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, Rose Landry, Svetlana Vetrova, Hayden Pike

Additional Tags:

ilya rozanov has been obsessed since day one, chirping as a form of flirting, shane lets loose, Your Honor They Love Each Other, Social Media Fic, but not too heavy handed, Shane Hollander gets a touch of Hudson Williams, 80s music as a character, interviews chirps and people going wild

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-01-11 Updated: 2026-02-22 Words: 41,641 Chapters: 9/?

Just Guys Being Dudes

Summary

Ilya and Shane get outed via instagram live… as friends. The world reacts as their friendship becomes the most talked about thing in the hockey world.

Being openly friends affords them more freedoms to be together, but all the more easy to lose it all.

AKA

Shane has a touch of Hudson Williams to him

Chapter 1: The Event

Chapter Notes

I mixed up the books and tv show so there’s the voyageurs vs the raiders, you’re gonna have to live with it

”Happy game day!” Cliff says to his camera, front facing camera on his face as he approached Rozanov’s door. “Roz sometimes needs a wake up call, so come with me to kick his ass out of bed.”

The number of people in his live aren’t many, but it’s in the hundreds, nearing a thousand after the mention of Rozanov. This wasn’t the first time Cliff had taken the fans on a trip to wake up Roz on game day, but usually it was when they had an away game.

Rozanov had said he was having a quiet night the night before, so he most likely didn’t have a girl over, Ilya was pretty free with that information when he did.

Cliff put the key in Ilya’s apartment door, calling out his name as he entered. “Roz time to wake up!”

Cliff didn’t immediately see him, scanning the quiet apartment until he saw feet dangling over the arm of the sofa. Cliff flipped the camera from front facing to the back camera as he made his way into the living room properly, and around the sofa.

“Wakey wakey Roz, it’s game day - oh what the fuck!” The initial gentle teasing tone he turned into a surprised shout as his eyes landed on Shane Fucking Hollander sprawled out on Ilya’s couch.

The previously dozing Hollander started at the shout, his eyes blinking open and landing almost immediately on Cliff, and then dropping down to his phone.

“I’m on insta live.” Cliff said, giving the bitter rival context for the shitstorm that was about to unfold. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Hollander brought his hands up to rub his face, the movement turning into a stretch that popped probably every joint in his body. “Well I was sleeping, probably a dumb idea to sleep on a sofa the night before a game, but then again, it’s only Boston.”

*****

Shane had taken the brief moment he took to rub his face and stretch to think; he’d been caught at Ilya’s place. They’d been caught. Surely this was it. Except, Shane had been napping on the sofa. He was fully dressed. They had plausible deniability here. More than plausible.

If Marlow had been an hour earlier he would have walked in on them in the most explicitly compromising position possible, if he’d been half an hour earlier Shane would have been showering, but thanks to whatever powers that be, he had walked in on Shane’s post-shower accidental nap.

“Well I was asleep, probably a dumb idea to sleep on a sofa the night before a game, but then again, it’s only Boston.” Shane lowered the hands from his face to shoot a smirk at Marlow.

The fear was still there, eating away at his stomach, making him want to shake and collapse and hide and throw up. But he’d put on a mask his entire life, this was just the final gauntlet.

Marlow didn’t seem to know what to say, his face was smart enough to rearrange into offense, but words didn’t seem to be able to follow just yet.

Shane rearrange his features to give the impression he’d only just remembered as he said “wait, why the fuck are you live?”

As though that wasn’t hanging over every one of his thoughts like a neon warning sign.

“Why the fuck are you here?” Marlow said instead of responding to the question Shane desperately needed the answer to.

“I’ll go get Rozanov.” Shane suggested, rising up off the sofa.

He was overthinking how he walked, did he look too familiar in this apartment? Did he seem too tight and nervous? Did he walk stiffly? How will people interpret that? Why the fuck was Marlow live?

Shane could hear the sounds of Ilya’s shower running in his en suite, and was thankful the bathroom door wasn’t visible from the living room as he slipped into the room.

Ilya’s perfect naked body was in full view as he stepped out of the shower, shooting Shane a flirty smile as he noticed him. “Is not too late for you to join me in the shower.”

“Marlow is here.” Shane said it simply, tightly. If he broke here, he wouldn’t be able to go back out there and face Marlow. “He’s live on instagram.”

“Fuck.” Ilya’s expression dropped in a second. Gone was the hungry look in his eye, with it the smile he reserved for Shane alone. “What did he see?”

“Nothing, I was sleeping on the sofa when he came in.”

A small flicker of a smile on Ilya’s face. “I wore you out.”

“Ilya.”

“Yes, sorry, fuck.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I will get dressed, you go make breakfast.”

“Go make breakfast?” Shane couldn’t parse that their morning plans were apparently still in place.

Ilya placed his hands on Shane’s face, locking their eyes together. “Da, you go make breakfast like it is most normal thing in world. I will join you. And we tell world we have been friends for many years. It will be okay.”

It made sense, it was pretty much their only option at this point. Sell the story of a secret friendship. But Shane’s heart was beating so loud and his brain was somehow running overtime but completely blanking out.

“Shane.” The hands on his face slipped into his hair, giving it a light tug. “We will do very good at pretending to be friends. We already are. Is not even big lie.”

“Why the fuck is Marlow on a live breaking into your place?”

Ilya smiled his cocky, egotistical, smirk. “He does this sometimes, maybe twice. Bringing me into live makes it very popular, see, because everyone loves me, and cares very little about him, da?”

Ilya’s self assuredness, his quintessential love of himself, sparked a sense of familiarity and ease within Shane. He knew how to be around Ilya, he could do this.

“There he is.” Ilya said, pressing a quick kiss to Shane’s lips before pushing him toward the door.

Shane walked back through the living room with an attempt of casual familiarity. He was Shane Hollander, secret friend of Ilya Rozanov. Of course he’s been at his place before, always sleeps on the couch, maybe they chirp each other. Easy.

“So where’s Roz?” Marlow asks.

Shane continues past Marlow toward the kitchen, “Getting dressed, he was in the shower, hence why he didn’t hear you scream when you saw me.”

“Fuck you, I didn’t scream.” Marlow follows him to the kitchen.

Shane looks down at Marlow’s phone pointedly. “You can lie to yourself but we all know.” He gestured between himself and Marlow’s phone and tried not to think about how many people were watching.

Marlow glanced down at his phone and scowled, “hey no, you guys are meant to be on my side.”

Okay so there was something positive about him in the chat, the public weren’t immediately trying to destroy his life, they didn’t instantly realise how fucking in love Shane was with Ilya.

“Goood morning!” Ilya appeared from his room, dressed in a form fitting Boston top and loose sweats slung low.

Shane turned away, and started getting the omelette ingredients out of the fridge. Ilya couldn’t have dressed in anything that wouldn’t make Shane want to devour him, so the best option was not to look at all.

“Holly, I heard we had a break in!” Ilya strode in with all the ease of someone who didn’t give a fuck.

Shane scowled at the new nickname he’d apparently acquired. Ilya came to join him on his side of the breakfast bar, with Marlow sitting on the other side of it on a bar stool.

“Marly, meet Holly, Holly meet Marly. I believe you two have met before, da? Marly broke your collarbone.”

“Shit Roz.” Marlow groaned. “Did you have to bring that up?”

“Oh what, you thought I forgot?” Shane scoffed at him.

There was an awkward pause, Shane could see Marlow wanted to apologise but also couldn’t with his live still going, not in front of all the Boston fans, and most likely some Montreal fans by now. But then a change of topic could only really be the elephant in the room: why the fuck was Shane Hollander sleeping on Ilya Rozanov’s couch?

“Hello world,” Ilya leaned toward Marlow’s phone. “I hear you now know our little secret. Shane Hollander, is my stalker. He follow me home, broke in, sleep on my couch. Is very sad.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Shane elbowed him hard in the side.

“Ow fuck, Jesus.” Ilya clutched his side. “See people, Hollander is very well behaved in ice, but off ice, very violent.”

“I miss when your English was bad.” Shane said, loud enough to be picked up by the phone.

Shane had started chopping the veg he was adding to the omelette. Very happy to have his eyes and hands occupied.

“He is so mean to me. See rivalry alive and well!” Ilya laughed, practically pointing at the elephant.

“Yeah can I get some clarification? As in, any?”

Shane glanced up at Marlow, and saw that he was giving Ilya a look. He had written on a post-it the had been on the counter.

Just explain so the fans don’t speculate

Marlow saw Shane noticing, put the post it down to add

That why didn’t end live

And Shane understood it. If he’s ended it when he saw Shane on the sofa the speculation would have been intense, uncontrolled, but this way, Marlow was giving them a chance to control the narrative.

“Okay okay” Ilya held up his hands. “Hollander is like my best friend, have known him long time. First hockey player I met when I came here. First time we meet, 2008 I think?”

“Yeah.” Shane said, definitely casually. “Weren’t friends then though. You were an asshole.”

Marlow snorted. “Well that hasn’t changed so what did?”

Shane found himself shooting Marlow an amused smile. “Nothing. Forced proximity.”

“What golden boy is being too nice to say, is that I ask him about Montreal and Boston, and why are we rivals. I didn’t really know. He told me they gonna make us rivals and because I am rebel, I say fuck that.”

There was a long pause as Shane scrambled the eggs in a bowl.

“Is that it?” Marlow said. “You’re friends because Roz said so?”

Shane thought about it, and honestly, yes. Ilya had made the first move, almost every step of the way.

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Pretty much. You know what Rozie is like.” Calling him Rozie was a dig at being called Holly, see how he liked it. “We only hang out when we play each other, grab dinner or something.”

“You make dinner because you eat like rabbit.” Ilya was wandering around the kitchen, if Marlow hadn’t been here he’d be kissing Shane’s neck, but instead he was having to throw his excess energy into moving around.

“I make dinner because you only know how to make tuna melts.” Shane snipped back.

“Tuna melts are fucking good!”

This was familiar territory, arguing about food, arguing with Ilya’s insults, arguing in general. They could do this and seem like friends who kind of hated each other.

“You are lucky, Marly, if you had come 20 minutes later you would have heard Holly singing bad 80s music.”

Fuckssake. Shane was going to kill him. Like actually murder him.

Marlow actually laughed at that. “Shane Hollander likes 80s music? The money I would pay to see that.”

Ilya grinned and leaned over the breakfast counter. “Pay me money, Marly, and I will film it for you next time.”

“You will do no such thing.” Shane called from where he was now adding light oil to a pan. “Because it’s not true.”

Ilya laughed, his merry, snarky laugh. The laugh that was a mixture of genuine mirth and joy of being an asshole.

“I don’t know if I believe you, Holly.” Marlow said, a slight laugh in his voice too.

Shane shot him a look over his shoulder.

“Hollander.” He corrected hastily.

Shane said nothing. Focussing on his task until Ilya accidentally knocked the fork he’d been beating the eggs with, splattering egg everywhere.

“Ilya!” Shane shouted. Exasperated as he stared at the mess.

Ilya rolls his eyes and goes to grab a cloth. “Oh my god Holly, no one died, is fine I clean it up.”

The egg mixture was only splattered here and there and Ilya was quick at wiping it away, but Shane’s nerves were barely contained, it felt like any small thing would break the relaxed facade he had on. Well, as relaxed as Shane Hollander could ever pretend to be.

“Okay. Okay. There’s a lot of questions in the chat.” Marlow says, looking at his phone.

Ilya tsked and shook his head. “Holly only does interviews if he gets paid. His mother is his manager, very tough. Gets him doing Rolex and shit.”

Shane smiled at the way Ilya was able to give them an out, “what he said. Talk to my manager.”

“Her name is Yuna, very nice lady. But you must pay Holly lots of money. More than you can afford Marly.”

Marlow still looked slightly weirded out by the interaction, but caught eyes once again with Ilya and seemed to come to a decision.

“Okay fine, answer one question, you called Hollander your best friend. What the fuck man? I thought we were tight!”

Shane couldn’t help but smirk but kept quiet as he poured the omelette mixture into the pan.

“Marly! There is no need to be jealous, I have many friends.” Ilya waved off the complaint. “I said it for poor Shane, I am his only friend.”

Shane scowled this time, and was incapable of staying quiet. “Ilya, you’re not even my best friend, Hayden is. You rank somewhere after Scott Hunter.”

Now Ilya made an outraged noise behind him, “I tell everyone he is my best friend and he does this to me? After Scott Hunter? Hunter is literally the only player you’ve ever tried to fight, and I rank after him? I guess you’re friends because you’re both boring.”

The words were interlaced with colourful Russian insults that Shane only recognised a handful of. He ignored Ilya in favour of opening the cupboard with all the plates and other crockery in it.

“Marlow, you having some?” He asked, two plates in one hand, his other han resting on a third.

Marlow blinked at him, as though he hadn’t thought about the fact that Shane had been cooking during the last 20 minutes or so.

“Yes!’ Ilya decided for him. “Marlow will eat with us, goodbye raiders! Thank you for joining us, we’ll see you all later when you watch us beat Montreal!”

“In your dreams!” Shane said just before Marlow hit the end live button.

The pause once the live was over seemed louder and more awkward than any of the previous ones. Shane dutifully doled out the omelette onto three plates, his hands shaking.

“So what the fuck Ilya?” Marlow said once he’d put his phone down.

“Is like we said.” Ilya sighed, “we became friends summer before rookie season. Just like, nervous kids going to school for first time? Wanted to have a friend.”

Shane carried two plates to the breakfast bar, then turned around and got his. He moved mechanically, grab fork, stab omelette, raise omelette to mouth, chew, swallow, repeat.

“Shane.” Ilya said lowly, drawing his attention.

Marlow was also looking at him oddly but said nothing as he ate his food.

“Shane it’s fine, no need to freak out. Worst is over.” What Ilya was trying to say is that no one knew they were together. But that wasn’t the only issue.

“There’s going to be so many questions, Ilya.” Shane would just have to live with Marlow hearing his minor meltdown. “My team, fuck, my team are going to wonder why the fuck they found out from a Raider’s instagram live that we’re friends! Wonder why I hung out with you the night before a game! They’re going to be so pissed.”

All Shane wanted was for Ilya to comfort him, to place his hands on his face and caress his hair and kiss him and tell him it would be okay, but there was fucking Marlow eating his fucking omelette.

“Wow, your team sounds like assholes.” Marlow said with food in his mouth.

Shane shot him a glare.

Marlow hastily swallowed to add, “I kind of mean it though. Like yeah, it’s a shock, but I know it’s not going to change how Roz treats Montreal on the ice. We’re still going to win like we always do.”

The last bit was said with a hint of chirp. Like an offering, an outreached hand ready to grasp Shane’s, to shake him, open his eyes.

Because he was right. This had no bearing on his play. It was no one’s fucking business. Except now everyone knew.

“How many people were watching?” Shane managed to grit out.

Marlow glanced at Ilya, who nodded at him. “We surpassed 50k.”

Shane couldn’t picture how many people that realistically was. Their stadiums could fit just under 20k people in them. There was a chance that everyone who came to the game tonight had been watching.

Who was Shane kidding? Even if they didn’t see it live, it was definitely out there. Recorded, uploaded, played on instagram, youtube, ESPN probably. Eventually.

Shane managed a few more mouthfuls as Marlow and Ilya made light conversation, politely not saying anything about Shane’s obvious mood. Shane pushed the rest of his omelette onto Ilya’s plate and began washing up.

“Shane, leave it, I can do it later.” Ilya came to stand at his side, his hand turning off the tap. His other hand did not come to land on his hip and give it a squeeze, his lips did not brush Shane’s head, they were just to men, standing slightly apart.

It took his remaining will not to touch him. Not lean against him. Not to verbalise all the other things he was thinking.

“I have to go.” He said. “Better to deal with this now.”

Ilya let him pass but Marlow stood up as he walked around the breakfast bar.

“Hollander, I just wanted to apologise. For the hitting you too hard that time, and for this too. I guess I’ve got a pretty bad track record with you, but Roz is one of my best friends and I mean that. I owe you, okay?”

It felt like he was trying to say something without saying it, something Shane couldn’t think about right now.

“Thanks, Marlow.” Shane held out a hand for him to shake.

Marlow grasped it, “Cliff, please.”

Shane just nodded and gave a tight smile. “Cliff.”

****

Cliff watched Ilya watch Shane leave. And expression he had never seen on the Russian’s face, and not one he could place. Maybe it was concern, or worry.

“So, you’re on washing up duty, yes?” Ilya said lightly.

“Roz.” Cliff sighed.

“I believe, since you rudely interrupt breakfast, is your turn to wash up.” Ilya continued, moving back to the breakfast bar.

“Rozanov.” Cliff said more firmly.

Ilya glanced around the kitchen. “Is not too much to do, just pan and plates.

“Ilya.” Cliff’s voice was firm, brokering no further distraction. He had never called Ilya by his first name.

Ilya stopped, his back to Cliff, waiting for him to say words he desperately didn’t want to hear.

“Is Hollander Jane?” And there it was, the names very few people on this planet could ever say. “Because if he is, you two need to be more careful.”

“Marly -”

“Don’t bother, Ilya. I’m not going to ask you to spill everything. It’s your business. It’s Hollander’s business. I know it’s my fault this even happened, and I am so sorry. I will do whatever I can to help. I know a lot more than the public, hell, I’m possibly the only one who knows that when you’re smiling at your phone you’re messaging the mysterious Jane. But there will still be speculation. You need to decide how much I can know, how much the team can know, and how much the world can know.”

There was a loud pause while Ilya unstuck his tongue. Cliff watched his shoulders, the tension there as he thought about what to say, and Cliff let him take his time. Maybe stole another bite of breakfast while he waited.

“Thank you, Cliff.” He said eventually, his back still to Cliff “you are good friend.”

“I’m your best fucking friend.” Cliff said.

Ilya turned around, llip quirked into a smile. “Yeah, you are.”

***

Shane got back to his hotel fine, up in the lift without anyone looking at him like he was a massive fucking traitor. A liar. He made it all the way to his room where Hayden was chilling on his bed.

“Hey buddy,” Hayden greeted him with a suggestive grin, “where were you all night?”

“Ilya Rozanov’s place.” Shane told him. No point beating round the bush.

Hayd frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“There’s nothing to get Hayd, it’s true.” Shane moved to sit on his unslept-in-bed, his chest tight, holding all his breath in. “It’ll be out there soon anyway.”

“Hey, hey, buddy, I don’t know what’s going on but you need to breathe for me.” Hayden moved off his bed to crouch in front of Shane. “Whatever’s happened, we can get through it.”

“I was caught,” Shane gasped, “at Ilya Rozanov’s house.”

Hayden’s brow furrowed, and then his eyes widened. “Shane, is Ilya… Boston Lily?”

Shane was fucking this up. He needed to tell Hayden that he was just friends with Ilya, that they’d be filmed hanging out, that it wasn’t what he was thinking.

Instead Shane cried. Hayden pulled him forward until his face rest against his shoulder, and soon he was soothing Shane the same way Shane had heard him comfort his girls.

Eventually Shane pulled back, his still wet but the tightness had lessened.

“So what happened?” Hayden asked. “Was something… explicit leaked?”

“No, no thank God. Cliff Marlow was doing a live and came over to Ilya’s, I was on the couch, Ilya was in the shower. We played it off like we’ve just been friends for years, but I don’t know how well it… came across."

“So nothing will hint at you two being… involved?” Hayden said, mouth twisting at the word ‘involved.’ “Sorry, I sound like a dick. It’s not because you’re gay. You know that.”

Shane just shook his head. The team had known he was gay for a while now, for the most part, as long as he didn’t bring it up no one cared. JJ wanted to hook him up, as did Hayden, but otherwise? It wasn’t mentioned.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to watch it?” Hayden reached over to his bed where his phone was. “I’ll bet that’s already out there.”

“Oh god.” Shane groaned and leaned forward.

Hayden clapped him on the back, “go shower, I'll review and report back.”

Shane nodded and stood up. He could follow directions, stopping to plug his phone in to charge before he moved toward the bathroom.

“Shane,” Hayd called before Shane got to the bathroom, “thank you for telling me. I’ll have your back, no matter what.”

“Thanks man. and I'm sorry, for not telling you sooner.”

Hayden paused for a moment, before saying, “don’t be, man, I get it.”

****

Post shower gave Shane a lot more clarity. He’d already showered once today, washing away Ilya’s release, this time he was washing away the anxiety. The fear.

Returning to the bedroom he could his own voice, tinny as it came through the speaker on Hayd’s phone. Then there was Cliff and Ilya, their voices only stopped when Hayden noticed him and paused it.

“It’s not as bad as you think.” Was the first thing he said. “You played it off really well. The weirdest part is seeing you and Ilya be so… comfortable around each other.”

“What are people saying?” Shane finally found the courage to ask.

“Mostly shocked, a lot of positive actually, some negative, some negative that I can’t tell if it’s meant as a joke or not.” Hayden closed his phone. “Can I ask… have you two always been…? Or is the ‘since rookies’ a joke?”

“No, that was correct. We’ve not always been together, together. Monogamous. But we’ve been… fooling around since rookie year.”

“Holy shit.” Hayden shook his head. “And it’s definitely Rozanov you want?”

Shane finally let himself smile a little. “Yeah.”

He explained everything to Hayden. Not in explicit detail, but a rough timeline. Why Ilya, why it could never be anyone else. And Hayden listened to it, he held back his distaste of Ilya when he could, he placed a comforting hand on Shane’s shoulder.

“Let me know what I can do, and I will do my best.” he said after Shane finished his tale. “Even if you have terrible taste in men.”

The thing Shane had been dreading was now the only thing left to do. He unplugged his phone and powered it back on. He had been lucky, in a way, that it had died at some point during the night. But now it was fully charged again.

It buzzed over and over again once it turned on, with messages, missed calls, @‘s and mentions.

Lily
We need to talk

Lily
Have continued plans

Shane replied to Ilya first, trying to picture how he was coping right now. Probably better than Shane was. No, definitely better than Shane was.

Jane
Contingency plans

Lily
Yes, whatever the fuck

Lily
He knows you’re Jane

Jane
Hayd knows you’re Lily

Lily
Fuck

Jane
He watched it, said we played it off well

Lily
But he still guessed from video

Jane
No that was my fault

Jane
I all but told him when I got in

Jane
But Marlow still guessed

Lily
Cliff knows me a lot better than fans

Jane
Fuck

Lily
Fuck

Lily
I still see you after game?

Jane
No

Jane
Maybe

Jane
I want to

Lily
okay

Shane’s other messages were from his agent, Rose, some individual messages from his teammates, and of course the group chat. To the first two he sent off generic messages, he ignored the direct ones from teammates, and instead started writing a message into the groupchat.

The boys swayed from surprise to outright angry. None of them had anything positive to say. Hayden hadn’t sent a message at all into the chat yet, which Shane supposed maybe Hayden was waiting to see what Shane had to say about it.

Hollander
Hey, I know this is probably a shock to many of you
And I can tell a lot of you are upset by it, all I can say is
Grow up
We play a sport, a sport we’re damn good at
who I spend my time with off the ice shouldn’t matter
It doesn’t affect the game
So get your heads screwed on right
and use all this energy to destroy the raiders tonight

“Holy shit, Shane, where did that come from?” Hayden gaped from where he stared at his phone screen.

“Just something Marlow said to me earlier.” Shane definitely felt anxiety about the text, but at the same time, he was tired. He was so tired of always trying to be the most affable Canadian player to grace Hockey.

Hayden eyed Shane, “oh great, we’re taking advice from Raiders now?”

“When I was near panicking this morning thinking about how much you guys might hate me, and Cliff Marlow, the man who took me out of the game for 6 weeks, was confused as to why my team would care since he didn’t see an issue with it? Yeah, I took some advice from a Raider.”

Hayden was quiet for a moment, both of their phones buzzing with more Voyager messages. “Yeah, man. Yeah okay.”

Comeau
Our heads screwed on right?
C’est des conneries!
You are the one making petit dejeuner with the enemy

Drapeau
Sorry cap but who you spend your time with does matter
Rozanov is not
He is
Merde

Pike
You all need to do as the cap says
Grow up

Boiziau
And I suppose you knew the whole time?
You tryna tell me Hollander didn’t lie to you
each time he went to go see his Russian?

Hayden scowled down at his phone, glanced up at Shane, a determination set in his brow.

Pike
Yeah, actually, I did know
I just didn’t think it fucking mattered
Because it doesn’t stop us beating them any less
Play the game
Keep your opinions to yourself

“Hayd.” Shane didn’t know what else to say, it was all so fucked. But Hayden had just lied for him, and defended him.

Their phones continued to buzz for a bit but once they stopped replying the messages stopped. Shane assumed the situation was still being talked about, but had just moved off the groupchat. Maybe they had a second group chat that he wasn’t in. Who knew at this point.

It was then that a call came through from Shane’s mother. He didn’t want to have this conversation again. He’d done it too many times today, and it would only continue.

He let the call ring out, then sent her a message.

Shane
Hey mom
I’m fine
I need to head to pre-game stuff
But I’ll talk to you later okay?

There were others, his coach, for one. Only a text, no call.

Theriault
You have anything to say to me?

Shane stared at it for a bit, there was nothing the league could do. It wasn’t against any rules to be friends with the opposition, trades would be impossible under those circumstances. And since Shane was still feeling bitchy he replied:

Hollander
No

****

Pregame was tense. The locker room was tense. Theriault was standoffish but not outrightly hostile. Hayden stuck by his side chatting about Jackie and the kids as though it were any other day, for which Shane was eternally grateful.

The others chatted to each other, some normal chatter, but too many were throwing Shane looks mixed with obvious whispers. He didn’t know what to say to make it all blow over, and the longer his team looked at him with suspicion, the more it would affect their game play.

“Hollander!” Theriault called. “With me.”

Everyone eyed him as he crossed the locker room to go with their coach. There’s no way he could get in real trouble, his agent had already made sure he knew that. But he still felt like he was being taken to the principal's office.

“They want you mic’d for this game, this is Lynn, she’s going to get you sorted.” Theriault said before leaving.

Shane shook her hand with a media smile and held patiently still as a mic was attached to him, Lynn taking a moment to check it all worked.

“Holly! Long time, no see!” Ilya came stomping down the hallway in his skates, “I too, am getting mic.”

“Sorry, Mr Hollander, there’s an issue with this battery pack, I’ll be right back.” Lynn said, unplugging the pack from the mic, and looking Shane in the eye added, “it’s not recording currently. I will let you know when it is.”

And then she left the room.

“Wow, do you think even she’s guessed.” Shane said to Ilya, his stomach tightening.

“No, moya yaichnaya skorlupa, I think she is just kind.” My eggshell

Shane turned to look at him, he seemed fine. Comfortable. Maybe a little… sad? Concerned?

“How were your team?”

Ilya shrugged. “Like Marlow said, some were shocked, some didn’t care, some thought it was very funny. St Simon laughed a lot, said classic Roz.”

The silence that followed let Shane know Ilya probably already knew what the Voyageurs response was. He didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to admit his own team treated him like shit.

“Different vibe in the Montreal locker room.” Was all Shane said.

“Fucksake.” Ilya hissed, “Idiots, moya lyubimy.”

“Sorry about that!” Lynn reappeared, setting Shane’s mic up quickly. ”You’re all good to go, we can hear you from now, there’s a general rule that they’ll only publish what gets said on or around the ice but it is recording from now. Mr Rozanov, you’re up next.”

Shane made to leave, when Ilya called to him “Goodluck tonight Holly, I bet you have more fans in the crowd tonight than before!”

It was weak, in terms of chirps, but it served its purpose, to let Shane know that there were more opinions than just his teams. That it was quite possible Bostonians loved a secret, rebellious, friendship.

Reentering the locker room had every eye turned on him, and Shane dug deep for that earlier cavalier attitude. He’d told them to grow up, now he had to tell them to play nice.

“Okay Voyageurs! I am mic’d up for this game! Be on whatever behaviour you can live with being on the internet forever. I’m already fucked so let’s get out there and destroy the Raiders. I have some beef with Marlow I need to work out.”

Hayden, loyally, laughed at that, and surprisingly, so did a few of the others. JJ, who hadn’t said anything to Shane yet today, even quirked a smile.

“So let’s get out there and remind Boston why they hate to see us coming!”

The team dutifully cheered, JJ standing up and raising his hands to incite a bigger cheer which obligingly roared. They stomped out toward the ice and Shane felt some of that tightness begin to lift.

Comeau stopped by him briefly to say, “I don’t know if Rozanov is rubbing of on you, but I actually quite like this don’t give a fuck cap.”

Shane couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his lips. “Shut the fuck up, Coms.”

Comeau grinned and shot out onto the ice. Shane, as captain, was the last on for his team. He braced himself, took a deep breath of that icy air, and rushed out to the sounds of cheers from the away crowd.

Boston was deep enemy territory, but they almost always had at least a handful of fans at away games, and today was no different. Skating out there and seeing the tens of thousands of fans viscerally reminded him of how many had watched him cook two of the raiders breakfast this morning.

Ilya and Shane were in the face off, because of course, the fans screaming incoherently. Shane couldn’t tell if they were happy, sad, angry, excited, or just screaming.

“Wanna make a deal, Hollander?”

“A deal?” Shane asked.

“Da, betting is not allowed.” Shane fought the urge to roll his eyes, “But we could make deal. If I win, I post Holly singing bad 80s music.”

“Sweet Jesus, Rozanov” Shane fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut. “And I get to post something equally as embarrassing when you lose?”

Ilya laughed, “I have never done anything embarrassing."

“One word, Rozanov, dvadtsatogo avgusta.”

Ilya’s smile dropped. “Fuck, no -”

The puck dropped. Shane won the faceoff.

He knew Ilya wouldn’t post something he truly objected too, probably. Most likely. But he couldn’t risk it, so he had to win. But he’d also shown Ilya his hand, now Ilya knew what he would post if he won, so Ilya would be even more invested in winning.

The game felt normal. Roaring fans, his teammates sweating and cursing, and chasing that glorious puck. But there were some differences.

Differences like being overly aware of his mic when his teammates spoke to him. Differences like it seeming like the Raiders didn’t know what to say to him when they fought over the puck. Differences, like feeling like he needed to prove himself, and he could tell Ilya felt the same.

Whatever effort their teams were putting in was diminished in the light of the way Shane and Ilya played. They played like men possessed, their sole attention on the puck, the small black disc informing every single one of their moves.

Shane, not normally an overly aggressive player, did take the opportunity to hip check Marlow when it presented itself, the sound of a curse and booming laugh following him as he skated away.

A fight broke out at one point, to the cheers of the crowd who always thirsted for blood. Shane watched the fight for a moment as Comeau dove in to join, when an arm landed over his shoulder.

Shane turned his head to see Ilya smiling down at him. Shane rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around Ilya’s waist.

“You don’t feel like joining this fight?” Shane asked lightly.

“Me?” Ilya raised his eyebrows. “I’m a lover not a fighter. I’m keeping you out of the fight, I know what you’re like.”

Shane snorted. “Oh, in that case I’m sure the raiders are very thankful you’re holding me back.”

Ilya nodded sagely. “I do what I can to protect my boys. It’s a captain thing, you wouldn’t get it.”

“Don’t make me fight you.” Shane warned him, whilst he didn’t fight, he couldn’t pretend there wasn’t a slight temptation to drop a glove today. He’d had a fucking day.

Ilya just threw his head back and laughed, a genuine one. The one Shane loved that made him want to kiss him. That made him want to make him laugh even more.

The Raiders were up by two, to the Voyageurs one, which of course made Ilya more unbearable on the ice. The chirps were getting more and more intense anytime they were close to one another on the ice.

“Not going too well, hey pretty boy?” Ilya smirked the next time they faced off.

“I am pretty, I was born pretty, I stay pretty.” Shane found himself biting back at Ilya, who couldn’t help the genuine smile that split his face.

And Shane shivered at the hungry look in Ilya’s eye.

Ilya won the face off, racing off with it toward the Voyageur goal, Shane hot on his heels. Comeau checked Ilya into the boards, but the puck was skittered over to St Simon who rounded behind the goal with it. Hayden got in there and they fought over it.

By this point Ilya had freed himself from Comeau and was moving to intercept the puck, when Hayden sent it down the rink. Shane raced after it, catching up with it in time to make for a breakaway.

And then an opportunity presented itself, something Shane had practiced alone purely to understand how to do it. Purely for progression. And now being put into play to piss off Ilya in his own stadium.

Shane scored using Ilya’s signature deke, twist, score, and wink. Said wink was of course aimed at Ilya, who hand been skating hard on Shane’s heels. He was too far away to hear what Ilya was saying, but he knew he’d hear from the man himself later, if not from the mic’d clip being posted later.

One more goal and they’d be neck and neck. Shane sat on the bench as the second line raced across the ice. Next to him, Hayden clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Dude, that goal was fantastic, how long have you been waiting to use his own move against him?”

Shane huffed a laugh. “I thought today was as good a day as any.”

It seemed pissing off Rozanov was they way back into his teams good graces, as many gave him a pat on the helmet and compliments on his goal. The stadium full of fans were definitely not as appreciative at the way they booed and screamed at the Voyageurs.

The score hadn’t changed since Shane gotten on the bench. There had been many good attempts from both sides, but the score stubbornly didn’t budge. For the first time, Shane was almost hoping for overtime. This was the first game in a long time he found himself laughing, enjoying the scrum and fight of it, relishing in the small bit of freedom he and Ilya had managed to carve.

But they didn’t go into OT. The score ended 3:2 to the Raiders.

The Voyageurs were down, and the Raiders were cheering with their home crowd, but Shane wasn’t as disheartened as he usually was after a loss. He’d played a good goddamn game, both of Montreal’s goals had been his.

It was only at the end of the handshake line that he was reminded of the terms of his deal.

“Hello Holly, which video shall I pick? I have so many of you singing bad 80s.” Ilya grinned, their hands still clasped together.

Shane’s face twisted for a moment, before sliding into a Rozanov inspired smirk. “You know what, Rozie? I’ll let you have this, since it must be so hard to have your signature move be perfected by someone else.”

Ilya went to say something, then bit his lip before eventually saying, “later, we will talk later.”

Pleasurable anticipation curled in Shane’s stomach. “Later it is.”

Chapter End Notes

If you’re reading my aftg fic and waiting on an update, no you’re not x

Also not me accidentally naming this fic the same as another I wrote for a diff fandom like 10 years ago

Chapter 2: Freedom

Chapter Summary

Socials and receipts

Chapter Notes

Pls drop your fic recs in the comment, I’m in a severe drought rn BUT if you’re not already, go read ‘something you can build’ by some1_around

The good mood of the Raider’s locker room was palpable. After a potential shitstorm of a morning, a win in their own city was needed, and Ilya had provided. The game itself had been electric, he had played beautifully, his team had played beautifully. And he let them all know as they trudged in. 

“Gorgeous, all of you!” He shouted. “I love you all! Beautiful motherfuckers! 

Around him players laughed as they started to strip off. He went toward where he had met Lynn earlier to finally be rid of his mic. 

That had been the only issue with the game. He kept forgetting he was mic’d up, and seeing Shane play as he played? He could only hope he hadn’t said too much. 

Shane calling himself pretty? Shane performing HIS move and then winking directly at him? These were things Ilya’s heart, mind, and cock could not take. Watching Shane loosen up a bit made Ilya want to kiss him right there on the ice. Made him want to whisper dirty things to him as he pushed him against the boards. 

Fuck. 

LeClaire joined once Ilya was rid of his mic to tell him he was doing the presser today. It wasn’t a surprise, especially after a day like today. 

LeClaire hadn’t seemed to be all that surprised when Ilya had seen him at the before the game. He gave Ilya a brief talking to about team image but otherwise hadn’t cared. 

Once he’d changed, he was put in front of the press, who were chomping at the bit to ask him questions. 

“Mr Rozanov! Mr Rozanov! How long have you and Shane Hollander been friends?” 

“Since summer before our rookie season.” Ilya answered, but didn’t add anymore. He and Shane hadn’t spoken yet, hadn’t had the chance to be alone to do so. To get their stories straight. 

“Why did you keep it a secret?” 

Ilya struggled to find the words, the English words, the words that wouldn’t reveal them, the easy explanation. Eventually he said, “It was easier.”  

There was a pause as they clearly expected him to add more. When he didn’t someone else jumped in. 

“Why was it easier to keep secret a perfectly normal friendship -”

”Do you have any questions about hockey?” Ilya finally cut in. “I don’t know if you noticed, but we just won the game.” 

There was a spattering of laughter around the room, which covered the sound of a few huffs. 

“What was it like playing today, now that the world knows about your friendship?” 

Ilya rolled the words around in his head, and decided he liked the question. “It was nice. It felt like… Like weight was lifted. I have always liked playing against Hollander, it’s hard being top player. Playing against someone who knows the sport as well as you do is like nothing else.” 

Clearly not the response they were looking for based on the expressions of some of the reported, but what did Ilya care? It was true.  

“How did it feel when Shane Hollander successfully performed a move you are well known for?” 

Ilya scowled, and the room laughed. “I say, get your own moves, Hollander, stop copying me.” 

The room laughed again and before another could ask a question, the media manager jumped in to insist only on hockey questions. The rest of the presser went more easily, usual questions, usual answers. 

The locker room still had his teammates getting changed. Most had showered by now, just leaving Ilya still in his hockey gear. 

“You coming out tonight, Roz?” St Simon calls, standing butt naked by his locker. 

“Of course he isn’t, he has a date with Hollander.” Marlow winked at Ilya. 

Ilya shrugged. “This is true, it will be very romantic. What was it you did on your first date with Darina? Get drunk and throw up all over her? Mm, yes, I will try this with Hollander.”

The boys started uproariously laughing as Marlow turned red. St Simon clapped Marlow on the back and ruffled his hair. 

“Okay, first of all, fuck you,” Marlow was a little offended, but he was also laughing. “All of you.”

It was all in good fun, it was how the Raiders bonded. Ilya couldn’t remember a single day in their locker room that wasn’t filled with laughter and chirping. Even in his rookie season, when the lineup was slightly different, laughter had always followed the Raiders. 

“I still can’t believe you’re friends with Hollander, man.” Connors laughed. “Fucken A.” 

Ilya just smiled. Proud of his team, for winning, for taking his friendship with Shane in their stride, for being themselves. 

****

Raiderordie

Words cannot express the state of shock I have been walking around in all day

Massholeraiders

Girl same, my coworkers don’t know hockey and I have no way of explaining what I’m currently going through

Voyageurgirl24

Shane, I love you, but are you okay?? Rozanov???

Rozanov81___

‘Best friends’ bitch no one believes that, y’all are gay just admit it

Raidersfan_123

NGL I’m so disappointed like wtf is this bullshit HE’S A VOYAGEUR

Puckmeoutside

the casual way they are with each other they really are friends i cannot

Netthepuckalready

imo they should trade Rozanov for being a traitor like wtf #turfhim

Hollanovtruther

GUYS IM NOT OKAY

Hollanovtruther

THEYRE SO IN LOVE #lovewins #theyresogay

Boyaquariumenjoyer

Hollander was asleep on his couch girl but stay delusional!

Pikeslesbians

I am unwell. I am unable to enunciate my feelings. No one speak to me. 

SaintlySimonunggg

Oh to be a fly on every wall - the locker rooms, Rozanov’s flat, the coach, the plane 

Pucksidepenalty

Imagine being at the game tonight. I have never felt envy so potent

Juicy02481

Shane Hollander pulling an Ilya Rozanov and then winking at him has done things to me that no man ever has

Mrsmarlow_hockey

I NEED to know what Rozanov said when Hollander did that

Voyageursscoop

Hollander and Rozanov with their arms around each other during the fight is my new lockscreen

Rozanovslop

Your honor they’re in love

Discussion: rivals to friends not lovers

User/ jetlaggednblagged

So I feel it’s super important to remain respectful that these guys are in the public eye but are athletes who just play a sport and are entitled to their privacy. 

Cliff Marlow should be penalised or sanctioned or something for invading Ilya Rozanovs space without his consent. 

Regardless of whether or not Rozanov and Hollander are a couple (even though they’re obviously not and the people who desperate to say otherwise need to get a fucking life and touch some grass) or just friends, they were forced to acknowledge it publically before they were ready 

279 comments 

Rewindplayback

Okay sure but you have to admit it’s hella sus to be so secretive if it’s only a friendship. Players are friends across all teams, no one would care. Except clearly they’re hiding something larger 

Sinbinhoney

I think the public reaction as to why they kept their friendship hidden speaks for itself tbh 

NHLmicd

Our most requested Mic’d video is finally here!

Hockeyhips

Im sorry Hollander I wasn’t aware of your game 

• I am pretty, I was born pretty, I stay pretty. 

Shane_can_get_it

I need this on a shirt YESTERDAY HELLO???

• I am pretty, I was born pretty, I stay pretty. 

Madi_loves_hockey

@ilyarozanov when are we getting that video we were promised?

Goldstarpuckbunny

Does anyone know what Hollander said in Russian before the first puck drop?

Roz_fan_81

I’m always ALWAYS glad for a raiders win, but @ShaneHollanderOffcial I need to know what you were going to post of Rozanov

Girliesandpucks

Shane Hollander was feeling bonita after Rozanov called him pretty boy

Hollyandrozie

If Shane had dropped his first glove fighting Rozanov the day they got outed as best friends I would have ascended

__hockeyboys__

Is it just me or is the ‘we’ll talk later’ bit extremely loaded

Hockeybeast67

You people need to stop, it’s just guys chirping, stop trying to force your fucking agenda on everyone 

Personalpuckbunny

Ngl Rozanov acting the way he has in these clips has given me the ick 🤮🤮

Pucktuah

I no idea these boys had jokes like that 

Shanehollandaise

ive never been more emotional over male bonding than i am about these two hockey players

****

When Shane arrived at Ilya’s house he was nervous. There was definitely something freeing about being able to interact with Ilya more directly out in the world, but it was also new, unchartered territory for them. And they still had something to hide. 

“You haven’t posted anything yet.” Shane said when Ilya answered the door. 

Ilya stood to the side and let him in. “Yes I have this problem.” 

“Oh?” Shane said as he entered. 

“It seems I can’t keep my hands off you. Is hard finding something to post that won’t out us.” Ilya sighed, his eyes roving over Sahne’s body. “And in every video, you look like me like you love me.” 

Shane couldn’t help but smile. He was okay with that. He was perfectly okay with Ilya having nothing embarrassing to post of him, and perfectly okay with Ilya being unable to keep his hands off him. 

“Oh well, guess there’s nothing to be done.” 

Ilya smiled softly. “Don’t worry, ulitka, I will find something.” 

Shane couldn’t place the word. “Ulitka?” 

“Is snail. Because you are coming out of your shell.” 

Shane raised his eyebrows “Oh, very poetic.” 

They both stared at each other for just a moment. Swept up in enjoying each other, and the moment. God, Shane loved him so much it hurt. 

“We could go out for dinner.” Shane suggested. “It wouldn’t be weird now.” 

Ilya tilted his head and he looked Shane up and down. “The things I want to do to you, Hollander, will not be acceptable in a restaurant.” 

Shane swallowed. “We need to talk.” 

“We can talk later.” Ilya said as he stalked toward Shane. 

Shane nodded, already tilting his body to receive Ilya. “Yeah, let’s do that.” 

Ilya’s lips met his and Shane melted against him. They’d gone much longer than a day without touching each other before, but this day in particular was a tough one and Shane had been aching to have Ilya touch him all day. 

“God, I love you.” Ilya murmured against his lips, his voice thick with emotion. 

And Shane completely understood. There was a new verve to their relationship, a new freedom, a new thing they’d never had access to before. New avenues for how their lives together could be and neither had really processed it. And now here it was. 

“I need you.” Shane gasped against Ilya, “I need you forever.” 

“You have me.” Ilya promised as he began guiding them to the bedroom. “forever.” 

****

Later, in bed, they talked. There wasn’t much to be done, nothing they could change. The hope was that the public would move on and they would continue as they had been, just left paranoid. Less cautious. 

Despite the stress of the day, it had gone very well, according to both their PR teams and to Ilya’s own analysis of the social sphere. Shane was insanely jealous of how well the Raiders took their friendship. 

“The Voyageurs will get there.” He said, thunking his head back on the headboard. “They already were by the end of the game, sort of. I think it was just a shock, but now I’ve shown I can still bring it on the ice.” 

Ilya scowled and sucked his teeth. “It shouldn’t fucking matter! There was no question of whether you were the best player on their team, everyone knows this. Is bullshit.” 

There was no other option than to kiss him for that. Slow and all encompassing. There was nothing besides them, this bed, and their kiss. 

“Fuck Hollander,” Ilya pressed his forehead to Shane’s. “When is your plane?” 

“It’s early tomorrow. I probably shouldn’t sleep here.” Shane said with very little conviction. 

“But Pike is your roommate, no?” Ilya pressed kisses along Shane’s neck. “And now he knows.” 

Shane tilted his neck as he enjoyed Ilya’s ministrations, until he remembered. “And so does Marlow.” 

Ilya sighed and pressed his torso up so he was no longer lying on Shane. “I don’t know what Cliff knows.” 

“I don’t want to have to talk about it right now.” Shane admitted.

He was enjoying this hazy bubble they were existing in. A bubble that felt safe for the first time in a long time. Like they had just pulled off the biggest con, though Ilya said there some people who were reading more into their relationship, it was mostly just shock, positive comments, and only a handful calling either of them traitors. 

“There is not much to talk about. We are friends. The new will move on, people will get over it. And I will get to have you.” Ilya murmured, his voice low. “I don’t care about any of it, as long as I get you.”

Shane reached up to caress Ilya’s cheek. “If you’d told teenage me that Ilya Rozanov was a big romantic I never would have believed you.” 

Ilya dropped his head to Shane’s shoulder. “If you told teenage me this too, I would not have believed it. I didn’t believe in romance until I fell in love.” 

Until he met me. Shane thought to himself, seeing as he was the only person Ilya had ever fallen in love with. 

They dressed briefly to eat some food, tuna melts a la Ilya, of course. And Ilya handed the remote over to Shane, who immediately flipped on any news coverage of their game. 

“You know, Tony, I never expected this. And I don’t think anyone who woke up this morning could have predicted this!” 

“You’re right Greg, but both men clearly came to today’s game with something to prove. They both played incredibly well tonight, Hollander’s goal in the third period using Rozanov’s classic move? Just incredible.” 

“I agree to an extent, Tony, but you have to concede that both men played differently than they usually would. Rozanov ignoring the fight to hold onto Hollander? There was no need for that! Hollander never fights.” 

Shane was chewing his thumb as he watched, annoyance and anxiety chewing him up inside, when his phone buzzed with a notification. 

Rose

Your boyfriend is dead to me

Shane frowned at it. “Ilya.” 

“Hmm?” Ilya glanced up from his phone. “Da, moya lyubov?” 

“What did you do to Rose?” 

Ilya’s wicked answering grin had Shane rubbing his face in dread. 

“I found a video to post!” Ilya seemed entirely too happy with himself. “It was you and Rose singing the Africa song.” 

“You posted me and Rose singing Africa by Toto. While we were drunk.” Shane didn’t even know how to react. 

That had been the night Rose and Ilya had met, Rose had flown into Montreal to shoot during the summer, and Ilya had been staying at the cottage. So Rose was invited over, as was Svetlana. Svetlana had flown in to join them for the weekend. They had dinner. They drank wine. They bonded. 

And Rose and Shane had gotten very drunk and sung Africa. Drunkenly, badly, chaotically. 

“Ilya.” Shane groaned. “No one will literally ever let me live this down.” 

“But you sing so well!” Ilya’s hand landed on Shane’s shoulder to squeeze and rubbed. “Rose not so much.”

“Yeah that’s probably why she wants to kill you.” Shane said into his hands. 

Shane didn’t need to see the video again. He had seen it before. Laughed at it with Rose before, in fact. 

The morning after, the four of them hungover to high heaven, and Ilya had shown them the video over their late lunch. Rose had laughed so hard. Shane had felt the one of the many moments of lightness, of joy and contentment, that he had felt since giving into his sexuality, to his love for Ilya. 

“Should I take it down? It was only one that didn’t have you looking at me like you wanted to have my babies.” There was a slight tone of concern in Ilya’s voice, regret seeping in. 

Part of Shane wanted to be angry, wanted to snap at Ilya. How could he not show him the video first? But then, another part of him knew Ilya. trust him. Knew that Ilya had thoroughly vetted each video he looked at before posting. And today? Today Shane was letting go. He was being free. 

Shane couldn’t help it, he huffed a laugh at that. “No, no it’s probably fine. Just be aware, she will get you back.” 

And she did, no more than 2 minutes later Ilya burst out laughing, immediately shoving his phone screen in Shane’s face. 

RoseLandry_

Two can play at that game ❤️ @ilyarozanov

Attached was a video of Shane and Ilya, sitting on deck chairs in the sun. They both wore sunglasses, and both were bobbing their heads in time with the music. It was the same day Shane had sung drunkenly with Rose, but earlier, less drunk. 

Ilya sat up, singing along with the intro of Eye of the Tiger, his face serious as he bobbed his head in time to the music. Behind him, Shane was also bobbing his head but unable to keep a straight face. 

Ilya in the video stood up, hips now swaying staccato to the beat “It’s the eye of the tiger!” 

Video-Shane joined in, standing, hips swaying “It’s the thrill of the fight!” 

They both turned to look at each other, heads still bobbing in time with the music “Rising up to the challenge of our rival!” 

The two continued to sing along, enthusiastically. Behind them you could see Svetlana laughing and recording too. Behind the camera, Rose’s voice could occasionally be heard cheering them on. 

They weren’t as drunk as they got in the video of Rose and Shane, but they definitely weren’t sober as they danced around Shane’s patio, sun starting to dip lower in the Canadian summer. 

Shane hung his head in his hands. This day had spiraled hard out of control. How had so much happened in one day? Just one day and the way he was perceived by the world had been spun on its head, his relationships with Ilya, with Rose, with his team, bared in a new light. 

The real Ilya was grinning like crazy, “See I told you, I don’t do embarrassing things!” 

Shane had to admit that even though Ilya was dancing around, singing an 80s song himself, he somehow looked effortlessly cool. The calm, cool, confident guy who got away with being loud and a bit kooky. 

“That’s easy for you to say, I’ve had three separate people put videos of me online today.” Shane hunched over, mumbling into his knees. 

Ilya’s arm came to rest over Shane’s shoulder, lips pressed against the side of his head. Once. Twice. 

“Ulitka, is okay.” Ilya pressed another kiss into Shane’s hair. 

Shane focused on the sound of Ilya’s voice, the lilt. “Reusing petnames now?” 

“It’s very fitting right now, I think I will keep it.” Ilya said against the shell of his ear, making him shiver. 

His phone started buzzing again, messages coming through. He had notifications turned off for social media. He rarely posted anything himself, his agent had hired a media intern who stuck to posting game updates and schedules. 

“I’m just.” Shane paused. “Processing.” 

“Shane, moya serdtse, I am so proud of you.” Ilya hummed against him. My heart. “You have dealt with so much today, but today is almost over. Things will settle down. We can slip back into… ach I don’t know the word.” 

“Anonimity.” Shane said. “Unknown… peace.” 

“Da, we can do that.” Ilya kissed him again. “Though we will never be unknown. But after today, we can just go back to hockey. People will forget. They’ll care less.” 

The words warmed something inside of Shane, pushing out the pounding in his head. But that was Ilya, from day one he had pushed Shane out of his head. True, it began with sex, but even then, those precious moments not thinking, and just feeling, had been vital. 

I’m so proud of you. 

I actually quite like this I don’t give a fuck cap. 

Holy shit, Shane, where did that come from

Shane had done so much today, so many new things, he had become ulitka. The snail coming out of his shell. 

He sat up, received a loud kiss on the cheek from Ilya, and pulled out his phone. 

Shanehollanderofficial

Feel kinda like I’m being attacked on all sides. 

The likes, replies, reactions started coming in immediately. Shane waited a moment before adding. 

Shanehollanderofficial

@Pike_hockey is now my official best friend seeing as he’s the only one who hasn’t posted anything embarrassing about me. 

Seconds later his the three closest friends he had replied. 

Pike_hockey

@shanehollander yet

Roselandry__

@shanehollander Boo hoo, I’m the one who got dragged into this UNNECESSARILY

Ilyarozanov

@shanehollander I am thinking you have bad taste in friends

Shane swore under his breath, but laughed too. It was a weird release, being open, having friends post lightly embarrassing videos, chirping each other online. He hadn’t had something like this since… Since he was a teenager. Long before he was in draft contention, when he was just a kid who loved hockey. 

The social sphere of course went haywire for the third time that day. Shane wasn’t tracking it, he’d asked his PR team to only keep him apprised if anything went too far, and that his intern could like comments but not reply. 

And finally, he assured them this was a one day thing. One day of crossing lines, one day of not caring, one day of freedom. 

They sat and continued to watch the tv, Shane got to see the Ilya’s post game interview, he finally watched Marlow’s live himself. All the while, Ilya kept him apprised of his favourite things people online were saying. 

He occasionally made annoyed or disgusted noises but he didn't share what he was reading with Shane, and would just move onto the next funny thing. 

Discussion: Shane Hollander Gate

User/ uncasualfan

Okay so I know we’re all reeling, I certainly am. But I thought I’d just share my thoughts

• Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov have been friends since before their rookie season
• This was uncovered by Cliff Marlow during a live in which he walked in on Hollander at Rozanov’s house
• They claimed they only hung out when they played games against each other
• BUT
• the videos both Rozanov and FUCKING ROSE LANDRY posted clearly show them at Hollander’s Ottowa cottage, see below picutres from the ESPY video. 
• Videos and the mic’d game show them so comfortable with each other
• clearly very close

Feel free to add other bits because there’s just so much to discuss

1398 replies

Landryfandry

The way I only got into hockey because Rose dated Shane Hollander and now here I am witnessing this 

Hollandry24

Shane and Rose were the best couple! look how good they were together what happened #rane #shose #hollandry

Pucksandpups

Girl they broke up years ago because they said they were better as friends get over it

Melodyhopes

Noo Rose my love, she was my dream cast for Elle Woods in Legally Blonde The Musical, but girl please, never sing again #imsorry #iloveyoh

Pucks4lyfe

I’m so fucking sick of seeing Hollander and Rozanov on my feed, I’m a real fan who actually follows hockey for the hockey #keephockeypure

Roz_fan_81

I can say this now that they’re friends, but Shane is hot, good at hockey, and can carry a tune?? Hello?? 

Voyageursscoop

Ik we say Shane fumbled Rose, but is it possible she fumbled him??

Pucktuah

im crying because ive never seen shane hollander looks so happy

Landrypics

rose coming in with the most wholesome video of the two best hockey players in the world was not on my bingo card 

****

When they finally made their way to bed that night, Ilya held Shane in his arms and placed kisses on his forehead. He was so proud of Shane for letting loose for the first time. Properly. Possibly ever. 

When they’d spent their summer at the cottage, Shane had been free then too, but not as free as they could be. Shane had lived his whole life like that, controlled, reserved. Hiding from everyone, even from each other for a long time. There had never been someone Shane had been entirely open with until this summer. Until they laid all cards on the table. 

Ilya had never felt in control. Moving countries, getting drafted, playing games, getting drunk, going out, partying. It was all things hockey players did. Drive fast cars and win cups, do crazy shit and lose teeth until you eventually settle down with a good wife and have a bunch of kids. 

Falling in love with Shane Hollander was not part of it. Meeting him before they even got drafted, being drawn in by those Canadian manners and those fucking freckles, was not part of the plan. 

So Ilya had felt out of control for the better part of 10 years. Finally accepting that he loved Shane, that he didn’t want anyone else, anything else, but a life with him. That was freeing, but also the most control he’d ever been in. 

And now he could hold Shane against his chest after making love to him and sleep soundly. Could have more hope for the future than he’d had in a long time. 

****

Shane left Ilya early, only time for soft kisses before he left the house, Ilya still in bed already drifting back off to sleep with a quiet ‘i love you.’ 

He got back to the hotel in time for a shower and to grab his bag, as well as enough time to make it seem like he hadn’t been out all night. Again. 

It was early enough the no one really spoke as the team headed to the airport, many drifting off in their seats. Shane wasn’t one of them, his leg was bouncing near uncontrollably. 

He said he’d leave the freedom to yesterday, but maybe today could have some too? Or maybe he was just riding that high still. And that high could come crashing down and ruin everything if the truth came out fully. 

One on the plane he sat next to Hayden who immediately started drifting off again once seated. All was quiet. 

Until. 

The soft sounds of Africa by Toto started playing. Shane let out a groan, dropping his head back against the seat. Before long, half the players were singing the song, performing emphatically at him. 

And Shane had to laugh. 

“I’m never going to live this down, am I?” He asked turning to JJ who sat across the aisle.

“Never.” JJ said, his smile no longer tight and angry, but joyous. 

The flight continued in much the same way, the ribbing of the team finally slipping back into something Shane was more familiar with. More comfortable with. Finally, his team was being the team he had spent the last decade with. 

It eventually died down. The boys going back to their usual routine, watching movies, scrolling socials, arguing with each other. 

Hayden had finally woken up a bit more, and was also scrolling while watching a show with Shane when he paused it. 

“Holy, have you seen this?” 

It was a statement posted to Marlow’s instagram. 

I want to address my actions yesterday. Ilya and I have been good friends for the last decade that we have played together on the Boston Raiders, but that does not excuse the blatant invasion of privacy I committed yesterday. Whilst I have been forgiven by both parties, I believe it sets a dangerous precedent for people to think it’s okay to record people in their private residences without their consent. 

I have written this statement with the assistance of my PR team. Many who support the Raiders and support me know I am more a hunk of muscle and hockey than I am an introspective thinker. I did this because I wanted to make my statement as clear as possible. 

What I did was wrong. I am blessed to be forgiven. Privacy is important.

~ Cliff Marlow

Holy shit. 

“Holy shit.” Shane said, reading the statement once, twice. “I mean, he did apologise, that was true.” 

Reading the words a third time they finally sunk in. Fully. It was beautiful, for a hockey player. Shane would never have even thought to want a public acknowledgement, let alone apology. 

Hayden groaned. “If they keep this up I’m going to start thinking the Raiders aren’t so bad.” 

And to that, Shane couldn’t agree more

Shane Hollander

@ilyarozanov I think you just dropped down another place 

MiffCarlow

Fuck yeah!

Chapter End Notes

Okay so the aftg to hr pipeline is real BUT

Omgcp walked so hr could run I need to you know that

Before with had Kip and Scott we had Bitty and Jack
Before we had Ilya and Shane we had Nursey and Dex

The only reason I can add hockey shit into my fics is becuase of the word Ngozi put into Omg, Check Please! I beg y’all go check it out even if it’s been 10 years <3

Chapter 3: #stopasianhate

Chapter Summary

More interviews, more freedom, more laughter

Chapter Notes

Thank you all for the rec’s! This chapter taking so long is actually your fault for sending me things to read if you think about it

I merged some of Hudsons and Connor’s answers in this interview, because some of them I fully couldn’t imagine Shane saying but Ilya would etc

Pucktuah 

Friends, countrymen, raiders, lend me your ears

Pucktuah

I think we all collectively have been in shock for approx 24 hours

Pucktuah

We are not crashing out enough

Juicy02481

I think I’ve lost the ability to crash out

Saintlysimonunggg

I’ve lost the ability to speak

Mrsmarlowhockey

I’m actually so genuinely touched by Cliff Marlow’s statement, I literally cried. In the actual literal way. 

Mrsmarlowhockey

I think what’s so important about him addressing it is that there’s going to be so much more of a spotlight on Rozanov and Hollander now, trying to catch them out and about

Rozanovslop

You mean catching them on a date

Boyaquariumenjoyer

Oh my god girl be so for real rn

Voyageurgirl24

No one is talking about the game :((

Raiderordie

No babe, we’re talking about the game, we’re talking about the deal, we’re talking about the chirps

Puckmeoutside

I’m fundamentally not over the i’m pretty statement

Goldstarpuckbunny

So dvadsatogo avgusta means August 20th - I need to know what happened on August 20th

Pikeslesbians

Was that the weekend Rose Landry was visiting? 

Madi_loves_hockey

People keep mentioning Rose Landry being there, and no one is mentioning fucking Svetlana MF Vetrova being there

Hollandry24

Do we think Shane and Rose are back together and ilya and svetlana are together and it was actually a couples weekend?

Shanehollandaise

no<3

Pucktuah

no<3

Hollanovtruther

no<3

Landryfandry

Rose Landry was at a shoot on August 20th! Finally I’m able to contribute as a Rose Landry fan in the hockey world lol

Voyageursscoop

Is it just me or is Shane really stiff with his own teammates in the micd?

Pikeslesbians

Except Hayden Pike

Voyageursscoop

Except Hayden Pike

Hockeyhips

Maybe it was because he was micd? I know people watch their language when theyre being recorded

Roz_fan_81

Its a captain thing you wouldn’t get it - ilya rozanov you have my whole heart

Girlsandpucks

Are we not gonna address the blatant lies of im a lover not a fighter

Shane_can_get_it

Omg Boiziau just posted the voyageurs singing Africa at shane on the plane

Voyageursscoop

Omgomgomgomg

Hockeyhips

Look how red he is!!!! 

****

Scott Hunter’s thumb hovered over the post button. If he sent it, he would only be inviting more chirps from the guys, especially from Rozanov and Hollander. 

The live, which everyone had seen regardless of how opposed they were to invasions of privacy, had possibly been the most surreal moments of Scott’s life. Followed by the videos Rozanov and fucking Rose fucking Landry. It was like seeing your teachers out of school. The super focussed, highly motivated teacher Shane, and the sarcastic, witty, kinda mean teacher Ilya, out of school just shooting the shit. Hanging out with a movie star. 

Scott didn’t know who to be more shocked by, Shane Hollander laughing, singing, drunk of all things. Or Ilya Rozanov, smiling instead of smirking, being almost domestic. 

Guys had friends on different teams. It was normal, to be expected. Scott had friends on different teams. And at least half had messaged him about the Hollander/Rozanov reveal, his team group chat had been pinging non-stop with thoughts, speculations, and funny fan tweets. 

And Kip had sent him the clip of Hollander and Rozanov calling him old every single time it came up on his feed, with ‘makes me laugh every time’ and ‘god it’s just so funny’ tacked on. 

And if he posted his pretty tame tweet, he would only be inviting further insults. He decided not to. It was one joke, he’d let it go for now. 

****

Things did calm down, Ilya was right, smugly so, as he told Shane over the phone multiple times since their last game. In the weeks that had passed the news cycle moved on quickly and the fans soon followed. Of course, there was still the occasional post but there were many players across many teams, and thus always something else to talk about. 

When Boston had played other teams he did get chirps in the form of the tamer illusions to his future singing and dancing career, to outright homophobic inferences. It was to be expected, really. Hockey players were always desperate for new chirp material, and the homophobic stuff wasn’t genuine accusations, just hockey players being shitheads. 

“So, does that mean we can go to dinner when you fly in for our Montreal game?” Shane asked him over the phone a few weeks later. 

Ilya hummed. “Mr Hollander, are you trying to take me on a date?” 

Shane made a choked sound that made Ilya wish they were face timing. There was nothing more satisfying than eliciting those sweet reactions out of Shane. 

“God you can’t just call someone that.” Shane muttered. 

God, Ilya wished Shane was there. “Your name?” 

Shane tsked on the other end, and noise that had Ilya trying to bite his smile away. 

“You know what I fucking meant Rozanov.” 

“Mr Rozanov to you.” Ilya could picture the effect his words were having on his boyfriend. 

The way his eyes would be hazy and sharp all at once, the way his skin would become so sensitive, the way he’d drop to his knees if told to. Just how Ilya liked him. 

And as Ilya predicted Shane made that gorgeous noise again. 

“You’re avoiding the question.” Shane said, his voice failing at being light. “I think it would be nice. It would feel like we could finally be a bit normal.” 

Ilya took his mind out of the gutter and decided to stop torturing him. Dinner would be nice. 

“Then yes, you can take me on a nice normal date, Shane. You can buy me dinner, walk me home, I might even stay the night.” 

Shane laughed on the other end. “On the first date? Harlot.”

“I don’t know this word.” But he could figure out pretty well what Shane was implying, and well, he wasn’t wrong. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Shane laughed, his soft beautiful laugh. 

Ilya stretched out, his muscles sore and tight from the workout he’d been doing when Shane called. “So where are you taking me for dinner, Mr Hollander?” 

“Ilya,” he groaned. 

“I don’t know why this is getting to you so much, moy list.” My leaf. 

Shane ignored him. “I don’t know. Somewhere nice, still private, not too fancy. Somewhere no one will bat an eye at us.” 

He could picture it, the two of them sitting in a cozy restaurant. The food is good but not some fancy bullshit with the massive plates with almost no food. No, they’d go somewhere that Shane could still order his rabbit food but Ilya could carb load. They could talk, and laugh, maybe share some wine if Shane was letting go a little. 

Ilya paused, waiting for Shane to go on, and when he didn’t he said, “you know Montreal better than me, how the fuck am I meant to know where to go?” 

“Well, it’s not like I can take you where I went with Rose.” Shane huffed and despite the time that had passed, and the fact that Ilya liked Rose, he still had a flare of jealousy. “I only go to kid friendly places with Hayden.” 

“Ask your mom, moya golodnaya gusenitsa.” Ilya suggested. “She will know.” 

“And what does that mean?” Shane sighed fondly down the phone. 

Ilya frowned. “That your mother will have a good recommendation, because she always does?”

Shane’s laugh, distorted by the phone but still beautiful to Ilya’s ears, sounded. “Nyet, moya lyubov. What was the pet name?” 

“Ah, da, I called you my hungry caterpillar.” Ilya smiled at his own cleverness. “Because you are making dinner plans, and only eat salad.” 

“Oh haha, very clever.” His voice was sarcastic but Ilya could practically see his smile. 

In fact, when Ilya closed his eyes, he could perfectly imagine Shane’s face, the way he would be lounged right now as he spoke with Ilya. What Ilya wouldn’t give to be with him right now.

“What are you wearing?” Ilya said instead of everything else that would just make his heart hurt. 

Shane’s warm laugh came through the phone only light distorted, “well Mr Rozanov…”

**** 

Two weeks before the Montreal game the interview request came in from a Montreal based news outlet through their agent.

It wasn’t a specifically hockey based interview, there would be multiple questions, all would be shown to Shane and Ilya before the day for them to veto anything they didn’t like. 

And best of all, it gave Ilya an excuse to fly into Montreal 3 days early. 

It was an easy yes for Ilya, get paid to answer some questions he had control of and get to see Shane early. Win win. Shane was, of course, less calm about it. 

“Have you looked at the questions yet?” He asked Ilya for the dozenth time. 

“I had brief look, seems fine.” Ilya had to admit he was getting tired of answering the same question. 

Despite being on yet another phone call instead of FaceTime, Ilya could tell Shane was pacing. “So there’s none you want to get rid of?”

“No, why? Are there questions you don’t like?” 

Despite the lack of hunger, Ilya was rummaging through his cupboards staring at the bare contents and wishing he had something other than Shane’s gross snacks in the cupboard. 

“I’m not sure,” Shane sighed, “there’s one that feels like we could too easily slip up and say something.”

“Then ask for it not to be asked.” He loved Shane, he did, but he didn’t fully understand why this was a point of contention. 

“But won’t that seem suspicious to them?” Shane continued to fret. 

“You are overthinking.” Ilya sighed. “We can say no to the interview.”

He didn’t want to offer this, he wanted to see Shane early. But without the interview he didn’t have a good enough reason to fly to Montreal 3 days early. To abandon the team flight would be noticed, questioned, for anything less than a legitimate reason, especially from the captain. 

“No!” Shane didn’t quite shout, more yelped in alarm. “No, I want to do it. I want to see you.” 

“I want to see you too.” Ilya stopped rooting through the cupboards. 

Missing Shane was like missing a limb. 

Despite the fact they had only accepted their very real emotions and relationship a year or so ago, Ilya had always felt Shane’s distance. There was a reason he’d never been able to quit Shane. 

“We’ll do the interview.” Shane promised. “For love.”

And like that Ilya’s chest was less tight. “Da, for love.” 

****

Roz 

Who wants to get laid in Montreal? 

Marlow 

…. 

You offering? 

Roz

You wish Marly

No, I am staying at Holly’s but management is insisting I have hotel room. So whoever shares with me gets a free room game night ;))

Sainty 

Damn you and Holly really are joined at the hip 

Roz

I fly up early because we have interview together 

So I stay there 

Is easier 

Marly

Becomes friends with Hollander 

Immediately starts riding his coattails to get interviews 

Roz 

Don’t be jealous 

If the camera wanted to see your face I’d do interview with you 

But you are ugly 

And boring 

Marly

😒😒😒

Carmichael 

So you’re really going to ditch us game night for Hollander? 

Roz

I will go out if we win 

Sainty 

If

Marly 

If 

Carmichael 

If 

Connie 

If 

Hammersmith 

If 

Roz 

Fuuuuuuuck 

When 

I said when 

💯 

Doza 

I’ll take your room 

Connie 

Get innnn 

Hammersmith 

Eyyyyy

Marly 

Yeah so you can jerk off in peace 

Roz 

Room goes to Doza 

Marly

Hey wait no

****

Shane waited at the airport like he had the previous summer and waited for Ilya to arrive. This time if they were spotted, so what? Publicly friends, and friends picked each other up from the airport. 

It was exhilarating. And terrifying. And Shane was definitely overthinking it. 

He had been waiting impatiently for the last 20 minutes. Surely Ilya would be here any second. Flight was supposed to land at 9:15, add an extra 30 for deplaning and baggage control? 

The clock on the dash read 10:00. 

But that didn’t mean anything. A delayed flight was in fact normal. Maybe he went to the bathroom. Maybe he was taking fan pictures or dodging paparazzi.

There was also no reason to be nervous. 

And then Ilya appeared. And the spiralling stopped. 

Ilya in his Boston Raiders hoodie, sunglasses on, strolling with purpose towards Shane’s car. 

“Hello.” Ilya said when he got in the car. 

Shane smiled at him. 

Ilya looked at him expectantly. “Drive Hollander! I can’t kiss you here.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” Shane took the car out of park. “Just happy to see your face.” 

“I am happy to see your face too.” Ilya said with that tone that Shane knew meant something else was coming. “I’ll be even happier when I get to see your ass.” 

Fucken called it. 

The drive was tense, the sexual tension making any other conversation nigh on impossible. Once they made it out of the car park Shane’s hand planted itself on Ilya’s thigh which only seems to make things worse. 

Which is when Shane decided to move his palm higher up. 

“Christtttt.” Ilya hissed as Shane’s hand gently squeezed him over his jeans. 

Shane smirked. It wasn’t often that he could have Ilya panting and desperate under his hands. Both because of distance. And because Ilya was usually the one that turned Shane into a puddle. 

“When we get home.” Shane started, eyes on the road, but he could feel Ilya’s eyes burning into him. “We’re gonna go to our bedroom, I’m gonna drop to my knees, and you’re going to fuck my face.” 

“Shane.” Ilya whispered like a prayer. 

“And before you come, you’re gonna throw me on the bed, take out this plug I’ve had in for the last hour, and fuck me.” The groan that Ilya made sent Shane’s pleasure into overdrive, and he had to concentrate on not accelerating too much accidentally. 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ilya raising his hands to pull his own hair. “Holy fuck, Shane, fucking fuck.” 

Shane was hard himself, proud smirk at having surprised Ilya. At having elicited that reaction. The last 5 minutes of the drive were tense, but once they got to the house, Ilya followed Shane’s instructions to the letter. 

****

Arriving at the interview location involved driving through a small warehouse district where all the units were brightly painted with modern mosaics. The company interviewing them were established but young, trendier than the media Shane and Ilya were used to dealing with. 

There they were greeted by a woman in her mid twenties with colourful glasses and a clipboard so littered with notes, post-its were falling like rain from in. She didn’t seem to mind them as they fluttered to the floor. 

“Oh my god, Mr Hollander, Mr Rozanov, it’s such a pleasure to meet you!” She didn’t extend a hand to shake, but gave them both an excited nod which set her dangly earrings swaying erratically. “My name is Daria and I’m the client experience lead!” 

“Um, yeah!” Shane aimed for enthusiasm but feared he came off insincere. Which he sort of was, but that was besides the point. 

“We’ll get you two into make-up, don’t worry just a spot of powder to make sure you don’t shine. If you’re really against it, no problemo!” She grinned toothily and waved for them to follow her. “As for wardrobe, it was agreed that you would be as you are, which is fine, because you both look fantastic! We’ll just need to get you in with Jamie to clip microphones to you and then we’ll pop you on set.” 

Even though Shane had been mentally preparing for this since they’d agreed to do it, it was still a lot. It felt like somehow this was all happening too fast and oh god did he even want to be here? Why had he agreed to this? 

Commercials where he just posed with the product were one thing. God the last time he’d been on screen, on purpose, with Ilya was their incredibly awkward awards presentation. They’d pulled it off, just about. 

A hand squeezed his shoulder. Briefly, but grounding. This was why. Ilya. 

Getting their powder and their mics took less than 20 minutes, and soon they were seated on a white set. 

“So the way this is going to work, the producer, Asma, say hi Asma!” Asma gave a wave from where she was seated just behind the camera. “Asma is going to give you guys some cards to read out with the questions on. If you decide you don’t want to answer that question, just chuck the card away. There are some other things for you to react to, tweets and the like which you haven’t seen but your agent has vetted. Sometimes Asma might ask you further questions just based on your answers, if you don’t want to follow the line of enquiry, just say no, wave her off, shake your head, etc.” 

It was a lot of information, but very basic. The only issue was Shane’s nerves. Ilya, the bastard, seemed perfectly at ease in his seat. 

“Da, we understand, thank you.” 

“Yes, thank you.” Shane knew how he sounded. Slow, not listening, unengaged. But it was just how he was processing the situation, most of his mental energy was going into not bouncing his leg. 

“Perfect! We’re going to count you in and then we’ll be recording, and I want you two to introduce yourselves!” Daria gave them a thumbs up and went to stand behind Asma. 

“In three!” Called the man behind the camera. 

Shane took a deep breath. 

“Two!” 

“Remember, you don’t give a fuck anymore.” Ilya murmured quickly. 

“One!”

“Hi, I’m Shane Hollander, Captain of the Montreal Voyageurs.” Shane flashed his media smile. 

“And I am Ilya Rozanov, Captain of the superior team, the Boston Raiders.” Ilya gave his classic smirk. 

Shane sighed loudly and rolled his eyes, but Ilya’s antics settled him, in a deep kind of way that only someone he was completely comfortable with could. 

Asma reached out a hand with a card on it that Ilya took. 

“Okay, first question.” Ilya’s eyes flickered over the card. “What moment did you become friends?” 

“Oh we’re jumping straight in.” Shane said, surprised. They had received the questions, but not the order. “It was the mmc shoot right?”

“Da, I think I remember the exact moment too.” Ilya nodded. Shane controlled his breathing, his valiant effort not to go bright red at thought of the real relationship they had discovered that day. “They were making us look at each other, going for angry rivals, but we could not help but laugh.” 

“They had to call it a day because we could not keep it together.” Shane smiled at the memory. 

Ilya sat up straight, gasping slightly. “Oh, I have photographic evidence.”

“You what?” Shane’s head whipped over the Ilya so fast it was a miracle he didn’t give himself whiplash. 

“Yes, when I saw this question I reached out to the people we worked with back then and they still had the… the… bloopers?” 

“Can I see? I don’t think I’ve ever seen any of the ones that didn’t make it to the campaign.” 

Ilya moved to take his phone out of his pocket and pulled up the photo on his phone. And there was Shane and Ilya, just teenage boys, midlaughter as they looked at one another. 

Shane took Ilya’s phone from his hand and just stared at the photo. Why the fuck did Ilya spring this on him in front of cameras? He wanted to fucking cry. 

“God, we’re so young.” Shane had to move them on or else he really would do something he’d regret. “Okay next question?” 

Asma reached forward to pass another card and this time Shane took it. 

“What is your favourite memory of each other?” 

Shane had no way of answering that without outing them. They had never done anything that could be constituted as just guys hanging out. In fact, most of it wasn’t even like a normal relationship. 

“Probably that weekend we all come to the cottage.” Ilya said. “Me, Sveta, Rose, and of course, Shane at his Ottawa cottage. It was possibly the most normal weekend I’ve ever had.” Ilya’s answer was said with ease, casual, like this was a regular occurrence and there was nothing of note really about it. “No hockey, no cameras, just good food, good people, and bad music.”

His answer got a little chuckle out of the assembled crew behind the music.It was a good answer, normal, just a group of friends hanging out. Would it look weird if Shane stole his answer? 

“For me uhhh,” Shane wracked his brain. “You know what, that All Stars that we were on the same team. It was so fun to play together for a change.” 

Ilya tsked and rolled his eyes. “Of course you have hockey answer.” 

“Well we don’t do much else.” 

“I give thoughtful answer about friendship and being normal, and you give hockey answer.” 

Shane made an exasperated sound. “It’s the truth! You remember that weekend, tell me it wasn’t fucking fun.” 

Ilya’s eyes sparkled, catching Shane’s inference of other things from that weekend. “Of course was fun, Hollander, that’s the point of All Stars.” 

Behind the camera Daria was grinning like a mad woman, scribbling notes on her clipboard with intensity. Asma caught Shane’s eye, and seemed to catch the need for a topic change and so handed over the next card. 

“Give us your best impression of each other.” 

There were two parts of Shane about this, a strong half that said, ‘oh god no it’ll be so embarrassing’ and another, weaker, part of him that thought he could do a half decent Ilya Rozanov impression.

“Da, I am Ilya Rozanov, I am very annoying, Scott hunter is so old, Hollander is so boring, Hollander, get on -“ Shane abruptly cut himself off before he finished that phrase. 

“This is not good impression, I do not sound like this.” Ilya stepped in just in time to potentially make it seem like he interrupted Shane. 

Ilya had his serious Slav expression on his face that made Shane laugh at him all the more, especially as he could see that Ilya was trying not to laugh. It was in the way his lip trembled slightly and how he refused to glance at Shane and instead stared down the camera. 

“Oh yeah? I’d like to see you do me.” Shane challenged. He didn’t even realise what he said until Ilya roared with laughter. “Oh god that sounded so bad.”

Ilya saved him for having to sit in that moment too long. “I don’t even think I can try Canadian accent. I already have accent. I am already speaking a different language okay, I do enough.” 

Shane said smugly, though his face was still beet red. “I can speak French without an accent.” 

“Shut the fuck up Hollander, not everyone can be perfect golden boy who is good at many things.” 

“You sound so mean when you compliment people.” Shane said, bemused. 

Behind the camera, the crew were tittering. Daria’s smile was impossibly wide while Asma was having to bite her lip not to smile. 

“Shane, do you know any Russian?” Asma asked. “You said something to Rozanov during your mic’d game in Russian.” 

This wasn’t a preapproved question, but they had been warned that they might get asked follow ups. 

Shane saw no harm in the question so answered truthly. “Ilya has taught me some Russian.” 

“What has he taught you?”

Before he could even drum up an answer Ilya jumped in. 

“Hollander, you can’t repeat what I’ve taught you,” he said intensely, “do you remember what it means?”

Ilya had sat up straight, hand stretching across to land on Shane’s knee to get his attention. Shane stared at Ilya for a moment as he processed the hand on his knee, and then eventually his words.

“Oh. Oh yeah no I can’t repeat any of that.” Shane said realising what Ilya had taught him to say was ‘Hollander get on your knees’ and ‘I love you.’ The exact phrase he’d almost said when imitating Ilya. 

There were the pet names too, but those were just for Shane. And he had no way of explaining why he knew what hungry caterpillar, snail, or any of the other weird words Ilya called him.

Ilya, for the first time, was slightly red. Shane had to drag his eyes away to not marvel at the endearingly flushed Ilya. The hand withdrew from his knee and instead went to cover Ilya’s face.

“Next question?” Shane asked, a hint of desperation in his voice. 

“What is your favourite 80s song?” 

Shane fought back the urge to roll his eyes, ever since the videos Rose and Ilya had put up he had seen fan edits of him to 80s songs, had countless tweets, threads, @s of him asking about the 80s. He’d even had his teammates show him edited photos of him to be in 80s attire.

“Okay I feel like being pigeonholed a bit. I don’t only listen to 80s music, I listen to a wide variety of genres and decades.” 

“Da this is true,” Ilya said sagely, “he also listens to 70s music” 

“Ilya, I swear to god.” But he couldn’t help the way he was smiling too. 

Ilya turned to look at him, eyes flat. “I’m being helpful.” 

Shane looked directly into the camera lens. “This man has never been helpful in his life.” 

“This is hurtful, Hollander, truly.” Ilya shook his head, hand on his heart. 

Asma was failing to stifle her laugh as she asked, “Okay how about you tell us why you like 80s music?” 

“Oh that’s easy, my dad. Every drive we took as a kid we were listening to 80s music, and when you live in Canada, those drives can be pretty long. He used to drive me to and from practice a lot too, so I guess there’s just a lot of nostalgia there.” 

Shane could remember those long car rides with his dad like they were yesterday, yet they all seemed to merge into one. His dad’s voice was better than his, and he’d sing along with every song. They didn’t have to talk, they didn’t have to do anything but sing and watch the scenery go by. 

Shane glanced at Ilya, “Nothing to add?” 

Ilya shook his head. “No, David is the best dad I’ve ever had.” 

“You’ve met him one time.” Shane said dryly. 

“Yes, and next time, I will ask David and Yuna to adopt me.” Ilya said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I think they will say yes, I am the better son.” 

Shane’s face was making expressions without his express permission, and he could only hope the internet could be normal about this. “This is my nightmare.” 

They answered a few more questions like this, mostly teasing each other with their answers, occasionally drawing laughs out of the crew in the room. That helped make Shane relax a bit more, if the crew had been stoic and straight faced he’d probably treat this more like his commercials. 

“Okay, next we have some tweets and threads for you to react to!” Asma picked up a new pile of cards. “First one goes to Ilya about Shane.” 

Ilya gave a whoop, clapping his hands together. “Give them to me, make them raunchy, make them feral, make them hungry.” 

“I don’t really go on twitter that much, our last game day aside.” The room gave a smaller laugh at that. “But my team, my friends, Ilya, they’ll send me some things. And uhhh, you guys get pretty graphic on there.” 

Ilya received the next card then swore softly under his breath. “Okay, let me do right voice for this.” 

“Ooooo my name is Shane Hollander and im super hot and im the starting center for the back to back stanley cup champions and i got to kiss rose landry and see ilya rozanov shirtless…. Girl fuck you” Ilya’s accent was still very prominent, but he did very well at getting into the attitude of the poster. 

“Uhh, yeah i have done all of those things.” Shane chuckled. “It’s a life, I’m living it. Sorry.” 

Both Ilya and Shane dissolved into laughter as soon as Shane finished speaking. Shane bending forward in his seat, hand falling on Ilya’s knee. Ilya nudged him off, gently, making it seem like friends pushing each other.

“You are not sorry, Hollander.” 

Shane winked at the camera. “No, I’m not.” 

“Ilya rozanov i wanna shrink you to the size of a gummy bear and swallow you whole.” 

Ilya looked down the lens, quirked an eyebrow and said, “why you gotta shrink me to swallow me?”

Shane sighed heavily and rolled his eyes at that one. 

“Sometimes i just start crying when i see someone as sexy as shane hollander like there r genuine tears running down my cheeks rn”

“Which cheeks?” Shane asked with a completely straight face, causing Ilya to cackle with joy. 

Whatever mood had hit him, had hit the whole room. Everyone was in a state of hysteria both in front of and behind the camera, many of the crew stifling their laughs on whatever they could, but Shane was sure a lot would be making it into the video regardless. 

“Shane!” Ilya said, delighted. “You cannot say these things! Everyone will know you’re just as much of a slut as me!” 

“Excuse you.” Shane held out his hand in a stop gesture, “it was a genuine question.” 

“Ilya rozanovs ass is so FAT its taking up the whole screen” 

Both Ilya and Shane laughed at that, and Shane wished he could let the people know how much he agreed. 

The laughter was the silent type, half wheezing, bending over, heads thrown back. Shane’s hand was back to gripping Ilya’s knee, but Ilya’s hand had found its way to Shane’s shoulder. 

“How does it feel to be double-cheeked up?” Asma asked. 

Ilya cocked his head, unfamiliar with the term. 

“It weighs him down.” Shane said, straight faced once more, then noticing Ilya's questioning eyes on him he continued, “I’m not telling you what double-cheeked up means.”

Then Shane paused, and without really thinking it through, said, “hey, listen up, Raiders, this is the only time I’ll ever apologise to you about anything.” 

All eyes and ears were on him, you could hear a pin drop. Even Ilya watched him intently, waiting to find out what he had to say. 

“I taught Ilya the phrase ‘dickmatise,’ I am sorry. I can only imagine how hard it’s been for you since I did that.” He was addressing the camera like it was a youtube apology video. “I have also taught him what feral means, and I taught him crying screaming throwing up. I’m sorry. There’s many more phrases I have taught him, and sent him back out into the world, unleashed, even.”

There was an assistant behind the camera who was gaping at Shane, eyes wide, mouth dropped open, cheeks red, as she stared at Shane in shock. 

Ilya gasped. “Oh wait, you have used double-cheeked. But I know full phrase, double-checked up and nowhere to go. I remember this phrase.” 

“Okay you made it sound like I said that, which I did not.” Shane said firmly. “I did not.” 

Asma, with a glint in her eye that made Shane nervous, grinned and said, “for someone who doesn't use twitter, Mr Hollander, you sure do know a lot of slang.” 

Shane opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “So, Ilya will send me things and say, ‘what does this mean?’” He said that last bit in his Ilya impression. “And for some ungodly reason, I tell him.” 

Asma continued to look him dead in the eye from behind the camera. “That doesn’t explain how you know the meanings in the first place.” 

“Next tweet!” Shane insisted, bright red. 

And they moved on. They were all various degrees of unhinged and horny, but Shane’s responses became a little more tame, not by much, and Ilya had no such qualms. 

The whole room was having to contain their laughter, and Shane half hoped the content was unusable. But he couldn’t help but continue, he couldn’t bring himself to bring an end to this. 

He loved to laugh. He laughed with his teammates, he laughed with the Pikes, he laughed with other hockey players. But he was always holding himself back in a way that he didn’t, and just couldn’t, around Ilya. 

“Final one!” Asma said, handing Ilya the card. 

“Shane Hollander you are so perfect to me and i will fight anyone who doesn’t agree #stopasianhate” 

Shane couldn’t help it, he wheezed. The ending was so unexpected. Ilya hid his face behind the card as he laughed too, because what the fuck? 

It took him a moment to get it together and answer “Wow they said stop Asian hate? Thank you for uhhh… you have cured Ssian hate. I don’t think there’s no more hate. For them asians. I think you’ve fixed it, single handedly. I don’t even know if you’re Asian or not but I think racisms gone.” 

“I mean, they are not wrong.” Ilya said slowly, coming out from behind the card. 

Shane nodded, remembering his media training at last. “Of course, I agree.” 

They both took a deep breath, ready to wrap up the interview, when Shane felt compelled to add more. 

“On that matter, you know, the Voyageurs have always been great to me. Boston, our antagonism has only ever been about the game. My race has never come into it, the chirps and insults have always just been that. Chirping. Never about race, never about sexuality, never about gender.” 

Beside him Ilya nodded. “Yes, we are rivals because we are the best. Not every team can claim to have never said homophobic or sexist slurs and call them chirps, but for as long as I’ve been at Boston, this has been a rule.” 

Shane looked directly down the camera lens. “Slurs aren’t chirps. Racism isn’t there for you to fall back on when your gameplay can’t speak for itself.” 

The hysteria had vanished from the room, the assistants, the producers, directors, interns, camera operators, sound techs, all of them looked at Shane and Ilya was something Shane could only describe as deepfound respect. 

“There is no place for it in our game.” Ilya said, firm and serious. 

Shane flashed his media smile on again. “I’ve been Shane Hollander.” 

“And I’ve been Ilya Rozanov.” Ilya followed him into the outro. 

Once the camera cut, the room gave them a brief round of applause. Asma and Daria chatted animatedly as they approached the hockey players. They were still on set, having that mics removed. 

“That was fan-tas-tic!” Daria said with the enthusiasm of a thousand suns. “Goodness, knowing you two are friends and seeing it are just two completely different things.” 

“I’m not sure we’ll be able to cut around the laughter, but I actually think I like the idea of the viewers hearing it?” Asma said, half to herself than to Shane and Ilya. 

Daria handed Ilya a card that had contact information on it. “Mr Rozanov, could you please send me the photo you showed Mr Hollander? I’d like to put it in the video with your permission?” 

“Yes, of course.” Ilya smiled genially. 

“Before you go, is there anything you want us to cut? I’m aware it got a bit…” 

Shane huffed a small laugh. “Yeah it did. But no, I think we’re all good with it.” 

There was a knot in his stomach, and his brain was begging that they just cancel the whole thing. But his heart was happy, and Shane could only think of one other instance that he let his heart decide anything, and that was hockey. His heart could have Ilya and hockey, his gut and mind would just have to handle the rest. 

The interview wouldn’t drop for another few days, Daria had let them know. They didn’t know the exact date but they wanted to get it out as soon as possible, preferably before or on their game day for max engagement. 

“I don’t know if I can handle the fans seeing it before the game.” Shane said to Ilya on the drive home. “I don’t know what came over me, I said so much crazy shit.”

“It was best interview of yours I’ve ever seen.” Ilya said from the passenger seat. “I loved seeing you let go.” 

“I was only meant to do one day of freedom.” Shane insisted. 

Ilya took a moment to think before he responded. He knew Shane well enough to know the reasons why, but then again, Shane probably needed to verbalise them himself. “Why?” 

Shane sighed heavily. “Becuase.” 

Ilya waited patiently for Shane to continue, and when he didn’t, prompted, “becauuuuse?” 

“You know.” Shane said. 

“I do, but I think you need to process verbally, so speak Hollander.” 

Shane reached a hand out to squeeze Ilya’s knee. “Okay okay. I like this feeling, I like getting to speak more openly. I love that I can look at you, talk to you, and no one freak out. Well, a lot of people freak out but in a way that’s okay. Because we’re public friends now and that means we can just exist for a bit.” 

“But?” 

“But I’m also aware that I have a public image. A very modest public image, and I just said ‘which cheeks’ and ‘dickmatise’ on a camera, on a video that everyone will be able to see. Brands might pull away from me, people will blame you or think this is your influence, which it sort of is.” 

“But?” Ilya prodded again. 

“But it feels so good to relax.” Shane sighed, hands flexing on the steering wheel. “It feels so insanely good to not care for a little bit.” 

“But?” Ilya asked again, just in case. 

Shane chuckled. “I think we’ve run out of buts. The long and short of it is that I’m happy but scared but that’s okay.” 

“Great, let’s eat.” 

Shane rolled his eyes. “Home first. Then I’ve booked that place my mom suggested.” 

Ilya smiled. They could have tonight, they’d play together the day after, and he’d fly out the day after that. Their time together coming to an end too swiftly, as it always did. But for now, he had tonight. 

Chapter End Notes

I assume most of you don’t read the random fans handles, I usually don’t, but I think I popped off with pucktuah

Chapter 4: Dinner Dates &lt;3

Chapter Summary

Dinner, game day and in laws

Chapter Notes

The interview was announced the morning of game day. Right when Ilya and Shane were making their morning coffees, pressing soft kisses against foreheads, hands brushing hips, eyes taking the sight of one another. 

They didn’t see the email that forewarned the announcement. They didn’t even see the announcement posted. They both suddenly had phones vibrating across the countertops. 

Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov answer questions and read your tweets!

Full video drops tomorrow at 13:00!

Shane glanced at his team group chat briefly, but it was silent. His messages were directly from Hayden and JJ, his mom, Rose. 

Ilya snorted from where he was leaning against the island, reading his own messages. Mostly from the very active Boston groupchat. 

At Shane’s questioning look he said, “The boys want to do watch party of the interview on the flight to New York.” 

And for the first time, Shane was glad his team weren’t responding like Ilya’s were because he couldn’t imagine having to watch his teammates react to the interview in real time. But then again, there was a small, but prominent, part of him that was jealous. 

“Have they landed yet?” Shane asked. 

“In about 20 minutes.” Ilya replied, tapping away on his phone. “I will meet them at hotel before game. Can’t spend all day with the enemy.” 

Shane logically knew this was the right move to make, but all he wanted was to do nothing with Ilya today. So much of their time together was spent doing things, hockey, each other, and not a lot of nothing. 

“Voyageurs are meeting at noon for a skate, so I’ll leave when you do.” 

Ilya looked at Shane thoughtfully. “You will drop me off?”

The original plan had been for Ilya to call a car to drop him off, but the timings fit. Shane could drop Ilya off with his teammates on the way to the stadium. At this point, what was the harm? The Raiders knew Ilya was staying with Shane, both last night and the next. 

Shane considered it. It still made him nervous to be so blatantly out and about with each other. Even if the Raiders themselves were fine with it, he could imagine Raiders management might not be too happy with Ilya flaunting spending time with the enemy. Then again, he was only dropping him off, he probably wouldn’t even see the Raiders. 

And this way they got more time together. At this stage in Shane’s life, that’s all he wanted. It felt like there was so much wasted time between them. Because of the NHL, because they were professional male athletes in a homophobic landscape, because of Russia, and because of Shane’s inability to be honest with himself. 

“Yeah, I’ll drop you off.” Shane said, reaching out to tug on Ilya’s hip. 

Ilya happily moved into his space, wrapping his arms around Shane’s waist. “Spasiba, moy shofer.” 

Shane narrowed his eyes, “did you just call me your chauffeur?” 

“Da, very good!” Ilya beamed, pressing a kiss to Shane’s forehead, nose, and cheeks. 

“It sounds the same, Ilya.” Shane said with affectionate annoyance. “And if you call me that again you can walk.” 

Ilya just chuckled and continued to press kisses onto Shane’s skin until he finally made his way to his lips. 

Because Shane is Shane, they pulled in to the hotel earlier than they meant to, just as the busload of hockey players were disembarking. They had their final kiss in the house, but now Ilya couldn’t even dither slightly. 

He climbed out of the car, immediately noticed by Cliff, and subsequently by everyone else. 

Shane rolled his window down as Ilya walked around the car. His team were already chirping as Ilya came to stand by Shane’s window.

“I will see you soon.” Ilya promised, his face already schooled into something more distant. “When I beat you.” 

“Goodluck, you’ll need it.” Shane responded in kind. Then, as Ilya walked away toward his team, he called out. “Have a good day at school sweetie, be nice to the other boys!” 

The Raiders dissolved into laughter as Ilya raised a hand to flip Shane off, even Coach LeClaire had a smile on his face. Shane watched for a moment as Ilya joined his team, he knew he should just drive away. Ilya threw one last look over his shoulder, and Shane put the car in drive. 

****

When Shane entered the locker room, the only people who took any note were JJ and Hayden. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, something akin to the annoyance they had had with him when his friendship with Ilya first came to light. Or maybe raucous chirping that had followed. 

Instead no one paid him any mind, bar Hayden and JJ. 

“Yo man, that photo of you and Rozanov is so weird.” Hayden said, in reference to the thumbnail of the interview. “It still feels Twilight Zone to look at it.” 

“Mon Dieu, we are not talking about the more important part! His outfit, who dressed you because we know you didn’t dress yourself.” JJ interrupted, clapping his hand down on Hayden’s shoulder. 

Shane gave a small laugh. “I know how to dress myself, I just have no reason to dress up for you.” 

“Ah, but you dress for Rozanov? My heart, Hollander! You break it.” JJ clutched at his chest. 

Hayden joined in with the antics, pressing his hand against his forehead like a damsel in distress. “Oh Rozanov! Let me show off my beefy biceps for you!” 

“Okay okay.” Shane held up his hands. “I’ll dress up for you guys too, if you want. All you had to do is ask.” 

There was a harsh, mean, laugh behind them that drew Shane’s attention, Cloutier, third line right wing, half-dressed. Realising he’d drawn their attention he raised his hands in supplication. 

Shane began to turn back around, ready to let it go, when Hayden said in a flat voice, “Got something to say, Cluey?” 

Cloutier, realising he was drawing more attention, gave an awkward chuckle. “Nah man, it’s all good.” 

Hayden gave the smile he gave to the parents of the kids his kids didn’t like, “Good.”

Shane raised an eyebrow at Hayden as they turned back to their lockers. Hayden waved him off with a ‘I’ll fill you in later’ gesture. It was most likely to do with his now public friendship with Ilya, which Shane had honestly thought had died out as a source of contention. 

He went over the maybe five sentences he’d shared with his friends and couldn’t identify anything overtly offensive among them. But that was fine, he could handle Cloutier. 

Practice was light, so as to not overtire them before the game, it was more a warm up than anything. And strategy session. Coach Theriault kept it mostly short and sweet, they’d played Boston plenty of times, their line up hadn’t had any drastic changes recently. 

Once they were dismissed, a voice called out over the ice, “you say it’s like every other time, but it’s not really is it?” 

Shane, blissfully unaware it was directed at him, continued off the ice. Hayden and JJ right behind him. 

“Ignore them.” JJ muttered. 

“Hmm?” Shane shot JJ a questioning look as they made their way down the tunnel. “Ignore who?” 

JJ and Hayden shared a look. “Nevermind.” 

Shane sat on the bench by his locker and began discarding his kit. “Oh, was that aimed at me? How is it not like every other time?” 

Other teammates were piling in, stripping off, chatting away. 

“Shane.” Hayden said. “Rozanov.” 

Shane sighed, it felt so playground to have these issues. “Okay, listen up! I’ll keep this brief. If you have an issue with my friendship with Roz, keep it to yourself. It’s new to you, but it’s not new to me. As I’ve said before, we’ve been friends since day one. We were friends when he got drafted first, we were friends when I got rookie of the year, we were friends for every Stanley either of us have won. I not only have every intention of decimating Boston on the ice tonight, but am actively looking forward to it.” 

Most of the team gave him a smile, a jeer, a laugh. But there were a few, Cloutier among them, who rolled their eyes, gave each other knowing looks, kept quiet. 

It sat uncomfortably in Shane, but what else could he do? Beg them to treat him as they used to? It was tempting, but at the same time, there was too much rage, too much resentment, to ever beg for the bare minimum. 

“Sorry you had to do that.” JJ said. “I know I wasn’t the best about it, before.” 

Shane gave him a little nudge. “You came around.” 

“Oui, mon Capitaine.” Nudging him back. “Still fucking weird though.” 

Shane huffed. “Yeah well, there’s a reason we kept it secret.” 

“Is it just that? That people would think it’s weird?” The way JJ said it sat uncomfortably in Shane. In a way he couldn’t quite name, or maybe didn’t want to. 

“No, there were many reasons. The league was really into the rivalry, we live so far apart, we barely see each other. In the beginning I don’t think we really thought the friendship would last. But every time we played, we’d catch up. The next thing we knew, we were checking in on each other, celebrating each other’s wins. Then before we knew it, we were talking about things that had nothing to do with hockey, and suddenly realised, oh, this is my best friend.” 

“Your best friend?” Hayden raised his eyebrows at Shane. “I can’t believe you’ve done this.” 

“One of them.” Shane conceded. 

The three of them headed to grab lunch before their game, Jackie was planning on coming by with the kids too. It was nice, normal. JJ’s own partner joined them too, and Shane couldn’t help but imagine a day where he could invite Ilya. 

****

The Raiders were set to have a team lunch together at the hotel restaurant, all of them sat along two long tables absolutely teeming with food. Ilya sat with Cliff, Sainty, Connie, and Hammersmith. 

“I have to be honest Roz, I always thought you were the hot one. But what has Hollander been eating? He has bulked up.” Cliff said with a mouthful of food. 

“There’s rumours about him.” Connors said, then seemingly realised he was speaking to Ilya. “Oh shit, I forgot you two are friends now.” 

“What rumours?” Ilya asked, and judging by the way Sainty and Hammersmith leaned away from him, his face was thunderous. 

“Just shit guys say.” Connors tried to wave him off. “It’s all talk.” 

“Then talk.” 

Cliff clapped a hand on Ilya’s shoulder. “Okay, Roz, you’re going all Russian mafia on poor Connie.” 

Ilya forced himself to smile. “I am just joking, Connie.” 

“Yeah, somehow that’s more terrifying.” Connors eyed Ilya up and down. “Look, nothing against the guy. Just heard some rumours that not all is well in the Montreal locker room.” 

Ilya scowled. “Stupid motherfuckers. They are not happy that we are friends.” 

Connor opened his mouth, but hesitated. “It’s… it’s not that. Or it’s not just that.” 

A cold fear slid down the back of Ilya’s neck. He took a moment to organise his face, make it confused. Tilting his head he asked, “Oh?” 

Just one word, casual enough. Just a friend confused for another friend’s team, nothing more to it. Except, of course, this was Ilya’s greatest fear. Shane was already out to the Voyageurs, had been for the past year, so surely that hadn’t spread? Surely, that wasn’t the problem. 

“Just heard that one or two of them don’t think that Hollander should have the C.” Connors finally admitted. 

Ilya blinked. Cliff blinked. Even Hammersmith blinked. 

“That is stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.” Ilya said bluntly. “Who the fuck else would be good captain? Hollander is only reason their shitty team have any cups.” 

They sat in a brief silence. 

Then Hammersmith piped up. “It's still so weird to hear you defend him.” 

“Nah,” Cliff shook his head, “Roz always knew Hollander was goated. He still hates Montreal, but you gotta respect Hollander as player. Dude is insane.” 

Hammersmith and Connors gave assenting grunts. Ilya decided the topic needed to change before he said something he shouldn’t, but his brain just couldn’t think of a topic that wasn’t to do with Shane. All he could think about was their interview, their three amazing days together, their dinner, their last night together tonight. 

“So what can we expect from that interview?” Cliff finally brokered. 

And Ilya’s chest eased. “Oh you are not ready. You think you know Holly? You do not know Holly.” 

“Are the Voyageurs going to do a watch party too?” 

Ilya decided to play completely dumb. “How the fuck would I know? I am not in boring Montreal chat.” 

The conversation moved on, and Ilya relaxed. He knew Connie meant nothing by it. If it was in the days before they knew, Ilya probably still would have chatted shit about the voyageurs but stood up for Shane. But there would be less nervousness on Connie’s part, he would have just told him outright what the rumours were. 

Or the tea, according to Shane. 

Ilya didn’t want to have distance with his teammates. He loved Boston, he loved the Raiders. And he loved that the most important part of his life was now out there, at least somewhat. 

And he loved hockey. And however much he loved Shane, he loved beating him more. 

****

The arena was about half full during warmups. Busier than most warmups, but not bustling with fans. Shane was on all fours on the ice, stretching his legs out when the music started. 

He didn’t quite notice at first, until Ilya skated to the blue line and called his name. Once he got Shane’s attention he pointed upwards. Only then did Shane recognise the opening notes of Eye of the Tiger playing over the shitty arena speakers. 

Shane hung his head and laughed. He needed to find out who ran the Montreal arena programme, because he was going to commit a murder. 

“Dance with me, Hollander!” Ilya called, already moving about to the music. 

Shane thought about it. Did he want to? Yes and no. For so many reasons. Countless reasons on both sides, warring in his head for dominance. 

Shut up, brain. Let’s see what heart wants to do. 

Heart wanted to dance. 

Shane got up and copied Ilya’s dance moves, it took only seconds for the crowd to notice. Soon the was laughter and cheering, and then most surprisingly, they started singing. 

Not a full arena, but still hundreds of people singing Eye of Tiger as Shane and Ilya laughed, and danced. 

They stayed on their halves of the ice, but they moved about. Their ice dancing skills not great, but they knew how to move on the ice. 

Shane skated by the boards, facing the fans who were sat right up against the plexiglass. They were singing and cheering and dancing with him. He raised his hands up, encouraging them to be louder, to take up space, to show their joy. 

On the other half of the ice, Ilya was doing the same. They met again along the blue line, laughing. 

The song began to wind down, and so did their dance. It was only then that Shane noticed Hayden and Cliff leaning against the barrier on either side of the blue line, seemingly comparing notes. 

“I think… I think we’re being gossiped about.” Shane nodded his head to the two of them. 

Ilya turned and considered them for a moment. “At least it’s not behind our back.” 

Shane snorted. “Wow, small wins I guess.” 

“An appetiser before my big win tonight.” Ilya winked at him. 

Shane’s good humoured expression dropped. “I’ve never been more tempted to start a fight before a game.” 

Ilya’s face lit up in delight. “Shall we?” 

Of course Ilya would be delighted by causing more of a stir by fighting before a game had even started. 

Shane skated backwards, but he was laughing. “Don’t you dare.” 

“Hollander!” Theriault snapped, drawing Shane’s attention. “With your team, some time today would be nice.” 

Shane looked back at Ilya who was giving his meanest, most unimpressed look at the Voyageur bench. 

Shane smiled, and skated back to his warmups. Cluey gave him a wide berth plus a few scathing looks, but otherwise Shane received a few friendly chirps. 

JJ skated past him mimicking a ballerina, Hayden looped circles around him singing vague lalalalas. Berkes and Schneider had fist bumped him when he’d danced by then earlier, and were now singing under their breath. 

It wasn’t all bad. 

No, this would be a good game, and Shane was determined to win. 

**** 

The atmosphere in the locker room after the game was electric. The Voyageurs had won, Shane scoring 2 of 3 goals, and Drapeau having only let 1 in for Boston. 

“Next time!” He was saying. “Next I’ll get us a shutout!” 

The locker room cheered, buzzing with the thrill of the win. It was Hayden who started it, but soon the whole locker room had taken up the lyrics to Eye of the Tiger. 

“God, don’t tell me we have to play this whenever we play Boston.” JJ groaned. 

“I don’t make the rules,” Hayden grinned, “I just enforce them.” 

Half the team booed, the other half cheered. Shane found himself chuckling too, this was the team he loved. This was the team he dedicated 10 years to. 

“First round on me tonight!” Comeau shouted. 

“Some of us had children, Coms!” 

“Some of us are children!” Southerfield laughed, nudging the rookies. 

“You guys have fun tonight." Shane called to the room. “Have a round on me, yeah?” 

He received a bunch of booing from the assembled team. Loudest of all from JJ. 

“Aw what cap? You have to come!” JJ complained. “Oh wait, let me guess, last night with Rozanov?” 

Hayden saved Shane from answering by clapping his hands down on Shane’s shoulders. 

“He’s taking me to meet the in-laws.” Hayden said proudly. “Marlow is Rozanov’s team bestie, that makes him my bestie in-law.” 

The logic took a moment for Shane’s brain to wrap around before he finally realised what he was saying. “Jesus, is that what you and Marlow were talking about earlier?” 

“Yep! It’s very important that I know his bestie is treating my bestie right.” Hayden said, with the tone of someone trying to convey something more. 

Shane sighed, innately aware he was not getting out of this. What was his life? One live video weeks ago had led to dinner with Marlow, no, Cliff and Hayden. A dinner he never would have even guessed at in his wildest dreams

Chapter End Notes

I’ve read so many good fics recently, thank you all again for rec’ing so many!

Anyway I planned to finish this and upload it sooner but I had a 10 hour tattoo that I thought I would be able to chill with (And for the most part I could) but loooord it got spicy at the end there

And it made me want to write a fic about Ilya telling Shane he fundamentally wouldn’t be able to hack getting a tattoo

Chapter 5: Oops flashback

Chapter Summary

The dinner date the night before

Chapter Notes

The dinner date that was meant to be between Chapters 3 and 4 and somehow wasn’t included, so this is a flashback short interlude to tide you over before the bestie in law dinner date, the watch party, and the internet

I have no idea how it got left out

The door to the restaurant had a thick curtain separating the cold Montreal air from the warmth of the patrons within. Ilya followed Shane in, who was clearly still nervous about the whole thing. His hands clenching and unclenching even as his face portrayed impassivity. 

Ilya had been doing a pretty good job at chatting complete and utter rubbish to keep him distracted. Marlow has been thinking about cooking classes, a) because despite being a professional athlete he still lives off of fast food, and b) to meet and attract girls. St Simon was debating changing out the tape he uses for a new brand but was worried about superstition. Those kinds of things. Boring and irrelevant, perfect for Hollander brain. 

Shane had done well to half follow along, adding invigorating commentary like ‘huh’ and ‘yeah.’ 

“Shane.” Ilya said as the maitre de walked them through the tables to a more secluded one in the corner. 

“Yeah?” Shane replied, eyes darting to all the other patrons, many of whom were admittedly at the very least noticing them. 

None had pulled their phones out, so at least there was that. 

“Never become a commentator.” Ilya told him. 

They had reached their table now, both men moving to sit opposite each other. 

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“Tsk, language, this is a nice restaurant." Ilya shook his head at Shane, then turning to the maitre de added. “I’m sorry about him, hockey players, absolute animals.” 

The maitre de failed at suppressing their smile. “It’s quite alright sirs. Your host for this evening will be along shortly with the wine menu.” 

The maitre de left them to it, Shane glaring at Ilya across the table. At least he wasn’t eyeing up the place like a smuggler at an airport anymore. 

“Commentating would be bad career for you.” Ilya continued. “Huh’ ‘sure’ ‘yeah’ these are not interesting things to hear.” 

Shane’s lip lifted slightly in a half smile. “Sorry, I was listening.” 

“I know, but commentators aren’t paid to listen.” 

This time that elicited a real smile. “Okay okay, I get the point. Besides, I don’t want to be a commentator. I’ll probably go into coaching when I retire.” 

Ilya raised his eyebrows even though it shouldn’t be a surprise that Shane already had plans in place. And of course he’d want to coach. It made perfect sense.

Before he could respond the host came to their table. 

“Good evening gentleman,” she began in a low, smooth voice. She handed them the wine lists and began to go over the wines available. 

Once she finished, Ilya took her suggestion of a Pinot Noir, as well as the recommended entrees that paired well with it. Shane, on the other hand, gave him a flat look. 

“We have a game tomorrow.” 

The host's expression betrayed nothing, except a small twitch of the lip. 

“Da, we do.” Ilya agreed. “I have played on worse hangovers, and won.” 

Shane let it go and ordered a ginger ale and his own entrees. The host didn’t have a notepad with her, just removed the wine menus and gave them the a la carte menu. 

“So, coaching?” Ilya asked. 

The prompting was small, but it got Shane talking, finally. Ilya’s heart thudded in his chest as he watched Shane become more animated. Not painfully, not achingly, just noticeably. Each mannerism of Shane’s became a call and response with his heart, Shane looked up and left, his head tilting right, as he thought about how to phrase something? Ilya’s heart beat. Shane’s hands moved more erratically as he became more passionate? Ilya’s heart beat. 

Then Shane broke off. His previously animated expression dropped completely and he sent furtive glances side to side. 

In a low voice he said, “you’re looking at me like you love me.” 

Ilya smiled softly. “I do love you.” 

“Ilya.” Shane’s eyes pleaded with him. 

They were interrupted with the arrival of Ilya’s wine, followed by their orders being taken. Once the host left there was an awkward silence. Ilya sipped at his wine, Shane looking determinedly anywhere but Ilya. 

“I’m sorry.” Shane whispered, looking out over the restaurant. 

No one was looking their way currently, Ilya noted, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t, or wouldn’t. 

“Is okay.” Ilya conceded. “I will try to control my face.” 

Shane opened his mouth and took a breath like he wanted to say something, but ultimately let it go. They sat in silence. 

“They haven’t given a release date for the interview yet have they?” Shane finally said 

“No.” Ilya replied. 

More silence. 

“I’m nervous about how the team will respond.” 

“Shocking.” Ilya knew as soon as it left his mouth that he was being too much of an asshole. Especially when Shane’s eyes shuttered for a moment with real hurt. “Fuck I’m sorry, that was not when I meant.” 

Shane said nothing. 

“No, please, Shane.” Ilya leaned across the table, hands on the tablecloth instead of holding Shane’s. “I’m sorry, I know I’m being asshole. Tell me what’s going on in your head. Please.” 

Shane finally looked at him, and sighed. “God we suck at this.” 

That got a chuckle from Ilya. “Turns out the real reason we stayed indoors is because we don’t know how to behave in public.” 

And Shane gave him a real smile. Not a lovey dovey smile, just a genuine curl of the lip. 

“I’m worried about the interview because of how badly they reacted to the live.” He said simply. “And before you say it, I know it was a shock that time. Unexpected for literally everyone involved. And that once they wrapped their mind around it they got over it.” 

Ilya stared at him. “No I wasn’t going to say any of that, fuck those guys. If they can’t handle you at your best, your funniest, your most relaxed, they are not deserving to know you at all, let alone call you captain, let alone sharing the ice with you. Fuck them.” 

The vitriol he felt for the Voyageurs was new. Obviously he didn’t like them to begin with, seeing as they were rivals and all. But Shane’s stories has always struck him as sad, mostly because he could hear how Shane was holding himself back. He’d always believed that if Shane just let go a little, things would be better for him. 

And he did still believe that, but not in the same way. Because the Voyageurs had taken the gift that was a free and happy Shane and made it complicated and personal for some unknown reason. 

So the animosity he felt for them had quadrupled in recent weeks. 

Shane was smiling at him. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t thank me for this.” Ilya waved him off, still annoyed. 

Their food arrived and they began eating in companionable silence. The food was good, Yuna had good recommendations, which was only to be expected. 

“You know what I realised?” Shane said, his voice low again, but conspiratorial. 

“What did you realise?” Ilya said, forcing the words moya lyubov not to come out. 

“This is our first actual date.” 

The words hit Ilya like a bus. “No!” 

He sat up straight, his voice loud, carrying across the restaurant and drawing looks. 

Shane openly laughed at him. 

“Stop laughing, this is not true!” Ilya demanded. 

Because surely they’d been on a date. They loved each other, they’d made future plans with each other, it had been a decade! 

“Okay then, prove it.” Shane challenged, laughter still written on his face. 

Ilya thought. And thought. 

“What are we classing as ‘a date?’” 

Shane shot him a dry look. “Well that’s my point, I don’t think anything we’ve done counts as a date.” 

“What about summer at the cottage? You asked me, I said yes, this is date!” 

“Keep your voice down!” Shane hissed. 

“Okay okay.” Ilya held his hands up. “But can you tell me I’m wrong?” 

Shane considered. “That was… a couples trip.” 

Ilya gave him a flat look. “And when we invited our friends? Is that not double date?” 

“Are Rose and Svetlana dating?” 

“They could be, I respect their privacy in this matter.” He replied with hands up. 

“You’re so full of shit.” 

“Okay, if you are so determined, this can be our first date Hollander. Very romantic, well done.” 

They finished their meal bitching about other teams, swinging wildly between salacious gossip and eviscerating their gameplay. 

The host couldn’t help her laughter when she came to collect their plates and overheard Shane’s impassioned speech about the way Tampa were currently playing. 

Ilya had turned his head to share a fond look with her. 

They left her a generous tip and made their way back to the car. Ilya felt almost giddy with how natural this felt. Dinner date and a stroll in the early evening, they’d get home and Ilya would have another glass of wine which Shane would give a judging eye, but then they’d curl up on the sofa and Shane would want to watch something hockey related and Ilya would tell him about the PWHL game. They’d watch it together, try not to fall asleep because it’s late and eventually Ilya would drag Shane to bed, and he’d be all sleepy as he stumbled through the house with Ilya guiding him. And they’d go to bed holding each other. 

If Ilya could, he’d spend every day for the rest of his life like this. 

Chapter End Notes

Sorry for the shortest chapter yet, it wasn’t meant to be in it’s own category but we move

Chapter 6: Plane Rides and Tweets

Chapter Summary

Dinner with the bestie in laws, social media, and of course, one (1) watch party

Chapter Notes

Hockeyhips

Holy shiiiiit holy shit holy shit???

Puckmeoutside

They are genuinely the most attractive men in all the nhl 

Pikeslesbians

It is a cruel and unusual punishment to let us know about the interview and not immediately release it 

Pikeslesbians

Like what do you mean I have to wait 24 hours

Hollanovtruther

The hand on the knee 

Cameron345

I fully believed I was a normal fan until today 

Rozanovslop

I am looking respectfully 

Mrsmarlowhockey

How am I meant to be normal about this 

Pucktuah

Wdym I have to wait 24hrs after seeing this image 

Landryfandry

Not my dad asking why I’m suddenly so interested in watching the game 

Hollanovtruther

Hello?? I said. The hand. On. The. Knee. 

Luludelulu

Omg I saw them at dinner the other day it must have been when they shot this 

Rozanov81___

Why are we only learning about this now???

Luludelulu

It’s called a reasonable expectation of privacy babes 

Kayceemcee

Not me tuning in for a game for the first time in my life 

Madi_loves_hockey

THE DANCING 

SaintlySimonunggg

NOT THEM RECREATING THE DANCE 

14Gennnn

why am i getting hockey on my feed 

Kennajonesss

Can someone tell me what’s happening?  

Shane_can_get_it

Yall hollanov have breached containment 

Justinhello

What’s the big deal about hockey players being friends??? 

Netthepuckalready

Oh great now my feed is gonna be flooded with a bunch of fake fans 

Boizikeander

Boziau and Pike dancing around Hollander is SENDING me 

Sinbinhoney

Is it gatekeeping or is it reasonable to tell them this isn’t their space? 

Pucktuah

I’m gnawing on my arm like a vulture waiting for this interview to drop 

Personalpuckbunny

God hockey breaching containment now means there’s even more queers infecting my feed 

Girlsandpucks

Follow me for the breakdown on all things hockey, all things gossip, and why the Hollander/Rozanov friendship is so insane! 

Hollyandrozie

The power of gay love is bringing interest back to hockey 

- Melodyhopes

  There’s so many reasons why this is problematic 1/11

Shanehollandaise

I don’t know what to talk about first, the interview, the warm-ups, the game, the alleged dinner - these boys I swear 

Hollandry24

Even if the dinner rumours are true that doesn’t mean anything, as they’ve said multiple times now, they’ve been friends for a decade 

Raiderordie

I am seated, I am waiting patiently, I am not rewatching every compilation of hollanov interaction over the past decade 

Hollanderslop

Let me lick and bite those biceps Shane Hollander 

Massholeraiders

Ilya’s arm around Shane 😭😭

Shilyahollanov

I would literally die for them

Mrsmarlow

Their faces their gorgeous faces ugh fucking fuck me oh my god

Pucktuah

The way we’re all analysing this thumbnail has me nervous about what we’re gonna do with that interview

****

A few hours after the Boston V Montreal game found Cliff and Hayden sat at Shane’s dining table, drinking wine, and chatting up a storm. Shane had no idea how it had happened. One moment the four of them were standing silently in Shane’s house, both Hayden and Cliff had brought a bottle of wine, Shane had started cooking (paprika chicken, salad, and rice) and Ilya had hovered. 

“I brought wine!” Cliff had said cheerfully, presenting his bottle of red to Ilya and breaking the awkward silence.

“I also brought wine.” Hayden held up his bottle of red. 

“Yes, we noticed.” Ilya said dryly, taking the bottle from Hayden too. 

There was a stilted pause as Ilya set the bottles on the counter and set about retrieving the wine glasses. He took four out of the cupboard. Shane focussed on the food that was cooking. Luckily he had a rice cooker, the salad was made and waiting in the bowl, it was jus the chicken. 

“Just like old times.” Cliff joked. “Maybe I should go live.” 

“I will kill you.” Shane levelled a flat stare at him. 

Cliff raised his eyebrows at Shane before laughing. “You need to bring that energy to the ice, Hollander.” 

“I did bring that energy to the ice.” Shane muttered under his breath. 

Cliff snorted. “Oh, that love tap? Thought it was a breeze.” 

“Marly, stop antagonising my boyfriend.” Ilya said, smiling and pouring the wine. Starting with Cliff’s bottle, of course. “That’s my job.” 

Shane’s breath caught in his throat, his face flushing without his say so. He tried to focus on cooking and pretending like this was a totally normal experience and not so far out of the realm of anything he’d thought possible. Okay, that was a little dramatic. But he genuinely never would have thought he’d be having dinner with Ilya Rozanov, Hayden Pike, and Cliff Marlow as his guests. 

“Shane, you’re so red!” Hayden said, delighted. 

Cliff’s face turned into what could be described as someone hearing the most exciting gossip. “So you guys are like, official.” 

“We’re not out.” Shane said firmly. “But we are together.” 

Hayden was beaming. “Who knows?” 

“You two, the Hollanders.” Ilya said. “Sveta and Rose.” 

“Short list.” Cliff frowned. “Surely that sucks?”

“Is safest.” Ilya shrugged, but there was tension in his shoulders. 

Shane knew that while he felt safest in the shadows, Ilya was someone who lived his life outloud. He’d never shied away from who he was before, he was loud and arrogant and confident. Despite all the reasons, Shane still felt he shouldered the blame for their hiding. 

It was ridiculous, because hockey, and the world, and Russia, were the main reasons. But part of him thought that maybe Ilya would be perfectly happy to come out today, and it was only his insecurities that stopped them. 

“If not for that live, would you have told us?” Hayden asked, a slight frown on his face. 

Shane purposefully didn’t look at him. How did you tell your best friend, ‘hey I’ve been lying to you for a decade and I fully would have continued to lie to you if given the choice!’

“That’s a no.” Cliff said into the silence that followed. 

“Was not because of you.” Ilya told him plainly. “Was because of safety.” 

“But Hunter is out now, the league will have to be more accepting. Especially two of its most decorated players in history.” Hayden argued.

“Hunter doesn’t have to worry about his boyfriend being sent back to Russia.” Shane snapped.

It was like all the air got sucked from the room. Shane could feel the eyes on him, feel the way he’d killed any semblance of a good vibe. He made it weird and uncomfortable. It was awkward now, because of him. 

“Oh fuck.” Cliff said softly. 

 “Sorry.” Shane sighed.

“No.” Hayden interrupted. “No, you’re right to say it. We were being obtuse.” 

“Is obtuse meaning stupid and slow?” Ilya directed his question at Shane. “Because if so, I agree.” 

Hayden scowled, but Cliff laughed, used to Ilya’s attitude. 

“Why don’t we go sit at the table, get acquainted properly, and leave you two to chef it up?” Cliff suggested, already picking up his wine. 

“Dining room is this way.” Hayden said, leading Cliff away from the kitchen. 

The second they were out of sight, Ilya was pressed against Shane’s back. Hands on his hips, kisses pressed to the top of his head. Shane let himself relax against Ilya, forcefully ejecting the tension from his body. 

“Are you okay?” Ilya murmured into his hair. 

Shane released a slow breath. “Yeah. Yeah I’m fine. I just don’t know how to do this.” 

“Me too, moya lyubov.” He pressed another kiss to Shane’s head. “But we will learn. Is practice for when we don’t have to worry anymore.” 

Shane gave a humourless laugh, “you think I’ll ever not worry?” 

“You don’t worry when I have you moaning on my-”

Shane pushed him away for that. “Okay okay, off with you. Food is almost done.” 

Shane and Ilya brought the plates into the dining room to find Cliff and Hayden chatting away like old friends. They barely even paused as food was placed in front of them, discussing Sex and The City of all things. 

“My ex-girlfriend said I’m a Samantha, what does that mean?” Cliff was asking seriously. 

“One sec,” Hayden replied, typing away on his phone. “Okay Jackie says you’re confident and sexually liberated. However, I say she’s also career driven and refuses to conform.” 

“Oooh, I like that.” Cliff nodded, bringing his wine glass to his lips. “Cause my ex said it like it was a bad thing.” 

“I think that says more about her than it does about you.” Hayden said, glanced at his phone, and added, “Jackie agrees. In fact Jackie has some choice words about your girlfriend.” 

“Ex-girlfriend.” Cliff corrected him firmly. 

“This is the most surreal night of my life.” Shane muttered as he placed the plates down. 

They ate with a companionable chatter, light, steering clear of the topic of them, and instead spoke about normal things, hockey, Pike’s kids, did Cliff want kids? Yes, one day, gotta find the right girl first. Holy shit did you see that they discontinued my favourite stick tape? Fuck my life. 

Without even realising it, it became normal. Suddenly Shane wasn’t there with Rozanov, Marlow, and Pike, he was there with Ilya, Cliff, and Hayden. It reminded him of when he was at school and spoke to other sporty kids, Jake from football, Kayden from track, Aimee from basketball. 

Cliff had been the biggest wildcard, going into tonight. Shane knew very little about him, other than his hockey stats and that he was the person Ilya was closest to on his team. But even then, Shane and Ilya didn’t spend a lot of time talking about their friends. 

But he ended up being the easiest part of the night. 

Hayden and Ilya were on good behaviour but the animosity was still there. An undercurrent that cut through their comments to one another, Shane couldn’t tell how much was in good humour, if any. 

And Shane couldn’t even blame one of them for it, they both made small jibes at one another throughout the evening. 

“Damn, you tryna start up a new rivalry?” Cliff joked after one snarky remark. 

Ilya had scoffed. “Pike is not good enough player to be considered my rival.” 

“Okay, fuck you.” Hayden said, sloshing his wine in his glass. 

“Do not spill that.” Shane warned. “And play nice, both of you.” 

But really, the star of the night wasn’t Ilya and Shane’s relationship, it wasn’t Hayden and Ilya’s mutual distaste, nor was it Cliff and Shane’s burgeoning new relationship. It was the almost instant connection between Cliff and Hayden. Once they got past the whole rival teams thing, they got on like a house on fire. 

Cliff and Hayden left later than any of them had originally planned. They were sent off with ‘thanks for coming’ and ‘see you tomorrow’s.’ Shane and Ilya were too tired to do more than clean up and curl up together in bed. They’d have time in the morning for anything more, for tonight they had full bellies and full hearts. 

Miffcarlow

Bestie of my bestie is my bestie?

[photo of Cliff and Hayden posing with wine glasses]

Pike_hockey

Bestie-in-laws!

[photo of Cliff and Hayden chatting animatedly, in the background Ilya is visible rolling his eyes]

Ilyarozanov

[video of Cliff and Hayden comparing notes on Ilya and Shane. 

Hayden: Shane regularly comes to practice 2 to 3 hours early

Cliff: Roz does that! But usually he stays 3 hours later

Hayden: Once we were on a roadie, and we’re at a bar, I look over, Shane is reading a biography on Gretzky

Cliff: We were at a bar and I lose sight of Roz, I think he’s hooking up right? No, he was watching the Voyageur vs Admiral game. He kept saying he was just checking the score, but he just watched the whole thing in the men’s room

Hayden: Shane will watch back the tape of the game we just played the second we get off the ice

Cliff: Roz does that too! 

Across the table from them, Shane is visible downing his glass of wine, then reaching for the bottle to pour himself another large glass]

Shanehollanderofficial

Introducing @miffcarlow and @pike_hockey was a mistake :( 

****

Ilya watched Cliff set up the watch party. There was a few TVs on the plane that they'd be using. Cliff had done the leg work in organising how this would go. 

Ilya reclined in his seat, messaging Shane while the others set up. Sainty was handing out the snacks he’d bought the day before, Carmichael was organising who sat where. They were taking this weirdly seriously. 

Jane

Hayden is over with Jackie and JJ

Lily

You are not watching interview?

Jane

Oh that’s why they’re here

Lily

Was obvious i fear

“Okay it’s time!” Cliff bellowed down the plane. “Take your seats, grab your snacks, let’s watch this fucken thing!” 

Cliff came to fall into the seat next to Ilya, tapping away on his phone, his laptop balanced on his knee. 

On the tv screens the thumbnail for the video appeared, posted 0 minutes ago. In the corner you could see the screens that were linked, half a dozen on the plane, then near the bottom it read: Pike

”Pike is watching?” Ilya asked Cliff. 

“Hmm? Yeah, we decided yesterday. We’re going to Facetime too.” 

Then on Cliff’s laptop in front of them, Hayden Pike’s face appeared. His face was doing that weird fish lens thing of someone too close to the camera until he backed away. 

“We got it!” Pike crowed, moving the camera away from his face and placing it on Shane’s coffee table. Now, Boiziau, Jackie, and Shane were visible too, seated on the living couch that Ilya had fucked Shane on that very morning. 

Ilya’s phone dinged. 

Jane

Hayden just told me

Why did we let them meet

I can barely handle the idea of everyone seeing the interview

Let alone hearing it in real time

Lily

You do not have to

Jane

It’s fine

Lily

Don’t do it if you do not want

Shane stopped replying, on the screen Ilya could see him smiling at something Jackie was saying to him. He was pretending to be calm. Liar. 

“Okay, pressing play in 3, 2, 1!” 

“Hello I’m Shane Hollander, Captain of the Montreal Voyageurs.” 

Boiziau and the Pikes cheered. 

“And I am Ilya Rozanov, Captain of the superior team, the Boston Raiders.” 

The Raiders cheered, louder. Obnoxiously. 

“Not according to last night!” Pike hollered. 

On screen Ilya and Shane spoke about first becoming friends at the MMC shoot, their faces smiling at the memory. And then Ilya took out the photo, and Shane’s face turned so tender. Ilya tried to breathe evenly, to him he could see how they leaned into one another, could everyone else? 

The photo appeared on screen. Two teenage boys looking at each other with a sparkle of mirth in their eyes, their lips tilted up with obvious laughter. The creases around their eyes, the flash of teeth. 

“Awww, baby Roz!” Cliff laughed. 

There were a few general ribs from his teammates around the plane, cooing at a young Rozanov. 

“Remember how arrogant he was?” Sainty called. 

“Was?” Connors scoffed. “He still is!”

Ilya ignored them, watching Cliff’s laptop screen as Jackie Pike awww’d loudly and ruffled Shane’s hair. Boiziau and Pike making similar comments to Shane that Ilya's team was making about him. 

The interview was moving onto their favourite memories of one another, their gentle banter back and forth. His team watched somewhat quietly, but Cliff nudged him anytime he thought Shane and Ilya were hinting at things to do with their relationship. 

“Give us your best impression of each other” The interview continued on, the team watching with baited breath. 

“Da, I am Ilya Rozanov, I am very annoying, Scott Hunter is so old, Hollander is so boring, Hollander, get on -”

Cliff had to pause the video. The boys were cackling, all of them trying their own Ilya impressions. Ilya, for his part, was staring at the facetime where Shane was hiding his face. 

He hadn’t noticed it the first time around, what Shane had almost said. Ilya felt himself shaking with silent laughter as he saw facetime-Shane peak through his fingers. Then Ilya was full belly laughing, that would have had to have been edited out if he’d said the whole thing. He could only imagine the reaction if anyone had heard ‘Hollander get on your knees.’ 

Cliff, next to him, was trying out his Rozanov. Badly. “I play hockey, I am captain, I am asshole.” 

“This is worse accent than Hollander!” Ilya said, outraged. 

“Wait, hear mine!” Connors called. “Da, ich bin ein hockey player!” 

“That’s German dipshit.” Carmichael swatted Connors over the back of the head. 

Pike called out to Cliff to replay it. Which he did. Three times. 

Shane’s flush had died down by the time they finally resumed playing the interview. Watched as Ilya on screen denounced Shane’s impression, watched as Shane said the fateful words. 

“Oh yeah! I’d like to see you do me!” 

The loudest, most boisterous laughs from all the players on the plane. Next to him, Cliff was wheezing with laughter, his hand slapping down on Ilya’s knee over and over. 

“Oh god that sounded bad.” Shane's instant regret was mostly lost to the sounds of laughter. 

On Cliff’s laptop, Jackie Pike hand her hand on her heart as she laughed, gave Shane a kiss on the head, saying something to him that the mic didn’t pic up. Boiziau was giving Shane an odd look, humour still on his face, but also something like curiosity. 

Cliff and Pike were somehow making eye contact through the laptop, communicating telepathically as they caught eyes and had a special laugh to themselves. Because they knew something no one else did. 

They watched as Ilya refused to imitate Shane, as Shane bragged about speaking French accentless. 

“Shut the fuck up Hollander, not everyone can be perfect golden boy who is good at many things.” 

“You sound so mean when you compliment people.” 

Connors stood up and lobbed a red vine at Ilya’s head. “Hey Roz! You’ve never complimented me like that!” 

“You are not good enough at hockey to be complimented like that!” Ilya shot back, to the ooo’s of their teammates.  

“Roz tells us he loves us after every game.” Cliff reminded the plane full of people. 

“It’s not the same.” St Simon sighed. 

Then Asma was asking Shane if he knew any Russian, and Ilya’s cheeks started heating up. He didn’t often blush, if asked, he never did. But he remembered that moment, remembered seeing in slow motion as Shane went to repeat his known phrases before thinking about the meaning. 

“Hollander, you can’t repeat what I’ve taught you, do you remember what it means?” 

“Oh. Oh yeah no I can’t repeat any of that.”

Cliff slammed the pause button faster than he’d ever done anything else in his life. Ilya was determinedly not looking at him, or anyone. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Shane’s bright red face turned away from Jackie as she practically climbed on top of him demanding answers. 

“You’re blushing, Rozanov!” Cliff crowed. “You can’t even deny it.” 

The other boys on the plan all craned their necks or stood up out of their seats to get a look. 

“Holy shit he is!” Hammersmith said, whipping his phone out. 

St Simon was silent but marveling over Ilya’s face. 

“He’s only ever that red when he’s talking to Jane!” Hammersmith decided. 

Next to him, Cliff’s nose was a hair's breath from Ilya’s cheek, Ilya’s jaw clenching in an effort to keep his poker face. 

“Wanna share with the class?” Cliff asked quietly, menacingly. 

“Ilya don’t.” Shane begged from Cliff’s laptop. 

“Is it like, Russian swear words? Cause we’ve all heard those before.” Connors asked. 

“Is not swear words.” Ilya confirmed, still staring straight ahead. 

“Ilya.” Shane warned. 

Ilya thought about it. He could decide to never tell the team, it could be fun to keep it from them. It could also be very irritating, it was something that the Raiders would obsess over for the next few months. Besides, there was a way out of this that would protect them both. 

“It is… helpful phrases.” Ilya said eventually. “In case Shane ever finds himself with a hot Russian.” 

There was a beat. On the laptop Shane hung his head. Beat. 

Boiziau was the first to start laughing. “Shane, you dog!” 

Soon everyone had something to say. The Pikes were talking over each other at Shane who had his head turned away from them biting his lip, trying not to laugh. 

Mendoza aka Doza called from toward the rear of the plane. “Teach me how to pick up hot Russian women!”

“What were the phrases? I’m tryna land me a Svetlana Vetrova!” Gibbs yelled, and received a rousing cheer of agreement in response. 

“You’ve never taught me hot Russian phrases!” Cliff smacked Ilya on the arm, Ilya slung a raised eyebrow at him and waited for Cliff to figure out what he already knew. “Oh wait it’s because, ohhh. Oh okay Rozanov, I see your game.” 

Cliff eventually took mercy on him and pressed play once more. The video continued as Shane spoke about 80s music, as the two chirped each other lightly. The boys gave gentle chuckles, louder ones when Ilya spoke about becoming the Hollanders’ favourite son. 

Ilya watched as facetime-Shane fiddles with the cushions on his sofa, expression becoming more tight the closer they got to the tweets. When it was announced on the interview, he closed his eyes, hands gripping the cushion in a vice grip. 

“Give them to me, make them raunchy, make them feral, make them hungry.”

St Simon let out a wolf whistle, which for some reason made Hammersmith give a wolf howl, which of course led to the whole plane howling. Ilya loved his idiots. 

Ilya watched as his on-screen self took a moment to read over the tweet and get into character. He tucked his hair behind his ears, expression becoming what he had hoped came across as LA valley girl. 

“Oooo my name is Shane Hollander and im super hot and im the starting center for the back to back stanley cup champions and i got to kiss rose landry and see ilya rozanov shirtless… girl fuck you!” 

Jackie Pike was screaming, Ilya couldn’t tell if she was laughing or shocked or just screaming. Maybe all of them. His teammates weren’t much better, all of them immediately copying Ilya’s mannerisms. 

“Yeah bitch, fuck you!” Feller snapped his fingers. 

“Bitch we see Roz shirtless every day!” Doza called. 

St Simon threw back, “yeah but none of us have kissed Rose Landry.” 

“Or won back to back cups.” Shane added, only heard by the handful close to Ilya and Cliff, and met with a couple oooos. 

“Uhh, yeah i have done all of those things. It’s a life, I’m living it. Sorry.”

“You are not sorry, Hollander.” 

“No, I’m not.” Shane winked. 

“Who are you and what have you done with Shane Hollander?” Pike was asking, Boiziau pretending to melt off the sofa next to him. 

“I am Living for flirty Shane!” Jackie watched the tv, rapt. “Why have I never met him before?” 

“Jackie, you’re married.” Shane grumbled. 

“That is besides the point.” 

“Ilya rozanov i wanna shrink you to the size of a gummy bear and swallow you whole.” 

“Why you gotta shrink me to swallow me?” 

The Raiders of course, gave their best. Wolf whistles, hollars, the lot. 

“My man!”

“You know that’s right!” 

“Sometimes i just start crying when i see someone as sexy as shane hollander like there r genuine tears running down my cheeks rn.” 

“Which cheeks?” 

“SHANE HOLLANDER!” Jackie Pike had jumped up off the sofa. “SHANE MOTHERFUCKING HOLLANDER!” 

“That’s my BOY!” Boiziau yelled, also jumping to his feet. 

Pike just gaped across the sofa at Shane. Shane, for his part, was failing epically at a poker face. 

“Ayo! Hollander you slick!” Doza cackled. 

“This is same Hollander who we play on the ice?” Carmichael called over. “The so called golden boy?” 

“I am thinking we don’t know Hollander very well.” Sainty chuckled. 

“Shane! You cannot say these things! Everyone will know you’re just as much of a slut as me!”

Jackie was gripping Shane’s bicep in a vice. “Shane Hollander, I am learning things about you today that I should have learnt ten years ago.” 

“Are we in Hollander’s ho era?” Connors asked. 

“Oh, we’ve been in Shane’s ho era for a long time.” Ilya found himself saying without really pausing to think. 

“Ilya!” facetime-Shane yelled. 

“He sure kept that quiet!” Carmichael shook his head in wonder. “Lord knows why, I bet that man pulls like nobody’s business.” 

“He pulled Rose Landry.” Hammersmith reminded him. 

“Rozanovs ass is so FAT it takes up the whole screen”

On-screen Ilya and Shane doubled over with laughter, and unfortunately, so was Ilya’s plane. 

“My boy got CAKE.” 

“How does it feel to be double-cheeked up?”

“It weighs him down. I’m not telling you what double cheeked up means.” 

“LOL Hollander!” Cliff called, saying the word lol rather than actually laughing. 

Hey, listen up Raiders, this is the only time I’ll ever apologise to you about anything.” 

The silence that fell over the plane was instant. On the facetime, Pike and Boiziau both sat up straight, waiting with baited breath. Shane sunk low into the sofa, hiding his face behind his hands once more. 

Ilya wanted to tell him to come out, to show his pretty face and be unashamed of himself. He wished he could be sitting beside him as they watched the interview. 

“I taught Ilya the phrase ‘dickmatise.’ I am sorry. I can only imagine how hard it’s been for you since I did that. I have also taught him what feral means, and I taught him screaming, crying, throwing up. I’m sorry.” 

Cliff paused the video, his jaw dropped open. Around them, there was pandemonium. 

“Are you fucking kidding me!” Hammersmith was out of his seat. 

“He would not stop saying he was screaming, crying, throwing up. About everything. For months.” Connors said. “We had to bet him he couldn’t beat us in a 3v3 and even then it took five rounds to beat him! Do you know what we had to give up on the first 4 rounds, Hollander?” 

Cliff held the laptop up, looking directly into the camera. On the screen, Shane, the little shit, was smirking. Jackie, Pike, and Boiziau were beside themselves with laughter. 

“I think that’s psychological warfare!” Boiziau was saying between wheezes of laughter. “Oh Captain, my captain!” 

Pike wiped tears from his face. “Shane, bro, that’s so fucking funny.” 

“Hollander.” Cliff said, his voice low, his tone serious. “Look at me.” 

Shane looked up at the camera on his end, eyes glinting and challenging. “Yeah, what’s up man?” 

“Hollander.” Cliff said again, the whole plane hanging on his words. “Are you responsible for ‘not my circus, not my monkeys?’” 

There was a large intake of breath by all the hockey players nearby. Ilya started to shake with silent laughter. The idiots on his team started to whisper to each other.

“Was it him?” 

“There’ll be hell to pay.” 

“No way.”

Shane blinked. “There’s no way you’re mad about that.” 

Cliff shot to his feet, gripping his laptop in a death grip. “So it was you!” 

Shane looked absolutely baffled. “I thought you’d be mad about goblin mode or something, but not my monkeys? That’s what you’re mad about?” 

“You don’t understand. He would go round yelling ‘whose fucking circus is this?’ for months. He kept calling us his monkeys. Anytime we asked him something? ‘Does this sound like my circus?’ In fact, he still fucking does!”

“I can’t imagine that was worse than dickmatise.” Shane argued. “I know first hand how annoying it was when he learned dickmatise.” 

“That’s because of mitigating factors, Hollander.” Cliff pointed out, not that Ilya knew what mitigating factors meant, but he assumed it was veiled reference to their relationship. “And you did that to yourself.”

“I taught him to say skill issue and you’re mad about not my monkeys?” Shane confirmed again. 

Ilya huffed a laugh at that, he did often tell other players it was a skill issue. Especially when he scored. But that fell in his regularly appointed assholery. 

The not my circus, not my monkeys thing. That had started as just a fun phrase, until he found out how much his teammates got annoyed by it. He had no idea why it grated on them so much. All he knew was that he enjoyed every sweet minute of it. 

“I don’t know if I can forgive you for this.” Cliff stated. 

“You broke my collarbone.” 

“… You are forgiven.” Cliff slumped back into his seat. “Okay, okay, let’s move on.” 

”Oh wait, you have used double-cheeked. But I know full phrase, double cheeked up and nowhere to go. I remember this phrase.”

“Okay you made it sound like I said that, which I didn’t. I did not.”

“No one believes that Hollander!” Boiziau yelled. 

“Yeah if anyone around here is cheeked up with nowhere to go, it’s you.” Pike agreed. 

“Or maybe not, since apparently he’s a massive slut!” Jackie said.

Things continued on like that, roars of laughter, a furiously blushing Shane, the tweets only getting funnier. Ilya’s cheeks hurt in a way they hadn’t in a long time, possibly ever.

He was happy. This was a perfect afternoon, he had his team laughing around him, he could open up about the best part of his life. The only thing missing was having Shane there in person, but he could settle for getting to watch him on Cliff’s laptop. 

Shane Hollander, you are so perfect to me and i will fight anyone who doesn’t agree #stopasianhate

“WHAT!” Boiziau yelled. 

Hearing it a second time wasn’t any less wild. Watching interview-Shane wheeze out a surprised laugh, and current Shane look just as bewildered. 

On that matter, you know, the Voyageurs have always been great to me. Boston, our antagonisms has only ever been about the game

The Raiders and handful of Voyageurs yelled out their assent. 

My race has never come into it, the chirps and insults have always just been that. Chirping. Never about race, never about sexuality, never about gender.

Yes, we are rivals because we are the best. Not every team can claim to have never said homophobic or sexist slurs and call them chirps, but for as long as I’ve been at Boston, this has been a rule.

“Hell yeah brother!”

“That’s why we goated!”

Slurs aren’t chirps. Racism isn’t there for you to fall back on when your gameplay can’t speak for itself.

There’s no place for it in our game. 

And then they signed off. Interview over. 

This elicited the loudest whoops and cheers so far. Ilya turned to watch the facetime as his teammates discussed best bits, funniest bits, craziest bits, amongst themselves. Shane was looking back at him as the Pikes and Boiziau discussed their top moments. 

“Well I feel like I’m intruding.” Cliff said quietly to him. “So how about you two take this to text.” 

Then, louder, “Pike! Say goodbye!” 

Pike and Marlow called a quick goodbyes, which included demanding a recipe off one of them, the link to where the other got their beard oil, and a promise to discuss Sex and City in more detail at a later date. 

Jane

That could have been worse

Lily

I miss you

Jane

You literally just left

I miss you too

Chapter End Notes

You know what? No thoughts, empty head rn

Enjoy my lovelies, feast!

Chapter 7: The World

Chapter Summary

More than just the chronically online react :)

Chapter Notes

Shout out to each person who pointed out when I used Lily when it should have been Jane T_T I have corrected it in post

Jean-Jacques Boiziau considered himself a fairly open minded guy. He’d known something was up with Shane long before he’d come out to the team, and honestly, he handled that revelation pretty well. 

Then the Rozanov revelation, that had taken him a moment to wrap his head around, he could be honest about that. But he had Shane’s back, always. And he could tell this was a moment to support him or their entire friendship would fall apart. 

The other guys, well, they handled the gay thing okay, and the Rozanov thing badly. Things were tense, but they were only going to get worse so long as Shane kept hiding parts of himself, and so long as the boys kept being mad at him about it. 

Because that was the thing. JJ could tell Shane was still hiding something. 

He tried not to take it personally, but compared to Cluey he was handling all the new things about Shane like a champ. He was no Hayden, but that wasn’t through lack of trying. 

That was the driving reason behind setting up the interview watch along. He figured he’d get the Pikes and Shane together and he’d be there too to prove he was a trustworthy friend. 

Facetiming the Raiders was unexpected. 

Realising he hadn’t been invited to the dinner the night before hurt. 

Seeing the open, funny, sarcastic, Shane on the interview was a gutpunch. Because JJ had met that Shane maybe a handful of times, when he let himself loose. Apparently this was the Shane that Rozanov knew all the time. 

Which is when JJ realised. 

Shane was in love with Ilya Rozanov. 

Unrequited, long suffering, love. Like full on love. With his bitter rival and best friend. 

Oh, JJ’s heart broke for him.

****

Pikeslesbians

You know, i actually love that they kept the crew laughing in

Pucktuah

Did hollanov just outfreak the cards

Rozanovslop

ilya rozanov supports us being freaks on main 

Pucktuah

Ilya really look at teenage Shane and said I can make him worse and then did

Massholeraiders

at literally no point could i predict what either one of them was going to say

Puckmeoutside

Shane Hollander spent 10 years carefully creating a public only for it to get ruined the second he got on camera with Ilya Rozanov

Madi_loves_hockey

ilya rozanov is the opposite of a media trainer, he has effectively untrained shane in one interview

Landryfandry

can we agree that shane is a lurker

Voygeursscoop

I thought I didn’t know your game with the im pretty comment but now i am official HUMBLED

Rozanovslop

Are you kidding look at this face card

Shane_can_get_it

we had a rozanov ass mention and absolutely no mention of all the clappable material hollander is hauling smdh

Roz_fan_81

Has anyone else noticed how they immediately have dropped the ‘holly and rozie’ and just call each other by their names

Roz_fan_81

Like who were they trying to fool with that

****

Jane

I think we might need to revisit the Ottawa idea

Lily

Hello good morning my love

Jane

I’m justing thinking logically 

Lily

I woke up sad because im alone in my big bed

Jane

Good morning

I also woke up alone so

Lily

Why do we need to revisit Ottawa

Jane

Im just scared its too obvious now

Lily

Was that not the plan? 

Jane

The plan was to slowly mention that we’re friends not bombard people with every intricate detail

Have you seen that people who don’t even watch hockey are now fans of us?

Lily

This can only be good thing, no?

Gay love is bringing interest to hockey

NHL will have to accept us

Jane

It just feels like so much is happening so fast

[incoming call from Lily]

****

Hockeyhips

Oh my god the photo of them as teenagers? My heart cannot handle this

Radierordie

Ilya was able to pull that photo up QUICK

Boyaquariumenjoyer

He said he reached out to mmc before the shoot because he knew he was going to mention it

Raiderordie

yeah because hes ROMANTIC

Sinbinhoney

Its soooo different from their draft photos im dying

Voyageurgirl24

There’s no way yall are believing this friendship lol its fucking PR

Goldstarpuckbunny

Shanes impression of Ilya had me DEAD

Hollanovtruther

I need someone to tell me ASAP what the rest of Shane was saying before Ilya cut him off

Rozanovslop

He cut himself off because he was going to say Hollander get on your knees

Sinbinhoney

THAT IS A WILD TAKE

Melodeyhopes

He could have been saying anything

Rozanovslop

Then why did he cut himself off

Boyaquariumenjoyer

rozanov interrupted him

87 more replies

Goldstarpuckbunny

Someone said they think shane was going to say hollander get on your knees and now I cant unthink it am i crazy or? 

Rozanovslop

Literally what else could he be about to say

ScottHunter

Why am I always catching strays from you two

Shanehollanderofficial

It wasn’t me, I was mimicking Roz, I can’t be held legally responsible

Ilyarozanov

Actually it was Shane who brought you up both times, he’s the real hater

Pucktuah

@Shanehollanderofficial what was the end of that sentence going to be? 

Shanehollanderofficial

I was going to say ‘Hollander get on with it,’ because apparently I have a tendency to waffle

Ilyarozanov

da this is true it takes you 3-5 business days to get to the point we’d be Scott Hunter’s age after one conversation if i didn’t tell you to get tf on with it

Scotthunter

i hate it here

Rozanov_81

Shane honey no one is believing that

Puckmeoutside

You know, i kinda do tho

Sinbinhoney

like tbh yeah it just seems like bad timing

Shanehollandaise

I think their relationship is built on bashing Scott Hunter

Shanehollandaise

Specifically on calling him old its not like they’re homophobic

admirals17winners

Idk remember when shane fought scott on the ice

Pucktuah

Theres is zero chance you think these two are homophobic

Admirals17winners

They’re professional athletes and one of them is russian, it’s a valid assumption

Rozanovslop

When they come out i can’t wait for you to eat your words. Fucking choke on them. 

****

Scott Hunter was having Thoughts. The whole locker room was buzzing, and whilst some were having perfectly normal conversations, the vast majority were discussing the interview. 

“Man, who knew Hollander had it in him.” Vaughney was saying, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“See I’m more shocked by Rozanov. That dude is a capital A asshole, but the guy in that interview? I could have a beer with that guy.” 

“Did you see see that Boiziau tweet that was like, mon capitaine is committing psychological warfare against Boston, or something?” 

“Dude yeah, so funny, except we also have to deal with him telling us it’s a skill issue.” 

“He said ‘damn, sucks to suck’ the last time we played. I took a shot on goal and it dinged the bar.” 

“God that guy is an asshole.” 

Scott zoned into the conversation. “You know, there was this one time you guys were duking it out with Marlow, and he came over to me and like, gestured at you guys and said ‘these are your monkeys, you deal with them!” 

“You’re not gonna try the accent?”

“Hell no.” 

He leaned in close and said in an undertone. “Have you heard what people are saying about Hollander’s impression?” 

Scott’s gut clenched. “I have, and we are not going to speculate.” 

“Oh no man, that’s not what I meant.” 

“But it was.” Scott said firmly. “I won’t pretend others won't be speculating, but regardless of its true or not, I can only imagine how terrifying that would have been if it were me when I was closeted. I’m choosing to believe Shane until further notice.” 

Sufficiently cowed, a few of the guys nodded their apologies. 

And look, Scott got it. If it was true, that was juicy gossip. And he knew his guys weren’t homophobes, they’d supported him from the second he came out. And if this were any other industry, where the fallout wouldn’t be so drastic, he could admit he would partake in the speculation. 

He could tell Kip wanted to ask him about it too. And if it had been one of their friends and The Kingfisher who’d almost let something slip about a potential partner, they’d be all over it. Discussing every which way til Sunday.

But this was hockey. This was people’s careers. Their lives. 

But despite all the shame and the guilt, Scott couldn’t stop having Thoughts. Specifically, about one All Stars many years ago, a number said in a rush. Specifically, about the lone fight Shane Hollander had ever gotten in on the ice. 

Specifically, about the thing people hadn’t commented on. How quickly they looked away from each other. Because when it was him and Kip, they’d had to look anywhere else because they knew that if they dared to look for longer than a few seconds the answers would be written all over their faces. 

He didn’t know what to think. 

But he wished them the happiness he had. 

****

Miffcarlow

@Shanehollanderofficial ik not my monkeys is your fault, and whilst i have forgiven you i am not over it. But are you to blame for him vibe checking us? 

Shanehollanderofficial

Yes :) 

Miffcarlow

Were u aware vibe checking us involves literally checking us into the boards

Shanehollanderofficial

I am now :D

ConnieConnorConnors

@Shanehollanderofficial i assume you’re responsible for him asking us for receipts 24/7

Shanehollanderofficial

Yes :)

Connieconnorconnors

I need you to know that he gets receipts conflated with the bill so when we miss a goal or fumble a pass he says ‘this is going on the bill’

Shanehollanderofficial

This only brings me more joy

Hammersmitty

@Shanehollanderofficial he changed fuck it we ball to fuck it we puck

Shanehollanderofficial

That sounds terrible

Hammersmitty

Well the fuck aware

Jeanjbhockey

Learning that mon capitaine has been waging slow psychological warfare against the Raiders by successfully brainrotting their captain has been the highlight of my week

Vaughneyyy

Except when you’re against Rozanov and he has the most cutting remark that is unfortunately also very funny

Jjboizhockey

No but thats the beauty of it, it’s a weapon against all other teams

Madi_loves_hockey

Who tf knew that seeing my hockey blorbos interact with each other online for the first time would cure my depression

Pucktuah

Patiently waiting for @shanehollanderofficial to explain these words to ilyarozanov

Ilyarozanov

@Madi_loves_hockey What if i am a hockey blorbo, how do i cure my depression?

Sinbinhoney

ILYA ROZANOV I AM GAGGED

****

Troy Barrett scrolled through his feed, which was filled almost entirely with clips of Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov. He’d never had much interaction with either of them and all he really knew of them was their infamous rivalry. Which he supposed now was a friendship. 

An even more infamous friendship. The fans loved it, they couldn’t get enough of them together. Even Troy’s non-hockey obsessed acquaintances were getting Hollander and Rozanov all over their media. 

The clips he’d seen had made him laugh. Then they’d made him cry, and he couldn’t even be sure why. Maybe jealousy? Was he really so bereft of companionship that he cried from jealousy of male friendship? He couldn’t quite name it, but something about seeing Rozanov and Hollander wheeze with laughter, or say the other’s name exasperatedly, or share a look that you knew meant they knew what the other was thinking, left him hollow. 

He’d received messages from all manner of former acquaintances from former lovers to journos asking him how well he knew them, did he have any insider information, were they actually friends or was it a pr stunt, were they lovers, were they capitalising on the Scott Hunter fame by queerbaiting. 

He ignored them. 

What he couldn’t ignore was Dallas Kent. 

Dallas had been Troy’s closest friend for, well, what felt like forever. For their whole professional careers. They’d come up together, played together, won together. They’d gone through the highs and lows of elite sports together. There was history there. 

But as the years went on, Troy was becoming less and less able to justify it. His comments becoming more and more like a chafe than a balm. And when he felt hollow and breakable, Dallas knew how to shatter him. It probably wasn’t on purpose, they were friends. He didn’t mean it. 

Troy wasn’t ready yet to acknowledge it. How did you tell your oldest friend you couldn’t put up with it anymore? That you didn’t agree? That he was wrong? 

The Guardians wouldn’t stand for it. There was a code. He’d seen what happened when you broke the code, when you dared to dissent.

But he was tired. 

He was so so tired. 

****

Pikeslesbians

LOOK AT THEM

Pucksandpups

If you’d asked me a few hours ago I would have said Im a Rozanov girl through and through, the things Shane motherfucking Hollander did to me in this interview needs to be studied because WHO IS THIS MAN

HollyandRozie

Which cheeks. WHICH CHEEKS. Which Cheeks????

Melodyhopes

The way I went from crying tears of laughter to crying real tears when Shane and Ilya got real about chirps vs hate crimes. 

Madi_loves_hockey

THE WAY WE ALL KNOW WHICH TEAMS THEY WERE TALKING ABOUT 

Landryfandry

We do???

Madi_loves_hockey

Hello are you not on hockey reddit? People have things to say about Toronto rn

Voyageurgirl24

People have had things to say about Toronto for time

****

Harris’s little gay media degree having heart was possibly about to stop. This was both his dream and his nightmare. Look, Harris didn’t want to become a social media manager to post bland updates and other corporate non-sense. He wanted to make a brand come to life, he wanted people to be entertained and endeared, and he could admit it, he wouldn’t mind a minor scandal. 

Whatever was going on with Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander, it was giving unmanaged. 

Unmanaged, endearing, entertaining, drama. 

It was his dream. 

They must have agents, and managers, and a whole slew of people who could oversee their public personas. In fact, For about a decade they’d both had fairly consistent personas, reputations, vibes in general. 

Ilya Rozanov: Arrogant, incredible player, harsh, brutal, efficient. A bit of an asshole but his team adored him. It gave you a sense of the man the world didn’t get to see. His interviews were peppered with callouts, insults, and smirks. He was hot, incredibly so, and known as a ladies man through and through. 

Shane Hollander: Humble, deft, graceful and quick, talented beyond reason, intelligent. His hockey knowledge surpassed more than the most well educated journalist who’d dedicated their lives and a few novels to hockey. His interviews were curated, real but calm. He was also gorgeous, the kind of beauty that always felt unobtainable, ethereal. 

Pretty simple, no? 

But now the data was skewed. It didn’t make sense anymore. 

Ilya Rozanov: Arrogant asshole who - who befriended another teenage boy because they couldn’t stop giggling? Rude, and brutal, and - and danced to 80s music? 

Shane Hollander: Humble, sweet, - devilishly handsome slut? Curated, calm, media trained - wheezing with laughter, crude jokes, and snarky? 

And to top it all off they were friends. Best of friends. With evidence to back it up. 

Harris had begun this all when he saw the live. He’d actually, embarrassingly, been watching Cliff Marlow’s live when Shane Hollander was discovered on Ilya Rozanov’s Boston penthouse apartment sofa. The scream he’d let out had startled his dogs and caused his mother to come running. 

He’d seen the videos Rozanov and Rose Landry had posted. He’d seen the statement Marlow had put out. He’d lavished in the excitement. 

And he thought that would be it. 

The interview was only the beginning, he could sense it. He could also see the trainwreck happening in slow motion. It felt like the trolley problem only he wasn’t even at the helm, he couldn’t change the course of anything. 

He was a useless bystander.

Unless?

****

Ilyarozanov

@madi_loves_hockey What if i am a hockey blorbo, how do i cure my depression?

Hockeyhips

Hi @ilyarozanov i cant tell if you were joking or not but i thought id just say that music really helped me

Camispammm

therapy helped me! It can take a few tries to find the right one :)

Giiiirrrlmkay

im an artist but having a hobby outside of my career helped me!

H0774nd3r

i find cleaning really meditative

Emilymadders

family - chosen or otherwise <3

****

Jane

I just feel like im taking you away from the team you love

and they love you

Lily

you are not

i am choosing you

i am choosing us, i am choosing this

Jane

but that’s what I mean

You are uprooting your life because of me

and i just sit pretty in Canada

Lily

I have uprooted my life before

is okay

and yes

you are very pretty

Jane

It’s a saying

What I mean is

[incoming call from Jane]

****

Crowell sat in his office. He’d just had yet another meeting about the Rozanov/Hollander situation. For all the supposed good they did for hockey, they sure knew how to ruin every carefully laid plan. 

The rivalry was perfect. It was natural even. Did Crowell particularly care if they were secret friends? No. Did he care that they openly, snidely, condescendingly, called out the supposed ‘pressure’ they’d received from the league to maintain said rivalry? Yes. 

How was he, or anyone else, to know they’d decided to be friends. 

He hadn’t necessarily believed the rivalry, but he hadn’t disbelieved it. He assumed the antagonism was normal, fucking natural, for two elite players on famously animous teams. And if they didn’t hate each other, then they probably didn’t stop to think about each other. 

But they’d made it through the livestream fiasco. Hurrah, Rozanov and Hollander were the best of friends, booey for them. 

There was some level of scrutiny on the league but no major fallout. 

All was well. 

The media moved on. The fans moved on. Crowell sighed a breath of relief and waited for the next cheating scandal, or drunken disorderly. As long as it wasn’t a bar brawl, they’d had enough of those. 

And then the interview dropped. 

Surely Crowell should be kept apprised of such things. The league was his, and by extension, its players. The many meetings he’d had about the progressing situation, had, unfortunately, highlighted the lack of oversight in such matters. Players had the ability to take any damn interview, presser, advertising gig they damn well pleased. 

Ridiculous. 

So now, due to the incompetence of some predecessor of his, he was now blindsided. 

And from the speculations of fans, old and new, all over various social media platforms, he was potentially facing another Scott Hunter situation. 

One Scott Hunter was enough. The man had blindsided everyone, the league, the fans, even his own teammates, with the stunt he pulled. The publicity of the act was what had saved him. 

And now it seemed Rozanov and Hollander were trying it too. 

Maybe. 

Hollander, he could see being of that persuasion. There were rumblings around Montreal that Crowell hadn’t paid much attention to until now. Foolish. He’d been preoccupied by the baseless rumblings about Kent. 

But he’d been back and forth with Theriault a couple times but was of course, not legally allowed to ask it outright. And Theriault could have no idea, or could be trying to protect his own hide. Crowell would have to strategise about how to approach the man. 

Rozanov on the other hand, well, it was just unlikely. He’d had a good Russian upbringing, and whilst Crowell thought the Russians were a bit savage, he could appreciate that they bred good hockey players. The savagery was good on the ice. 

Not to mention the rumours, well, rumours wasn’t a good word for it, it was a well known fact that Rozanov liked to sample the local puck bunny population almost everywhere he went. 

It seemed ridiculous. But he would have said the same a year ago if someone had asked him about Scott Bloody Hunter. 

Crowell needed contingency plans based on each possible direction this could head. As well as have someone draft an email about professionalism and representing the league even when not officially, representing the league. 

It was late, and Crowell needed a strong drink. 

****

Mrsmarlowhockey

@miffcarlow you said the bestie of my bestie is my bestie, is that not Shane? 

Miffcarlow

wdym

Mrsmarlowhockey

omg hi. So the bestie (Shane) of my bestie (Ilya) is my bestie (shane again) - it should be the bestie of my bestie’s bestie is my bestie aka the bestie (hayden) of my bestie’s (Ilya’s) bestie (shane) is my bestie (hayden again)

Miffcarlow

Im confused but ur probably right 

Parlowinlaws

Forget the Hollanov, give me the Parlow

H0774nd3r

The fact you went with Parlow when we could have had Mike smh

Parlowinlaws

No <3

Shane_can_get_it 

Okay I’m crying because we all remember when fucking Marlow (affectionate) obliterated Shane and Ilya just stared at him and didn’t leave the ice even though people were telling him to go and then he was clearly calling after him i- 

Hockeyhips

Well now im crying

Rozanovslop

Can you imagine seeing your secret boyf have his bell rung like that 

Boyaquariumenjoyer

Yall can we please respect their private lives, whether its a relationship or not im so tired of the toxicity of fans 

Pucktuah

Regardless of whether they’re friends or more, i cant imagine witnessing that and being expected to perform well at my job after that

****

Ilya stood alone in his Boston flat. He’d just goodnight to Shane, and once they’d hung up the call, the loneliness settled in. He had it all, the career, the team, the cups, the friends, the cars, everything. He even had the most incredible partner in the world. 

Then why did he feel so empty? 

Chapter End Notes

Anyway I’ve never seen sex and the city, that scene was based on that scene in B99

 

:) ;) :D B) <3 >:( :@ :3 $_$ ToT U_U <— all the emojis Ilya uses on a daily basis imo, and yes he does them analog style

Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Chapter Summary

Some more angst, apologies, things are gonna be a lil tense but I try to keep some light moments in there too

Chapter Notes

Cliff knew when something was up with Roz. It wasn’t necessarily something he thought about and noticed, more that his subconscious recognised Roz was off, so enacted Roz Protocol 3. Totally separate of conscious thought. 

All this to say Roz was being his usual self, but different. Cliff couldn’t pinpoint how, exactly. Practice went as usual, he played like a demon and ribbed his teammates in between scrims. They had a pretend fight on the ice where they both dropped their gloves and tried to pull each other’s jerseys off until LeClaire corralled them into focussing again, both of them sweating and laughing. Sainty rolling his eyes, Connie booing and demanding a real fight. 

But something was off with Roz. 

And Cliff couldn’t tell if it was just a feeling he had or not. 

“Roz!” He called as they got changed. “Lunch?” 

Roz nodded absentmindedly, “Sure.” 

And that was a red flag. Right? Maybe. Cliff was also maybe reading into it. 

They ended up at a small cafe overlooking the water, sitting outside despite the chill in the air. Roz was quietly munching away on his sandwich which had more meat than bread. Was quiet the sign Cliff had noticed? But he hadn’t been quiet in practice. 

“What is wrong with you?” Ilya finally grumbled. “You are looking at me like I kicked puppy.” 

“Like a kicked puppy.” Cliff corrected automatically. 

“No, you are not sad. You are confused and,” he waved his hand Cliff’s face. “Making faces.” 

Cliff considered his next words, which he almost never did. He never usually worried about what he said. “Oh shit.” He said in realisation. “I’m gonna have to watch what I say.” 

Ilya raised an eyebrow. “Mmm?” 

“So I don’t… bring up your relationship in a way that would be… noticed.” 

Ilya blinked at him. “Very subtle, good job.” 

Subtle wouldn’t be a word Cliff would have thought Ilya would know regardless of his native language, but he could sum that up to the Hollander Effect. 

“That’s not why I’m being weird. Something is up with you man, and I am not good enough at” he waved his hand vaguely, to encapsulate his meaning without the words. “To not just be blunt about it.” 

Roz looked away from him, out over the water. “Is hard, being far away.” 

Understanding flooded through Cliff, he missed Hollander. Of course. That made sense. “Long distance man, I couldn’t even begin to try it.” 

He waited for Roz to add more, but he didn’t. Just continued to watch the water. Ilya didn’t often need much prodding which was one of the things Cliff liked about him. Usually they could talk and talk, often about absolutely nothing, laughing and arguing in equal parts. 

“I know this is new, and different, but c’mon man, you’ve heard me tell you all the gory parts of my relationships. Fights, misunderstandings, romantic gestures, failed romantic gestures.” He goaded. “You can talk to me about it.” 

Ilya shot him a dry smile that didn’t quite light up his whole face. “You are good friend, Marly.” 

“I am your best fucking friend.” 

Ilya rolled his eyes, a small, smug smile gracing his lips. “You are still bitter I call Hollander my best friend.” 

“No.” Cliff said in a tone that indicated yes. 

And look, they all knew Svetlana was Ilya’s best friend, but it was fun to argue nonetheless. 

Cliff took another huge bite of his sandwich, at this point, it would be gone in another two mouthfuls. Which was impressive given its size. But he was an athlete, and athletes were meant to eat monstrously. 

“Can I tell you something without… judgement.” Roz said the word like it wasn’t quiet the right one but close enough. 

“I just found out you’ve been dicking Hol- er - Holly down for almost ten years. As long as it’s not an egregious crime I think we can agree there’s nothing you can do that I’ll judge you for.” 

“Judge is not correct word.” he sighed. “More like, be mad? Upset?” 

“Ah yeah, I promise not to be mad.” Cliff paused. “Maybe. Just tell me what you did, if you fucked with my stick tape again I’m going to be mad.” 

“No,” Ilya laughed. “Is nothing like that.” 

The silence stretched on for a moment, Cliff desperate to hurry Ilya but was somewhat self aware enough - or Rozanov-aware enough to wait for him to say whatever it was he needed saying. 

“We have been apart for many years.” Rozanov said eventually. “I don’t think I can do it for much longer.” 

Cliff’s brain burned with the information. What was Roz saying? “Are you breaking up?” 

Roz sent him a look so bone chilling that Cliff immediately made a mental note to never even joke about the idea. “Never.” 

“So if you’re not - oh.” And then it hit Cliff. Hit him like a tidal wave, cold and sobering. He wished it wasn’t the case, but there was disappointment there, stronger than other emotions. “You’re leaving.” 

Roz didn’t look at him. He looked out over the water instead. “I don’t know. Probably. Maybe. We’ve been discussing it for long time.” 

“But you love Boston.” Was all Cliff could think to say. And then what he couldn’t say, but you love this team, you love playing with us, with me. 

When Ilya turned to him, the look in his eye broke Cliff’s heart. “I love him more.” 

Ilya Rozanov’s voice broke when he said it and Cliff felt like he was in a movie. This was love. Real love. Intense, burn the world, screw the consequences, love. The love that he was too afraid to even think about wanting let alone having. 

“Fuck.” Was his eloquent response. 

Cliff felt like he was getting broken up with, in fact, it felt worse than his breakups. He’d never dated a woman longer than 6 months, never brought someone home. But he and Roz? They’d played together for nearly a decade. They’d been friends since the get. They were brothers. 

He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath like his mama taught him. The anger, the rage, the heartbreak, it all goes into hockey Cliff, save the love for everything else. He’d been an enforcer his whole career, a fighter. What had started as youthful rage and turned into protecting his own. His teammates he loved on and off the ice. On it, the bloody fists defending his boys, and off of it, the loveable knucklehead. 

He needed to take the heartache out of it. Roz had just cracked his heart open in front of him, let him see part of that inner world he’d been hiding his whole life. His heart, his softness. 

“I’m happy for you.” Cliff said, opening his eyes. “You deserve to be happy.” 

Roz huffed a laugh but Cliff interrupted him before he could say something self-deprecating or deflect. 

“No, look at me Rozanov.” Cliff demanded. “You are my best friend. You are an incredible player, an incredible captain, and an incredible friend. I want only the best for you. I demand it. So if going to Montreal will make you happy -” 

“Fuck no!” Roz cut him off with a bark of a laugh, despite the wetness in his eye. “No, Marly, I would go to Ottawa." 

“Ottawa.” Cliff considered it. “Hmm.” 

“I know.” Roz sighed, knowing exactly where Cliff’s mind was going. 

“You won’t win anymore cups.” He said, aware he sounded like an asshole. 

“I know.” 

“Their rebuild isn’t going well.” 

“I know.” 

“Their coach doesn’t know what he’s doing.” 

“I know.” 

“And their -” 

“Marly. I know.” Ilya cut in again, sharply. “Trust me, I know.” 

Cliff let out a long, slow breath. “But you’d do it anyway.” 

“I would do anything at this point.” Roz agreed, resigned but not sad. Not bitter. “I’d give it all up, for him. My career, hockey, Boston, everything. I’ve already given up Russia.” 

And that last sentence hit Cliff like a train this time. Today was full of revelations. Of course he’d have to give up his home country. His parents were buried there, his living relatives were all there, more than likely he had friends there. 

Cliff didn’t visit his hometown much, but if he was told tomorrow he could never go back. It wasn’t something he could really conceive. His childhood home, his grandmother’s grave, the little church his sister got married in, the same church she christened her babies in. 

“Fuck dude.” Cliff said. 

“Russia isn’t evil place.” Ilya said softly. “There is government, there is laws, and then there is people. The people have very different views, many would wish me dead. Others would see me as hero.” 

“I know complicated.” Cliff murmured. America wasn’t exactly the land of the free they’d all been raised to believe. “It’s not like if you came out here it would all be sunshine and roses.” 

“Shane is still scared.” Ilya confessed, his voice tight like he had to say it but felt like he was betraying Shane by doing so. “He thinks too much, messes with his head.” 

“You’re not immune to that.” Cliff added. 

“Is different.” Ilya waved off Cliff’s comment, dismissing it. “Is like little animal in the headlights.” 

“Deer caught in headlights.” 

“Eh, more like rabbit.” Ilya said with a soft smile. 

“And what’s he willing to give up?” Cliff found himself asking. It wasn’t even something he really considered until the words were out of his mouth. 

And look, he liked Shane. He loved their love. He liked who Ilya was around Shane, who he could be around him. And Hollander was obviously an incredible hockey player, he was well known for his dedication and his kindness. Taking the time to train up rookies, no big ego that got in the way of being a decent person. All of those good things. 

But Cliff’s best friend was about to blow up his life for him, he wanted to make damn sure they were both willing to do anything for each other. 

Ilya was silent for a while and Cliff let him be. He’d asked a big question. 

“A year ago neither of us were willing to give up anything, we didn’t know we could.” He said eventually. “But is not so simple to keep score of who is giving up what. We are both giving up safety by choosing each other. We could get found out at any time, we almost did.” 

And that one hit like a bullet. Of course Cliff knew he’d almost outed them. He’d addressed it with himself, with each of them. Fucking fuck. He really could have destroyed their lives in that moment and they would have been completely unprepared. 

And this was them preparing. Moving closer to each other, having back up plans and committing to this. To them. Over hockey, despite hockey. 

Which, knowing what Cliff Marlow knew of Shane Hollander, was a big fucking deal. 

“And now.” Ilya made a noise Cliff could only describe as Slavic distaste for the limitations of the English language. “We are not knowing how to do this. We want to be together. We want to play hockey. Is both very new relationship and very old one. Either way one of us will have to give up things.” 

“You’ve already given up Russia.” Cliff pointed out. 

“That is not Shane’s fault. That is Russia’s fault.” Ilya bit back. “Canada was our solution for citizenship, and if I am to be Canadian I should play on Canadian team.” 

And Cliff hated that it made sense. “I don’t want you to go.” 

Ilya laughed. This was a sad laugh. “I am not dying, Marly.” 

Cliff laughed too. “Okay okay. So this is for certain then? You’re leaving, when? This season? Next?” 

“No, is not certain.” Ilya scowled. “I said, Shane is doing too much thinking. Now that everyone knows we are friends he’s worried how me moving to Canada would look.” 

“What? I mean. Actually that’s fair.” Cliff’s mouth ran faster than his brain, but now he could see where Hollander was coming from. “With the way the internet has been clocking you two.” 

“Clocking?” 

“Oh your boyfriend didn’t teach you that one?” Cliff said bitterly. “It means the fans are reading a lot into your interactions, your words, your mannerisms, and are making the correct assumption you two are actually together.” 

“Mmm yes.” Roz rolled his eyes. “Is because we ‘breached containment.’” 

Cliff snorted. “I actually heard Pickman talking about ticket sales going up since -”

They moved onto more neutral topics, Roz definitely in a better mood than he had been previously. A weight lifted not entirely from his shoulders, but he’d gotten to talk about it. One of Cliff’s many girlfriends had taught him how talking about something could help even if it didn’t fix. 

But now he knew the problem. Ilya Rozanov was yearning. 

****

Ilya felt lighter. Talking to Marlow had helped. He could believe that, he could convince himself of that. A problem shared was a problem… something. Was less problem. Yuna and David said it all the time. 

Then why did it feel like he was lying? 

He wasn’t. Their question mark of a future was an eternally stressful presence in both their lives. The imminent culmination of the stressful decisions was creating more cracks and fissures. This was all true. 

And he could make himself believe that was what was causing the hollowness in his chest. His heart still beat for Shane, he still loved and lusted, he could laugh and enjoy. But there was something dulling the edges of everything. 

Like a candle flickering out as soon as he -

But it was just the pain of missing Shane. It was the distance, the secrecy, the hiding. It was the stress and weight of decisions. It was just the current situation, once they got through it, it would be better. 

It would be. 

****

Harris Drover hit send. 

Or he was going to. Definitely. It wasn’t crazy what he was doing, was it? People did this all the time, shoot their shots. But like, professionally. An elevator pitch his film student ex-boyfriend had called it. 

He guessed it wasn’t the act itself that felt a little crazy. It wasn’t the frankly incredible proposal he’d written. 

No. 

It was who he had decided to send the proposal to. Research had told him who each player was represented by, interestingly months before their friendship was even public, Ilya Rozanov had fired his Russian agent and was now represented by Shane Hollander’s agent, Farah Habib. And Harris was purposefully NOT jumping to conclusions about that. 

But he wasn’t sending it to Yuna Hollander, Shane’s manager. He wasn’t sending it to Farah Habib, their agent. He wasn’t sending it directly the Shane Hollander, known type-a personality. 

No. 

Harris was sending it directly to Ilya Rozanov. 

His thinking here was. Well. He didn’t have a great reason. Partly he had to admit he was intimidated by contacting known powerhouses Yuna Hollander and Farah Habib. He’d seen Shane’s many many advertising campaigns, he’d heard the whispers about how the devil works hard but Yuna Hollander worked harder. 

There were also Shane’s contracts, the ones Farah Habib had negotiated herself with no mercy. If she could she would personally make sure any team he landed on hit the salary cap just by looking at him. 

So yeah, he put respect on their damn names. 

He should probably stop thinking of Shane Hollander in first name terms however, not very professional. 

So yeah, Harris wasn’t brave enough to send the proposal straight to the manager or the agent. Shane Hollander very much gave the impression he didn’t check his socials or his emails himself, or at least, not regularly. 

That left Ilya Rozanov. The wildcard in all of this. 

Harris didn’t stop to consider again, he just hit send. 

He stared at what he’d done, it was stupid. Embarrassingly so. It would more than likely get ignored, because who tf was he to slip into a professional athlete's dms? Not in that way. Oh god what had he done. 

The panic was rising until suddenly the little ‘sent’ turned into ‘delivered’ turned into ‘seen.’ 

And then, 

Ilya Rozanov

What is your dogs name?

****

Shane didn’t know where he currently stood with at least half the guys on his team. JJ and Hayden, he knew where they stood. Cluey, he unfortunately also knew where he stood. Firmly against. The rest? He couldn’t get a good gauge. 

Comeau and Drapeau he thought were closer to his side than not. But he couldn’t be sure. 

The thing was, no one had mentioned the interview. JJ told him later that apparently none of them had watched it, but Hayden thought that at least some of them had but were pretending they hadn’t. 

Which was fine. Shane didn’t expect them to interact with every ad campaign or whatever that he did. Especially interviews, he’d been interviewed countless times for hockey specific things, he’d also given speeches at various functions, and never expected the guys to keep up with all of it. 

But he guessed that maybe they’d have some sort of interest due to the whole Rozanov of it. Especially considering how they’d responded to Roz initially. 

Maybe this time it was because he was able to be a bit more himself than he usually let people see. 

Maybe this time, he’d been hoping to get to open up a bit more. 

But that’s clearly not what the Voyageurs wanted. 

Well, if Shane couldn’t be himself with them, he could at the very least be their captain. Their game tonight was against New York, and he liked New York. They were good guys for the most part. Especially as they all seemed to be completely fine with Scott, if not outwardly supportive. 

And a week later, they’d be playing Boston again. The way Shane missed Ilya was fully reminiscent of a drug. He craved him. Craved his voice, his body, his hands. God those incredible hands. And in recent years, he’d craved his conversation, his laughter, his presence. 

He missed the cottage, he missed knowing Ilya was nearby if not immediately in arms reach. 

“Hollander! Stop day dreaming!” Hayden called. 

Shane blinked, realising he was holding his shinguard in his hands and not putting it on. “Sorry guys, was busy thinking about how hard we’re going to embarrass New York tonight.” 

The boys cheered, and Shane could pretend everything was normal. That there wasn’t an unmentioned chasm forming. 

****

Scott breathed hard, panting over centre ice. Another loss to the Voyageurs, and just like that time however long ago, Shane Hollander drifted over to him. 

“Here to start another fight?” Scott huffed. 

Hollander gave a responding laugh, “shall we, for old times sake?” 

Scott rose out of his crouch to turn and looked over at Hollander, who stood with a lazy smile Scott could almost call Rozanov-esque. An odd burst of affection bloomed in Scott’s chest. 

“What was it you said to me last time?” Scott mused. “Go home, you’re 45 years old?” 

Now Shane really did grin, gliding even closer to Scott. He was completely unashamed, one might even say proud of himself. 

“Hmm, yes I did. And I’m totally sorry by the way.” Hollander said without an ounce of regret. “I really do admire that they let senior citizens out on the ice.” 

“Okay, fuck you.” Scott said, reaching out and pulling Shane into a friendly headlock. 

Friendly because Hollander was laughing. Scott unclipped Hollander's helmet to really get in there and ruffle his hair. 

“Hunter!” Hollander said between bouts of laughter. 

“Now, now, Hollander, have you never heard about respecting your elders?” Scott chided him. 

Scott could see Carter and Pike gliding by, driving by to check out the situation. At Hollander’s laughter the tension in their shoulders left. Carter rolling his eyes and clapping Pike on the shoulder. 

Scott could hear Vaughey say, “close one there, ey?” 

“I could take you.” Pike said in response. 

“Okay, okay.” Hollander laughed. “I’m very sorry Mr Hunter, sir.” 

“That’s what I like to hear, rook.” Scott said, letting him go finally and starting to skate away. 

“Rook!” Shane called out, voice full of offense. 

And Scott wasn’t sure what compelled him to say it, but he said, “some of us are heading to a bar later. The Kingfisher. I can text you the details, if you want?” 

Hollander looked stunned, and then seemed equally surprised when he said, “uh, sure.” 

****

Skip5eva

Omg Scott and Hollander getting into a playful tussle KILLED ME

Hollafan

CAN ANYONE LIPREAD

Shane_can_get_it

i am obsessed with the way you can hear Shane’s laughter on the broadcast i just wish you could hear what they were sayingggg

Pucktuah

I am feral for Shane Hollander befriending the best players in the league

Hunterslovers

Its giving brothers

Mrsmarlowhockey

god now im desperate to know what their original fight was about

admirals1483

Do we think Hunter and Hollander have ever hooked up? 

****

Jane

I’m going to a bar with Scott Hunter

Lily

Ew

why

to discuss how to be more boring?

Jane

haha very funny

i think its a gay bar

Lily

you should go

Jane

I am

I’m just nervous

Lily

take 1 shot when you get there to settle nerves

have one beer for rest of the night

take pike with you

Shane smiled at his phone. His heart warm, his breathing settling. Just talking to Ilya helped settle him in ways that nothing in his life ever had. 

Hunter had already texted him the bar’s address, which he’d of course googled. The Kingfisher, definitely a gay bar. But Scott had said Carter Vaughn was going, and the world knew he was friendly with Hunter so him being there wouldn’t be odd. It wouldn’t be noticed in any specific kinda way. 

“Hollzy, you know Hunter’s taken, right?” Cluetier joked as he unlaced his skates. 

Shane, on instinct, let out a huff of a laugh. “Yeah man.” 

Hayden, next to him, was staring at Cluetier with wide eyes. “Yeah, shockingly, gay men can be friends. I guess you wouldn’t get it, seeing as you are incapable of seeing women as anything other than something to fuck.”

Cluetier jumped to his feet, and Hayden did the same. The tension in the locker room rising exponentially. 

“Okay guys, enough!” Shane said, coming to his feet too, he was ignored. 

“Why you always so quick to defend him, huh Pike? He been keeping you satisfied while your wife pops out babies?” Cluetier spat at him. 

“Woah what the fuck!” JJ whirled around. 

“How dare you?” Pike threatened, taking a step toward Cluetier. His face wore an expression Shane rarely saw. Pure murderous rage. 

“That’s enough.” Shane called, his voice dropping in timbre. Low. Threatening. “We are a team, no more pot shots, I don’t want to hear it. Hit the showers, cool off, and fucking put it to rest.” 

Hayden did as Shane said, and after a moment, so did Cluetier. The other guys all dutifully looked away and got changed. It took a few moments but eventually chatter started back up again. 

JJ squeezed Shane’s shoulder and gave him a look of solidarity. 

God, after all that, Shane definitely needed a drink. Maybe he would actually take Ilya’s advice and do a shot. 

And you know what? Fuck everyone. He could go to goddamn gay bar if he wanted to. And he would. 

Once JJ and Hayden were done, he’d invite them with him

Chapter End Notes

This was late because I got inspired by a later scene that i am so so excited to get to. I’ve been writing this fic so far like teehee. The scene I just wrote? Kicking my legs and giggling.

But it’s not for a while. So sorry for the teaser.

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Chapter Summary

Night out at the Kingfisher :)

Chapter Notes

I’m so excited for where this fic is heading :)) I love seeing y’all in the comments trying to figure it out but none of you have ittttt

Kip Grady was already 3 shots, one margarita, and actively drinking a sex on the beach by the time the hockey boys rocked up. The Kingfisher was accidentally now the host of several hockey players on a regular basis, which was fine because they were hot. In that rugged lumberjack way. 

They’d had some complaints about the invasion of the straights until they’d received a bollacking in the form of ‘we should be encouraging professional athletes to be supportive of queer players not barring them for our spaces’ from the majority of the patrons. 

All said, Scott’s teammates were good allies. Especially once Kip's friendship group had initiated the ‘adopt a hockey player’ initiative. Aka, find common ground and slowly ingratiate them in queer culture until they realise we’re all just people. 

Kip had intended to adopt Scott as his hockey player but apparently he didn’t count because ‘he’s already gay’ and ‘you're in a relationship.’ 

So Kip had yet to adopt a hockey player, that was, until Shane Hollander walked through the door. 

He knew who Hollander was, he’d been watching hockey with his dad on and off for years, and now he dated Stanley Cup winner Scott Hunter. So yeah, Kip knew who Hollander was. And he’d always made Kip curious. 

1. Because he was hot as fuck
2. Like insane levels of hot
3. Because he’d gotten into a fight with Scott
4. Because Scott refused to tell him what the fight was about

So curious was almost an understatement. 

And then the whole Rozanov whirlwind, and interviews, and oh my god the old man jokes. Sprinkle in some rumours and speculation and altogether that led to a very curious Kip. 

He had not been expecting Scott to have a playfight with him on the ice. 

Nor had he expected Scott to tell him he’d invited Shane Hollander to the Kingfisher, but there he was. Walking through the door, flanked by Pike and Boiziau. 

The three Voyageurs entered with all the confidence of newborn lambs, confused but they’ve got spirit. Scott was already heading over to them, genial smile on his face and Cater Vaughn, his own little lamb, ambling on beside him. 

“Hollander! Pike, Boiziau, glad you guys could make it.” Scott was saying as Kip sauntered up. 

Both Pike and Boiziau offered a thumbs up and polite smile in return, respectively. Hollander had no such qualms. “Surprised to be invited, especially after embarrassing you so much on the ice.” 

Pike and Boiziau gave Hollander twin looks of horror and shock at his words, but Vaughny just threw his head back and cackled. Even Scott allowed a small, annoyed smile. 

Before the conversation could linger on hockey, Kip jumped in. “Kip Grady, Scott’s boyfriend.” 

The Voyageurs each shook his hand, and Kip noted, with no weirdness to it. Like they met professional hockey player’s gay lovers regularly. They each grabbed his hand and smiled at him, warmly. 

“Hollander, it’s nice to meet you. I’m adopting you.” Kip smiled, swaying slightly. 

“Excuse me?” Shane blinked at Kip, his polite Canadian smile stuck in place. 

Scott snorted and rolled his eyes as Vaughny jumped in, “it’s tradition here at The Kingfisher. All hockey players get adopted by a patron. It seems Kip has chosen you, Hollander.” 

“Aha,” Hollander gave a nervous laugh. “What does being adopted involve?” 

Kip held out a hand, “come find out.” 

The first thing Kip did was show him around and give him a brief history of the pub. Next, he introduced the barstaff. Pike and Boiziau were soon adopted by two of Kip’s friends and the next thing they all knew the Voyageurs were being taught how to give blowjobs. 

Okay technically, they were being taught how to take blowjobs. Three shots were lined up on the bar and the big strong hockey players stood with their hands clasped behind their backs staring down at the three shots lined up on the bar. 

Carter, Scott, and a few other assorted Admirals, plus Kip, Maria, Elena, and a few other assorted Kingfisher patrons, all stood around watching. Cheering. Heckling. Laughing. 

“It’s quite simple.” Kip explained, placing his own shot on the counter and then holding his hands behind his back. “No hands, you gotta take your shot. Obviously, the best way to that is -” 

Kip leaned over, placed his mouth around the entire rim of the shot glass, got a good grip on it, and then stood up and flicked his head back, draining the shot of tequila down his open throat. 

“And there you go!” He grinned, taking the glass out of his mouth and placing it on the bar. 

The Voyageurs looked at him with a range of impressed, fearful, curious, and determined. The Admirals behind them were shuffling about and chuckling with an alcohol laced giggle. 

“We’ve all done it!” Carter called gleefully. “I did it second try!”

“I’m ready.” Hollander said, decided. “Boys?” 

Hayden Pike looked like he had no idea how he ended up here. “Watching Jackie do this ten years ago is what led to us going home together. Let’s fucking do this.” 

“That’s the spirit!” Lou, a punk inspired lesbian and adopter of Hayden Pike, called. “Do it for your wife!” 

Boiziau groaned. “Let’s get it over with.” 

As one Pike and Boiziau leaned over, Pike was the first to get his mouth around the glass. Pike tried to go to fast and ended up spilling it before he could flip his head up, cursing as he caught the glass before it fell to the floor. 

Boiziau was still struggling to get the right angle to get his mouth over the glass well enough to hold it in his mouth and pulled back to swear at it. 

“Fucking how??” He asked as the watchers laughed. 

This was when Hollander, smirking at watching his friends, showed them how it was done. He leaned over and in one smooth motion got the glass in his mouth and like a model tipped his head back to drain the liquid down his throat. The cords of his neck letting them all know he was swallowing it. 

Kip’s mouth dropped open. That was the second hottest thing he’d ever seen, the first was when Scott, after 3 attempts, had managed to perfect the move. There was a pause, one of shock, surprise, and arousal, then the Admirals were hooting and hollering, applause and catcalls breaking out from the assembled patrons. 

Boiziau and Pike stared at Hollander like they’d never seen him before as he placed the glass down on the table, tongue poking out to lick his lips. 

“That was gross.” He finally said. “Never choosing sambucca again.” 

Boiziau scowled. “Ew, why would you choose sambucca?” 

“I don’t like tequila.” Shane replied like it was obvious. 

“There are so many options for shots.” Pike said, shaking his head at Hollander. 

“How about this, you two can judge me when you can do the trick.” Hollander shot back. 

Buoyed by the ‘ooo’s of the crowd, Boiziau and Pike got to work, this time with Hollander heckling and giving advice in equal parts.  

****

Svetlana Vetrova was scrolling her instagram when she came across Carter Vaughn’s video of Shane taking a very, very slutty shot. She sent it off to Ilyusha. He would absolutely love it, and also be tortured by it, it was perfect. 

Then she told her driver change of plans, she wasn’t heading back to her hotel just yet. Ten minutes later she was pulling up to The Kingfisher. 

Her being in New York was happenstance, happy happenstance, but happenstance nonetheless. And walking through the doors she couldn’t be happier with her circumstances. 

Shane Hollander, uptight, demure, awkward little Shane that her darling Ilyusha was absolutely smitten with, was drunk. Currently yelling over the music to Carter Vaughn and Matti Jalo. 

Shane noticed her almost immediately, doing a double take when he saw who had come through the door. His eyes widening and a beaming grin that was pure sunshine gracing his lips. 

“Lana!” He yelled over the music, throwing his arms wide open. 

Svetlana found herself matching his grin at his warm welcome and running over to leap into his arms like he was Ilya. She crashed into him and gave him a tight hug, what she did not expect was for him to lift her up and spin her. 

It was such an Ilya move it made her laugh. 

“Shane!” She laughed. “You are drunk.” 

Shane put her down but did not release her from his embrace. “Mmm maybe.”

Svetlana put her hands on his face and pulled him in for some cheek kisses. Once she’d finally been allowed to meet Shane, they’d hit it off right away. Of course, the goddess that is Rose Landry being present had helped. The four of them clicked like it was group that had always meant to exist. 

“What are you doing here?” Shane asked her. 

“I’m in New York for work, I was on my way to my hotel when I saw your slutty slutty shots on Vaughn’s instagram and thought I’d come over and make Lily jealous.” She told him honestly, using Ilya’s fake name to avoid accidentally inferring anything between him and Shane. “You have to come dance with me.” 

“I am no good at dancing, ask Rose.” Shane shook his head at her, but he didn’t look panicked. He looked like that perfect level of drunk where everything was nicely hazy. 

Svetlana was known to be a stubborn woman. She also prided herself on getting what she wanted. And right now, she wanted to dance with Shane Hollander and make Ilyusha die of jealousy. 

“I will teach you.” She pulled out of their embrace. 

She took his hand and pulled him to an open space in the bar, sending a wink at Vaughn and Jalo, who were watching the interaction with keen interest. Shane allowed himself to be pulled along. 

She faced him at first, got on her toes to whisper in his ear, “just pretend I am Lily.” 

The music playing was not typical club style dance music, and Svetlana suspected that was a large contributing factor to Shane agreeing to dance with her. It was an old song, Cry to Me by Solomon Burke. It was slow, but it was sensual. 

Shane stood there, facing Svetlana with his arm around her waist. She moved against him, swaying gently, 

“He’s gonna be so mad.” Shane murmured. 

And she had to laugh. Then Shane was moving, swaying his hips with hers. She hitched a leg up on his hip, his hand coming to hold her knee automatically. Svetlana smiled at him, then lent into a deep backbend. Folding basically in half before slowing rolling back up. 

She was dancing on him more than they were dancing together. Dipping into another backbend with a lazy, coy, smile. 

They danced for a while, before Svetlana finally pulled away from him. “I need a drink!” 

Shane gave her a half bow, more of a tip of the head and towed her to the bar. At the bar was Scott Hunter and the man he’d kissed on TV. The man, who was also ridiculously hot, was also incredibly drunk. 

She let Shane order as she held her hand out. “Scott Hunter, I am a fan.” 

Hunter, ever the well mannered captain, took her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, this is my partner, Kip.” 

Kip was even more drunk than Hollander, bordering on sloppy, but seemingly happy and in good spirits. “You are gorgeous! Shane, is this your girlfriend?” 

Shane whipped his head around, both Svetlana and Shane staring at each other for a moment before dissolving into laughter. 

“No.” Shane said as he tried to stop laughing. “No, ah, she’s beautiful, but no.” 

“His Lily would kill me.” Svetlana patted Shane’s arm. 

“So, there’s a Lily?” Kip prodded. “Is she your girlfriend?” 

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” Shane said firmly, and truthfully. 

Vaughn and Jalo joined them at the bar, ordering their own drinks as Shane and Svetlana’s arrived. Shane had ordered for her, but she took a trusting sip anyway and was delightfully surprised. 

“Ah, the good Russian Vodka! Shane darling, you know my drink order.” Svetlana said, her hand over her heart. 

“You’re Russian?” Jalo said. 

“Could you not tell by the accent?” Kip gave a drunken laugh. 

Shane rolled his eyes, “my apologies, I have not introduced my guest properly. Everyone, this is Svetlana Vetrova, daughter of Sergei Vetrov and childhood best friend of Ilya Rozanov.” 

“Oh your Rozanov’s girl!” Vaughn said, clicking his fingers in recognition. 

“I am no one’s girl.” She said sweetly. 

“Sergei Vetrov is your father?” Jalo's jaw dropped open. “Holy shit.”  

Svetlana smiled the smile she always smiled in this situation. It wasn’t uncomfortable, she was used to it. She was proud of her father and all that he’d achieved. That didn’t mean it didn’t get a little tiring. 

“Da.” She waved her hand. “I am here to see Shane, and make Ilyusha jealous that he is stuck in boring Toronto tonight.” 

Shane laughed and slung an arm over her shoulder, it was easy, comfortable. She was used to being surrounded by hockey players, had been her whole life. And Shane treated her more like one of the boys than he did his own team. 

“God, you cannot imagine the shock when we found out you and Rozanov were friends.” Jalo told Shane. “It was all the locker room could talk about for like three weeks.” 

“Fucking Marlow.” Shane swore with an easy smile. 

“If he wasn’t so hot, I’d be more angry at him.” Svetlana said. 

“He’s single.’ Shane slid a grin her way. She winked back at him. 

“Shane, if you're setting up the hot single women you inexplicably hang around with, could you tell Rose Landry I’m single?” Jalo said in a tone that was meant to be jokey but also partially serious.  

“What do you mean, inexplicably?” Kip said, words not very clear. “Shane Hollander is fucking hot.” 

“This is true.” Svetlana nodded. “He is the hottest hockey player no contest.” 

“I am?” Shane tilted his head. “I’m going to tell Ilya you said that.” 

She snorted. “I’ve told him that myself many times.” 

Shane grinned at her and pulled her into a hug, which she reciprocated. Drunk Shane was a treat, a rare, golden treat. Ilya was going to be so so jealous.

”You’re wrong though.” He whispered in her ear. 

They broke away with another knowing laugh shared between them.  

“This is such a weird night.” Scott said from where he was leaning against the bar. “A good night, but so weird.” 

Boiziau and Pike appeared out of the crowd as he said this, both looking rumpled and drunk. Pike had splashes of alcohol down his top that Svetlana knew was from his failed attempts at the slutty shots from earlier. They both also had rainbow flags face painted onto their cheeks. 

“You’re telling me.” Boiziau said, “I have never seen our Shane dance like that.” 

“I don’t think I have ever danced like that.” Shane admitted. 

“I have that effect on men.” Svetlana smirked, tongue darting out to run along her lip. 

She wasn’t planning on getting laid tonight, but she enjoyed how the straight men present all followed her tongue with her eyes. 

The conversation moved on, and she soon started giving Shane water to stop him getting too drunk. Ilya had told her he can suddenly panic when he doesn’t have complete control of a situation, and a night out in a gay bar was definitely a situation where Shane Hollander would feel out of control. 

In fact, Shane had only managed two glasses of water before things would take a turn. 

“I didn’t believe in ho-era Shane until I saw him take that shot.” Vaughn was saying. “I mean, Shane Hollander?” 

Shane rolled his eyes. “I’m not a ho. The interview was… misinterpreted.” 

“Uh, sure, we all saw you and Svetlana dancing.” Jalo added. 

Shane took a moment to consider. “I’m a monogamous ho. I’m a ho for one person at a time.” 

“If that’s the case, why are you so adamant Lily isn’t your girlfriend, but you and Svetlana are determined to make her jealous tonight?” Kip said with a glint in his eye. 

“Oh my god, Lily?” Boiziau gasped, his drink slopping in his cup. “Boston Lily? I completely forgot about Boston Lily.” 

Svetlana felt the tension enter Shane’s body from where he stood next to her, heard the sharp inhale. Saw the way Pike’s eyes widened and stared at Boiziau in panic. 

“But wait.” Boiziau continued, his head tilting to the side as the cogs began to turn in his head. “I thought she was a cover for -”

Pike slammed his hand over Boiziau mouth. “Okay that’s enough of that!” 

“Boiziau, these are inside thoughts.” Svetlana said sweetly, threateningly. 

Boiziau, drunk and unaware of the trap he’d just stepped in, just looked confused behind Pike’s hand. Next to her, Shane was still tense, his breathing carefully controlled in a way that let Svetlana understand it was actually panic. Fuck. 

“Okay, clearly there’s things we’re not supposed to know about Lily.” Scott said diplomatically. “We won’t ask questions. How about we disperse and get hammered?” 

Pike grabbed Boiziau by the arm and pulled him away immediately, probably to do damage control on Shane’s behalf. Svetlana knew Pike and Marlow knew, but she didn’t think anyone else did. 

Luckily, Vaughn and Jalo just looked confused over what had just occurred. Unfortunately, Hunter seemed to have some sort of a clue, and Kip mostly just looked drunk. 

“Let’s go get some air.” Svetlana grabbed Shane’s hand, aware of how it would look to have Shane Hollander be led out of a bar by Svetlana, especially after the dancing they’d been doing. 

Shane followed easily. Leaving out the front entrance into the blissfully cold New York, Svetlana directed him into the alley nearby, which was thankfully not as gross as she expected it to be. 

“Do you want me to call Lily?” She asked. 

Shane shook his head. “I’m fine, I just, it’s fine. I’m fine.” 

Svetlana watched him clearly not be fine, but she didn’t know what to do in this situation. She knew how to pull Ilyusha out of his head, how to raise his spirits when he was low, but she didn’t know how to get someone to not panic. Ilya didn’t panic, Sasha didn’t panic, she didn’t panic. Not like Shane panics. 

They were interrupted by Kip appearing with two glasses of water. “Here, this might help.” 

Shane took his, taking a long drink of it. “Fuck.” 

“You don’t need to say anything.” Kip continued, alcohol loosening his tongue, but his eyes had cleared a lot. Something had sobered him. “I assume Svetlana knows, and Pike, but probably no one else here.” 

Shane stared at him, eyes pleading. It looked like he knew where Kip was going and was begging for him not to say it. 

“You had the same look Scott used to get.” Kip said sadly with a soft sigh. “Is Lily a man?” 

Shane looked like his strings had been cut, he was breathing heavily but unable to deny it for some reason. Svetlana had no idea what to do. How to help. How to fix this. She shouldn’t have come, this wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t. 

Kip reached out and pulled Shane into a tight hug. A hug that Shane collapsed into, as though he was finally letting something go. It was something Svetlana understood, but would never understand. Svetlana kept an eye on the entrance of the alleyway, but they were completely alone. 

“It’s okay.” Kip was saying to Shane. “I’ve adopted you, remember? I’ve got you.” 

Svetlana couldn’t leave, this moment was for them and she felt like she was intruding, but she had to stay. She had to keep an eye out, watch their backs. 

“I was Lily, not that long ago.” Kip comforted Shane. “I’m not telling you when or how to come out. But your friends will want to be a part of that, they want to know you.” 

“They know. My team knows I'm…” He cleared his throat, unable to say it even here. “Not about Lily though. They don’t know about Lily.”  

“Oh, Shane.” Kip sighed, caressing Shane’s hair. 

“There’s a reason.” Shane whispered. “There’s a reason I only brought Hayden and JJ tonight.”

Kip pulled back and held Shane’s jaw in his hand. “If you can bring JJ here, then maybe it’s time to trust him before he puts it together himself. You trust him. You know him.” 

Shane nodded. “I do, but it’s not just my secret. Lily is…” 

Shane glanced at Svetlana. 

“Lily is a well known friend of mine and Rose’s.” Svetlana provided. “His name is known.” 

 Kip sighed. “Ah I see, someone famous.” 

“Don’t tell him that, it will go to his head.” Svetlana found herself saying, trying to bring some levity to the situation. 

“Well, me and Scott are always here for you Shane, you hear me?” Kip told him as they pulled apart. “If you wanna double date or just vent on the phone. Anything. Get my number from Scott because I don’t think I remember it right now.” 

Shane and Svetlana both gave small laughs at that. Kip headed back in the bar, Svetlana left Shane outside for a moment while she went in to retrieve Pike and Boiziau. It was time they all went to bed. 

She put them all in a cab back to their hotel before calling her own. She wanted to call Ilya, but Shane was most likely going to soon if he hadn’t already. 

Instead she went back to her own hotel, showered off the evening, that despite the ending, had still been a good one. She scrolled through her various social medias, sharing her favourite videos and photos from the night on her stories. 

Her favourite photo, a photo that one of the Hockey boys had airdropped to her, of her and Shane both laughing, clutching onto each other’s arms, was posted onto the grid. She captioned it, 

Moy Bratik

***

Shane woke up with a headache and an upset stomach. There was water by his bed and an aspirin. He had vague memories of Hayden laying them out for him last night saying, ‘trust me, you’ll want it.’ 

And he did. He popped the aspirin and downed the glass of water. Now to find his phone. Hayden, no, JJ had been the one to plug all their phones in before heading back to his room. The question was where. 

He rolled out of bed, went to the bathroom, and gave into the temptation for a shower before finding his phone. Brushing his teeth and showering improved his mood tenfold, and the nausea receded. 

This was one of the many reasons he didn’t drink. Shane had gotten drunk so few times he could count them on one hand. Granted this was time number five, the next time would move him onto a second hand. 

The sound of a phone vibrating drew him back to the bedroom. Hayden was passed out completely in his bed, and next to him was both his and Shane’s phone. 

Lily

The caller ID read when Shane unplugged his phone. 

“Morning.” Shane rasped into the phone. 

“You are cruel.” Ilya said on the other end. “How could you do this to me?”

“Ilya, I just woke up, I’m having the worst hangover of my life, be nice to me.” 

“Oh moy lyubimy,” Ilya sighed on the other end of the phone. “I will save my betrayal for later. Have you had water?” 

“Water, aspirin, shower.” Shane confirmed. “I don’t even remember all of last night. I remember… Lana showing up.” 

Ilya scoffed on the other end. “Yes, and I’m mad about that too.” 

“Too? What else did I do?” Shane groaned. 

“You did slutty slutty shots.” Ilya said petulantly. “Everyone has seen, Vaughny posted it on every social he has.” 

And the memory hit Shane like a truck. He’d felt fine attempting it because he was doing it with Hayden and JJ, except they sucked at it. They couldn’t do the trick, embarrassingly uncoordinated. 

But Shane could. He could fit his lips over the glass easily, and he could tilt his head back and open his throat for the alcohol to run down like he’d done it a thousand times. Because he had with something bigger that tasted 100x better. 

“Fuck Shane, was so hot.” Ilya groaned on the other end. “You will have to do for me.” 

“I’m never drinking again.” Shane vowed. 

“Do it with water, I don’t care.” 

And despite the hangover, and the embarrassment, Shane smiled. Because Ilya could alway made Shane smile. 

“When did you learn to dance?” Ilya demanded, ploughing on. 

“I didn’t and I don’t.” Shane argued. “Last night was…” 

“Was hot and sexy.” Ilya supplied. “With my Sveta. You say no threesomes and then you dance all sexy on my best friend with benefits?” 

“Not enjoying the present tense there.” Shane hummed, moving to sit in his bed.. 

“Pah! Current best friend, ex benefits.” Ilya grumbled. “Is illegal. It is a crime, what you do.” 

“I was channeling you.” Shane said. “I remembered what it was like to see you dance with people, thought about how it felt when you grab my hips.” 

Ilya’s breathing sharpened on the other end. Shane allowed himself a smile, ran his tongue over his lips and said, “and I thought about how mad it would make you.” 

There was silence for a moment. “No no, Hollander, I am the menace in this relationship. Is me. I am the one who posts sexy videos and then comes home to you hot and wanting.” 

“Are you saying you’re hot and wanting right now?” Shane said quietly, glancing over to the completely passed out, dead to the world, Hayden in the bed next to him. 

“Always, moy lyubimy.” Ilya sighed. “I cannot be mad at you. You have given me excellent material to work with.” 

Shane flushed at that. Despite knowing Ilya fantasized about him, despite fantasizing about Ilya himself, he still could blush about it. 

“So you had a good night?” Ilya asked. “You had your shot, and then your beer? And you have hangover? Pfft.” 

“No, I ended up having about three shots because Hayd and JJ demanded I teach them the trick. They both just about did it in the end.” Shane smiled, the memories coming back to him. “Then I think I was drinking vodka and ginger ale.” 

“Aw, it is us.” Ilya smiled down the phone. 

Shane rolled his eyes. “Sure.” 

“So my Shane got drunk. Without me.” Then Ilya gasped. “With Scott Hunter!” 

“Shut up, you like Scott Hunter.” Shane said, to rile Ilya up even more. 

“This is a lie. He is old and boring.” 

“He wasn’t boring last night.” Shane laughed for a moment, to rile Ilya up even more, until the memory hit him. “Oh god.” 

JJ was going to figure out who Lily was. Kip knew Lily was a man. Scott at least suspected. Vaughny and Jalo were there too, they at least knew something weird was up. Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck-

“Shane.” Ilya’s voice crackled down the phone. “Sweetheart. Breathe.” 

Shane gasped. Ragged, harsh. But he could do it again. He could breathe. “They know. They all know.” 

“Who? Who knows? What happened?” 

“Lily. We were joking about Lily and JJ started to figure it out.” Shane gasped into his phone. “And Scott clearly knew something was up so Lana took me outside and then Kip came out and then he said he knew Lily was a man and I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t deny it. I couldn’t say anything because I was drunk and he just knew. He saw my face and he knew. He could see it on my face.” 

It was then that Shane realised Ilya was softly said his name, and ‘breathe’ intermittently. He was still listening, but he was trying to gently coax Shane back. 

“Okay, Kotik, is all okay.” 

“It’s not.” Shane whispered. 

“We’ll make it through, no matter what happens.” 

“I'm being serious.” Shane couldn’t see how Ilya could be so calm right now. Everything was falling apart and he knew Ilya was just trying to soothe him, but how was he not panicking? 

”I am serious. If we hide forever, or tell the world right now, I am with you. I will quit hockey or fight to stay. Whatever you want.” He said it so simply, so - not unbothered, because he did care - but rather, he said it like he meant it. Like he was okay with whatever scenario happened. 

And it broke Shane’s heart, because he knew he was the problem. Ilya would do anything for him, but fear had Shane in a chokehold and he just couldn’t. 

Brokenly, he whispered, “It shouldn't be only my decision.” 

Down the other end of the phone, Ilya said, “I mean… I'm yours, yes? To protect that, I will do anything.” 

“You’re mine.” Shane said, heart beating wildly. He was so in love with this man it hurt. 

“Yes.” Ilya replied with a smile in his voice. 

“Oh my god, I love you so much.” Shane said, voice thick with emotion. 

“I love you too.” 

Ilya got Shane back to a calmer state, Shane was able to tell him more calmly what had happened. Post panic he was able to think about the situation more clearly. It wasn’t quite as bad as he thought it had been, but it still wasn’t ideal. 

“Kip understands discretion." Ilya soothed, again. “Better than anyone.” 

“I didn’t tell him not to tell Scott.” Shane realised. 

“Ah yes, and Scott Hunter would definitely out you.” Ilya said dryly. 

Now that Shane wasn’t panicking, he could hear the words and just get annoyed. “Shut up. Don’t even joke about that.” 

Hayden finally started stirring next to him, groaning and swearing as he woke up. His hand fumbled for the aspiring and water next to him, he downed both as soon as he sat up. 

“Fuck me.” Hayden groaned. 

Shane glanced over, and said into the phone, “hey, Hayden is waking up.” 

Hayden looked at him blearily, “is this Rozanov?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Tell Pike to go away.” Ilya grumbled on the other end. 

“I will not be telling him that.” Shane said fondly.  

Hayden scowled. “Is he being mean again?” 

“Yeah.” Shane said, just as fondly as before. 

“I’m too hungover for this.” Hayden said, flopping back down on the bed. “God what even was last night? You were really feeling it.” 

“I was, until I wasn’t.” Shane muttered. “Hence why I don’t drink.” 

“Yeah, what happened at the end there again?” Hayden rubbed his temples as his brain struggled through his hangover. 

“Put me on speaker.” Ilya demanded. 

Shane debated not doing that, but decided it was better than being the messenger so acquiesced. “You’re on speaker now.” 

“Pike, how much do you trust Boiziau?” Ilya said immediately. 

Shane sucked in a breath as Hayden sat back up, confused frown on his face until realisation hit. 

“Oh shit, you guys are gonna tell him?” 

Hayden’s eyes bored into Shane’s, but Shane was just as shocked by the apparent situation. 

“I think so. Maybe.” Ilya said on the other end of the phone. “It will depend on you.” 

“Me?” Hayden’s eyes bugged out of his head. 

“Shane is too - he is not able to.” Ilya huffed. “I need someone else who knows Boiziau to let me know, is he trustable?” 

“Trustworthy.” Shane said absently. 

“I -” Hayden suddenly looked panicked. “yeah?” 

“I need you to be certain, Pike.” Ilya said sternly. 

“God, I don’t know.” He spluttered. “This is a lot of pressure to put on somebody!” 

The ridiculousness of it all hit Shane and suddenly he was laughing. Uncontrollably. It was just so stupid. “Imagine how we’ve felt for the last ten years!” 

Hayden and Ilya were silent for a moment, and then suddenly they were both laughing too. Not quite as hard as Shane was, but they were all laughing together. 

“I’m going to say yes.” Hayden said eventually. “He’s always been one of your defenders, your friends. The Rozanov of it all might be a surprise, but I think he can handle it. And if not, he owes me for keeping his secret about - well. Anyway, if he’s not okay with it I have ways of keeping his mouth shut.” 

Shane was silent for a beat. Grateful for having the most incredible best friend and had no idea how to express it. Or cope with it. 

“Shane?” Ilya asked. “Do you want to tell Boiziau?” 

Shane took a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah okay, let’s do it.” 

“Now?” Hayden’s face made another complicated series of expressions. 

“Better to do it now, I think.” Ilya said lightly. 

“I’ll put it off otherwise.” Shane agreed. 

Hayden scrambled off the bed, fell over briefly, then got back to his feet. “I’ll go get him. That’s okay right? Are we doing it in here or getting coffee?” 

“Here.” Shane said immediately, he wasn’t about to say it in public where he could be overheard. Especially if JJ had a big reaction. Ha, if. When JJ had a big reaction. “And yeah, go get him.” 

Hayden slipped into presentable looking clothes, but didn't even stop to wash his face before he left the room. The rainbow smudged but present on his face. 

“Do you want me to be on the phone?” Ilya asked. 

“No, I’d like it to be just us three.” Shane said, then hastily added, “if that’s okay?” 

“My love, of course it’s okay.” Ilya soothed. “I’m so happy that you’re letting more people in.” 

Shane barked a laugh. “It’s not by choice! This is a necessity. This is because it’ll be worse if he figures it out himself.” 

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. Then a sigh. 

“Okay, Shane.” He said eventually. “I will see you soon, okay?” 

Shane smiled. “I can’t wait.” 

Ilya’s warm chuckle sounded and released some of the tension in Shane’s body. “So needy.” 

His stomach tightened, and allowing himself to be honest, he admitted, “Yeah.” 

Ilya’s breath hitched. Then he groaned. “I love it when you don’t fight how much you want me.” 

Shane bit his lip. “Well, how about I hang up, you rewatch those videos from last night, and think about how I might recreate them for you next week?” 

“Fuck.” Ilya moaned. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” 

Shane’s smile grew. “I love you too.” 

They hung up, Shane feeling light after his conversation with Ilya. God, what a 24hrs he’d had. 

There was a knock at the door and the lightness started to drift away, oh god what had he just agreed to? He took another grounding breath, and focussed on the lightness Ilya gave him. 

“Hey bud.” Hayden said as he entered the room, JJ behind him. 

“What’s going on?” JJ said, half awake and definitely just as hungover as Shane and Hayden were. 

Shane took another breath. “I want to tell you about Lily.” 

Chapter End Notes

Svetlana and Shane’s dance scene heavily inspired by the film Dirty Dancing. I just like to torture Ilya :)

Dw Shane and Ilya will be reuniting next chapter, I’m sure only good things will happen and no one will be rude or annoying :)