost immediately and then slammed into him over and over. 

“Don’t worry,” Ilya continued. “It will be quick for you. You are already so close.” 

“Fuck you,” Shane said, laughing slightly. Ilya was right. He was already really fucking close to finishing. He felt as if he had been edged all day long. 

Shane moved to meet each one of the thrusts with equal fervor and he felt Ilya’s hips stutter for a second, stopping because he too was close to his release. “You were saying?” 

“Turn around,” Ilya said, pulling out of him. “Turn around.” 

Shane paused, only for a moment, afraid that if he looked Ilya in the eyes he might do something stupid like ask Ilya out on a date while he finished inside of him. Despite his nerves, he moved onto his back, unable to deny Ilya anything. 

“Good,” Ilya whispered, pushing back into him. “Good, good… You are so good for me.” 

Shane was positive the words were going to set him over the edge. His face must have revealed something about him that he himself had not known yet because Ilya fucking beamed, reaching down to stroke his cock in an antagonistically slow manner. “Oh, so you do want me to compliment you?” Ilya purred. “You said you liked that I didn’t flatter you… but…” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Shane replied breathlessly. 

“You like a compliment from me,” Ilya continued. “Is better than all the other ones from all your… fans.” 

“Yes, fuck,” Shane said, not bothering to deny it. 

Ilya picked up the pace, stroking Shane with purpose now. “Come on, Hollander. Come for me.” 

“Shane.” 

“What?”

“Call me Shane, Ilya.” 

Something crossed Ilya's face. “Come for me, Shane.” 

And Shane did, barely registering Ilya following suit soon after and collapsing on top of him. 

After they had cleaned up, and took a shower that involved Shane dropping to his knees and reducing Ilya to a blubbering mess, the two of them got dressed and relaxed on the couch, trying to act nonchalant all while knowing that the rest of the Metros had definitely known what they had been doing. 

“Well, if they weren’t convinced before, they will definitely be convinced now,” Ilya mused, staring at him. “You look all fucked out. You’re welcome” 

Shane slapped his arm. He tried not to enjoy the feeling of bickering with Ilya too much. He was coming down from the ultimate high, all while realizing this was something they needed to talk about. “Should we have the conversation now?” 

Ilya tried to look confused. “What conversation?” 

“Ilya,” Shane said. “Come on.” 

Ilya turned his face away from Shane and crossed his arms. “Is no big deal. Just sex. You’ve had it before, yes? You should have said—” 

“Yes, I’ve had sex before. Jesus,” Shane interrupted. “I’m talking about the conversation in which we figure out what that—” he nodded to the bedroom. “—meant for us.” 

Ilya remained silent as Shane finally realized the gravity of his words. Just sex. 

Right. 

“So,” Shane began. “Just sex? That’s what you want?”

“Is that what you want?” Ilya murmured. 

Shane drew his lips into a tight line so as to not get emotional. It was clear that Ilya was trying to end the conversation without calling Shane immature to his face for thinking there could be something more between them. Shane tried to remind himself that he had wanted this. He had fucking pushed for it. All because seeing Ilya with his shirt off had turned him on. 

This weekend had simply been the result of an agreement. There had been no feelings involved.  No matter how easy it had been to convince himself of that fact for a minute. “Um. Yeah. Sure.” 

Ilya still did not look at him.

“Nothing else to say, then?” Shane pushed.

“No, Shane. Fuck!” Ilya exclaimed, sounding annoyed. “It was good… If you ever want to do it again some time, let me know.”  

Shane wanted to stand up and shout that he actually, really, truly wanted to date Ilya now, but at that moment, his teammates burst through the door and he was forced to put on a smile as the perfect host.

As he asked everyone what they wanted for dinner, Shane realized just how much he wanted this weekend to end, when only a couple of hours ago he wanted nothing more than for it to go on forever. 

“I’ll help cook,” Ilya told him, still avoiding eye contact. 

Shane, quite frankly, wanted to tell him to fuck off, but he nodded and pulled out vegetables for Ilya to chop. The natural ease they had had around each other in the kitchen the day before was gone. It made Shane feel nauseous. 

“Look, I’m sorry,” Shane said, unable to stand the silence. “I just thought that maybe that was something we should talk about. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” 

Ilya sighed. “You didn’t. It’s fine, Hollander.” Shane opened his mouth before Ilya spoke once more. “I would prefer to call you Hollander for now, okay?”

It felt like the final nail in the coffin he had not even realized he was lying in. 

Shane placed his knife down roughly on the counter. “What is your problem? We have this nice weekend, which, again, you were not forced to participate in. You tell me all this shit about your life and your family. You’re nice to me in a way I didn’t even know you were capable of being. I realize I actually like hanging out with you—” 

“Yes,” Ilya interjected. “So much so that you use me to get off.” 

Shane saw red. “Use you?” 

“Is fine,” Ilya said in a calm voice. “I get it. But I don’t think we need to talk about… what it means.” 

“I wasn’t fucking using you, Ilya,” Shane spat. “I wanted to sleep with you. I thought we wanted the same thing.” 

Ilya finally looked up at him. “Which is what?” 

Shane felt his palms sweat. “I thought… I thought we were getting along.” 

“You fuck everyone you get along with?” Ilya wondered. 

Shane was confused. “Did I do something wrong? Is this just because I asked what it meant to you? It’s a normal question. Sleeping together was not something I was expecting to do with you this weekend... What the fuck do you want from me, Ilya?” He hated how pathetic he sounded. 

Ilya rounded the corner of the kitchen island and stood close to Shane. Too close. “What do I want? How can you ask me that? What is it you are not getting?” 

Shane pushed Ilya’s body away from his own. “You know what? Let’s not talk. I’m not going to stand here and be insulted by somebody who is not making any sense.” 

Ilya grabbed his arm and held him close again. “Ask me the one thing I miss about hockey, Hollander. Go on, ask me.” 

Shane stepped out of his hold and created distance between them once more. “What?” 

“Ask me,” Ilya demanded. 

“Fine,” Shane relented, unsure what was happening. “What is the one thing you miss about hockey?” 

Ilya took a deep breath, almost as if he was counting to ten. “The only thing I miss is going up against you. That’s what I miss. Not the winning. I don't need that anymore. Not the adrenaline. I can find that elsewhere. Not the fame. I still have that... It's you.” 

Shane felt his heart beating in his fucking throat. “I…” He had no idea what to say. 

Ilya continued to simply stare at him as Shane listened to the sound of their heavy breathing echoing throughout the room.  

“Hey!” Hayden bellowed as he crashed through the door. “Shane! You got a lighter?” 

Shane whipped his head towards his friend. “Huh? What? I said no fireworks.” 

Hayden laughed. “I know, dude.” He held up a joint. 

Shane shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He pointed to the countertop behind Ilya. He was unsure he could actually move at all to get the lighter for Hayden. “Right. Uh, in the top drawer over there.” 

Hayden took in their tense body language as he walked past them. “You guys okay?” 

“Fine,” Ilya bit out. “I’m going to go for a walk.” He rushed past Shane, practically slamming the front door as he left the cottage. 

Shane did not protest, still unable to process what had just happened. 

“Uh oh,” Hayden said. “Trouble with the ol’ ball and chain?” 

Shane looked around for something to busy himself with. When he could find nothing he moved towards his bedroom. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I can finish dinner. Why don’t we order pizza?”

Hayden’s face suddenly grew concerned. “Shane. You alright?” 

“I’m okay,” Shane lied. “I think I drank too much earlier. I just want to go lie down for a bit. Half an hour, tops.” 

“Okay, buddy,” Hayden replied, sounding suspicious. “I’ll tell everyone we're ordering pizza.” 

“Great,” Shane said, feeling tears in his eyes. He walked slowly towards his bedroom, grateful that Hayden did not protest and let Shane be alone. 

Shane stared up at his ceiling, unaware if ten minutes or ten hours had passed. He tried to close his eyes and remember the last game he and Ilya had played against each other. It had been only two weeks before Ilya’s injury and it had felt like it always had— like they were meant to play against each other forever. It was a stupid, unrealistic feeling, of course. Even without a career-ending injury, the idea of playing hockey forever was a fantasy. 

But, Shane could admit now, it had been a fantasy he had entertained. 

He raised a hand to his chest and felt his heart beat slow and steady the way it was supposed to. He pictured Ilya smirking at him from under his helmet. He felt the ghost of Ilya playfully slamming him into the boards, never so hard that it would actually hurt Shane, but just enough that he would feel it the next day. He recalled the sense of pride that washed over him after every game against Boston, even after they lost. Shane had always known that he had given it his all. 

Shane realized then how desperately he had waited for those moments. Every time. It was like his whole career had just been a countdown to the next time he saw Ilya. 

He lifted up his hand to look at his watch. Only thirty minutes had passed. Shane still sat up, smoothed out the wrinkles in his clothes, and walked back outside to where his teammates were lazily smoking on the grass with their wives and girlfriends. No one even noticed Shane arriving. He hated that that made him miss Ilya, who was probably walking around the neighborhood, cursing Shane’s name in Russian. 

Shane knew he was not allowed to miss him after not being honest with him. Still, he did. 

Ilya would have immediately noticed his arrival.

“Where’s Rozanov?” Drapeau asked him after a minute, finally realizing that Shane had sat down alone next to the group.

“Oh, he just wanted to take a walk,” Shane provided.

“You guys fighting?” Comeau questioned, practically smiling. 

“No,” Shane answered, feeling angry. “Look, we just have a couple more hours together, can you guys fucking cool it? I get it. You don’t like him. And apparently you don’t like me either.” 

“Shane,” J.J. warned. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Comeau asked as the group grew silent. 

Shane scoffed. “It’s fine if I’m gay as long as I don’t act on it, right?” 

“I’m not a homophobe,” Drapeau said with the conviction of a man who would petition to ban all pride parades in Canada if it was an option.

“No?” Shane pressed. “Then treat my fucking boyfriend with respect.” 

Shane watched as nearly half the group rolled their eyes. 

“What?” Shane exclaimed. “Say what you need to say!” 

“It’s Rozanov, Hollander! You can’t be this big of an idiot,” Comeau spat. “He doesn’t like you. He’s clearly just using you.”

“Using me,” Shane laughed “For what?” 

“I don’t know? Clout?” 

Shane shook his head, unable to comprehend how stupid everyone was being. 

“Last game we played, he eviscerated you in his commentary.” 

“It’s just a front—” 

“He’s probably only dating you to pull a fast one on you and humiliate you.” 

“Yeah, and how is that going to look for us? You’re our captain.” 

“Okay!” Shane shouted, standing up. “That’s enough. You’re all drunk and high. I’m not listening to this!” 

“How long has this even been going on?” Drapeau asked. “You said about a year, but… has it been longer?” 

“Wh— What?” Shane said. 

“Did you ever let him win against us, Hollander?” 

Shane felt his whole body go numb. 

“Come on, guys,” Hayden protested, standing up as well. “You know Shane. He would have never done anything like that.” 

“How about now? Do you ever miss a goal so your precious Rozanov can talk about it in his commentary later?” Comeau questioned. “He loves to talk about the goals you miss.” 

Shane hated that he could not even defend Ilya. He had no idea what Ilya said about him and his gameplay. His teammates could very well be telling the truth about that. But then why would Ilya have said the only thing he missed on the ice was Shane? He took a deep breath. “I said that’s enough. Ilya’s allowed to say what he wants. It doesn’t affect my game. And it shouldn’t affect yours.” 

“It’s fucking weird, man.” 

“Guys, stop,” Hayden insisted. 

“It’s not our relationship,” J.J. interjected.

“You have some degradation kink or some shit?” 

“Does Ilya insult you while you're on your knees for him?” 

Shane did not have a moment to react as Ilya’s body stormed past him and picked Comeau up from the ground, punching him in the face. 

The rest of the Metros jumped up and pulled Ilya off of Comeau as they worked to separate the two of them. 

“Fucking hell,” Hayden sighed. “This is bad.” 

Shane remained rooted to his spot in the grass. He felt like he was going to throw up. 

“Oh my god,” Jackie said, standing up and rushing to the house. “I’ll get some ice.” 

Comeau simply smiled at Ilya, blood running down his nose. “Nice one, Rozanov. Good to see you can at least still punch like a man.”

Shane wondered if he should punch Comeau too. 

Ilya lunged at Shane’s teammate once more, not quite reaching him, as he cursed in Russian over and over. 

“Enough,” Shane said weakly. 

No one heard him. Everyone’s voices got louder and louder. 

“Enough,” Shane tried again, feeling bile in his throat.

He watched as the group got rowdier and rowdier.  “What the fuck is wrong with all of you?” he yelled.

Shane was definitely going to throw up. 

No. 

It was something else. 

“For fuck’s sake!” Shane shouted. “Ilya’s not even my boyfriend!” 

He watched as everyone around him went still. 

“Shane…” Ilya said slowly, pity in his eyes as if their fight from earlier had never happened. 

“I made it up!” Shane clarified. “I fucking made it up, alright? I needed a fake boyfriend for the weekend and Ilya offered to help out, okay? I’m not dating Rozanov. You can all relax.” 

“What?” Shane heard several people say. 

“Okay! I’ve got the ice,” Jackie announced, holding up a tightly wrapped cloth. She handed it over to Ilya for his fist rather than to Comeau for his nose as she took a look around at the scene and sensed the tension. “What? What did I miss?”

Chapter End Notes

One more chapter to go... Come on boys... Fix this!

Chapter 5: five.

Chapter Notes

The cottage erupted into chaos. 

Shane could barely understand anything that anyone was yelling at him, focusing instead on Ilya’s face which still looked shocked and a bit sad. Shane felt an odd need to apologize as Ilya turned to walk back into the cottage, leaving him to deal with the fallout. 

He took a step forward to follow Ilya when he felt Hayden grab onto his arm. Then, as if he was coming up to the surface after being underwater for the past five minutes, the voices around him suddenly became clearer. 

“Shane,” Hayden said. “Buddy, what are you talking about?” 

“I…” Shane began, before the rest of the Metros pushed Hayden out of the way. 

“You’re not even dating that fucking loser?” 

“Why did we have to spend a whole weekend with him?” 

“You lied about having a boyfriend?”  

“And you made Rozanov help you?” 

“That’s pathetic, Hollander.”

Shane was so claustrophobic he could hardly breathe. He had to get everyone out of the cottage. His home. The only space he felt truly safe. 

“Yes!” Shane shouted. “I lied! And maybe you all deserve an explanation, but that’s it! There’s nothing else to it!” 

He stared at all of his teammates. He knew the real question they all wanted the answer to. But he had no answer. He never had. “I don’t know why I chose Ilya to help,” Shane mumbled. Telling these men— the men he had known for years and thought he would spend the next decade or so playing hockey with— that it had been Ilya’s idea to pretend to be his boyfriend oddly felt like a betrayal. 

Shane was unsure how he had come to trust Ilya more than the majority of his team in just three days.

But the truth was he could barely look at most of the Metros at that moment. He felt like he hated them. Not because they now demanded an explanation for Shane’s lie, but because they had demanded an explanation for Shane’s relationship. 

They thought he made mistakes on the ice just to appease Ilya. They thought he had lost to Ilya on purpose. 

They did not respect him at all. Shane wondered if they ever had. 

He felt his shoulders slump as the anxiety lulled and rage quickly filled his veins.  

“Get out,” Shane told everyone. “Get out now.” 

“No fucking way. We still have to talk—” 

“No, we’ll talk about it in a couple of weeks at practice," Shane interrupted. “I’m not talking about it now. Get out. That’s an order. From your captain.”  

“Seriously?” Comeau asked, blood still dripping from his nose. 

“Yes,” Shane confirmed. “Get your things and go.” He turned to Hayden and J.J. “Can you help? Please?” 

They nodded and Shane quickly jogged away from the group and into his house, turning the corner quickly to get to his bedroom to catch Ilya before he left. 

Except Ilya was nowhere to be found. His suitcase remained at the side of Shane’s bed, though.

Shane walked around the house, trying to find the man, before walking outside to the driveway, hoping to catch a glimpse of a retreating figure. 

Nothing. 

Shane knew he could not go back into the house now after the speech he had just made. And so, he walked. He walked for hours.   

Ilya never crossed his path. 

Shane only seemed to gain full consciousness when he returned to the cottage later that night and saw that his entire team, save for Hayden and J.J., had followed instructions and left early in order to go back home. Shane was unsure he was even able to feel any sort of embarrassment over the whole situation. He felt like he was left with only anger and resentment.

“We’ll stay with you, buddy,” Hayden told him, handing him hot chocolate like he was one of his kids who had just woken up from a bad dream and was having trouble getting back to sleep. Jackie pet Shane’s hair lovingly as she nodded along to Hayden’s promise. 

“It’s okay guys, really,” Shane said. “Why don’t you go home?” 

“Home?” Jackie scoffed. “No way. It’s late. And besides, my mom’s still babysitting until tomorrow afternoon. This is my vacation, Shane.”

Shane laughed weakly. “Okay, okay. But why don’t you guys take the pizza and go downstairs?” He looked towards J.J. “You too. I don’t need you all to take care of me. I promise. I’m a fully grown adult who made a bad decision. And now I need to live with it.” 

Jackie sucked in a breath. 

“What?” Shane asked, turning his head towards her. 

She looked conflicted, opening and closing her mouth over and over again. “It’s just… Well… I mean…” 

“Jackie,” Hayden pushed. 

“You and Ilya looked so in love,” Jackie finally said. “You really— I guess what I’m trying to say is that you really fooled me.”

Hayden and J.J. looked like he agreed with her.

Shane felt that strange feeling in his stomach once more. “None of it was real… I’m sorry. I know you were probably excited to have a new friend to—” 

Jackie held up a hand. “Shane. I just want you to be okay. I can take Ilya out of the group chat. We can hang out without the other wives and girlfriends.” 

Shane furrowed his brows. “You’re still going to hang out with Ilya?” he laughed slightly. 

“Yeah?” Jackie replied slowly. “Just because you two decided to engage in some freaky role play for the weekend doesn’t mean I don’t want to hang out with him anymore.” 

“Oh, fucking hell,” Hayden sighed. “My wife is going to be best friends with Ilya Rozanov.” 

“Speaking of,” J.J. interjected. “Where is Rozanov? We didn’t see him leave with the rest of the guys. We thought he was with you.” 

Shane shook his head as he picked up his phone and dialed Ilya’s number. It was the one thing he had not tried on his walk as he had left his phone in the kitchen. If Ilya was still here they would know it—  he kept his phone on full volume at all times, like a psychopath. He held the phone up to his ear as the sound of Ilya’s ringtone trilled from Shane’s bedroom. 

Hayden, Jackie, and J.J. all wished Shane good luck as he walked over to where Ilya was sitting in the dark on his bed, staring out through the glass windows at the lake. 

“You’re still here,” Shane announced uselessly. “I was looking for you.”

“Where?” Ilya asked. 

“All over the neighborhood,” Shane revealed. 

“I was just sitting on the hammock outside,” Ilya explained. 

Shane inwardly cursed. That was the one place he had not checked. Shane was not fond of hammocks. He thought they were incredibly impractical. His father had put it in on the side of the house mostly for himself and Shane often forgot it existed.

He imagined lying in it with Ilya and suddenly he did not mind its impracticality. 

“I am not a lost dog,” Ilya continued. “You could have just called.”

“I didn’t have my phone.”

“Ah,” Ilya clicked his tongue.

Shane could not tell if Ilya was angry or sad. 

“Why did you stay?” Shane wondered.

Ilya shrugged. “I needed to think.” 

“About what?”

“Don’t worry about it, Hollander. ” 

Shane sat down next to him, making sure to leave an ample amount of space between the two of them. “I’m sorry,” he said after a moment of silence. 

“For what?” Ilya asked, somewhat harshly. 

Shane realized he had no answer. He leaned back on his elbows, admiring the light of the moon on the water. “I’m not sure… Everything.” He watched Ilya slowly nod his head. Shane wished he knew what to do in order to get Ilya to smile at him again. “Guess I probably will need to find a new team then, huh?” Shane finally said.  

Ilya scoffed. “Yes. Unless you want to be mocked for the rest of eternity.” 

“I heard the Centaurs are looking,” Shane tried to joke. 

He could practically feel Ilya slipping away from him.

“I should go,” Ilya said quietly after a long moment. 

Shane felt so overwhelmed he could cry. He hated himself for not preparing a speech. “If you want to. I was thinking… We never really finished our conversation. You’re welcome to stay—” 

“No,” Ilya dismissed quickly. “I should go. It’s done.” 

Done.

There were so many things Shane wanted to say as he watched Ilya gather his things and haphazardly stuff them into his suitcase. He wanted to leap up from the bed and take Ilya in his arms and tell him that everything that weekend had felt real to him. 

But he did not. He sat still, unable to feel anything but paralyzed. 

And then Ilya was gone. 

Shane laid down on his bed, turning his head slightly towards his nightstand where the tiny loon figurine sat. He welcomed the tears this time.

The next morning, Shane remained completely silent as Hayden, Jackie and J.J. tried to keep the breakfast conversation light and fun. It must have been abundantly clear to his friends that he was close to crying because, as he stared at his bowl of untouched oatmeal, he felt their eyes boring into him. Shane finally lifted his head up to see everyone staring at him like he had received a terminal diagnosis and only had days to live. 

“Guys,” Shane said. “Stop.” He took a sip of his black coffee and blanched. It was too bitter.

“Sorry,” Hayden replied. “You just look so sad, dude.” 

“Ilya did too when he left,” Jackie lamented. 

“You saw him?” Shane asked, unable to stop himself. 

Jackie nodded. “I heard him rolling his suitcase to the door. Thought I would say ‘goodbye,’ you know? He looked like a hurt puppy.” 

Shane dropped his spoon into his bowl unceremoniously. 

“Shane,” Hayden began. “Did something happen?”

Shane figured there was no point in being dishonest anymore. Everything else had already been exposed. “We had sex.” 

J.J. practically gasped while Hayden groaned, claiming that he “knew it,” and Jackie clapped her hands together excitedly.   

“Was it good?”

Shane laughed. “Really good. Like, best-I’ve-ever-had-good.”

“Shit,” J.J. mused. “Do you… Do you actually like him?” 

Shane thought back to how debilitated he had felt last night as he had been unable to get Ilya to stay. Of course he liked Ilya. What other explanation was there for the way he was feeling?  He wanted to spend every minute with Ilya. He wanted to learn more about his mother. He wanted to go out on a proper date with him, and hold doors open for him, and kiss him whenever he felt like it. “Yeah,” Shane breathed out, unable to stop the small smile that reached his lips. “I do.” 

“So, it’s not just rough, animalistic, hate sex after all these years of pent up rivalry?” Hayden asked. 

“Hayden!” Jackie chastised, looking a bit red in the cheeks. 

Shane ran his hands over his face. “No, man. It’s… something else. This weekend was crazy, but I’d do it all over if it meant that I got to be Ilya’s boyfriend again…  I fucked up. I shouldn't have let him leave.” 

“Do you think he likes you too?” J.J. questioned. 

Shane paused. He truly did not have an answer for J.J. He was pretty positive that Ilya liked him too, but the man had not said those words out loud. 

Jackie slapped J.J.’s arm. “Of course he does.” 

“How do you know?” Shane wondered.

Jackie looked a bit guilty. She squared her shoulder and turned to face Shane, speaking to him directly. “When he left yesterday, I waited with him outside for his Uber.” 

“Okay,” Shane nodded slowly, not knowing where this story was heading. 

“I was thinking back to our conversation at the fire pit,” Jackie continued. “You know, when Hayden asked Ilya why he loved you.” 

Shane bit his lip. He had not yet allowed himself to think back to what Ilya had said that night. 

“There was something about his answer…” Jackie said. “It was just too good. Genuine, but not rehearsed… Specific enough that anyone could tell it was tailored to you.” 

Shane’s heart was in his throat.

“So, I asked Ilya, point blank, what that was all about.”

“Yeah?” Shane pushed. 

“Ilya told me he answered that question truthfully,” Jackie finished. “He didn’t lie.” 

It was the best thing Shane had ever heard. 

Hayden whistled loudly. “Damn.” 

Shane felt a burst of adrenaline and immediately stood up from his chair. “I have to go.” His body carried him out of the kitchen on its own accord. “Sorry, guys. I have to go.” 

“No, hey, we get it,” Hayden said.

“Go!” Jackie encouraged. 

“Will you lock up? Stay as long as you need,” Shane told them. “I’m going to have to get down to Boston as quickly as I can.” 

“We’ll drive you to the airport!” Jackie exclaimed. “Everyone, get in the minivan!” 

Shane ran to the door before he saw the remnants of their breakfast on the kitchen table. “Wait. Let’s uh… let’s just clean up before—” 

“Go! Shane!” J.J. shouted. “I’ll clean up. Jackie and Hayden will take you. Go! Go! Vite!” 

Shane’s heart did not stop pounding until he got to his hotel room in Boston, hours later. He did not know Ilya’s address and Jackie had promised to perform some serious sleuthing to get it for him.

As Shane paced back and forth in the room, he forced himself to lie down on the bed and try to relax. He had no idea when Jackie would text him with the information, so there was no point in stewing in his anxiety until then. 

But, god, Shane was anxious. 

He wanted to believe Jackie when she said that everything would be okay between the two of them, but what if Ilya had completely changed his mind due to the fact that Shane was a coward who could not be honest about his feelings. 

He hoped that Ilya would be sympathetic towards him. It was not as if he was completely honest with his feelings either. Ilya had taken great pleasure in persistently teasing Shane to the point of contention, for years on end. If what he had told Jackie was true, then that had meant that Ilya had been purposefully hiding his true feelings for awhile now. 

And still, Shane could not find it in his heart to be mad at Ilya for that. He knew the chirping was just Ilya’s love language. He did not mean anything by it—

Shane sat up straight. It was like every single alarm bell in his head was going off at once.

He grabbed his phone and quickly opened Google, pausing only to think about what keywords to search exactly.

“Fuck,” Shane muttered to himself. “Um…” He ignored the second-hand embarrassment he felt typing out his name plus Ilya’s and hit enter. By some miracle, the first video that came up was exactly what he needed:

Ilya Rozanov/Shane Hollander Commentary | 2026

“Sure,” Shane said. “Good enough.” He hit play on the forty minute compilation that someone had put together. 

“You used to play with Shane Hollander,” the first announcer said. 

“No, no,” Ilya denied. “We used to play against one another. I beat him quite often.”

He snorted as the other commentators laughed along with Ilya. “Asshole,” Shane said lovingly. 

“Right. Of course, my apologies.” 

“I think he beat you quite often too, Rozanov!” 

Shane could hear the smile in Ilya’s voice. “Do not make me admit this.” 

The laughter continued before another commentator asked Ilya what he thought of Shane’s tactics on the ice. 

“There is a reason he has three cups, yes?” Ilya began. “But he still must work hard. He cannot get too comfortable. He cannot rely on that weak backhand he refuses to fix even after all these years. I took advantage of that backhand. Everyone else should too if they want a chance to win against Metros. Otherwise, Hollander will get them that fourth Stanley Cup.” 

Shane shook his head, finding himself laughing once more. Ilya was ridiculous, but he was also right about Shane’s backhand. Even his mother, who considered him the best player in the league, had chastised him about it once before.

Shane propped himself up against the headboard, and sat there listening to months of Ilya’s commentary. It was not cruel at all. It was simply constructive criticism that even he could admit he needed. 

Ilya was studying his game. He was learning his game. He was trying to help Shane improve it. 

And Shane had never once bothered to listen because his parents and friends had told him it was too unkind. 

“Look how he missed that shot,” Ilya’s voice said in the recording. “It’s because he—” 

“Should have aimed the puck at the goalie’s left side,” Shane said along with him at the same time. “I knew that…. I knew that left was his weak side…” 

“And he knows that,” Ilya reiterated in the video. “His head is not in it. He’s better than that.” 

Shane could not help the smile that reached his lips. He let his head fall back against the headboard with a loud thud. 

Ilya liked him. He really liked him. 

And god help him, Shane really liked Ilya too.

His phone chimed next to and Shane reached for it, seeing a text from Jackie. 

2886 Beacon Street— good luck!! 

Shane hopped out of bed and ran downstairs to catch a cab. 

It was only when he was finally outside Ilya’s house with his hand raised to knock on the door, that his nerves caught up with him. It was not like the usual rush he felt before a game. This felt like the stakes were even higher. 

“Come on,” Shane said to himself. “You like him. He likes you. What is the—” 

Shane dropped his raised fist as the front door quickly swung open and Ilya stood in front of him, shirtless and sweating. “I saw you talking to yourself out here while I was in the kitchen. What the hell are you doing here, Hollander?” 

Shane opened and closed his mouth, unable to form any words as he looked at Ilya’s chest. He willed himself not to get distracted. “I was in the neighborhood.” 

“Uh huh, sure.”

“Can I… Can I come in? I have to tell you something.” 

Ilya seemed to contemplate this before taking a deep breath and stepping to the side to let Shane inside. 

“Were you working out?” Shane asked quietly. 

He was almost positive Ilya smiled at the question. “No. I was in middle of orgy. Could you make this quick, Hollander?” 

“Shane, please,” he corrected once again before realizing what Ilya had said. “Wait.” 

Ilya rolled his eyes and pointed to his couch for them to sit down. “I’m kidding, Shane. Yes, I was working out.” 

He wanted to chastise Ilya, tell him to put on a shirt, and kiss him senseless. Not necessarily in that order. 

“What is it?” Ilya wondered. He kept his face neutral, making it impossible for Shane to figure out if he was happy to see him or not. 

Shane rubbed his sweaty palms on his shorts before lifting his head and holding intense eye contact. 

“Woah,” Ilya observed. “This looks serious.” 

“Yes,” Shane confirmed. “It is.” He needed Ilya to know that everything he was about to say was true. Even if Ilya threw him out of his house after Shane revealed his feelings, he wanted him to know that. “I listened to your commentary,” he began. 

“Okay,” Ilya replied, confused. 

Shane's mouth felt dry. He was suddenly at a loss for words as his eyes wandered down to Ilya’s chest. This felt like a conversation that should be had fully clothed. “Do you have a shirt you could put on, or…?”

“No,” Ilya answered curtly. 

“Right.” 

“Shane.” 

“What?” 

“You said it was serious? I’m assuming you flew on plane just to come here to tell me something, so, go on.” 

“Yes,” Shane nodded, locking in. “It was good.” 

Ilya raised an eyebrow in confusion. 

“Your commentary, I mean,” Shane explained. “You’re really good at your job. Even if you’re a little too focused on my backhand—”

“Is weak backhand—” 

“It’s a fine backhand,” Shane interjected. “But that’s not what I came here to talk about.” 

Ilya held his hands out and motioned for Shane to continue talking. 

“Do you remember what I said to you?” Shane pivoted. “How I’m surrounded by one too many sycophants?” 

Ilya nodded. “Yes. I had to look word up later that day for full definition. It should not be spelled that way.” 

Shane laughed. “I can’t disagree with you on that… But… The reason I bring that up is… I had never listened to your commentary before today. Not once.”

He watched Ilya’s face fall a bit. “Oh.”

Shane moved closer to him on the couch, grateful that Ilya did not object. “My family and friends… They made me think you were savage with it. They told me it was relentless, pointless, verbal bashing. So, I ignored it. Figured it would be best for my game.”

Ilya drew his lips into a tight line. “Was not my intention,” he finally said quietly. 

“I know,” Shane acknowledged. “I get it. Everyone else... They don’t really understand how we work, right?”

Ilya simply stared at him. 

“I wanted to thank you,” Shane told him. “You gave me some great advice for next season.”

“Yes, well,” Ilya mumbled. “I am very smart.” 

“And I’ve been so stupid, Ilya,” Shane continued. “I was so convinced by other people that you hated me, on and off the ice, that I never once paid attention to what was actually happening between us. Just the two of us.” 

Ilya looked hopeful for a moment before turning his head away from Shane. “And what was happening? A made-up rivalry and then a made-up relationship?” he provided.

“Well, I’m glad you brought up our relationship. It’s the reason I’m here,” Shane said as took out his phone and pulled up a tabloid he had found the night before as he wallowed in bed instead of sleeping. He passed the device over to Ilya. 

Ilya examined the picture for only a couple of seconds, before handing Shane his phone back. “So?” 

Shane glanced down at the paparazzi shot of them holding hands in Ottawa. “Everyone knows we’re dating now. Quite a headline for the NHL. Rivals to lovers.”

Ilya shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “Sure.” 

Shane shifted closer towards Ilya. “Guess we’ll have to stage a public breakup now, huh?”

Ilya watched him carefully. “Yes. But I figured that would happen when I agreed to fake date the most popular hockey player in the league.” He said it in the cadence of an insult, but Shane now knew just how much of a compliment it was.

Shane bit his lip, inching even closer. “Agreed? I never technically asked you. You just volunteered.” 

This time, Ilya leaned in as well. “You were so pathetic. I had to help.” 

“Right.” 

“So, what is our story?” Ilya questioned. “Work got in the way?” 

Shane shook his head. “No. That wouldn’t make sense for us.” 

“We’re just too different?” 

Shane smirked. “I think that’s probably why we would work.” 

And then Ilya did something wonderful. He smiled back. “I wanted to get a dog and you didn’t?” he suggested. 

Shane pondered this. “I would get a dog if you wanted.” 

“You snore.” 

“I’ve never snored in my life.”

“You hate my cooking.” 

“Give me a chance. I might like it.” 

“You are too stubborn.”

“More stubborn than you?” 

They stared at each other, both finally on the same page. 

“Do you have any suggestions?” Ilya teased, grabbing Shane’s arm and pulling him flush against his body.

“Our sex life is too monotonous?” Shane joked as he climbed on top of Ilya’s lap.

“Well, that’s not believable at all,” Ilya said, placing his hands on Shane’s hips. 

“Seems like we can’t figure out a reason to break up. That's interesting,” Shane mused, shifting back and forth on Ilya’s lap.

“Very,” Ilya agreed, his eyes dropping to Shane’s mouth.

Shane raised his hand to cup Ilya’s face. “What are we going to do?” he whispered. Ilya tilted his head up slightly, silently begging for a kiss before Shane pulled back, remembering what he came here to say. Ilya pouted as Shane traced his bottom lip with his thumb. “Wait. I have to tell you something…” 

“What?” Ilya asked, sounding impatient.

“I should have never let you walk out last night. I like you, Ilya Rozanov,” Shane admitted breathlessly. “A lot… and I want to be your boyfriend. For real, this time.” 

Ilya smiled again. He had the most beautiful smile. “I like you too, Shane. So much. It is actually concerning. I think I got one too many concussions—”

“Okay, enough,” Shane laughed, launching himself at Ilya and kissing him for what felt like an eternity. When they finally broke apart for air, he stared at Ilya’s face, trying to memorize every inch of it in a way he was now allowed to. Shane was pretty sure he wanted to stare at Ilya forever if he would let him. “Jackie told me what you said to her. Why didn’t you ever… make a move?” 

Ilya rolled his eyes playfully. “I’ve been flirting with you for years. Not my fault you did not notice.” 

Shane furrowed his brows in confusion. “What?” 

“Remember the photoshoot we did? Back before our rookie season. I told you I asked them to contact you as well for it? That was because I wanted to fuck you. Very badly,” Ilya explained. 

Shane thought back to that day. How Ilya had casually revealed that he wanted to work with him. How he had thought that was strange, but did not question it further. How he and Ilya had just missed each other in the locker rooms after, only nodding to say goodbye. 

Shane could not help the smile that took over his entire face. “You had a crush on me back then?” 

Ilya squeezed his waist. “No. Russians do not get crushes. That is not a thing.” 

“You concocted a whole photoshoot with me just to see me in the off-season,” Shane teased. “Does that mean you liked me before that?”

Ilya’s eyes darkened. Shane held his breath.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” Ilya asked.

“Yes. You were so rude to me.” 

Ilya laughed slightly. “You were so adorable. Practically asking for an autograph.” 

“Fuck you,” Shane said, not meaning it at all. 

“You shook my hand twice,” Ilya continued. “And then when I said I would beat you… Do you remember what you said?” 

Shane reached up to run his fingers through Ilya’s hair, eliciting a small moan from the man. “Yeah… I told you that wasn’t going to happen. Right?” 

Ilya licked his lips and nodded. “I knew I wanted you then. I did not know how much, but, yes. There was something there.” 

Shane suddenly felt his body grow hot. “Oh,” he choked out. He remembered how annoyingly handsome he thought Ilya had been, leaning up against the wall, smoking a cigarette. “God, I’m oblivious.” 

“Is cute,” Ilya said. “Don’t worry. I wanted you to realize you liked me too… If I had just wanted to fuck you, I would have just taken my shirt off in front of you. Clearly that is all it takes.”

Shane looked down to Ilya’s shirtless chest again. “I’m not that easy.” 

“No?” Ilya joked. “Okay, sure. I believe you.” And then he called Shane another Russian word. 

“You ever going to tell me what those nicknames mean?” Shane wondered. “Or do I have to learn Russian from someone else?” 

Ilya chased his mouth, kissing him once, twice, three more times. Shane allowed the indulgence. He supposed the kissing was no longer considered an indulgence. It was just simply something that boyfriends did. 

“They’re mostly jokes, like, ‘little tomato,’ or ‘my lawnmower…’” 

“Wait, what?” 

“But the one I just said,” Ilya continued as he said the word over again. “Translates to… ‘my beloved.’”  

Shane sucked in a breath. He liked Ilya so much. He could not believe he had been blind for this long. “You’re just a big softie underneath it all aren't you?”

“Definitely not,” Ilya denied, kissing him sweetly. “Maybe… Maybe only for you.”

“I’m sorry I took so long to catch up.” Shane said between kisses, voicing his thoughts. 

He felt Ilya smile up against his lips. “How will you make it up to me?” 

“Hm,” Shane hummed. “How about I let you do whatever you want to me in the bedroom?” 

Ilya’s face lit up. 

“Within reason, Ilya,” Shane warned, knowing full well there was not much he would protest. 

“I just want you to wear my jersey, Hollander. Relax,” Ilya chuckled. 

Shane felt a pleasant shiver run up and down his body. He knew Ilya had felt it too. “I could… maybe be persuaded. Anything else?”

“Did you bring your glasses?” Ilya asked seriously. 

“I barely grabbed my wallet before I—” Shane paused. “My glasses? That’s your big fantasy? Me in my glasses? Do you want me to read a book in front of you, or something?” 

Ilya kissed him hard, moaning like the image of Shane reading a book in his glasses was the hottest thing he could possibly imagine. 

Shane broke the kiss to gain some clarity. “Are you turned on by domesticity, Mr. Rozanov?” 

Ilya looked like he was definitely turned on by domesticity. 

Shane shook his head, laughing. “Okay. How would you like to stay with me at the cottage for the rest of the summer, then? I promise to wear my glasses every day if you do.” 

Ilya sat back, looking surprised. “You want me to come back to the cottage with you?” 

Shane realized that maybe the invite was a bit insulting. He was currently sitting in Ilya’s lap in his home. It was not as if they could not just stay in Boston for a couple of weeks. “Sorry. If you want to stay here, I totally get that. I just—” 

“You want to spend rest of summer break… together?” Ilya asked. 

Shane relaxed his body, understanding Ilya’s need for clarification. “Yes. Yes, Ilya, I do. Wherever. It doesn’t matter. I want to make up for lost time.” 

Ilya smiled. “Okay. Yes. I’d like to go back to the cottage with you.”

Shane felt himself practically vibrate with happiness. He pulled Ilya into a hug. 

Ilya stood up, taking Shane with him. “Come on. Let’s go pack.” 

Shane laughed as Ilya carried him to the bedroom, pushing him up against the walls to kiss him fervently along the way. “Is that all we’ll be doing?” he asked once they reached their destination.

Ilya threw him on the bed and got to work. 

They did not make it to the airport until the next night.

Shane smiled as he watched Ilya glide along the ice. He had started skating again after a four hour debate they had had in bed with one another. Ilya had petulantly said he did not want to go back out on the rink and Shane told him he would never go down on him again if he did not. And so, Ilya put his skates on once again. 

He was still as agile as he always had been, though maybe a bit less reckless as he tried not to put too much pressure on his knee. Still, Shane was positive if someone got in his way, Ilya would have no problem ramming them into the boards.

He heard the sound of a magazine being slammed up against the glass and Shane turned to see his teammates surrounding him, pointedly looking at a picture in the publication. Shane followed their gaze to see an image of himself and Ilya at a recent movie premiere that Rose had invited them to. There was a graphic that asked “Is This Hockey’s New ‘It’ Couple?” on top of the picture. Ilya had already bought a dozen copies of the magazine and cut out the photo in order to frame it for his nightstand. “Yes?” Shane asked innocently. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Comeau asked. “You’re just going to continue to pretend to date him?” 

Shane squared his shoulders, pretending to think about his answer. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“For what reason?”

“You realize how bad this is for us, right, Hollander? This is terrible PR,” Drapeau sneered. 

Shane tried not to smile. He, quite frankly, did not care about what anyone thought about the Metros anymore. He had already put in his request for a transfer for next year. 

Ilya skated over to them, throwing off his helmet and stepping past the glass to walk up to Shane. He placed a comforting hand on the back of Shane’s neck, rubbing his stress away. “You okay?” he whispered. 

Shane nodded. “The guys were just wondering why we’re still pretending to date each other.” 

“Ah,” Ilya said, playing along. “I keep trying to fake dump him, but he won’t let me.” 

Shane held back a laugh. 

“You guys are fucking weird...”

“Seriously, what the fuck is going on?” 

Shane sighed. “It just seemed like too much work, you know? Breaking up so quickly after being exposed as a couple. So, we’re just going to… stay together. For a little longer.” 

Ilya smirked at him. “A couple more months.”

“Or a year,” Shane suggested. 

“Or two.” 

“Maybe more.”

Maybe forever, Shane thought as Ilya kissed him, lingering a bit.

The two of them barely registered Shane’s teammates walking away, frustrated with the lack of answers. 

“I can’t wait for you to leave the Metros,” Ilya told him. “I’m never going to be nice to them again.”

“Were you ever?” Shane joked. 

“Eh,” Ilya shrugged.

“I think everyone feels the same way you do. They want me gone. Save for Hayden and J.J.,” Shane replied. “Maybe I could get them to join Ottawa too.” 

Ilya rolled his eyes, but still smiled fondly at Shane. “Come on. Come join me on the ice. I’ll show you all the ways to fix that backhand.”

“Careful,” Shane warned playfully. 

Ilya pulled Shane into his arms and kissed him with far too much tongue for a public space. “Maybe if you’re lucky I’ll teach you how to properly use my move. Last time you did it, you messed it up.” 

Shane scoffed. “I have… never used your move before.” 

It was a bold-faced lie. Shane had most definitely used “The Rozanov” before. He had wanted to see if it would improve his shooting or not. 

Ilya simply smirked at him. “Okay.” He kissed him once more and Shane melted under his touch. 

“Do you want to go on a fake date later?” Shane asked, feeling emboldened by the rage he felt for his soon-to-be-former teammates. He reluctantly pulled out of Ilya’s embrace and reached for his own skates to put them on. 

“Just as long as you don’t ask me to fake jerk you off underneath the table again,” Ilya joked, walking back out onto the ice. “I am good actor, but not that good.”

Shane tugged on his helmet and joined Ilya in the middle of the rink, positioning himself over the puck that had already dropped in between the two of them. Ilya raised an eyebrow waiting for Shane to tap his stick on the ice two times, like he always did. 

Shane did not make him wait. He tapped his stick twice before Ilya quickly kissed his helmet, distracting him and skating away with the puck and scoring. 

Shane stood frozen in place with his mouth open, well aware he was annoyed, but also completely turned on by Ilya’s confidence.

“The Metros captain was distracted by his extremely handsome opponent,” Ilya said in his commentator voice, drifting towards him slowly. “Is not shocking. His opponent is very attractive. But, still, you would think Hollander would be a bit more professional.” He grabbed Shane by the waist, pulling him close.

Shane laughed, overwhelmed with the feeling of going up against Ilya once more. He had missed it so much. And now he never would have to miss it again. 

He pushed his helmet up a bit and grabbed Ilya’s to do the same, leaning forward to kiss his boyfriend properly this time. “Whoever scores a hat trick first wins?”

“Hm, yes, okay,” Ilya agreed. “And what do I get when I win?” 

“You won’t,” Shane teased. “When I win, you have to do whatever I want. No questions asked.” 

“Good thing what we both want is for me to bend you over one of the benches in the locker room,” Ilya said. 

Shane smirked. “You always have the best ideas.” 

The End.

Chapter End Notes

(And then Ryan Price walked in on them).

Thank you so much to everyone who read and commented on this fic. And thank you for sticking around for all the updates considering I originally thought this would just be a short one shot and then I was quickly possessed by Shane and Ilya and their need to miscommunicate with one another.

It means the world to me that people take the time to engage with my work. I'm usually off writing about vampires, so I appreciate the love here in the HR fandom as well.

Until next time! 🏒

XOXO, Cher. 🩷