Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationship:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Hayden Pike, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Yuna Hollander, David Hollander, Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros Team Ensemble (Game Changers), Boston Bears | Boston Raiders Team Ensemble (Game Changers)

Additional Tags:

Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander Speaks Russian, Ilya Rozanov Goes to Therapy, Shane Hollander Goes to Therapy, make that a tag bitches we need happier works, No Angst, no relationship angst, Good Friend Cliff Marlow, Bad Voyagers, the Montreal voyagers suck, Kissing, Sex, Established Relationship, Secret Relationship, complicated familial relationships, Communication, Fix-It, Married Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Married Life, Domestic Fluff, Shane Hollander Walks Ilya Rozanov Like A Dog, freak4freak, freak4freak is also about the romance, Bad Friend Hayden Pike, its true and you know it, good boston bears, Relationship Reveal

Language:

English

Series:

Part 6 of a little more romeo, a little more juliet

Collections:

Zulie's Best of Heated Rivalry, No thoughts just gay hockey, The best pairings to bask in

Stats:

Published: 2026-02-19 Completed: 2026-04-20 Words: 45,793 Chapters: 22/22

life makes love look hard (but this love is ours)

Summary

Now that they've locked it down, they're learning just how low everyone's opinions are of their respective husband. They've got to face loving each other and healing when there's no one else to turn to.

AKA, Ilya stop throwing punches every time someone insults your husband. Shane stop trying to blow people up with your mind.

Notes

i'm not putting a chapter limit on this one yet, because I think this will just keep being the long term timeline now. Other works will be posted for other povs.

Lets get some peaks into their first year of marriage :)

Chapter 1: the stakes are high

February 2015

He’s grateful to be only one of two Voyagers at the All Stars Game this year. J.J. is easy enough to get rid of, ditching him at the bar or with any number of friendly players. Shane feels a bone deep exhaustion when dealing with any of his teammates off the ice. After four seasons together and no longer a rookie, Shane still gets the icy reception from some players unable to let go of being upstaged by a rook. It doesn’t help that Shane made captain this year and is more determined than ever to win the Stanley Cup by June. If he can pull a miracle out of his ass, maybe it’ll warm them up to him and he can stop feeling like he needs to watch over his shoulder. 

It’s not bad, per se, Hayden Pike has been a good friend over the years, persistent in his attempts to be Shane’s friend, and J.J. is friendly with everyone. On the ice, playing hockey, they’re a cohesive unit, they have the longest winning streak this season since before Shane was drafted, but off the ice… Shane is incompatible with the rest of them, lingering barely an hour at bars, not drinking during the season. Enduring the wet-blanket comments like he knows they’re just ribbing him. Ilya always fails to school his scowl when Shane has a new story, voice laced with exhaustion. 

“They say I talk about hockey too much, but they just can’t seem to leave me alone about it!” He’s pacing their hotel room. Well, Ilya’s hotel room, but beyond checking in at the desk, Shane hasn’t been to his assigned room. “And the slurs! You would think as captain, I could stop them, but no! They just stop long enough to think I’ve forgotten or moved on.”

Shane sits on the bed, letting Ilya wrap arms around him. “They are stupid, solynishko. You are best player, they are threatened, but they should still listen to their captain.”

His head tips back, resting on Ilya’s shoulder. “At least I get a break for now, J.J. isn’t on my team for All Stars. And he’s loud, but manageable.”

“Still dumb. He is your friend, yes? And Pike? They do not say anything?” Shane shakes his head. 

“Hayden will say how fucked up it is, but only to me, usually when we’re alone. J.J. says he doesn’t mean anything by it, promises to stop, and then promptly forgets and ten minutes later I’m hearing cocksucker echoing in the locker room.” Ilya gathers his husband into his arms and pulls them back against the headboard.

“What do you need from me?” He asks, aware that Shane sometimes didn’t need a solution, just for the thoughts to exist somewhere other than his brain. Ilya was very good at comforting, and protecting. The Voyagers should know they are very lucky. Ilya can’t do anything more than check them extra hard against the boards when they face each other, disguising bloodlust under more acceptable bloodlust. “Boiziau is on my team, I will not let him, or anyone, say bad things in my locker room.”

He feels his husband sigh, “I don’t think it will help, but spasibo. Right now? We have two hours before media. I want you to hold me, please.” Ilya can do that, it’s one of his favorite things to do. He holds his husband together in his arms, letting his mind wander while Shane drifts off. It sucks, what Shane must put up with. Ilya entered Boston with the skills to back up his attitude, he proved he was to be respected. Shane, he knew, didn’t have the same force off the ice. When Ilya was made captain and led the Bears to the cup, he doubled that respect. It helped, he thought, that Boston already was a locker room that by the time Ilya was shutting down foul language, accepted the direction with little complaint. Part of his vitriol came from knowing how green the grass wasn’t on the other side. It would be impossible, especially now, to find a team to take both of the hockey husbands, but Ilya refused to stop dreaming about it. Montreal sucked, Ilya hated watching it drain Shane from five hours away. Listening to Shane talk about his friends, as if they could claim that honor, fair-weathered. A phrase he learned from Marlow that fit the situation perfectly, even if he knew he needed to let Shane come to that conclusion on his own. 

So he offered support the best he could, waking Shane with enough time to wash his face and change before heading downstairs. 

Facing off against Shane was his favorite part of playing hockey. Playing with Shane on the ice in general is his favorite part, but getting to look his husband in the eye and say something that will work him up. That Ilya looks forward to the most. To add to an already good day, Boiziau lasts not two minutes before throwing out the word faggot and Ilya gets the pleasure of almost punching him. Luckily, most of Ilya’s team for the game have played with him before and know to let J.J. experience Rozanov drawn to full height threatening a man six inches taller, somehow cowering before the Russian. Boiziau doesn’t do it again. At least, until they’re off the ice, nursing a two point loss—Shane will pay for his hat trick—and Boiziau can’t seem to help complaining about losing to those fucking cocksuckers.

Shane isn’t even disappointed at Ilya’s split knuckles, cleaning them gently, whispering spasibo when he kisses the clean, broken skin.

—

March 2015

It’s Marlow that kicks his ass into gear, as he so often does, cornering him after a rough practice. Ilya doesn’t even have the energy to fight him off or lie when Cliff straight up asks him if he’s ok.

“Does your girl know?” Ilya doesn’t try to argue, and nods. Cliff nods back. “Good. Do you need anything?”

Ilya shakes his head, but later he finds himself back on a saved tab from years ago. He’s refined his search a little bit, looking for therapists in Boston who speak Russian. He books an appointment with a woman named Alya who works with high profile athletes — whose page proudly displays a picture of her and her wife. He clicks over to his messages with Jane and hovers his fingers for a moment over the keys before typing out goodnight, lyubimyy. Ya tebya lyublyu. He’ll tell Shane after his appointment, he decides. Shane is aware, to some extent, of Ilya’s moods. When he gets quiet like this. It doesn’t happen often, and almost never when they’re together. They both miss each other like limbs during the season when they’re more apart than together, but sometimes Ilya clings a little harder when they’re on the couch, refusing to be parted for a moment, like he’s charging himself on skin contact and Shane clings back just as hard.

The appointment went better than Ilya thought it would. Alya reminds him a little of Sveta, a little intense, but in a good way. A productive way.

He waits until he gets home to call his husband. He’s glad he does because as soon as he sees Shane’s face, he bursts into tears. Shane’s panic would usually be cute, but Ilya is distracted by the unexpected crying. He’s alternating between reassuring Ilya and trying to find out what’s wrong. He’s able to listen to Shane’s voice enough to make it to the couch where he wraps himself in a blanket and curls into himself. 

“Am ok, lyubimyy.” Ilya sniffles. There are still tears leaking from his eyes, but he has control over his breathing again. 

“That didn’t look ok.” Shane sighs, “What happened?”

“Don’t know.” He shrugs at the look Shane levels him, but acquiesces, “I miss you. I, um.”

He takes a deep breath, “I went to therapy today. I don’t- I miss you. And it hurts sometimes, how much. And I don’t want-” He cuts himself off. “I talked about Russia, mostly. She speaks Russian. And she’s married to a woman. I like her.”

There’s a shine to Shane’s eyes and he’s smiling. “You’re amazing, you know. I’m happy you’re talking to someone. And happy you told me.” Ilya nods. “Do you want to tell her about us?”

Ilya nods again. “Not right now, not yet. But yes, I think so. Like Farah, she has to keep secrets. She is helping.”

“Ok. Then tell her when you’re ready. I really wish I could hold you right now.”

“YA ochen' skuchayu po tebe, moya lyubov'”

—

The Voyagers won their game in New York, securing their playoff spot, followed by three days off. Shane had taken a flight directly to Boston post-game. They’re eating dinner when Shane brings it up. 

“Do you think it would be a good idea for me to go to therapy too?” Ilya pauses, swallowing the food in his mouth before answering. 

“Maybe. Yes. What brought this up, solynshko?” He asks. Shane puts his fork down. 

“I’ve been thinking about it since our phone call. I just, I miss you all the time. And with the playoffs and sponsorships and everything, I feel like I'm juggling very badly and I’m going to drop something.” 

Ilya reaches out to take Shane’s hand, “You did research.”

“I did research.” Shane confirms. “It started because I wanted to know how to support you. But one thing led to another and… yeah, I did a lot of research. I don't know if I want to go every week. That definitely feels like too much, right now. But I was thinking once a month or so? Maybe schedule extra if I need it? I can do it over the phone, which I think would be easier than going in person.”

Shane decides to stop there before the rambling can get worse. He waits for Ilya to say something while he focuses on his husband’s hand in his. 

“I think that is a good idea, moy lyubov.” He says quietly. “I am proud of you.”

Shane offers a shy smile, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

—

He waits until after Shane’s first appointment to call him. The appointment, over skype, goes well. Shane’s therapist is also Boston based, something Ilya finds incredibly amusing. He manages to wait twenty minutes before bringing it up. 

“Can I talk to you? About therapy?” Ilya asks. 

“Uh, yeah. Yours or mine?”

“Yours.” He says. “You know I do not like new Montreal nutritionist.”

Shane nods. They’ve had this argument. Ilya pokes fun at Shane’s diet, but always in good faith. It’s something they’ve worked on as a couple. Cooking is a domestic task Ilya has taken to with fervor. When they’re eating together, even over the phone, Shane has an easier time letting go of the stricter rules. Ilya finds recipes that fit his diet, and has learned modifications to others. He refuses to let Shane deny himself the smaller, easier to get away with things. But Montreal hired a new nutritionist, one that Ilya disliked because he was straight up bad at his job. Shane had trouble still, putting his foot down too hard when it came to anyone with significant say over his hockey life. 

“I am asking, as your husband, because I love you.” He waits for Shane to focus his attention on the words. “Will you bring diet plan to therapist? Talk about it there. I will trust her, if she says it is ok. I just want professional'noye mneniye. From someone outside hockey.”

Shane looks contemplative, then asks, voice small, “What if she agrees with you?”

“It is therapy, lyubimyy, you work on it. And we work on it, together. Is not about being right. Moy komanda, ok? Ya tebya lyublyu.”

“I’ll think about it,” is said in a tone that says he’ll do it. He does, and it’s not perfect, but Ilya feels it get better. It’s another little thing, and life keeps moving on just a little better than before.

Chapter 2: shane hollander's 2015 disappearing act

Chapter Summary

stanley cup sex ft. confused hayden pike

Chapter Notes

i had no clients at work today, so im way ahead of my imaginary schedule. so here's some smut with a double update.

The Bears get knocked out of the playoffs round one, so Ilya gets to watch Shane carry the Voyagers on his back all the way to their first cup in decades. Ilya is so proud of his husband. Bringing home a cup, proving to be an asset to his team—something they should already know, but clearly, even in celebration, they don’t recognize Shane as the reason they won. Ilya doesn’t linger on the disappointment he feels towards them, instead loading his duffle bag into his car and starting the three hour drive to New York. Once he’s thirty minutes away, he calls Shane.

“Congragulations, moy lyubov. How does my sexy husband feel holding the Stanley Cup?” The noise on the other end becomes more muffled, Shane is walking out of a building to somewhere quieter.

“Good. Amazing. I wish you were here.” Ilya hums.

“You should call car to take you to New York.”

“Why would I do that? I’m in New Jersey.” He can hear Shane already typing into his phone, voice further away. “Where am I going?”

Ilya gives him the address of the hotel he booked, and hangs up.

Shane is barely through the door, before Ilya is pulling him in by the collar of his shirt, shutting and locking the door in record time. He has time to drop his bags where he’s standing and then Ilya is kissing him, pushing him back towards the large bed. Shane gets his hands on the waistband of his husband’s boxers—the only clothes he’s wearing—and pushes them down as he sinks to his knees. Or he tries too, Ilya wraps an arm around his waist to keep him upright and attached at the mouth. 

“My sexy, sexy husband won his first Stanley Cup today.” Ilya growls against his lips in Russian, grinding his free, hard cock against Shane’s clothed one, eliciting a moan. Shane is pushed onto the bed, urged backwards towards the headboard, helping Ilya strip him as he goes, settling naked against the pillows while Ilya stands to fold Shane’s clothes and lay them neatly on the desk in the room.

“Are you going to watch me again?” Shane asks, lazily stroking his cock. He watches Ilya zero-in on the movement.

“Is that what you want? Is your special day, Shane.” He’s standing, proudly, dick red and hard against his stomach, at the foot of the bed, as if awaiting permission to touch. Shane strokes himself again, just to watch his husband twitch, trying to hold himself in place.

“Hmmm. What do I want?” Shane pretends to contemplate. He could ask for any number of things and Ilya would do them, he knows. He releases his dick and crooks a finger, beckoning Ilya to him. Once he’s under his husband, he says, “I think I want my husband to eat me out until I come.” Ilya moans, leaning down to kiss him once; Shane pulls away. “Then I think I want to ride him until I come again. And then…” Shane pauses for effect, “I want him to fuck me until I come again. And if he’s a good boy, I’ll let him fuck my throat when we’re done.”

This time he doesn’t stop Ilya from kissing him, hard. Moans being swallowed while hands trail down his body. Ilya’s lips mark their path down the column of his throat, leaving wet licks and bites on sensitive skin. Shane’s body is on fire, desire flooding every sense. His back arches off the bed, closer to Ilya’s mouth when teeth sink into his peck.

“Love your tits, moy lyubov. Sucking them always makes you so loud.” With the season over and riding the endorphin high of winning the Stanley Cup, Shane lets Ilya take his time to leave marks. All below the collar, but he sucks several very obvious bruises into his husband’s chest and stomach, making his way to Shane’s thighs. He moves around Shane’s dick, pushing his knees up to expose his ass. “Hold on for me.” Shane grabs his own knees, spreading himself open. Ilya laveshes his tongue over Shane’s thighs, biting hard to earn a shout, and sucking harder to leave a dark bruise, teeth indents visible around it. 

Ilya pulls back, just enough to admire his work. Before diving back in to lick a stripe up Shane’s hole. 

“F-fuck, Ilya.” Grinning, he begins in earnest, letting his saliva coat Shane’s ass, pushing his tongue into his hole every few licks. It only took a few minutes for Shane to start begging, edging in close to his first orgasm.

“Fuck-fu-uck, Ilya, please. Please, ‘m so close.” Ilya shoved his tongue into Shane’s hole, moaning against his entrance. Shane grinds his hips against Ilya’s face, riding out his orgasm. Ilya crawls back up to kiss him, panting into his mouth more than anything. “So good, Ilya. Making me come on your mouth.”

“Hmmm. I am lucky one, I get to eat ass of Stanley Cup Champion.” Shane kisses him deep and slow, holding his head in place to lick into his mouth. He pushes Ilya up suddenly, flipping them so Shane was straddling his hips. He reaches past Ilya to where he knows his husband has stored lube, withdrawing with his prize. Ilya grips his hips, trying not to grind up into the beautiful ass, positioned so precariously. Shane brings two lubed fingers to his ass, sinking them in and twisting the best he can at the angle he’s got, catching himself on Ilya’s chest with his other hand. He doesn’t notice when Ilya’s hand disappears from his skin only to return, wet and probing his asshole beside Shane’s own fingers. Moaning at the sensation of Ilya’s fingers next to his, reaching deeper to brush his prostate. “Fuck, Shane. Look at you, all mine, falling apart on my finger— our fingers.” The look of awe Ilya gives Shane is euphoric.

Shane pulls their hands away before he can come again. He braces his hands on Ilya’s chest and lets his husband line himself up, feeling the head of his dick catch and sinking down slowly. Letting his moans match the drag of Ilya’s dick inside him. He settles, muscles taught, fully on Ilya’s lap. Breathy gasps fill the air while they both adjust. Shane rolls his hips, just once.

Ilya curses, “Please, Shane.”

Champion hockey thighs tense, lifting Shane up so he can grab the headboard. He leans down, still keeping only the tip of Ilya’s dick in him, and kisses him while his hips drop. Ilya throws his head back, Shane’s mouth going to his neck; riding Ilya at a hard, steady pace. His dick is rubbing against Ilya’s abs, pre-cum easing the way.

Ilya shifts, planting his feet firmly on the mattress and grips Shane’s hips, beginning to thrust up, meeting Shane with every thrust. He’s cursing in Russian now, bringing a hand up to grip Shane’s chin and pull him in for a messy kiss, thrusting up only a few more times before Shane’s asshole clenches around him as his dick explodes over Ilya’s chest, pushing Ilya over the edge, filling his husband’s ass.

They’re collapsed together, breathing heavily. Ilya rolls his beautiful husband off of him, easing out and placing his head on a pillow. He murmurs praises in Russian, planting kisses where he can reach, petting his hair.

“Give me few minutes. Then I fuck you again, then your face.”

—

The sound of a shrill riiiing fills the room. 

“Turn it off.” Shane mumbles, displeased at having been woken so abruptly. Ilya slaps around until he finds the offending device and pressing the power button to either turn off the alarm or send the phone call, he really doesn’t care, to voicemail. Settling back against Shane, cuddling closer, letting himself drift back off, until… riiiiing riiiiing.

“Ublyudok.” Ilya grabs blindly at the phone again, squinting until he makes out the name Hayden Pike. Fuck off, asshole, he thinks.

“Pike is calling you.” Shane groans and rolls over.

“Why?” Ilya shrugs, handing the phone over so they can get this over with and go back to sleep.

“Hello?” Pike is uncaring, or unnoticing, that he’s clearly woken Shane up, voice rough with sleep, and other things…

“Where the fuck are you!? Are you ok? None of your stuff is at the hotel, and I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours!” Ah, Pike is on speaker and Shane didn’t leave a note. 

“Hayd,” Shane tries to intervene.

“You weren’t here when I got back, and I thought it was weird-”

“Hayden,” Shane tries again, setting the phone on the pillow and pinching his brow. 

“-Didn’t see you when I woke up-”

Shane pressed his face into the sheets, Ilya reached out to rub his back, both waiting for Pike to finish freaking out. They share a look over the phone, stifling a laugh when Shane rolls his eyes, exaggeratedly. 

“Hayden.” He tries one more time. 

“Shane.”

“Start over.” Shane instructs, frustration bleeding into his tone. 

“Where are you, Shane? You didn’t come back to the hotel last night, none of your stuff’s here.”

“New York.”

“What? What do you mean, New York?”

“I mean New York. City.”

“How? Why are you in New York?”

“I took a car. Last night.” Irritation is bleeding into his tone. “I’m fine, Hayd. I’m not needed for anything else, tell the team I’ll see them back in Montreal next week. Okay?”

“Ok? Wait, Shane, why are you in New York?”

“Goodbye, Hayden.” Shane hangs up, flopping into Ilya’s arms. Ilya can’t help but laugh at the antics, Pike’s panic, like a frantic mother, and his husband clearly fed up, “Snova zasnut'.”

Ilya rolls over so he’s squishing Shane into the mattress, letting out a loud, exaggerated snore. Shane is wiggling under him, trying to push him off. He lets himself be pushed back over to his side of the bed, red faced.

“You’re such an asshole.”

“You like it,” Ilya sing-songs back, watching his husband stand, or try to, only for his knees to buckle and catch himself on the bed.

“Shut up.”

“I fuck you too good last night.” Smugness coloring his tone, “Sit.” Ilya rounds the bed to pick up his sore husband and walks them to the shower.

Chapter 3: a reputation like his

Chapter Summary

time at the cottage, and with parents.

Chapter Notes

He watches Ilya float on his back in the lake from the dock, content to admire the view instead of getting wet. His husband, on the other hand, seems to be part fish, excited to spend at least an hour everyday playing. There’s no better word for it, handstands, floating, cannonballs, occasionally doing laps. Shane likes to watch him, reading a book or doing his daily yoga down here. 

It’s been a peaceful summer, baring Hayden Pike’s insistent calling. Shane loves his friend, really, his kids are cute and his wife is too good for him, but he’s starting to feel like a project. Practice for the new baby. Is it too much to ask that Shane spend an uninterrupted two-and-a half-months with his husband? They just celebrated their one year anniversary by making blini from the stack of recipes they had. The recipe, Ilya explained, was his grandmother's.

“You will not get in, solynishko?” Calls Ilya. 

“I have to leave in less than an hour, I don’t have time to shower again.” Explains Shane, patiently. He has dinner with his parents tonight. He told them he was staying in Montreal for his break, the same he had done every year, but with the wedding and building the cottage, he had neglected to visit last year. So he had promised to ‘make the drive’ for dinner a few times. He figured if he arrived early enough and spent the day, he could leave after dinner to drive back to ‘Montreal’ without raising suspicion. 

He hated the secrecy, here he was, thirty minutes from his parents house with the love of his life, and he still felt like he needed to hide. Make himself malleable to his parents expectations. Every time he looked at Ilya, though, he just remembered his vow I will protect you forever. That meant secrets, until Ilya had a passport. It wasn’t about not trusting people, it was that he didn’t trust anyone with Ilya. Shane could only handle one big risk in his life right now, and that was being with Ilya. He wouldn’t jeopardize everything they had by trusting the wrong person with the man he loved. I’m sorry Mom and Dad, but I hope you understand. I’ll tell you one day, I promise, but he’s too important.

“Boring, Hollander.” Ilya interrupts his thoughts, pulling himself onto the dock next to Shane. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing, Ilyusha.” Shane kisses him, “Just how much I love you.”

Ilya melts, pushing his tongue into Shane’s mouth, earning a moan. He pushes Shane to lay down, pulling the waistband of his pants to free Shane’s cock.

“This requires no shower.” Ilya swallows his dick, hollowing his cheeks and sucking hard. Shane’s fingers find his hair and tighten in the curls.

“Fuck.” Ilya doesn’t take his time, bobbing his head sloppily until Shane is shouting and coming down his throat. Ilya licks up his mess, kisses him on the mouth and stands, extending a hand.

Shane catches his breath before he lets Ilya pull him to his feet, tugging him up to the house to change. 

“You’ll be ok?”

“Yes, Shane, I will be ok. Go see your parents, I will see you tonight. Ya tebya lyublyu.” Shane kisses him goodbye and finally leaves.

Yuna and David are thrilled that he made it so early and ask about the dive up.

“It was fine, I’m glad to be here.”

He tells half-truths about how he’s been, what he’d done for his day with the cup, how the awards were this year. He channels his husband to turn the conversation to what his parents have been up to and is proud when it works, something he’ll have to tell Ilya later. 

His mom eventually brings up the brand deal he’d been avoiding giving an answer for. Unfortunately, Ilya found the email and all but begged Shane to do it. A sceptical eyebrow was raised at that, Shane reminded his husband about the last time Shane had done a deal like this, back in 2012.

“Da, but now is not punishment or reward. Now you are my husband, I want sexy underwear pictures of my husband for when I miss him.” Shane didn’t believe for a second there wouldn’t be jealousy and regret the moment those pictures hit twitter, but he acquiesced, promising to at least talk to Yuna about it.

So here he was listening to his mother, his manager, debate the pros and cons of doing an ad for Calvin Klein. He knew these points already, had discussed them with his husband, like an adult, had reviewed them himself before ever agreeing to consider it. 

“It’s a lot of money, Shane. They really want you, they think you’d be a great fit for this year.” She took a sip from her glass of wine. Shane delayed his response by shoveling another bite of lunch into his mouth. 

“I guess, mom. I just, I don’t know how comfortable I’ll be.”

“They have coordinators to make sure everything works out. I'll be there the whole time, if you want. No one will make you uncomfortable.” As if she could fend off the whole world, Shane tried to stave off the panic.

“I guess. It’s just the next step up from what I’ve already done, right?” Yuna nodded.

“Yes, we’ll review the contract, specify what they can and can’t do. It’ll work, I’ll reach out this afternoon.” And like that it was decided. 

Shane half-heartedly helped his dad with the puzzle on the coffee table while Yuna turned on one of Shane’s Boston games from the last season. 

“What?” She shrugged, “We haven’t reviewed it together yet.”

Shane had. He couldn’t tell his mom that he’d reviewed it while sitting on Ilya Rozanov’s dick to keep him quiet so Shane could focus. So he nods, and splits his attention between the game, answering his mom, and handing his dad puzzle pieces. 

“Oh! Nasty hit, there. Was J.J. ok after that?” Shane looks up to see the replay of Ilya slamming J.J. into the boards harder than necessary. His husband hadn’t been satisfied that the punch hadn’t taught the lesson he wanted.

“Yeah, he was fine. It was a clean hit.”

“I still don’t know where he gets the nerve to hit that hard. It’s like he enjoys the penalties.” Or, Shane thinks, he hates bigots and homophobes and Boiziau throws nasty words out behind closed doors.

“It’s hockey, mom.” Yuna frowns again.

“I’m just glad I don’t have to manage that reputation. You’ve never ended up on the cover on TMZ, Shane.” He feels his smile tighten at the slight against both him and Ilya.

“I don’t plan on it.” Is all he can get out; not bringing up that Ilya rarely appeared in anything actually scandalous these days, the club sightings not as exciting after so much repetition, especially without third party confirmation of any illicit night time activities. Those were reserved for one person, and Shane doesn’t kiss and tell.

He helps his parents prepare dinner and ducks out after the last of the dishes have been dried. They try to convince him to stay the night, but he makes it out the door. 

He doesn’t bother to turn on any lights when he gets home, heading via muscle memory and low dwindling light to the shower before climbing directly into bed in nothing but boxers, and curing around his husband’s back. Shane buries his forehead between Ilya’s shoulder blades and lets the tension leak out of him like a deflating balloon.

“Are you ok, lyubimyy?” Shane hums, already letting the smell of his husband’s skin lull him to sleep. He’d tell Ilya in the morning.

Ilya doesn’t let him escape either, wrapping his limbs around Shane, head on his chest, listening to his husband’s heartbeat. He heard Shane get home last night, shower, and climb into bed all without making any unnecessary sounds. So Ilya provides comforting weight and lets the morning drag on. The sunlight filtering into the room, lighting up Shane’s face, Ilya watched him start to wake up.

“Dobroye utro, lyubimyy.” He says, pressing a kiss to Shane’s sternum. His lovely husband sleepily returns the affirmation, muscles stretching, almost involuntarily.

“Hmmm. Dobroye utro, Ilyusha. How did you sleep?”

“I slept ok, you came in quietly last night. How are your parents?” Shane’s expression shifts, only the tiniest amount, but Ilya catches it. “What happened?”

“Nothing. They’re fine.” He sighs. “We watched that March game, where you took out J.J. and my mom had things to say about it. She always has things to say about it.” The last part is a little quieter.

“Was about me, yes?” Shane nods.

“Said she was glad she didn’t have to manage your reputation.” Ilya made a face. “I know. Thanked me, too, for not being like you. Don’t they know you’re the most amazing person ever? It’s just hockey, and even when you are in TMZ it’s never for anything bad. You’re not like some people I know, I just wish my mom knew that.”

“You’re sweet to me, solynishko. As long as you know me, I don’t care.” Shane has to kiss him. “You have therapy tomorrow, yes? Talk to Emma.”

“Ok. That’s a good idea. Now, come kiss me.”

— 

A few days later, Shane gets back from his run to find a quiet house. Preparing a smoothie takes minutes, and he goes in search of his husband. What he finds instead is a sticky note stuck to his current book that says went for a swim, love :)

He smiles, swiping the book and turning back towards the back door, stopping to put the sticky note on the fridge, secured with a magnet next to the polaroids.

Ilya is doing a handstand when Shane gets to the dock, when he comes up for air he says, “Shane!”

“You’re gonna hit your head.” Shane retorts, half-serious, setting his towel and book on the chair he keeps down here. Ilya groans. 

“Is fine, solynishko. I am not down here long.” Ilya swims closer to the dock, “Come here, gimme kiss.”

“Are you just going to pull me in?” Shane stays back, hands on hips. The playful smirk gives the game away. “If I promise to get in the water later, will you wait until I have my smoothie?”

Ilya pretends to contemplate the idea, before pushing himself up and making kissy faces at Shane. He walks forward, stopping short of his husband and leans down to peck his lips. “Do you want a sip?”

He holds out his smoothie for a taste, “There’s actually fruit in here.”

Ilya takes a loud slurp from the straw, “Hmm. Good, I like it.”

Shane kisses him again and retreats to read his book on the deck chair. Ilya launches himself back into the water and continues his play. 

When Shane does strip his shirt and jump into the water, it’s a moment when Ilya’s back is turned. Shane pops out of the water and immediately starts swimming away from his husband. Ilya converges on him like a shark, wrapping them together. 

“Ilya let go.”

“Neyt. You splashed me.”

“You splash me all the time.”

Ilya lets go, “We race, there and back.”

Shane raises an eyebrow, “Where and back?”

Ilya just shrugs and takes off. 

“Cheater!” Shane takes off after him for a minute before stopping and deciding to turn around. Two can play at that game. 

Ilya catches up to him just before he can hit the dock, dragging him backwards by the waist. 

“Who is cheater now?” he growls, to Shane’s laughter. Ilya scoops his husband into his arms, bridal style, and carries them up around the dock to the shoreline and around to Shane’s abandoned chair. 

“Come on, put me down.” Ilya does. Shane gathers his stuff. “I skipped my morning yoga.”

“Oh, yes. You go do yoga, I will watch.”

“You could do yoga with me, you know.”

“Why? When I can watch sexy husband instead?” Shane tries to dodge Ilya’s attempt to feel up his ass, heading in the direction of the cottage, Ilya giving chase.

Chapter End Notes

we’ll dig into the parents thing more in the future. i’ve got a lot of feelings and reasons. yuna and david reminds me a lot of my own parents for different reasons. i love them, but we’re navigating complex parental relationships in this fic a little bit.

Chapter 4: boil the frog

Chapter Summary

Hayden POV and fuck the voyagers
also husbands

Hayden Pike is freaking out. He shouldn’t be freaking out, because last night the Montreal Voyagers won the Stanley cup. Hayden returned from the bar to an empty hotel room. Still drunk, he mentally congratulated his best friend on whatever he was up to. Unexpected, of Hayden’s usually socially awkward friend, but winning the Cup makes champions of them all. He wished Jackie had been there to celebrate in person, not hundreds of miles away, pregnant. 

The panic set in when Shane wasn’t back in the morning, nor by breakfast, nor answering any of his calls by check out. That’s the moment Hayden realizes none of Shane’s stuff is in their shared room. It takes a moment to notice because they don’t always share hotel rooms, Shane opting to take his own sometimes, claiming to not want to put Hayden through rooming with his complicated routine all the time, no matter how much Hayden protested it wasn’t an issue. The Stanley Cup final was a time they shared a room, so Shane’s stuff should be here. 

Hayden gets sent to voicemail three rings early, which tells him Shane actively sent him there. “Wake up, asshole.” He tries again. Four rings. Success.

“Hello?” The second he hears Shane’s voice, he starts and can’t stop.

“Where the fuck are you!? Are you ok? None of your stuff is at the hotel, and I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours! Your stuff isn’t here even though I know we shared a hotel room, or we were supposed to, and I didn’t see you when I woke up. Where did you go last night? I swear to god if you’re dead in a ditch somewhere… I thought you might be for, like, four hours. I was proud of you enjoying yourself last night, but you didn’t come back to the hotel last night-”

“Hayden.” He takes a deep breath.

“Shane.”

Hayden doesn’t know what to do with the unfamiliar tone in Shane’s voice when he says, “Start over.” 

“Where are you, Shane? You didn’t come back to the hotel last night, none of your stuff’s here.”

“New York.” New York? Hayden doesn’t know what he expected, but for his best friend to somehow end up in a different state?

“What? What do you mean, New York?”

“I mean New York. City.” So he did hear that right, now he has even more questions. 

“How? Why are you in New York?”

“I took a car. Last night. I’m fine, Hayd. I’m not needed for anything else, tell the team I’ll see them back in Montreal next week. Okay?”

“Ok? Wait, Shane, why are you in New York?”

“Goodbye, Hayden.” He was hung up on. Shane Hollander hung up on him after giving him no answers as to why and how and what the fuck, Shane? He stares at his phone, debating if he’s going to call back, deciding, no, he won’t. Hayden isn’t getting answers like this. 

It’s not the last weird thing that happens with Shane, it’s not even the first, he’ll come to realize years later, but it’s certainly the biggest clue. He does see Shane again, between the confusing phone call and the 2015-2016 preseason training camp. Jackie and him invite Shane to dinner and movie night, like they’ve always done. Or tried to do. After they got together, Jackie was obsessed with being the first of the WAGs to successfully befriend Shane Hollander, encouraging Hayden to invite him over the entire 2011-2012 season. Persistence paid off and Shane became a regular at the Pike house for dinner. They could even get him to socialize in the summers, if they caught him at the right time. After the twins were born, invitations doubled, but accepted invites decreased. Ruby and Jade adored Shane, when they got to see him; he was patient with them and happy to accompany the Pikes on various outings.

Last year, Shane begged off most of their summer plans, citing family things in Ottawa. Not a big deal, they texted to keep in touch. This summer, Hayden had heard nothing about family obligations or brand deals or any other interference between him and spending time with his best friend. Except, Shane came once for dinner and turned down every other invitation. Busy, again, no explanation.

Hayden: Doing what? Reading about hockey? 

Hayden: The girls are asking about you. We can do dinner here, you know we don’t mind.

Shane: I can’t, dude. I’ve got a ton to get done this summer. I need my breaks where I can get them before this brand deal my mom wants me to do in Aug.

Hayden: Lame, but I get it. If you get any free time, text me immediately.

Shane never does get back to him about dinner, so when Hayden and Jackie have a free day, sans kids, they drive over with a casserole to Shane’s apartment. Only to stand outside the door realizing no one is home. Jackie tries to ask the doorman when their friend will be back, and gets a shrug. Hayden grumbles at not being allowed to see Shane until September, and grumbles further at receiving no answer from Shane in September except, “I told you I was busy, man. I’m sorry.”

—

Driving Ilya to the airport so he could return to Boston and Shane could return to Montreal was always a quiet drive, the couple holding hands, soaking each other up in their last minutes together. Last minute conversation was light, trading reminders and I love yous and counting the days until they would be together again.

Returning to the locker room was awful this year. Shane could feel the lingering energy from winning the cup, excitement and expectation making the air thick. The Voyagers wanted another win, two in a row, the start of a dynasty. And they were all waiting for him to bring them there. He was their captain, he could not fail. Shane was already wishing he could be back at the cottage, wrapped around his husband. What a shitty thing to realize, that the team you’ve given everything, blood, sweat, tears, to, the team that drafted you six years ago, was killing your love for hockey. Maybe that was a little dramatic, but Shane felt like a frog being boiled alive. He was no longer a fresh faced rookie still learning what it means to play in the big leagues of professional hockey. Now he’s a happily married man who feels the crushing weight of his secrets and the impossibility of satisfying this team like a sudden temperature change. 

Except he’s already in the pot of water, and the water is already boiling, so it’s more like he realized he’s a human, not a frog, and boiling water is really bad for you-

“Hey, Shane.” Hayden distracts him from his spiraling thoughts, “What have you been up to all summer? Haven’t heard from you much.”

“Oh, you know, stuff. Shot a new ad two weeks ago, trained at home, you know.” Shane shrugs. 

“All summer, dude? You barely answered my calls.”

“I take my time off where I can get it, Hayden.” He still doesn’t take the hint to back off. 

“And you still never told me how you ended up in New York.” Hayden snaps his fingers, “I just know it’s a crazy story.”

“I’m not telling you, Hayd.” Shane shakes his head, pulling the last of his gear on, turning to go, “Drop it.”

Hayden rolls his eyes and groans, not in the cute way Ilya does when he pretends he’s not going to listen before doing it anyway, but in genuine annoyance, like Shane is denying him something essential. “Come on, Shane. You’ve heard all of my crazy stories, and you never get up to anything. I wanna know what scandalous or incredibly boring story ends with Shane Hollander in the wrong state, two hours away from where he’s supposed to be?”

Shane levels him a look and walks out to the rink. He’s not dealing with this today.

Practice goes well, Shane’s right in anticipating the bloodlust for another cup. He’s also right, as he’ll reluctantly complain to his husband later, about the start of a dynasty. 

“Coach implied that I was only useful for scoring as many goals as possible. Well, that’s not exactly what he said, but the way he said it made me feel like the team mascot instead of the star player.”

“Bullshit. You are the best player on that shitty team-“

“I can’t even argue that tonight.”

“Exactly. You carry whole team on your back to cup last season. They expect you to do it again, yes?” Ilya is recounting points they both know. “They think they need only one good player to take them to the end. They got you, Shane Hollander, number two draft pick, and now they think they can stop working hard. They think they have the best player, so they will win easily now.”

“It took me six years to win them a cup. I’ve only been captain for two of them. Trying to get these guys to work cohesively is the hardest part of this job. And they still can’t do it. Obviously our lines work, and there are pairs of guys who work well together. But as a team? It’s a wonder I can score as many goals as I do, trying to play both teams at once.” 

“You should get angry more, kotik. It’s cute. But you are also right, even other teams can tell you stand above your teammates. You are perfect, love. They don’t deserve you.”

Shane sighs, leaning back into his pillows. “I’m tired, Ilyusha. I’m tired and I don’t know what to do.”

“We will figure it out. Team Hollanov, remember.” That makes Shane laugh, his husband loves his late night twitter scrolls. “For now, play good hockey, prove they don’t deserve you, and remember I love you, ok?”

“Ya tebya lyublu, Ilyusha, ok. Stay on the phone until I’m asleep please?”

“Of course, Shane. I will talk you to sleep.”

Chapter 5: no one will let him cuddle his husband

Chapter Summary

All Star Weekend 2016
AKA the worst three day's of Shane Hollander's life

Chapter Notes

This whole weekend might end up being three separate chapters, there's a lot.
Also it's rough, but we'll get through it.

January 2016

“Shane, are you listening?”

He could be relaxing in a spacious hotel room with his lovely, attractive, not busy husband. Instead he’s three miles away from the hotel currently crawling with all star hockey players, sitting in a restaurant, trying to keep his face purposefully blank so as to not give away his discomfort to his parents. 

His parents, who had decided since the All Star game was in Toronto this year, should show up unexpectedly to surprise their son. Shane loved his parents, they had given him everything, teaching him to skate and making sure he had what he needed to be successful. Somehow obtaining Hayden Pike’s contact information to get the hotel address, and appearing before Shane and using his shock to corral him out the door because, “It’s been ages since we’ve gotten to go out together” and “You flew in a day early, you can relax!”

Flying in a day early so he could spend his very limited time with Ilya, who he got to see very rarely during the season. Since even before they got married, flying into All Stars early to spend an extra uninterrupted night together was a ritual. This was the first time in four years it had been disturbed, because Hayden Pike couldn’t keep his mouth shut about Shane’s travel plans. He would have been happy to go out after the festivities tomorrow night, if his parents had shown up to surprise him then, but instead he was glaring at a plate of salmon like it’s the reason he can’t be cuddling his husband. 

“Shane?” Yuna’s voice snaps him back to the present. “What do you think? It’ll be good for your image, I think. You’ve never done an interview like this, but it’s the new thing, these videos. And they want you for this summer.”

Right. Some video interview for some youtube channel his mom had been going on about for weeks. Brushing her off at the beginning was easy, but now he was just tired of the same excuses falling on dead ears. I don’t like being interviewed. Doing it live would be awful. Yes, even if it’s edited I still have to answer questions on the spot. Straight up I don’t want to do this, please stop asking hadn’t worked for very long. Yuna only backed off long enough to do more research to counter each of Shane’s points. Battling opinion with facts. Or trying to. 

“Mom, I’ve already told you, I don’t want to do it. This isn’t like a photoshoot, you’re not going to convince me.”

“It’ll be good for your image, Shane.” She sounded like she was trying to sooth him. He wasn’t the irrational one here. “Think about it. You win the cup for a second year in a row, you do a fun interview, you get to be a role model. It’ll make you look cool, but in a good way.”

Shane’s chest squeezes. “You don’t know we’re gonna win this year, don’t jinx it.”

“I know you, I’m your mother. That means I know you’ve got what it takes.” Shane wanted to pinch his eyes closed against the headache building behind them. He wanted to be laying in a dark room. He wanted Ilya to rub his shoulders until all the stress was gone. 

“I’m not doing the video. Don’t ask again.” He knew he sounded rude, he didn’t care. “Can we talk about something else? Or can I go back to the hotel?”

Yuna frowned. “I guess. Are you feeling ok?”

“We didn’t mean to disrupt your routine. We just thought Toronto was close enough we could come see you play.” David adds. 

“No, I know. I’m glad you're here to see me play, but I just-“ Shane huffs a sigh of frustration. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here today, you surprised me.”

“We’ll remember to text you next time.” David says. “Let’s finish eating and we’ll let you go. How’s your team looking this year? What events did you sign up for?”

Shane is grateful for the change in topic, if not for his prolonged captivity, and lets the conversation switch to hockey. It’s a topic he only needs to be half present for, focusing the rest on keeping himself in his own body. Until, the conversation takes another bad turn, right into Rozanov. 

“I just don’t understand how he can cause just as many fights off the ice as he can on it! He’s a hockey player, not a boxer. Honestly, if I was that boy's mother-” Shane winces. He knows his mom doesn’t mean anything by it. She doesn’t know anything about Irina Rozanova, but he does. Discomfort gives way to rage, barely contained in his chest. He wants to say that Irina would be proud of Ilya, she would also be here this weekend to cheer him on. She would be happy to bandage up bruised knuckles because she knows her son throws punches out of protection, not a desire to fight. He knows these things because Ilya is his husband. He kind of in this moment wants to tell Yuna and David about the memorized borscht recipe that was Irina’s mother’s first, wants to tell them they have Ilya all wrong and it hurts to hear them talk like this. 

But he can’t say any of that, so he just cuts Yuna off with, “Mom!”

“Sorry. You’re right, that was too far.” She does look apologetic. “I just don’t know how anyone puts up with that attitude constantly. I’m glad no one’s had the bright idea to try and put the two of you on a team.” She does chuckle at that, her husband chiming in to say,

“A disaster waiting to happen, for sure. Shane would obviously be captain, and Rozanov just wouldn’t handle it well. You’d have to be professional enough for the both of you.” Shabe knows they’re trying to make him feel better, but it’s doing the opposite. He forces what he hopes is a believable smile and just nods. 

He dismisses himself not long after that, eager to shut himself away from everyone except Ilya, promising his parents he’ll see them tomorrow. 

It’s later than he’d like when he gets back, but early enough for newly arrived players to be mostly gathered at the hotel bar. It’s where Hayden, enjoying his first All Star weekend, spots him and runs to drag him into the fray. 

“Shaaaane. My man, my guy, come have a drink!” Hayden had arrived and was already tipsy, well on his way to being drunk, grabbing Shane’s arm and pulling him to an empty table, pushing him into a chair before flopping down across from him. 

“Hayden, I’m tired. I want to go to bed.”

“Come on. It’s All Stars, no one takes it seriously. One drink? Small one?” Hayden looks like he’s going to start begging. “Nothing actually starts til the afternoon, we can hang out tonight.”

“No, Hayden.” Shane stands, “I’m having an early night.”

“Boo. You just got back, I haven’t seen you.”

Shane pauses, deciding that he’s going to confront Hayden now. “Why did you tell my parents I flew in early?”

Hayden looks confused. “What? Oh, your mom got my number from coach? I think, or maybe Jackie at a game. They wanted to know if you would enjoy a surprise from them this weekend. I told them you were getting here this morning.”

“Why?” Shane couldn’t even say why he was so upset. Was it a betrayal of trust? Not really, Yuna and David were the ones to show up out of the blue, Hayden hadn’t technically done anything wrong, but Shane was upset with him anyway. For disrupting his evening, his plans, separating him from his husband. 

Hayden shrugged, “I didn’t realize it would be such a big deal, man.”

“It’s…” Shane sighs. “Just please don’t tell my parents about my plans. They’re my parents, I’ll tell them. And you know I don’t like surprises.”

With nothing else to say, he turns and walks out, heading straight for the elevator and hitting the button for the sixth floor. 

—

Ilya lounged against the pillows of the large bed, ignoring whatever was playing on the tv in favor of scrolling on his phone. He perked up when Shane walked in, a rough, tired look on his face. Before he could move, Shane had stripped himself of his shirt, dropped anything from his pockets onto the side table, and crawled into Ilya’s arms. 

Ilya sets his phone down and wraps them together. He’d been waiting for his husband to show up since he had arrived a few hours ago, a text already in his phone about unexpected visitors and dinner plans. His comfort was that Shane hadn’t wanted to go just as much as Ilya didn’t want him to, their paths crossing for mere moments in the lobby. Just enough time for Shane to slip him his hotel room key, leaving Ilya to gather Shane’s things and bring them to his room. 

“Why do they make it so easy?” came Shane's muffled voice after a few minutes. Ilya shrugged, not entirely sure what he was talking about. “I'm so tired, Ilya. I want to tell everyone how amazing you are, how much you love me. I want to shout that I love you and I want to selfishly keep it to myself. Why would I tell them? Why do they deserve to know? If they can't open their minds to the idea without knowing, why should I tell them anything? So they can keep being mean about you to my face? So they can be mean about us?”

“Dinner went well then.” Is what Ilya offers, letting his husband lose his burden. Shane’s laugh is bitter, and Ilya can feel the tears against his collar bone. 

“Everytime they talk about you, it’s agony to not defend you.” He sniffles. “And somehow it's easier to lie. If they hate you that much, would they-” he cuts himself off with a choked off sound. 

“I know they love me.” Shane whispers, “But they can’t love all of me if they don’t love you. And I’m so scared I’ll be forced to choose.”

Ilya forced himself not to hold his breath, continuing to rub Shane’s back in steady, comforting strokes. 

“I’m scared of how much I’ll disappoint them when I choose you.” Ilya’s breath catches. He knows Shane loves him, knows his husband would do anything, is risking it all to be together. But hearing the words I choose you are an extra balm on hypothetical worries. 

“Ya tozhe tebya vybirayu.” Ilya runs his fingers through Shane’s hair. “Ya tebya lyublu. Did they say something specific?” he asks. Shane freezes. 

“Yes.” Oh no, Ilya thinks. His husband doesn’t often refuse to tell him things, but he can sense he’s hit a wall. “Can I tell you after the game tomorrow?”

He contemplates the request. He knows when he’s been insulted and Shane wouldn’t shy away from that. So it’s something that’s likely to upset Ilya, something that’s upset Shane. There aren’t many things on that particular list, but what makes Ilya back off are the kinds of topics that are on that list. 

“Ok. You tell me tomorrow. Promise?”

“Promise. Now, I missed my cuddles. Please just-”

“I’ve got you, lyubimyy. Rest.”

Chapter End Notes

a reminder that i love Yuna and David, but it's complicated.
Shane's relationship with Yuna is based on my relationship with my mom, but Yuna's relationship with Shane is based on my dad's relationship with me.
also, my mom (who has been my inside man for writing Yuna POV) says hello strangers on the internet.

i will not apologize for being mean to hayden.
kisses while i edit, look out for another chapter in a few hours ;)

Chapter 6: the best husband award goes to...

Chapter Summary

Ilya watches Shane endure one of the worst weekends of his life, he has thoughts.

Chapter Notes

Ilya's pov time while the weekend from hell continues.

He should have taken the poor start to the weekend as a forecast for the next twenty-four hours. He’s fooled into letting his guard down by a slow morning with his husband, finally separating for their respective duties after a few orgasms and a reassuring kiss goodbye. 

Reporters hounding him about Hollander relentlessly during media should have been the second clue. But then the actual game and skills competitions went smoothly, the attitudes of both husbands markedly improved, texting between events. The third clue wasn’t so much a clue, than the final domino tipping into a no-longer-containable cascade. 

The bar is close enough to the hotel’s restaurant that Ilya feels confident enough to keep an eye on Shane. No one else at the table can see the way Shane’s eyes tighten, the tense line of his shoulders, or the uncomfortable way his body leans away from all three of his dinner guests. Shane hasn’t even touched his food. Not in that way where it’s been picked at, a few bites eaten then discarded. The waiter put the plate in front of him and Shane didn't look at it, much less pick up a fork and knife. 

Ilya is also close enough to hear everything, though he can’t be seen by anyone except Shane, who hasn’t noticed. Pike is too busy waving his arms around like an idiot to notice Ilya, or, he thinks bitterly, to notice the man sitting right next to him. 

“You don’t have to go out with all of them.” Pike is saying. “If you gave me a hint about your type, we could narrow it down.”

“He’s right, sweetie. You haven’t been out in ages, it would be good for you.” Yuna Hollander chimes in. “You’re not getting any younger, Shane.”

“Maybe I don’t want to go out. And I’m 24, not dead.” Ilya can almost see the weight pressing down on his shoulders. 

“Just one date, Shane. It’s not the end of the world.”

“Maria is the daughter of an old friend from college. She just got back from Denmark.” Ilya hears David join the conversation. 

“She studied abroad, she speaks two languages. She’s really pretty.” Yuna emphasizes. “I think you’d be a good match!”

Ilya represses a snort. Well if she’s very pretty, that's fine then. As if Shane isn’t prettier; no one else could be good enough for his husband just because they’re really pretty. And Shane isn’t going to throw himself at someone just because they speak multiple languages. This Maria will never know what it’s like to hear Shane Hollander slowly become fluent in a language, tongue wrapping around hard consonants and breathy vowels. That was an honor just for Ilya Rozanov, because Shane Hollander decided he was worth it. 

Maybe he was a little jealous, and being a little petty. But he’s been standing here listening to his in-laws (technically, even if they didn’t know) try and set his husband up with a woman, so he’s allowed to be petty in the privacy of his own mind. 

He had to watch as—at an already uncomfortable second dinner with his parents—Pike ambushed Shane, cutting into the conversation to no complaints from the elder Hollanders. It had quickly become a review of Shane’s love life. Or lack of one, they assumed, pressing for details about which girls he would like, or what kinds of dates he would like to go on. The three of them are thrilled to have found allies in their mutual desire to invade their friend and son’s private life. 

“Mom, I’m not interested. I’m not looking for a girlfriend, or a wife, or anything.” Shane is raising his voice now, not quite loud enough to shout, but an audible increase nonetheless. “Please stop.”

Yuna exchanges glances with her husband and Pike. 

“Are you sure you’re alright Shane? You’ve been acting different all weekend.” 

“Maybe I’m not having a very good weekend.” Shock wrote itself across their faces. “All three of you, all weekend. I haven’t had a chance to breathe, you’re around every corner with a brand deal or a blind date or-or.” Shane stands, running a hand down his face. “I’m tired of talking about this. I’ve had a long day, so I’m going back to my room. Thank you for coming, I love you, goodnight.”

He strides away without looking back. Ilya stays to watch the abandoned trio, finding immense pleasure and amusement at their bafflement. Ilya was familiar with his husband's temper, his short moods, and bitchy attitude. Ilya also knew how to navigate that version of Shane because he felt comfortable enough to let it out more around Ilya. 

But none of these people were used to that Shane. They were confused as to what exactly had gone wrong. What caused Shane to storm off like that. 

Ilya peels off the wall where he’s been observing and walks away. None of them are worth his time, he has their mess to clean up. 

It’s hard to dislike someone you’ve never properly met. It’s also hard not to dislike someone you’ve heard a lot about, in context that—intentionally or not—paints them in an unflattering light. 

Ilya is no stranger to the comments from the media or assorted hockey fans or other hockey players. The sting dulled long ago. The hurtful words that Shane brought back from each conversation hurt because Shane hurt. Shane had to endure every opinion about the man he loved without saying anything. His husband so obviously cared about him, cared about the words, and that made Ilya hurt. 

These were Shane’s family and friends. Maybe the closest friend Shane had, which wasn’t a high bar, given repeated behaviors. Ilya hated what Shane had to listen to, vitriol spat in his face and behind Ilya’s back. 

Shane wanted to share his family with Ilya, wanted a future where they didn’t have to hide, where they didn’t have to choose, and no one had the decency to make it any easier for them. Not for Ilya’s sake and certainly not for Shane’s. 

Ilya knew his husband forgave too easily, but everyone had a breaking point, and Ilya was scared they may reach it soon. Shane disliked when Ilya held grudges, but not even he could pry the icy detestation from Ilya’s chest when he thought about the Voyagers, Montreal, and the treatment Shane had to endure alone. 

He felt a little justified holding resentment for Hayden Pike, so close and absolutely no help. Pushing boundaries, entitling himself and his wife to Shane’s time, elevating himself to a level of friendship that was one-sided in its intensity. He was uncaring of Shane’s feelings on being claimed and what Pike felt being friends entailed. 

The elder Hollanders Ilya couldn’t dislike on principle. Those were his in-laws, his partner’s family; they’re the reason Shane exists and the source of everything he loves about his man. What he can do, however, is resent the way his husband curls into his arms, utterly exhausted, unable to talk. He dislikes the way Shane confessed to still feeling like a child, the steely way he braces himself in the mirror before events, how he sighs when he opens his email, constantly bracing for impact from all sides.

He hates the way he needs to remind Shane that his body belongs to him sometimes, when the pressure is too much. Pulling him apart with his mouth and fingers and words so Ilya can put him back together, striping his husband of everything except ShaneandIlya. 

The elevator dings. 

Ilya shakes his head, negative thoughts won’t help. He slips quietly into his hotel room and can hear the shower running. 

Clothes hit the floor in a crumpled heap. The bathroom is full of steam and Shane’s back is to him; relaxation overshadowing surprise when Ilya wraps his arms around Shane’s middle, pressing comforting kisses to the back of his neck. 

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Hmmm. No.” Ilya squeezes his arms, agreeing. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yes, no-I don’t know.” Shane tips his head back against Ilya’s shoulder. “I want this weekend to be over. I want to go home.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could take it all away.”

“I know, I wish you could too. I love you.” Ilya hums again. 

“Do you want to forget right now?” 

“Only a little.” Shane moans; Ilya’s hand wraps around his dick, tugging in languid strokes. He’d dismantle Shane here, just enough to melt the remaining stress away, then Ilya would put them to bed.

Chapter 7: this can't go on

Chapter Summary

They talk

Chapter Notes

They’re soaking in the morning, content to bask in the silence after last night. There is a vague idea of light coming through the sliver in the curtains, but it’s still early enough in the day and year for the sun to remain stubbornly out of sight. He didn’t know how long Shane had already been awake, but the feeling of his husband tracing shapes into his skin was what woke him up in that gentle way they rarely got. Ilya has an arm around Shane’s shoulders, thumbing across a smattering of freckles he knows are there, but can’t currently see. He hates to break into the moment, but letting Shane continue to spiral is a worse idea. 

“Ty v poryadke?” Shane pauses. “You think loudly, love.”

Shane takes a moment to reposition himself so he can look at Ilya. They’re face to face, Shane looking down with a hand braced on Ilya’s chest. “This weekend has been hard.” He starts, pausing again. 

“Da, your parents are here. Pike is here. Your routine was interrupted. I notice these things, I am good husband.”

That does it’s job, making Shane smile. “I know, you’re a very good husband. And they,” he gestures vaguely, “don’t know that.”

“They say things to you. Follow you all weekend, like child.”

“They just wanted to see me.” Shane argues.

“Da, and they did not text you. You hate surprises.” Shane groans, dropping his forehead to Ilya’s chest.

“I know. They promised not to surprise me again.” He raises his head to look towards his phone. “I’ve probably got a million texts right now.”

“Do not worry about that now. They said something to you.” Ilya brings up the promise from two nights ago. Shane sighs.

“You promised to tell me.” Shane knows this, but he still looks like he’s hesitating, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. “You are not telling me because it will upset me. List of what upsets me and you at same time is small. Is ok, moy lyubov, is just us.”

The switch to Russian feels abrupt, but deliberate, despite the natural way they normally flow between languages. 

“Ona upomyanula tvoyu mama.” Shane says it so quietly, Ilya’s not sure he heard correctly. Shane continues, “She brought up your reputation again. Said if she was your mother… I cut her off and I know she didn’t mean it like that but…”

Ilya freezes, arm tight around his husband’s waist.

Irina, who was the only family who would have accepted him, would have accepted Shane. Who would have loved Shane. Hugged him, cheered him on. Would have taught him how to make medovik properly for Ilya’s birthday and helped him with his Russian.

It’s unfair to Yuna, he knows. She is not a bad person, or a bad mother. But Ilya can’t help the disappointment that surges in him. 

How dare she?

Ilya would have gone home in 2008 blushing about the pretty Canadian hockey player with a weak backhand and she would have known immediately. She would have said, Ilyushenka, did you meet someone? Maybe she wouldn’t have been at the wedding, maybe they would have still kept it a secret. Ilya will never know, never get to know. Only hold his cross tight and speak to the flowerbed Shane helped him plant, a place dedicated to his mother at their cottage, and hope she can hear him.

“I think she would have been the first to know. Even before us. I would have gone home that first time and she would have seen it. I would have had to tell her about the pretty Canadian boy who shook my hand and spoke bad Russian. She would have seen me after we kissed and known.” Ilya’s voice is hoarse.

“She was the only other person at the wedding.” Laying gentle fingers on Ilya’s cross, Shane pressed a kiss to Ilya’s chest beside it. “Ya tebya lyublyu, Ilyusha. No matter what anyone says. I am proud of you, and I know she would be proud of you too. I’m sorry no one else can see it.”

“Spasibo.” whispers Ilya. “I’m sorry no one sees you. I’m sorry they do not understand.”

Shane buries his face back into Ilya’s chest. “Ya khochu domoy.”

“We fly home this afternoon.” Shane looks at him.

“Nyet, not Montreal. The cottage. Ya khochu domoy. I want this season to be over.”

“Shane Hollander doesn’t want to play hockey? I must call someone!” Shane hits his chest. “I know, solynishko, I tease. I wish I could make it better. Like magic.”

“When did hockey become a job?” He says quietly. 

“I don’t know, lyubimyy. What can I do?” Ilya wants to wrap his husband up in their bed in Ottawa, wants to gather everybody up and yell at them, give a power-point about how great Shane is and how bad they all suck.

“Love me?”

“Oh, easiest job. Give me harder one.” That earns him a smile. “This cannot go on, Shane. I don’t know the solution, but we have to figure something out. You are exhausted, almost all the time. I'm worried about your safety on the ice, in the locker room.”

“I know.” Shane looks contemplative for a few moments. “Once the season is over, we’ll go to the cottage and make a plan. Just- I don’t know. But I can’t do anything while I focus on finishing the season.”

“But we figure it out before next season, yes? Then we will make plan this summer. Schedule extra appointment with Emma, please." Ilya implores his husband.

Shane nods, "I was already thinking about moving it up. I know you already have one scheduled when you get back."

"We are very good at this."

"What's this?"

"Being husbands. Good married couple reminding each other to go to appointments." Shane laughs.

"Boring old married couple." Ilya gasps in mock offense.

"No, young sexy married couple."

"You didn't refute the boring part." Ilya tugs his husband up to kiss him, letting his tongue lick behind Shane’s teeth.

"No, we are boring. I like being boring with you. It's exciting."

"It's exciting to be boring?"

"Da, now, boring husband, we have late flights, so I have late check out. So I must show boring husband how exciting it is to be boring married."

—

Hayden wanted to let Shane calm down.

He had only done what he always did, ribbing his best friend about his tragically empty love life, this time with back up from Shane’s parents. Hayden just wanted his friend to find the kind of happiness he had with Jackie. The explosion had come almost out of nowhere, Shane’s shoulders tensing before standing abruptly and storming out. 

It shocked Shane’s parents too, staring wide-eyed at each other trying to process what just happened. He just apologized and made a hasty exit back to his room. 

He decided to swing by Shane’s room the next morning, only to be met with silence. He knocked again. 

“Shane?” No answer. He pressed an ear against the door, listening for any movement. It was definitely past when Shane would usually be awake. He knocks one more time, once again receiving no answer. 

Ok, maybe Shane had already gone downstairs. He pulls his phone out to shoot a text that just says, sorry about last night. I wanted to see if you wanted to get breakfast this morning.

He makes his way downstairs while he waits for a response.

Shane: It’s fine. I got breakfast on the way to the airport this morning.

Oh, he’d left already. Hayden was bummed that Shane had left without saying goodbye, but it made sense. He could take a hint and give him space.

Chapter End Notes

hayden pike knocking on the door of an empty room: hi shane can i apologize for invading your personal space and invite you to spend more time together?
Shane, three floors up being railed by his sexy husband: on airplane, cant talk :P

Chapter 8: boring married couple

Chapter Summary

“Marley.” He knows his voice is rough, the band around his chest is constricting him again. He knew this would happen, knew Shane was going to end up hurt.

Chapter Notes

buckle in gentlefuckers, it's time.
and if you're good, you get chapter tomorrow and new chapter of Operation: R&J

February 2016

Pike is too busy launching himself at Vaughn, getting a few good punches in to notice that Shane hasn’t moved, hasn’t even twitched.

Moron go check on him. He's more important than revenge, go be with him. If you were really his friend you’d go to his side.

Ilya Rozanov is so angry at Pike right now. He knows it's irrational, fueled by a lot of background information and feelings he already has towards the man, but all Ilya can see as his vision blurs is his mom, cutting back and forth like one of those reflective pictures; mom shane mom shane mom husband mother husband mother shane—

He can’t breathe, lung constricting around nothing, eyes going out of focus while he stares at the T.V. where Shane has been loaded onto a backboard and carried off the ice, game resuming. Neither team returns to playing at their best, shaken by the brutal injury. Ilya’s brain isn’t registering any of this, not until the sharp ring of an incoming call pierces the air.

“Hello? Is this Shane Hollander’s emergency contact? This is Mount Sinai Hospital, he was admitted a few minutes ago.” Hospital, Shane.

“Yes.” He manages to croak out, “Yes, this is— yes, is he ok?”

“He’ll be ok. He passed out, but none of his injuries require surgery. Just a badly dislocated collar bone and a concussion, but he’s expected to make a full recovery.” No surgery. Ilya breathes a sigh of relief, the injuries will keep him off the ice for at least two months, which means Montreal likely won’t make the playoffs. Deep breaths.

“Thank you. I am in different state, but only few hours. I will be there soon.” He promises, pausing before adding, “On his, uh, file, there are instructions. His wish for before I am there. Please follow it, yes?”

The man on the other end confirms they have Shane’s patient protocol pulled up and they will see Ilya soon. He doesn’t realize his hands are shaking until he drops his phone.

“Blyat.” He can’t drive like this. What would Shane do? Make a plan, he answers his own question, but Ilya can’t get his brain to focus on planning anything. Ask for help, is what comes to his mind next, sounding suspiciously like his therapist, Alya. Ilya drops to his knees to gather his phone, scrolling frantically, somehow finding Marlow’s contact and calling him with shaky fingers.

“Marley.” He knows his voice is rough, the band around his chest is constricting him again. He knew this would happen, knew Shane was going to end up hurt. 

“Roz? What’s up? What’s wrong?” Ilya tries to focus on his friend’s voice.

“I-I can’t.” His breaths are coming in short, lungs on fire. Marlow is still talking, so he tries to focus on his best friend’s voice.

“Roz, Roz. Listen to me, deep breaths, focus on doing that ok?” Ilya nods, grateful for the instruction, forcing air past his tight chest and out again. Shane’s voice is in his head again, you only have to stop panicking enough to be able to think more than one step ahead. Thank you, Shane. Ilya breathes again, a little easier.

“Roz, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” Marly is asking again.

“Jane.” He forces out, tamping down the part of him that just wants to cry out Shane’s name anyway, to break and tell his friend everything because he needs someone to keep him from falling apart.

“Jane? What do you mean Jane? Is she ok?” 

“Da. Jane is… Jane is hurt, I need to go to her. The hospital called.” 

“Ok, hold on man, deep breaths.” Ilya continues to breathe, already forcing his brain to start thinking about getting to New York while Cliff says something Ilya can’t make out to someone on the other end. Cliff’s voice returns to say, “Vicky’s on his way over, ok. You focus on not panicking, ok, panicking will not help Jane right now.”

“Da, da. I can do that. Thank you, Marly.” Ilya hangs up. St Simon is coming over, he’s not sure what Marlow told him, but someone is coming to help. What does he know? He knows he needs to be in New York, but not sure for how long, so he needs to pack. It can be a small bag. Ilya’s not sure where they’ll end up after the hospital, but he has things in all of their spaces. He’s not sure how he makes it to the bedroom, but starts blindly grabbing things. His closet ends up half on the floor while different things make their way into a gym bag. He has the brief thought that Shane will be upset at the mess, and stands frozen in the middle of his room, vision blurring again.

He’s only interrupted with a frantic knock on the door. Vicky’s here. Ilya has to go let him in and knows he looks terrible when he catches the look on Victor’s face when the other man sees him, but can’t bring himself to say anything. So he just stands back and gestures for his teammate to come in. Vicky sweeps him into a hug the second the door is closed.

“Marlow just said something happened to Jane.” Ilya squeezes his eyes shut, unsuccessful in stopping more tears from leaking out.

“Jane is in the hospital, they called me. I need to go to New York.” Ilya waits for… he’s not sure what, actually. Vicky to put together his secret? Yelling? 

“Ok. No questions, I’ll drive you to New York.” Ilya looks up in surprise.

“What?”

Victor shrugs, “You need to go to New York, you’re clearly in no condition to drive. So, I won’t ask any questions, just grab your bag while I call my wife, and we’ll leave.” Ilya’s being pushed towards his bedroom door. Get his bag, get in the car, see Shane. He has a plan.

—

Victor St Simon, like the rest of his teammates, watched Carter Vaughn crash into Shane Hollander; watched Hollander be lifted motionless off the ice. He had also received a phone call from Cliff Marlow telling him something was wrong with their Captain’s fiance, the one they weren’t supposed to know about, and he needed to get to Rozanov’s fast.

The pieces click together when he sees Rozy’s face, no coincidences at play here. Jane is Shane Hollander, and that’s how Victor finds himself on the phone with his wife on the porch while Roz grabs what he needs. 

“You need me to what?” Victor knows his wife has the patience of a saint, it’s why he loves her.

“Drive to New York with us. I’m driving Roz, but I just need to drop him off, so instead of paying for a three hour uber… We’ll go get dinner at a nice place while we’re there.” He promises.

“This is about, uh, Jane, right?” He hums an agreement.

“Yeah.”

“Is it who I probably think it is?” He hums again. “Got it. I’ll meet you in New York. You just focus on taking care of our boy, ok?” He loves her. 

The drive is quiet, radio playing quiet pop music just to fill the silence. Roz just keeps his head pressed against the window, eyes glazed over, watching the scenery pass. When Victor parks in an underground lot near the side entrance he’s directed to, he stops his captain to say, “Hey. Keep us updated, ok? We just want to make sure Jane is ok, and don’t forget to take care of yourself. Call or text if you need anything else, got it?”

Ilya nods, grabs his bag and the keys from Vicky, and disappears inside.

— 

Seeing Shane in a hospital bed is awful. His face is pale, and the beeping machines feel unnaturally loud in the quiet hospital. It’s late, almost the end of visiting hours, so sneaking in was easy. A cot had been set up already for him, duffle slid neatly underneath it, but Ilya pulled the uncomfortable chair up to his husband’s bedside and claimed his free hand. 

The nurse reassured him that Shane was only asleep, the cocktail of drugs keeping him from being in pain and the concussion keeping him down. He needed the rest, Ilya was told, to heal faster. So he sat, a silent vigil, watching over Shane. 

Shane’s nurse came back in for his last check-in of the night. “There are people in the waiting room who want to come see him.”

Ilya looks up at her.

“Teammates, I think? Definitely hockey players. One is insistent that Shane needs someone up here over night. He’s rather irritated that we won’t let him up.”

“You followed plan, yes? Shane does not like being seen on drugs.” The nurse writes something on her clipboard, half her attention on Ilya, the rest on the medical equipment.

“Yes, it was very detailed. We called you, we called his parents, and we didn’t let anyone come see him.”

“Thank you. Is strange, I know.”

“Not strange at all. Mr. Hollander is lucky to have someone look after him. We can handle overbearing friends in lobbies. The other guys, though, I think were just here to make sure he’s ok. Said they wanted to apologize. They also might be back tomorrow.”

Ah, Ilya thinks, Scott Hunter probably. He says as much to the nurse, explaining it was probably a few Admirals making amends. The other man making a scene in the lobby was probably Pike. Of course now is when you decide he needs you.

“Thank you.” He says honestly to the nurse, “And thank you for bed.”

She smiles at him, moving to the door, “We’ll check in tomorrow, but he should be discharged by tomorrow afternoon if everything goes well.”

Ilya smiles at her, turning back to Shane as she leaves. He blindly reaches for his cross, thanking his mother, god, someone, for doctor-patient confidentiality and the unbelievable luck that when it matters most, they keep running into people who don’t watch hockey.

“Rest, solynishko, I will be here in the morning. Goodnight.”

He sleeps fitfully, lightly dozing only to jerk awake so he can check on Shane, settling back into the chair at his bedside when he’s woken the final time by a nurse coming by for the morning rounds. 

“I’ya.” Shane groans as he wakes. Ilya sits up fast, squeezing Shane’s hand. 

“I’m here, Shane. Your husband is here, my love. You are ok now.” Shane manages to squeeze his hand back, eyes still closed, even in the dim room. “You can open your eyes, lyubimyy.”

He presses the call button, and stays out of the way while Shane is checked out now that he is awake. He’s responding to questions in all of his languages, eyes tracking light normally,  a headache, even through the drugs, but no neurological issues. It’s extra relief to Ilya, who was suspended between knowing his husband was ok, and knowing his husband was awake, responding, and ok. The remaining nurse, the same one from yesterday, stays behind for a moment to inform him that, one, Hayden Pike has returned for visiting hours and two, Shane will be ready for discharge barring any complications over the next few hours. Ilya turns to Shane at this.

“Do you want to see Pike? He has been waiting to see you.” The nurse confirms, and informs Shane about his attempted visitors from the night before. “I can go sign paperwork while Pike is here. Or he can go home, I’m sure the bus leaves soon and he cannot miss it.”

Shane snorts, wincing with the motion, “I’ll see him for a few minutes. Go sign paperwork while I do, and then it’ll be time for my next dose of drugs, right?”

“Da. I go do boring paperwork, you talk to Pike, then we give you more drugs and go home. Ok, solynishko?”

—

Shane is still a little higher than he would like to be for this conversation. Ilya has left to discharge him so Hayden, who has been waiting all night, can see him. Shane winces when Hayden bursts through the door, loudly proclaiming, “Shane!”

He squeezes his eyes closed, giving Hayden a rather obvious hint, which he gratefully takes. “Sorry, I just. They wouldn’t let me up here to see you. They even made me go back to the hotel last night, which is bullshit, you should have had someone come sit up here with you. I should’ve been here last night. I didn’t want to leave you all alone in the hospital.”

“I’m fine, Hayden. I asked them not to let anyone up.”

“The nurse said that, but I didn’t believe her. Why wouldn’t you want someone here with you?” Maybe because he did have someone up here, it just needed to be a secret.

“It’s in my paperwork, I don’t like being drugged and I don’t like anyone seeing me drugged. Until I’m awake to give permission, the nurses weren’t supposed to let you up. Sorry you had to wait all night.”

Hayden looks put out. “Well I guess that makes sense. I just, after the game I couldn’t find out where you were, no one called me. So I found out from coach, then they wouldn’t let me up, so I panicked.”

“Sorry, Hayd. But I’m fine, I mean, I’ll be ok. I won’t be back on the ice for a few months, but it’s nothing too serious. You can tell the team I’m good and I’ll see them soon.”

“What are you talking about? I’m staying right here until you’re discharged, you need someone to take you home.”

Shane shakes his head slowly, careful of his concussion, “No, you don’t need to do that. I’ve got it covered, Hayden, I promise. Go catch the bus, you’ve got a game in two days.”

“I’m not leaving you here, Shane.” The door opens, a nurse walking into the room. 

“Good to see you up, Mr. Hollander.” Shane is so thankful for his timing. “You ready for your last dose of the good stuff? Then I think you’re checked out, so you’ll be free to leave in a few hours. You have someone here for you?”

“Yes, to both. I can feel my shoulder again, I don’t think that’s a good thing. And yes, I have someone to take me home.” He sees a smug smile overtake Hayden’s face and realizes he thinks he won the one-sided argument. “Hayden, you need to go catch the bus. I’ll call you once the concussion is cleared, I promise.”

Hayden pouts at the clear dismissal, but finally acquiesces and says his goodbyes. Ilya sneaks back into the room a few minutes later. 

“How was it, lyubimyy?” Shane shrugs at his husband, letting the fog of drugs settle on his mind. He hates the feeling, but Ilya will keep him safe. “Ok, then. We talk when you wake up.”

Ilya reaches to text Vicky once Shane is asleep again. 

Rozy: Jane is ok. 

Vicky: Oh good! Vanessa sends well wishes.

Rozy: Thank you. 

Vicky: Is she coming with you back to Boston?

Ilya freezes at that. Of course Shane would come back with him to Boston, it was closer than Montreal and he wasn’t cleared to fly. But if his team, at least Marlow and St Simon, were aware that he was with an injured Jane, they would be curious. Fuck.

Rozy: yes. no you cannot meet her, she will be recovering.

Vicky: I’ll tell everyone not to push, but just know we’d love to help anyway we can. Or send our WAGs to help.

Rozy: I will talk to Jane.

Vicky: Nessa is making casseroles to drop off. Any food restrictions? 

Vicky: We don’t have to meet her to help, Roz. You’re our captain, it’s what teams do.

Rozy: I will send you list of food.

Rozy: Thank you

Vicky: No problem, man

Vicky: Speedy recovery to Jane. Take care of yourself too.

Ilya sends off the list of approved foods to Victor and turns off his phone. He needs to talk to Shane. They’ve never had to deal with a hospital scare like this. Luckily, his anxious, planner of a husband sat them down to talk about it after they got married before he let either of them return for the season, outlining every possible scenario. Except, now they were at the actual reality of long term recovery. Ilya sighs and stands to start packing so he’s ready to go when Shane wakes and is officially discharged. They can talk on the way back to Boston.

His husband sleeps through most of the ride, fingers laced with Ilya’s, and leaned back just enough that he won’t tip forward. Ilya sighs, and lets him sleep.

When Shane does finally wake up, they’re only forty minutes from home. Ilya gives his hand a squeeze. “Good morning, sleepy head.”

Shane groans, blinking his eyes to readjust to the light. “How long was I out?”

“We will be home soon. Half hour or so.” He answers, looking over at his husband, arm in a sling, pretty face all bruised and squinty. The sun is mostly set, but a dull orange glow still highlights Shane’s eyelashes. “Marlow and St Simon know you are coming to Boston. Jane, you, not Shane.”

He sees Shane tense, but otherwise gives no reaction. “Vicky drove me here. No questions, so I do not know what he knows, but I also did not say anything to him. Him and Marley know Jane is hurt, that is all.”

“Ok,” whispers Shane. “You don’t think they know?”

“No. Not about you. Just know now Jane is real.”

Shane clearly has no energy to argue. “Ok. I trust you.”

Ilya gives his hand a reassuring squeeze and lets the car fall back into gentle silence. “We talk later.”

Shane had dozed off again by the time Ilya was pulling into their Boston driveway. He left Shane to carry all of their stuff inside, left in the laundry room to be dealt with later. 

He returned to the car, pulling a sleepy Shane gingerly into his arms. Mindful of his shoulder and neck, lifting him and nudging the car door shut with his foot. 

He got Shane inside and into bed without much issue, propping his arm properly and kissing his forehead when he tucked the blanket around Shane. With his husband back asleep, Ilya shuffles through the house, skin itchy with the need to do something. So he unpacks, leaving anything that needs to be in the bedroom in a neat pile on the couch, starting laundry, and puttering around the house until he could find nothing else to do except crawl—exhausted, as the day caught up to him—into bed beside his husband. Mindful of his injuries, reached a hand out to wrap around Shane’s good wrist, fingers pressed to his fluttering pulse. He falls asleep to proof that Shane is here, and he’s ok.

Chapter 9: they know something

Chapter Summary

Recovery

Shane wakes up, not for the first time, but the first he remembers, at 11am. He can feel the spot on his body where his collar bone had dislocated and it’s not a pleasant feeling. Before he can do more than whimper, Ilya is at his side with a glass and pills.

“I’ve got you, love. It’s ok.” Shane settles back into the pillows, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing sharply against the pain. He stays like that for the minutes it takes for the painkillers to kick in. Once the pain has eased, he gingerly opens his eyes. Ilya has settled on the edge of the bed, hand resting on Shane’s knee. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” He croaks out. “We’re in Boston.”

“Yes, Shane. Do you remember?” Ilya is testing whether he should be worried or not.

“I don’t remember getting here. But I remember leaving the hospital.” Ilya nods at the information. 

“Good. Yes, we got home last night. I woke you up for concussion tests, this is the first time you’ve stayed awake.” Shane hums in acknowledgement. “Are you hungry?”

“Da.” 

His husband stands, “I go make lunch, ok?”

After eating as much as his injuries would allow, Shane is settled back into bed by his fussing husband. He won’t complain about being pampered, especially with how much everything hurts. Unfortunately, he doesn’t feel tired and his husband won’t let him have his phone, which is something he knows even if it’s something he doesn’t like. So pointlessly arguing it is.

“I will read texts to you.” Ilya argues back. “You tell me how to answer.”

Shane concedes the point, letting Ilya scroll through his notifications, reading them out and letting Shane decide what to do with them.

“Dinosaur says: Carter wanted to apologize. We stopped by the hospital, but you were still out of it. We hope you make a full recovery!” Ilya scowls.

“It was a clean hit, Ilya, and I’m fine. Tell him I appreciate him reaching out. And I want to see the text before you send it.” Ilya waves him off, typing a very Shane Hollander response, reading it out loud to his husband for approval.

“See, I can be nice to old man. Next, text from mom. ‘Shane, we saw the hit. The hospital called us and said you had someone coming to look after you? We’re stuck in Ottawa still, but we can make it to you no problem. Get back to us as soon as you can. We love you.’” Ilya looks up at his husband questioningly.

Shit, Shane forgot. He needs to tell his parents he’s ok, and that he’s recovering just fine. He sighs, thinking for a moment, then conveys word-for-word what he wants Ilya to type out.

“End it with, I love you, I’ll call once my concussion is better.” He says, hopefully that will keep them at bay until he feels better. Ilya finishes typing out the message, tapping back to the messages from Hayden Pike, intending to start in on those, when the screen changes. Incoming call from Mom…

He holds it up to Shane, who sighs again, and reaches for the phone. “It’ll be easier to get it over with, be quiet, I’ll put it on speaker.”

He does just that, resting the phone on his leg and reaching for Ilya’s hand. “Hi, Mom.”

“Shane! You’re alive. We were so worried.”

“Yeah, I’m ok. Dislocated collar bone and a concussion, I’m out for a few months, but it could have been worse.”

“That sucks, we’re glad it wasn’t worse. We weren’t watching the game live, so the call from the hospital scared us. They said your emergency contact was on the way, so we didn’t need to come. They barely told us any information, but we figured someone would get back to us faster than we could be in New York.”

Shane had closed his eyes, keeping his breathing steady, while he listened to his mom talk. “Yeah, mom. Hayden came after the game to check on me. I’m staying with a friend since I can’t get back to Montreal right now.” Vague, Ilya always reminded him, say technically true things and let people fill in the gaps themselves.

“I’m glad. You’re right, you probably shouldn’t be traveling right now. You’re recovering?” She asked.

“Yes, I’m recovering. I’ll call later, ok? I love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.” She hangs up and Shane lets out a breath, Ilya rubbing his thigh.

“That went ok.” He says. Shane huffs out a laugh.

“Yeah, that went ok.” He hands his phone back to his husband. “Just Hayden left, right?”

“We can do Pike later.” Ilya can see the exhaustion written into Shane’s whole body.

“No, read his texts to me, I know you want to.” Shane knows Ilya very well, besides, he doesn’t have to respond to any of them right now, and he won’t feel as bad about sending Hayden to voicemail. Ilya grins, settling next to Shane, urging them to both lay against the pillows, and starts reading.

—

It takes two days for his teammates to start bothering him. Vanessa St Simon texts him first, asking what day/time would be best to come drop off food and is there anything else they need immediately? Shane is still pretty out of it, so his days are confined to watching Shane sleep or trying to clean something. Coach has been informed that he’s going to miss practice for a few days. They have home games for almost the whole length of time Shane will be at his worst, recovery-wise, so he tells Vanessa he’s not going anywhere, so any time is good, and no, they have everything they need.

When she actually shows up an hour later, breakfast casserole in hand, she says, “You look like shit.”

Ilya laughs for the first time in three days. She holds out the tray, “Am I allowed inside? Or do you want me to just hand this to you?” Ilya hesitates for a moment, which she sees. “You look like you need a break. I can stay in the kitchen while you shower, serve you up some food so you can make sure it’s up to Jane’s standards.”

Ilya lets her in. She sticks to her word, making herself at home in the kitchen and shooing him away. He feels better after showering and brushing his teeth. He stops by the bed to wake Shane up for a concussion test, giving him a kiss and telling him to go back to sleep.

“Thank you.” He tells Vanessa, honestly.

“Yeah, I’m usually right.” She hands him a steaming plate of egg, sausage, and vegetables covered in cheese. “Now, what’s the schedule? What do you need and when? What can the WAGs do?”

Ilya feels overwhelmed and shoves a bite of food into his mouth to delay his answer. “I don’t know. Recovery will be a few months total.”

“Oh, honey.” Nessa looks sympathetic. “Injured partners aren’t any fun. Usually it’s one of you guys, but WAGs support WAGs, so we’ll get a food train going, make sure you stay fed. If you need anything, we’ll get it for you. Sound good?”

Ilya could point out that technically, Shane was an injured hockey player, but right now he was just Ilya’s WAG. He would hate that. Being called a WAG. I am neither a wife nor a girlfriend, Ilya. Ilya nodded, “Thank you.” 

Before she leaves, Nessa hugs him and says, “Vicky tells me you guys are serious, so if you need anything at all, we can keep a secret. Jane’s one of us, ok. Give her our phone numbers just in case there's an emergency while you're at games.”

—

Shane’s concussion is fully healed a few weeks later. Just in time for Ilya to leave for several away games, something he’s dreading because his husband still doesn’t have use of his left arm. 

“I’ll be fine, Ilya. If something happens, I’ll call Nicole or Vanessa, or I’ll go to the hospital by myself.”

“No, you will not go to the hospital by yourself.” Ilya argues. “I’m sorry, solynishko. You scared me, and I am still scared of leaving you.”

His phone rings before either of them can say anything more. It’s Marlow, he puts him on speaker. “Marly.”

“Hi Roz, how are you?”

Ilya sighs. “I am ok. Worried about leaving Jane for away games.”

“Oh shit, is she still concussed?” Shane raises an eyebrow at him.

“No,” he grumbles. “Concussion is gone, but she still cannot use arm.”

“What does Jane have to say about all of this?” Ilya glares half-heartedly at his injured husband.

“She says she will be ok, I should go play hockey and leave her all alone at home.” Shane throws his hand in the air, Ilya sticks his tongue out. “Don’t worry, Marly. We still have whole week to argue about it.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Da.”

“Well, ok then. I just wanted to check in, I’ll let you get back to your argument.” Marlow hangs up. Shane starts a different discussion.

“You really think he doesn’t know?” Ilya shakes his head.

“No. If he knew, I think I would know. I will not look gift in mouth.”

“Look a gift horse in the mouth. Ok, I’m trusting you on this, they’re your friends.”

“Everything is ok, Shane.” Ilya walks around the bed to pull his husband into a light hug, mindful of his collar bone. “My teammates are nice, yes? We knew this. They are not asking questions, they just want to know we are ok.”

“They’re going to have questions eventually.” Shane points out.

“Then we answer them when they ask.” That gets him a judgmental eyebrow. “Not to tell them, but I will tell them about Jane. And I will say Jane likes her privacy. They will listen.”

“What if they do figure it out? Or push?” Shane’s voice is quiet, anxious. He likes to have a plan for everything, they should probably have a plan for this too; what if someone finds out and just asks them about it.

“What do you want to do? We make plan for this, like everything.” Ilya sits them on the bed.

“What’s the most likely reaction?”

“From whole team? Or Marlow? Or Vicky? WAGs?”

“All of them, I guess.” Ilya hums, letting himself consider each likely scenario.

“Marly is good friend, Vicky too. I think they would be ok. I do not know for sure, but they will probably be good. Whole team, I do not know. You know how I run locker room, but I do not know each reaction.”

Shane’s face scrunches while he thinks. “Ok, so if they ask, we confirm? If they don’t ask, we don’t say anything.”

“That is not a very good plan.”

“Shut up, I don’t know what else to do. We’ve only ever told Farah, and our therapists. And we’ve gotten very lucky that no one has figured it out, but if someone does? What do we do? What can we do? Just hope they react well and tell the truth?”

“Probably, yes. You are right, we just hope. But, Shane, remember, no one can take you away from me. No one can send me back to Russia. We will be ok, we are a team.”

“Yeah, komanda.” Shane kisses him. A ding from Ilya’s phone has them both groaning. “Who?”

“Marlow, again.” Ilya frowns at the message. “Hey, I’m glad to hear that Jane is doing better. The team wants to talk to you about something. It’s nothing to worry about, but would you be free soon to have a team meeting? Nicole would be happy to make food for us to bring over, or I’m happy to host this time. Let me know!”

They stare at each other. 

“He knows something.” Shane says. “I don’t know what he knows, but he knows something.”

“Or thinks he does.” Ilya is still frowning at his phone. “Team is having meeting without me. To talk about having meeting with me.”

“Is that weird?” Ilya looks up and shrugs. 

“He says not to worry. Should I say yes?”

“Yeah, I think you should find out what your team wants to talk to you about. Especially because I think it’s about me.”

“Could be something else?” Ilya tries. He knows he’s wrong, the team definitely wants to ask about Jane, so he ignores Shane’s look and reads the text again. “We have team meetings here usually. But Marly says we can go to his house.”

“Which do you want to do?” Because Shane can read Ilya’s indecision. Ilya bites his lip.

“I do not want whole team here with you.” Shane nods. “But I also do not want to leave you. And if team is here, I can see everyone. No surprises.”

“You want to be on home ice.”

“Da. I think they come here, you stay hiding. We will find out what they know.”

“Ok, I trust you.” Ilya hugs Shane, rubbing his back to try and ease some of the tension there. He knows Shane is anxious about having the Bears in their space, especially when their motives are unclear. He lets Marlow know his conditions and says they can show up tomorrow.

Chapter 10: meet the in-laws

Chapter Summary

Most of his team are avoiding eye contact with him, the few brave enough to meet his eyes look nervous. They don’t look like they’re here to accuse him of something, they were probably here to ask about his mystery girl. But the kind of doubt that comes with keeping a secret for seven years is there. “This is about Jane, da?”

Chapter Notes

long chapter! next update(s) will be this weekend while i catch up on editing/writing new parts.

Ilya watches from the window as first Marlow arrives with St Simon, Carmichael, and their rookies, unloading several trays of Nicole's cooking. They don’t approach the door, choosing to wait for the rest of the team to show up. They definitely know something, he thinks, watching them shuffle nervously into some sort of formation and approaching the door en-masse. He swings the door open before Marlow can ring the doorbell.

“Why are you standing out here like this? Like scared puppies? I will not kill you.” He watches them avoid eye contact, narrowing his own eyes in response. They don’t look like a group about to confront him about something, they look like they got caught skipping practice. Suspicious behavior aside, he’d like to get this over with. “Ok. Jane is sleeping, be quiet.” He gets enthusiastic nods at that. “Come in. Go to living room.”

He stands back to watch them file in, studiously removing shoes and coats. Marlow breaks off to put the food in the kitchen before joining them. Simmons is sitting in the single armchair closest to where Ilya chooses to stand. Marlow shoves him out and gestures for Ilya to sit, but he stays where he is, between his team and his husband, bracing himself for whatever is about to be said. 

“Why are you here? You said team meeting, da?” Most of his team are avoiding eye contact with him, the few brave enough to meet his eyes look nervous. They don’t look like they’re here to accuse him of something, they were probably here to ask about his mystery girl. But the kind of doubt that comes with keeping a secret for seven years is there. “This is about Jane, da?”

That gets a reaction. Marlow speaks next. “Yeah, Roz. This is about Jane.” Ilya opens his mouth to say something, but Marlow holds a hand up to silence him. “We want to start by saying we’re sorry for invading your privacy, even accidentally. We, the team, support you. And, uh, Jane. This isn’t a bad thing, we just realized it was time to come clean about this. So, uh, let’s start at the beginning. Clarke, Brown, and Bugsy have something to tell you.”

Ilya turns to his rookies. If Marlow hadn’t already said this was about Shane, he would have assumed the rookies had gotten into some sort of trouble. They certainly look like it. 

“Do you remember the movie night a few months ago? When you kicked us out early? I realized I left my jacket behind, so we turned back to get it. We thought we had time, but we…” Ilya’s blood runs cold. Shane had shown up early that day.

“We didn’t have time. We kinda, we saw Jane. Not any details, but we definitely saw him go into your house.” 

Marlow jumps in, “That’s all we knew, just that Jane was a fake name for a man. We didn’t want to say anything to freak you out, so we didn’t tell you. We wanted you to feel safe to come to us. The rooks signed themselves up for a seminar, I think. But we agreed as a team that we support you and your fiance, none of us said anything, it never left the team, I promise.”

He believes that, but he knows that’s not all. They’re here because they know about Shane. “You know. What else do you know?

“It wasn’t a coincidence you needed to go to New York.” Vicky says quietly, he’s right. “Most of us were watching the game, we saw him go down. We decided we couldn’t not tell you we figured it out.”

“We wanted you guys to know you have people in your corner, assuming we’re the only ones who know. It’s probably really lonely to keep that kind of secret, and we don’t want you to be lonely. Either of you. We support the both of you. All of us, as a team. No one has any issues with either of you. You deserve to know. And we’re sorry.” Carmichael looks sorry, but Ilya is just focused on observing the team, waiting for someone to laugh, or contradict what’s been said. It never comes, so he reluctantly, finally, lowers himself into the waiting chair, energy completely drained from him. 

“We love you, man,” says Marlow, softly, “Nothing changes that.”

“You know that I am bisexual.” He needs to clarify. “You know that Jane is…” He trails off, he can’t be the one to put it in the air. Once it’s said, it can’t be taken back. Connors breaks the silence.

“Shane Hollander.”

“You do not care about either of these things. You will not tell anyone these things?” Ilya knows he’s begging, but he’s overwhelmed. This is the absolute worst case scenario, but also the best case. No one is yelling, no one is disgusted, they’re just offering support. Marlow kneels in front of him, taking his hands.

“We don’t care, Roz. You’re still our captain, still Ilya Rozanov. We don’t care, man. That’s why we’re here.”

“You do not care that I am with Shane Hollander?” He doesn’t mean to say it, so it comes out so quietly, he’s not sure anyone heard.

“No, we don’t care that it’s Shane Hollander. Honestly, it makes sense. No one else can keep up with you. Frankly we’re happy you have someone who can be weird about hockey with you.” Before he can respond, there’s a noise. He turns with everyone else to see Shane standing there, watching them. Ilya hadn’t heard him come in. He can read the anxiety in tense shoulders, the forced calm on his face. 

“That’s the weirdest compliment I think I’ve ever received.” Ilya reaches his arm out towards his husband, a silent invitation. Shane skirts the room until he reaches Ilya.

“Are you ok? How much did you hear?” Ilya asks, unsure of how long Shane had been listening.

“I’m ok, Ilyusha. Your team is being good.” Shane settles on the arm of the chair and addresses the Bears. “I heard enough. I guess it’s fine to finally meet you all, officially.”

The next twenty minutes are spent answering the teams questions, hand on his husband at all times to ground them both. It was unexpected, but nice, to hold Shane in front of everyone, to tell them part of the story. Eventually, he knows Shane needs a break, so he cuts everyone off and directs them to the kitchen to serve themselves food. Once everyone is distracted, he uses the time to check in with Shane. 

“They know.” He starts. “They don’t care. They’re happy for us.”

“Yes. It’s weird, but good. I woke up when they got here, they’ve known for a while. I can’t believe this is happening.”

“It is happening, Shane. They are all here because they like you.” Ilya wraps his husband in a hug. “We will be ok. They won’t tell. We are safe.”

Shane pulls back and kisses him lightly, “I know. I just need to convince myself it’s true. Let’s go get some food, ok?

“I will go get food, you sit. It is also time for medicine.” Ilya pushes his husband back into the armchair and walks off to the kitchen. Shane huffs and settles back, watching hockey players re-enter the room and settle into their food. 

“So, Hollander,” starts Carmichael, “How do you like Boston?”

“What?” Shane asks, accepting the plate of food his husband hands him when he walks back into the room. “Boston’s fine, I guess?”

Ilya settles on the floor between Shane’s legs with his own plate. “Why are we talking about Boston?”

“I wanted to know if Hollander likes our city.” Ilya stares at him curiously, sensing that he’s not being told the whole truth, but unsure of what exactly he’s missing.

“It’s nice, I haven’t actually gotten to explore the city much. If I’m here it’s for hockey or seeing Ilya, and then we don’t normally leave the house.” Shane explains. Another Bear, Johnson, makes a sad noise from across the room.

“I mean, it’s not like we can be seen in public together.” Shane clarifies, to more sad Bear noises.

“That’s awful. Have you ever been able to go on, like, a real date?” Simmons wants to know. Ilya nods his head.

“Da, a few times. There is picture from our first date on internet.” Shane scratches a hand through Ilya’s hair.

“Yeah, I guess that’s right. They’re not, like, official or anything. You wouldn’t even know it was a date, but there are pictures.”

“Holy shit? Really?” Marlow says. “There are actual pictures of you guys on your first date and you’re saying no one would know that’s what they are?”

“Yes, Marly. Was date I set up to see him after we kiss.”

“Ilya was trying to surprise me, and I usually hate surprises, but I liked this one. We didn’t technically call it a date at the time, but yeah.” Shane is surprised at how much he’s sharing with his husband’s team, but with each positive reaction, he can’t help but want to tell them. Not everything, some things were just for him and Ilya, but telling parts of their story to a captive audience is beyond anything they thought they could have right now. It made him feel normal. He smiles down at his husband. “It was a perfect first date.”

“Wow.” There are similar reactions around the room. Carmichael says, “Would you confirm or deny if I found the picture?”

Ilya grins at him, “Maybe. Or maybe you never find it.”

“Fuck off, Rozy. There can’t be that many pictures of you guys together online.” He eyes them warily. “Unless you’re talking about one of your games, which I don’t think you are.”

Shane shakes his head. “No, we don’t count games as dates.”

“How often do you guys actually get to see each other?” The pile of rookies makes them indistinguishable from each other. The hockey husbands look at each other again; Ilya takes this answer.

“Not enough.” The answer is quiet. “Summers, of course. All Star games, Boston-Montreal games, when we have days off.”

Shane picks up, “We call and text a lot. It’s better than nothing.”

“Yes, lots of phone sex.” Shane slaps his husband, blushing furiously. A few teammates laugh loudly at that, but no one makes a comment except,

“Well, fuck.” Connors is giving Marlow some kind of look, it’s not bad, but Shane hates not being able to decipher it. Marlow shakes his head at Connors, and takes over the conversation, steering it to Shane’s injuries.

“How much longer are you on bed rest, Hollander?” Ilya scowls at the reminder.

“Two months, longest. Maybe sooner, if my stubborn husband stays in bed and rests.”

“Ilya, I will be fine. You can go to your away games without worrying.”

“I always worry about you.” Ilya pouts.

“Oh. Is this argument still going?” Marlow asks, eyebrow raised. Ilya stares at him until he remembers he had told Marlow. “If you’re that worried, Nicole can come stay here with him.”

“See! I have their phone numbers if something happens to go wrong, which it won’t because I’m fine.” His husband is still pouting, arms crossed. Shane turns to Marly, “Does your wife know?”

He’s wary of the answer. They said it hadn’t left the Bears, but how far did the Bears extend?

“Nicole knows, she was the one that made sure we were smart about keeping it a secret. Vanessa knows, she guessed when Vicky drove Roz to New York.” Marlow reassures. 

“My girlfriend knows about Jane, but not who you are.” Hammersmith says. Dante Picco nods along next to him.

“Anita is in the same boat. Also, she said it was ok to tell you she’s bisexual so if you wanted to tell her more…” 

No one else speaks up, so Shane assumes that’s everyone. He takes a deep breath, pushing back at the edges of the panic attack that’s been threatening to take over since he woke up and heard an entire hockey team in his living room.

“Ok. That’s- yeah, I think that’s ok?” He looks down at Ilya. “What if the WAGs came over to check on me while you’re gone? There’s four of them, I assume the same ones that keep bringing us food?”

“You would be ok with telling them? Let them come check on you for me?” Ilya wants to make sure his husband has thought this through, they’ve gone from a contained secret, to twenty new people who know, have known for months and kept it secret, even from their girlfriends. 

“Yes.” Ilya turns to his teammates. 

“You can tell Anita and Janelle. No one else.” He doesn’t even need to glare to get his point across, they immediately agree, but he does anyway. “Marly, the WAGs can come check in on Shane while we are away? They would do that?

“What are you talking about? What do you think they’ve been doing all month?” Marlow looks mock-offended at the suggestion his wife would leave them alone.

“Yes, yes, ok.” Ilya throws his hands up in exasperation. They have been good about bringing them what they need, keeping up a constant rotation of food and necessities. Now, though, he can feel Shane starting to lag behind him. He stands, “Ok. I think is time now to leave. Is day off, yes? Go do day off things.”

His teammates take the hint and quietly clean up their mess under their captains watchful eye, shuffling out the door with extra promises not to say anything and well wishes for Shane’s recovery.

“They are gone, lyubimyy.” Ilya finds his husband back in their room, lounging against the pillows. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. Relieved. That went better than I thought it would. Your team is nice.”

“Yes, they are. I was scared for a few minutes, but they did not want to hurt us. We are safe.”

“I know. Just give my brain time to catch up.”

“Ok, Shane. Let’s take a nap.” Shane is already halfway to sleep, so Ilya strips and crawls into bed beside him, letting himself drift off.

Chapter 11: WAG (and Shane) night

Chapter Summary

Shane is still recovering while Ilya and the Bears are at their away games, so their wags have been taking care of him in Ilya's stead.
Cue WAG night and bonding for our lonely boy. Good thing they're smarter than their men.

Chapter Notes

ok, i got so much done yesterday so i’ll post this early. see yall saturday.
also, yall are so sweet in the comments
jeg elsker alle du 😙

Vanessa rolls her eyes at Shane. “So you’re telling me you don’t want to gossip about how annoying our husbands are? You’re telling me Roz doesn’t leave his socks on the floor?”

She’s right, what they have in common is their partners, so he smirks, “Not anymore.”

Roaring laughter fills the room. Anita takes a sip of her wine and smirks back. “Neither does Dante, and how much do you want to bet we have the same method for keeping them in line?”

Shane just takes a sip of his ginger ale. It’s nice to have the Wags here, even if in the back of his mind he knows they’re babysitting him for his husband’s peace of mind. He tried to argue that he didn’t want to pull them away from anything or interrupt their days, but all four of the girls in the know had shown up and declared it ‘Wag night’ so they could watch the BOS-MTL game together. 

“I tried the blowjob method with Victor, it doesn’t always work.” Vanessa points out. 

“The trick is to watch them do the wrong thing and just stare until they fix it then immediately reward the good behavior.” Shane decides to add to the conversation. He’s already here, anyway. They’re already talking about it. Nicole has a thrilled look on her face.

“You are my favorite. How long did it take to train him?” Shane blushes. 

“The summer we got married, we got to spend six weeks together. The next time we saw each other was for Christmas,” He shrugs with another sip of his drink, “Laundry exactly where it goes.”

“Aww. That’s cute, and not what I expected from Roz.” Nicole says.

“Wait,” Janelle jumps in, “So you guys are married then? When Brad told me, he said you were engaged, but you’re wearing a ring too, so I wasn’t sure.”

“Yeah, we got married in 2014.” Shane confirms. “We got married a week after we made it official, it was the earliest we could get paperwork filed, for citizenship and stuff. Just us in a courthouse. It was really nice.” He’s blushing, remembering their wedding, dancing in the parking lot after.

“Wow. Wait, made it official? How long was it going on before?” Shane shrugs.

“A while,” He says, evasively, “Just, I accidentally said I love you, so we figured we should talk about a label.”

“Oh. my. God. Are you serious? How do you accidentally say I love you and then get married?” Anita is the only one who can speak, from the shocked faces around the room. Shane buries his face in his hands and groans.

“I know it sounds insane. But, also I knew I probably hadn’t fucked everything up? Like, just because we weren’t talking about it, didn’t mean we weren’t aware there were feelings involved. It was never just hooking up.” Shane wants them to understand that having lived it, it wasn’t actually that crazy. It was just really weird to explain, which is why he and Ilya were being weird about not telling people the full timeline. “We were already exclusive at that point, so…” he trails off, unsure of how to continue, “Are you guys ok?”

“Yeah,” Nicole says, “Just let me process and recontextualize everything.”

“Yeah, wow. So Connor was right, a real Romeo and Juliet love story? Dumb teenagers in love from rival teams? I believe it.” Janelle looks impressed.

“He said that before.” Shane points at her, “When they were asking questions, he said Juliet, but corrected himself.”

“Oh, the boys' code names for you two are Romeo and Juliet,” explains Vanessa, “I think you’re Romeo.”

“Which makes Ilya, Juliet. Why? Why do they have code names for us?”

Nicole shrugs, “I think because they’ve decided Boston are the Capulets, so Ilya is Juliet. I think they have some big plan to kidnap you to stay in Boston forever so you can have your happy ending.” She points at him, “But you’re not supposed to know that, so we didn’t tell you.”

Shane hides a smile behind taking another drink. Ilya’s team is concocting, definitely behind their captains back, some elaborate, impossible plan to, what? Recruit Shane to play for Boston? Retire and become Ilya’s wag? It made him smile that Ilya had such a supportive team, something they had proved over and over again over the last few weeks. They were growing on him, and it made him sad for a team that hadn’t reached out in a month beyond a quick, obligatory check-in in the group chat. It made him wish it was possible for him to play for Boston. He’d at least be here with Ilya, even if they still couldn’t be out. He shut down that train of thought. He wasn’t going to hope for it.

“Ilya definitely doesn’t know anything about it. He wouldn’t have been able to hide it from me.”

It’s Janelle’s turn to shrug, “I don’t really know details, but it’s called operation: bring Romeo to breakfast, so who knows what that means. Is Roz really bad at keeping secrets?”

“From me,” Shane latches on to the new direction of conversation, “Not that. If he knew his team wanted to kidnap me, he’d either get, like, weirdly possessive, or really soft? Like, doting.”

The girls are cooing at him now. 

“So, Shane, when you say weirdly possessive, what do you mean by that?” Anita is giving him an eyebrow that says she knows it’s a sex thing. She’s right.

“You don’t want to know. But yes, possessive. sobstvennicheskiy.” He adds in Russian. The girls look impressed.

“Are you fluent? Or do you just know a few words?” He shrugs.

“I know enough to understand Ilya. We hardly run into new words anymore, at least not ones that I can’t usually use context to figure out.”

“Oh, so you’re fluent.” He shakes his head, but concedes the point. 

“Are we turning on the game or not?” Nicole reaches for the remote.

“Ok, ok. Let’s watch our guys destroy Montreal. Sorry, Shane.”

“No, today I’m Ilya’s HAB, so none of you will tell anyone I’m rooting for him. Not Boston, him.” He wags a finger at the girls, who crack up at him.

They’re only a few minutes out from the first puck drop, watching the players line up, Ilya facing off against the second line center, who's replacing Shane for this game. Ilya wins the face off, then scores a goal. Fifteen seconds into the game.

“Holy shit!”

Shane agrees, eyeing the replay with a horny respect. What follows is an hour of the cleanest bloodbath Shane has ever seen. The Bears are taking great pleasure in delivering the cleanest hits, laying out Shane’s teammates without incurring a single penalty for it. Montreal can’t say the same, keeping a rotating roster in the sin bin. The effort to keep himself from fighting means that Ilya gets punched in the face once (the bloody teeth look good, Shane can’t deny). There’s a moment in the third period, where Ilya has Hayden against the boards, grappling for the puck, when Ilya freezes. Only for a moment, Shane is sure he’s the only one who noticed, but it happens. Hayden says something, Ilya stills for a fraction of a second before finally hitting the puck away. Shane sees Ilya mouth move as he’s skating away from Pike, whose gloves are on the ice and is launching himself towards number 81. Marlow is there before he gets very far, redirecting Hayden away from Ilya. 

The winning goal, Ilya’s third, brings the game to a shutout 4-0. Ilya skates close to a camera to blow a kiss, to Shane, of course, before his teammates smash into him in celebration. The other guys who follow Ilya’s lead and blow a kiss to the camera are the partners of the wags with Shane, making it obvious they know their partners are watching together.

“Wooo!” Anita cheers, “Those are our boys!”

Shane can’t help the grin on his face, blushing at Ilya’s display and the utter defeat of his team. Proving to Shane that they couldn’t do it without him. Shane knows Ilya had a great time doing just that; it’s a confidence boost to Shane’s fragile heart. “Yeah, they did great. That hat trick was sexy.”

Nicole gives him a small shove, “Oh, stop. You two are cute. I can’t believe they went the whole game without starting any fights.”

“Oh, they definitely started most of those fights, they just didn’t throw any punches.” Janelle pipes in, “And I agree, watching them shutout Montreal like that was hot. Brad checked, like, seven people.”

Shane hums in agreement, “I want to know who convinced Ilya to stay out of it. That wasn’t his idea.”

“How do you know?” Shane gives her a look.

“He didn’t decide on humiliation by himself, he would have broken bones if it was up to him.”

“Is it really that bad in Montreal? Dante didn’t really go into any details, but the guys agree that they let you get hit on purpose. Or at least, actively didn’t try to stop it.”

Shane gives a frustrated sigh, unsure of how to answer. He knows the locker room is worse than whatever the Bears have heard through the grapevine, but he hates admitting, even in his own head, how bad it is. Him and Ilya had a plan this summer to try and figure out another solution, something more long term than just waiting. It’s why he won’t let himself think about the idea of staying in Boston, it’s too perfect, too much to hope for.

“I guess?” He settles on. “It’s not great, so whatever you’ve heard is probably true. They don’t know I’m gay, or about Ilya, obviously, but they know I’m different from them. Something about me they just don’t like. I’m useful on the ice, good for winning, but that’s about how far it extends.” He buries his face in his hands, embarrassed by the emotion overcoming him. Nicole is the closest, and moves to wrap him in a gentle hug.

“Oh, hun, it’ll be ok. You don’t have to face this alone anymore. Boston isn’t Montreal, we take care of our own.”

“Is there really no one on the team you can trust?” Vanessa asks. Shane shrugs, still wrapped in a hug.

“Not really. J.J. likes me, but he throws slurs no matter how many times he’s told not to. Ilyas fought him enough over it. Hayden,” He huffs, “We work well together on the ice, and we’re friends off the ice. But in the locker room, nothing. I don’t blame him for not wanting to draw the fire to him, but it’s frustrating to only hear him defend me in private. He’s got Jackie and the kids to look after.”

“Really? He’s fine with you getting all this negative attention from the team, but won’t stand up for you because he’s scared of also being disliked? That’s bullshit!” Vanessa is waving her refilled wine glass in the air. “How close are you guys?”

“He’s the only friend I have in Montreal.” Is his honest answer. He likes Hayden, even when he has to remind his friend about his boundaries from time to time. His therapist, and Ilya, have a great time reminding him that he is allowed to do that, and it wasn’t unreasonable to be frustrated when people ignored them. “Jackie makes food for my diet and his kids are cute. I roomed with him my rookie year, he’s a nice guy.”

“But you don’t trust him?” That gets a shaken head.

“No, not with Ilya. I don’t feel comfortable telling him I’m gay either. We’re friends, but not super close. Any time I get off, I try to spend with Ilya, so that doesn’t leave much time to build a super strong friendship. Especially with someone who can’t keep his own secrets, much less mine.”

“That makes sense.” The wags are exchanging looks again, but Shane is too tired to try and make sense of it. “Well, now you have us as friends too. And you’re stuck with us, no matter what happens, ok?”

He nods, unable to speak around the new well of emotion in his chest. These women barely know him, they’re the wives (and girlfriends) of his husband’s teammates. But they’ve also kept him fed through his recovery, kept Ilya from crashing while taking care of him, and are sitting here now so he won’t be alone. They haven’t demanded anything, haven’t hounded him with questions. It’s relaxing in a way he’s never felt with any of his other friends, Ilya excluded for obvious reasons. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” says Shane, quietly, voice choked with emotion.

Chapter End Notes

about hayden pike: he thinks him and shane are a lot closer then they actually are because it doesn't occur to hayden that shane has any kind of life outside hockey. Shane knows they're not super close, but still considers hayden a friend (a flawed friend, but a still a friend. he doesn't have many). Hayden tried to forcibly adopt shane, like he does in canon, but unlike canon, shane is a little more self aware and combined with spending less time together, shane recognizes more of hayden's flaws. They're coworker friends, something shane knows, but hayden doesn't because he doesn't respect shane's boundaries (something he knows, but has decided doesn't apply to him most of the time.) Also, in canon, hayden doesn't come to shane's defense in the locker room (even after he comes out) in any significant way until JJ accuses him of tripping, even then it's lackluster and definingly 'self-assigned im-such-a-good-ally' of him. He thinks he has some sort of claim over shane that extends to a role often joked about, where shane is the Pike's 'practice kid', and it never really stopped. He deems himself the Most Important Person to shane and hates his title being threatened by anyone, especially Ilya. Some of the stuff he says in the books border on bi-phobic, not just ilya-phobic, and frankly shane needs to start defending his husband more from his best friend. You shouldn't be trying to set up your taken bestie behind his back, you shouldn't imply to anyone that he can do better, or that the love of his life, who he's known longer than you, is going to up and leave. hayden insults shane using ilya, saying he'll leave because he'll get bored, or realize being with a woman is easier, or he's only playing around, or he'll hurt shane. it's infuriating, and most of these happen behind shane's back because mr. pattern recognition would eventually notice, especially once he's around the centaurs more and sees how they treat the both of them. being shane's friend is a status symbol to him, an ego boost. HE guessed the big secret, HE knows shane the best, HE gets to be shanes first friend, the great shane hollander is his best friend. he doesn't care about the gay thing because SHANE is gay, not because he actually is a good ally. His own daughters have to be informed it's ok for boys to paint their nails because hayden told them the opposite. i get the whole ‘well they just needed time to come around, its a big shock!’ argument, but its been too much time for hayden. he avoids saying ilya’s name or refering to him as shane’s anything, not boyfrind, not husband. he’s had his time to get to know ilya and come around, he resists on purpose and i believe that.

I could go on, but this turned into a rant several sentences longer than it meant to go on. anyway, tl;dr, i hate hayden pike, i'm trying not to be too mean in the story right now, but i'm not afraid to call him out on his shit. Also, if i post a fic not in this series about shane finally confronting hayden, just know the voices won.
Edit: the voices won (and your lovely comments begging me to kill him) go check it out

Chapter 12: on the same page

Chapter Summary

Ilya stops, considers his next words carefully, knowing there’s no easy way to start. “I know you want to wait until summer, but I think maybe we start talking now? About options for future.”

Chapter Notes

we survived! i got so much done, not just for this series, but also for time travel parenting. if any of you have suggestions for what you want the rookies to get up to while they’re stuck in 2017, let me know, im taking suggestions. (it’ll help me get a chapter up faster, and don’t worry, they will bully troy barret (affectionate))

The weather is a rare warm day as Boston heads into the back-half of March, so Shane is outside reading when Ilya gets home. He drops his bags in the laundry room to be dealt with later and goes in search of his husband. He lets his shadow cast over Shane, alerting him to Ilya’s presence being him.

Shane tilts his head back, looking up. It’s perfect kissing conditions, so Ilya leans forward to do just that. It’s been too long.

“Welcome home,” says Shane, closing his book, still looking at Ilya. “How was your trip?”

It sounds so domestic, a warm feeling in Ilya’s stomach at the thought of Shane staying home and waiting for him to get back from work. He kisses Shane instead, growling low against his lips. “Good. Want you in bed.”

Shane hums against his lips for a moment, then pushes him away so he can stand and walk into the house. He must have sensed what, exactly, has Ilya riled up, because he stops in the doorway to give Ilya a heated look over his shoulder. “I’ve been resting the whole time, my shoulder’s fine. Come on, muzh.”

Blood rushes to his cock and he hurries to follow Shane inside, stripping his shirt as he goes. His husband beats him to the bedroom, waiting patiently against the pillows, naked. Ilya loses his pants, crawling onto the bed and over Shane to kiss him deeply.

“Mmmm, such a good husband, waiting at home for me.” Shane moans and Ilya takes the opportunity to bite at his neck, suckling lighting and nipping with his teeth. “So good at taking care of yourself while I’m gone. Good spouse, waiting for your husband. Did you miss me? Clean the house and hang out with other wags. All of you waiting for your strong hockey men to get home.”

His hand is massaging the globes of Shane’s ass as he speaks, mouth still against Shane’s throat, mouthing at his adam’s apple, feeling the vibrations of the moans he’s eliciting against his lips. He blindly gropes for the lube on the nightstand.

By the time he has three fingers inside his husband, Shane is reduced to Ilya’s name and the work fuck. Ilya hasn’t disconnected his mouth from Shane’s body, content to drive him crazy with open-mouth kisses, all while crooking fingers in a slow drag in and out of him. 

“Being so good for me, yes? Need my cock now? Does my pretty husband need my cock?” Shane can’t do anything more than nod frantically, moaning out please, Ilya.

He checks that Shane is comfortable, not aggravating his still sore injury, before lining himself up and sinking into Shane’s body slowly. Once seated fully, Ilya starts a slow grind of his hips, brushing Shane’s prostate. “I should keep you like this, home waiting for me. Always ready.”

He keeps his pace relatively slow, enjoying taking Shane apart, reducing them both to this mess of wanting more. Ilya stays in control enough to keep them there, connected and unhurried. Eventually, he feels his husband tighten around him, back arching, tense and coming. Ilya thrusts a few more times, following him over the edge. He collapses to the side, stroking any skin he can find gently, letting them both recover.

“Come, solynishko, I carry you to shower.”

—

He waits to bring it up until dinnertime. Shane stares at him suspiciously over their pelmeni, a meal they made together at Ilya’s insistence.

“What’s going on?” Yup, Shane is suspicious. Ilya reaches across the table to hold his hand.

“How was wag night?” He asks instead, a segway into the rest of the conversation.

“It was good. The girls were good. We talked about you. You’ve asked me three times.” He was still staring with intent, trying to get Ilya to the point. 

“Good, I like them. They are good for you.” Ilya stops, considers his next words carefully, knowing there’s no easy way to start. “I know you want to wait until summer, but I think maybe we start talking now? About options for future.”

Shane is rubbing his thumb across the skin of Ilya’s hand, but he doesn’t speak, a silent cue for Ilya to continue. Ilya takes a deep breath, voice low, still a little terrified of speaking fragile hope into existence, and switches to Russian.

“I think,” he starts, “We both know you can’t stay with the Voyagers much longer. I know you wanted to retire there, but I am watching you lose the thing you love. It’s killing you to be there, we both know it.”

“I don’t know what my other options are, Ilya. If I waive my no-trade, I risk ending up further away and that would kill me more.” His husband suddenly looks very tired, body sagging. Ilya stands, walks their dishes to the sink, and returns only to drag Shane to the couch. He doesn’t speak again until they’re curled together under a blanket, Ilya’s arm wrapped around Shane. 

“What if someone wanted you? If another team offered to take you in a trade?” Ilya keeps his fingers moving in gentle, nonsensical shapes on Shane’s shoulder. 

“Who would want me? Who could afford me? And still be close to you?”

“Solynishko, just because Montreal is stupid, doesn’t mean everyone is. Plenty of teams would want you, and you would get final say. Farah would love to help negotiate, it’s been a while since we’ve caused her grief.” Ilya is still speaking around the thing he wants to say, trying to keep the tone light. Shane keeps laying on him, silently mulling over his words. “Shane, do you want to... would you want to play for Boston?” 'With me' remains unsaid, the very air in the room still with the question. Ilya feels tears on his collarbone. 

“Hey, hey. Shane.” Ilya jostles his husband, adjusting so he can look at him. 

“Ilya,” whispers Shane. “I don’t- I- Would I even be able to?”

“The most important question is do you want to. That is the first part, everything else only happens if you want.”

Shane lets himself think about it. Living in Boston full time, with Ilya full time. Playing hockey with a team that likes him, with friends nearby. He could be seen in public with Ilya, as friends, but in public. He imagines waking up next to Ilya and driving to the rink together, arguing about who gets to drive. Coming home after games and recovering together, applying bruise cream, and rubbing icyhot into sore muscles.

“I want. Ilya, I would love to play on the same team, live in the same city, I just don’t know how it would work. Just because your teammates know-” Shane cuts himself off, frowning, panic momentarily put to the side. “Ilya, did your team say something to you?”

“Maybe, yes. Marly told me before flight, the team had another meeting without me. Is very annoying, I am captain.” he grumbles that last part, earning a smile. “Team said they would have both of us, if we want. They have crazy plan. Did not tell me plan, but, Shane, I want to have you here. In Boston, with me, with team that does not suck.” Ilya could offer other options, teams nearby that would take him, he could move to Canada and they could join a different Canadian team, they could run away and raise goats together. He doesn’t offer any of these, not until this idea is rejected. 

Shane sits up, moving to sit on Ilya’s lap, grabbing his face between his hands and kissing him hard. “I really want that. If your team wants me, I would really like to not accidentally end up in Toronto. I’m fucking terrified of leaving Montreal, but you’re right. I can’t stay there, not if I want to play hockey and enjoy it.”

“We call Farah, talk about options. Ask team to tell us crazy idea. Then we work it out together, as a team. Always as a team.”

“Ya tebya lyublyu.” Shane kisses him again. “Will you hold me, I’m going to have that panic attack now.” Ilya laughs and flips them so they’re laying on the couch, squishing Shane’s body beneath his own. His husband’s fingers start scratching at his scalp. Shane speaks up, suddenly, an hour later. 

“The wags told me your team calls us Romeo and Juliet.” Ilya pops his head up to look quizzically at Shane, who shrugs. “I think it has to do with keeping our secret, like code names. But it might also have something to do with whatever plan they have. I’m not sure.”

“I know this story, I went to balet once to see it. Who is who?”

“I’m Romeo, you’re Juliet. Something about Boston being the Capulets and Montreal being the Montagues, but you’d have to ask Connors.” Ilya looks seconds away from abandoning Shane to find his phone, so he lets his husband up to do just that. Sitting up himself and stretching, Shane announces he’s going to do the dishes, then it’s bedtime. 

The next morning brings a new rush of emotions, starting with exhaustion. Shane has a week left until he’ll be recovered fully and need to be back in Montreal. He’ll be back in time for their final game of the regular season against Toronto, but with the sudden knowledge that there’s a light at the end of the tunnel (maybe, he reminds himself), he doesn’t want to go. He wants to stay in bed with Ilya, but instead he has to check for an email from Farah (there are three), text his parents, thumbs up Hayden’s meme (he’d reached out under Jackie’s purview to explain that he’d said something he regretted on the ice, and that it wouldn’t happen again. Shane was almost proud that he’d refused to repeat what he’d said. Almost. He’d still laid into Hayden and refused to answer his texts for a few days. Even now, he was just giving one word responses when necessary.), and text the SAPS (cool people) back.

Ilya rolls, half-awake, to drape an arm over Shane’s stomach. “Why are you awake? It’s too early.”

“It’s not, but I have emails from Farah.” That gets Ilya’s attention, but he still doesn’t move from where he’s laying. “She says she emailed Montreal’s management already and has an opening to mention waiving my no-trade under specific conditions. She wants to know if she should email your coach about it.”

“Probably, but team should talk to him first. Is ok if he knows? Or just if neobkhodimyy?”

“Just if necessary, but should he know if we do end up playing together? God, so many people know now.”

“Hey, Shane. Is ok, just Bears, big, friendly bears who did not beat up your team. They will not tell, we do not have to tell coach.” Ilya soothes his husband. Shane’s hand finds his hair and starts combing the curls to ground himself.

“You’re right. It’s ok. I’m ok, we’re ok.” Shane picks his phone up again, redirecting his energy into solving the problem. “Ok, Farah can handle it.”

Ilya kisses his husband’s chest, right where he’s laying. He sees Shane still typing on his phone, distracted, so he places another kiss, a little lower. No reaction. Ilya smiles, kissing Shane again, lower. He trails a path of kisses gently down, down, until he reaches Shane’s boxers, pressing kisses into the crease of his thigh as he pulls them down. Shane lifts his hips slightly so Ilya can pull them off and throw them away, still typing on his phone. Look at them, together so long Shane is working while letting Ilya do whatever he wants, instinctually responding to cues ingrained into him over years. Content and turned on in this domestic moment, he continues his kisses down Shane’s left leg. He switches to the right, working his way up, back to the crease between thigh and torso. He licks the spot he just kissed, getting a vocal reaction from Shane. “Fuck.” 

Ilya grins, Shane still hasn’t dropped the phone. He licks again, breathing deeply where he presses his nose to Shane’s pubic bone, against his half-hard dick. 

“You’re so we-eird.” Shane’s voice breaks as Ilya swallows his dick down, finally dropping the phone to the side and reaching back for Ilya’s curls. “Fuck, don’t stop.”

Ilya takes his time sucking his husband deep and slow. Bobbing his head in a steady rhythm, stopping every few times to place a kiss to the head before continuing. He drags it out for a few minutes before Shane’s back is arching off the bed, shooting down Ilya’s throat. He greedily laps it up, pulling his mouth away to lick as much saliva as he can onto the inside of Shane’s thighs. Once satisfied, he lifts himself, tapping at Shane’s hip and helping him turn over onto his knees.

He pulls his own boxers down, not bothering to take them all the way off, and guides his dick between his husband’s slick thighs. Fucking into the space between, using his hands to keep Shane where he wants him. “Oh, fuck, Shane.”

Shane huffs at him when he collapses next to him on the bed. “Hot, weird, but hot.”

He can’t help but also laugh, leaning forward to kiss his equally hot and weird husband.

Chapter End Notes

there will be a hayden confrontation just not for a while. stan jackie pike, she deserves better.

also, the casual intimacy of being with someone so long they just let you do whatever the fuck while they’re busy.

Chapter 13: the hardest part

Chapter Summary

Congratulations, we got you.

Chapter Notes

I said no angst, and I meant it (mostly i meant to relationship angst, but whatever). let's speed run some of the stuf too important to leave out, but I don't want to drag out.

Shane doesn’t talk to his parents until he’s back in Montreal. They come over to his apartment for dinner the day after he’s back. He feels as prepared as he can be. His therapist had been a huge help in helping him prepare what he wanted to say to his parents. She’d also been a huge help in starting to process his decision to leave Montreal.

He lets his dad prepare chicken parmesan in his kitchen, something he knows raises flags with his parents, but he knows they’ll need comfort food over this conversation. And fuck, if Ilya hadn’t been right about finding a new nutritionist vetted by Emma. Fuck all three of them for actually helping him.

Shane gets swept away in the conversation, letting his mom fuss over him and apologizing for not letting them come see him while he recovered. They weren’t thrilled, but Yuna caves when he mentions how much he hates being on painkillers and didn’t want a lot of people around to see him like that. 

“So, you’ll be back for the Toronto game?” Yuna asks, like she doesn’t know.

“Yeah, that’s actually.” Shane takes a deep breath. “I wanted to talk to you about something. And I’d appreciate it if you'd let me say my piece without interrupting. I’m playing in the last game, as far as I’m aware, but unless we somehow make the playoffs, it will be my last game with Montreal.” His parents look shocked, he hurries on before they can say anything. “I already talked to Farah about this, she’s got things in the works. But I’m waiving my NTC after this season.” Tears threaten to gather, but he pushes them back. “Hockey is supposed to be something I love, something I do because I’m good and I love it. It was never supposed to become just my job, but Montreal isn’t- it isn’t good for me there. I don’t feel safe in the locker room, the other guys don’t like me, it’s started affecting us on the ice. They don’t like that I’m better, or they don’t like something about me that I can’t change. But that hit in February made it obvious I can’t trust them anymore. I know that I’m disappointing a lot of people, including you, but this is a decision I didn’t make lightly, and it’s one I needed to make for myself. I’m afraid of what might happen if I don’t.”

He stops there, blinking back tears, taking shaky breaths. He’s waiting for his parents to say something. It’s silent for a long moment before Yuna speaks, “Wow, Shane. I-I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m sorry.” Emma told him he didn’t need to apologize, but that might be something so deep in him, he’ll never shake it.

“No, no, Shane.” Yuna reaches a hand out in an offering, Shane takes it, squeezing back. “I think we’re a little confused, but don’t, don’t be sorry. I’m sorry we didn’t notice you were so unhappy.” 

“Mom, that’s not. That’s not it. I was hiding it from everyone. Except my therapist.” He admits in a small voice.

“A therapist? I didn’t know you were seeing a therapist?” 

“Yeah, I’ve been seeing her for a while. She’s been helping. I didn’t hide it because I was ashamed or anything, I just didn’t want it to be another thing. She helped me figure out what to say.” Yuna and David exchange a loaded look.

“Shane,” starts David, “we love you, nothing will change that. Thank you for telling us. This is just very out of the blue.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning? Farah is already looking into waiving your NTC?”

“Yeah, she’s handling all of that. We’ve been emailing all week.”

“You’ve really thought this through?” Yuna asks.

“Yes, mom. I’ve thought this through. Every angle, everything. I have to do this. Mom, hockey isn’t fun anymore. It hasn’t been fun in a long time.” He can see the heartbreak on his mom’s face, he hates that he put that look there, but he knows it’s for him not because of him. 

“Ok, ok. I hate that you waited this long to tell us, but ok. We support you in this. What do you need from us?”

—

Shane calls Ilya as soon as his parents leave. Both have news.

“Coach knows. He is good, says he wants you on team.” Shane doesn’t even have time to say more than hello.

“Oh. Well, that’s good. I’m glad.” He eyes his husband, there’s more. He can tell from the glint of mischief in Ilya’s eye. “What?”

“Team did not know we are married. Still thought we are engaged, got to tell them we are married two years. Coach wants to meet you. My husband Shane, not hockey player Shane.”

“Wow. Ok, did they miss you calling me your husband? Because their wags know.” Ilya laughs at that.

“Tell me about dinner with parents.”

Shane does. “I’m just glad it didn’t start another argument.”

“Me too. You have too many.”

“I love you, you know.” Ilya smiles at him. 

“I know, I love you too. I want to tell you to wait until morning, but you will not rest until it is done, so go email Farah about Coach. I will help, then we go to bed. I will stay on phone until you fall asleep.”

—

His return to practice highlights the differences between the Bears and the Voyagers. There’s no warm reception, no welcome backs from anyone except Hayden and JJ. Practice was fine, not great, but fine. 

The game against Toronto was fine, not great, but fine. No one avoided him in any way that was visible. They still passed him pucks, still kept people off him, but the cohesion was gone. Toronto won 3-2. 

Once they’re officially out of the play offs, Shane doesn’t waste any time preemptively cleaning out his stall. The next few weeks pass in a blur of emails, meetings, and calling Ilya. His husband was the only person holding him together through this whole thing, even if he can only do it from Boston. The Bears are one loss from being knocked out of the first round of playoffs, after a violent game against San Francisco that cost them several players, benched with inconvenient injuries. It’s a blow to how they were hoping to ride out the season, but ultimately it’s helpful to negotiations. 

While the final decision rests in his hands, it’s a waiting game in the meantime. He has to trust Boston’s management and Farah to get him where he wants to go. It’s a long shot they all know. All Boston has is a happy-to-be-traded backup goalie (Goalies are weird, but he will come to the wedding years later with high praises for Seattle), just enough cap space to negotiate with a very willing Ilya Rozanov, and a dream. Luckily, Farah is very good at making dreams come true. 

Shane is unsure of the exact details of the four way trade that happened, something he’ll look up later, when it doesn’t hurt as much, but he gets a call from Coach LeClair at four in the afternoon, sitting on his parents couch.

“Hello?”

“Shane Hollander. This is Coach LeClair. From the Boston Bears.”

“Oh! Hello, yes. I know who you are.” Shane stands so he can pace in lieu of biting his nails and bouncing his leg. Either Ilya gave away his phone number or—

“I’m sure you want to know why I’m calling and I’m sure your agent will be right behind me with the same news and all the paperwork you need. But I wanted to be the first to welcome you officially to Boston. Congratulations, we got you.”

Shane’s knees go weak. “Oh my god. Wow, that’s-” He composes himself, “Thank you. I look forward to meeting you. I’ll check my email now. Just- thank you. I’m excited for this opportunity.” He can’t hide the smile on his face. 

LeClair laughs, “Look forward to seeing you soon, kid. Tell that husband of yours once your signature is dry, we’re doing team dinner.”

“I will, thank you again. Goodbye.”

“Shane? Was that…?” Yuna is hovering in the doorway, David right behind her. 

“Yeah, that was Coach LeClair from Boston.” Shane sinks back onto the couch. 

“Boston!? I didn’t know Boston was an option. What the hell?”

“Apparently Boston wanted me and they saw the opportunity. Coach wanted to be the first to tell me.” He has his email open, and sure enough, there’s an email from Farah with all the information he needs. He scrolls through it. “I think I’m in shock.”

Just not for the full reasons his parents think. His parents come to sit on either side of him, Yuna wrapping her arms around him. 

“Boston?” She wrinkles her nose. “You’re going to Boston?”

“Mom, it’s fine. I’m just relieved I’m in the same division still.”

“I just didn’t expect Boston to get you. You’re making me root for Boston now?”

“Mom.” Shane rolls his eyes. 

“I love you, Shane. Even if I have to root for Boston. If any of the players give you trouble…” She wags a finger pointedly at him. “I know you have good sportsmanship, so I’m trusting the rest of them to be professional. Especially Rozanov, he’d better put aside any personal feelings and remember the rivalry is over. You’re on the same team, he should act like it.

“I don’t think I have to worry about Boston, mom.” He ignores the dig at his husband, looking down and thinking instead of the way the Boston Wags had hugged him and promised to take care of him, he thought of Ilya waiting in the Boston home they had picked out together two years ago that they would live in together full time now, he thought of Coach LeClair who said congratulations, we got you. Shane’s voice is soft when he admits, “They want me. That’s what LeClair was saying on the phone. Some of the Bears found out I was leaving Montreal and they went to Coach and asked for me. Said I would be welcome if I wanted to be there.”

Yuna’s face softens and David pulls Shane closer to his chest. “I’m glad it’s a team that wants you. You know I’ll cheer no matter what team you’re on.” He gives his wife a playful glare over their son's head. She glares back. 

“I’m only ever wearing your jersey. No other Boston merch. I might not be a fan of Montreal any longer, but loyalties are hard to shake.” Shane laughs a little at his mom.

“Thank you for not making this a big deal.” 

Yuna sighs, reaching to rest a comforting hand on her son’s shoulder. “After All Star weekend, we talked. And we realized you were right, we shouldn’t have shown up unexpectedly and tried to turn a relaxing weekend into a chance to see you. We messed up, and then you surprised us with this. We just want you to be able to tell us anything, so we’re trying to give you space.”

“It- it’s been a rough few months. With everything. I trust you, I just, I was having a hard time and I needed the space. Thank you.”

There’s still so much he’s keeping from them; his marriage, his husband, the real reasons behind the trade. But things feel a little better. 

Chapter End Notes

Ok, this is the point you should go make sure you've read all of Operation: Romeo & Juliet before continuing this fic.

(those of you getting live updates, jeg elsker dig. you've been so patient, tak. last chapter of O:R&J soon.)

Chapter 14: not alone

Chapter Summary

They weren't alone and they weren't the first. Scott Hunter just kissed a man on tv.

Chapter Notes

BEARS!!!

May 2016

Shane pulls his jeep into their driveway, laden with all of his actual necessities for moving permanently into this house, ignoring, of course, that his name has been on the lease for years. Ilya greets him on the porch, wearing sweatpants low on his hips and no shirt.

“Solnyshkoooooo!” He shouts when he sees Shane round the corner with his bag. “You are here!”

Ilya stops Shane, taking the bag and setting it on the ground so he can sweep his husband into his arms and carry him across the threshold into the house.

“You have a kink for this.” Shane says, not actually complaining. He wraps his arms around Ilya’s neck for balance. “I’ve been here a hundred times. And you left my bag outside, asshole.”

“Yes.” Ilya doesn’t even try to deny it. “Is good luck to carry husband through door to new home. I should carry him right to bed.” He decides to do just that, dropping Shane on their bed before turning around and fetching his bag from outside. By the time he’s back, Shane has stripped and left the bed in favor of the shower.

Ilya finds him with a pout on his face, “You were supposed to stay.”

“I needed a shower first, but you’re welcome to join me. Thank you for getting my bag.” His husband wastes no time removing his clothes and pressing against Shane’s back under the water. “Wash my hair?”

Ilya takes the time to scrub Shane’s scalp as asked, tugging at strands to elicit moans, enjoying twisting it into shapes for no reason other than he’s enjoying himself and watching his husband. He rinses Shane’s hair and does the same with conditioner. Rinsing it out and sliding to his knees, pushing Shane against the wall and swallowing his dick. He stands and turns off the shower after Shane comes, ushering him out of the shower and drying him with a towel. Ilya pushes Shane into bed with the urgency of a housewife who has been waiting years for her lover to return from war.

“Eager,” teases Shane.

“Hmmm, yes. First night of many.” Ilya pins his hands above his head and kisses him hard. “As many as we want. Tomorrow we go sign paperwork to make it official, but tonight I get to have my husband in my bed and he isn’t going anywhere.”

He fucks his Shane hard and fast, until they both collapse, breathing hard. Ilya pulls Shane into his arms, pressing kisses into his hairline and face until he can stand to get a warm wash cloth to clean them. He’s thankful for the foresight to put down towels, so he can throw them in the hamper, revealing clean sheets. He does all this, moving his exhausted and fucked out husband minimally, and then climbs back into bed behind said husband. Ilya pulls him in to rest chest-to-back, hand cupping his chest and that’s how Ilya falls asleep, breathing in Shane’s scent and feeling his heartbeat against his fingers. I get this forever, is his last thought before he succumbs. 

Morning brings a disgruntled Shane, easily resolved with a blowjob and a promise to start unpacking the car while he showers. Marlow calls him, so he awkwardly props his phone between his shoulder, continuing to carry in boxes and bags while they converse.

“He got in last night, Marly, he is not going to want to see people today.” Ilya shoulders open the door, throwing the duffle bags just inside the house. 

“Not everybody, Roz, just Nicole and I.”

“No, today is resting day. We are unpacking and resting. Come over tomorrow, we can watch game.” He heads back to the car while he talks. He’s trying to convince Marlow and his wife that they don’t want visitors today. They’re well meaning, but he has plans.

“Ugh, fine, Roz. We’ll hold off the welcome party another day, but I’m holding you to that. How is Shane settling in?”

“Good. Is exciting to know he is not leaving.”

“I bet.” Setting down the last of the boxes from the car, he returns the keys to their spot by the door and takes off his shoes. “Hey, our season’s over, but if you and Hollander want to come down to the rink on Thursday, I’ve got it booked for a private skate. Thought it would be fun to get you two out on the ice together before summer.”

That sounds like fun. “I will ask.”

“Ask what?” Shane’s hair is still a little damp, shorts swung low on his hips, one of Ilya’s Boston Bears shirts hanging a little loose on his frame. Ilya wants to eat him. Instead, he puts Marlow on speaker.

“Is Marly.”

“Oh. Hi, Marlow.”

“Hey, Hollander. Welcome to Boston!” 

“Thanks, what are we asking me?” Shane leans against the counter. Ilya’s eyes follow the line of his ass. It’s just sitting there, he wants to bite it. 

“I’ve got permission to use the rink for a private skate on Thursday if you want to come down.”

Shane looks a little surprised at the offer. “I’d love to, I’m assuming all of the Bears will be there?”

“Ha! Probably most of us, we’re eager to see you in action. No pressure though, it’s just for fun.”

“We’ll be there. It would be nice to get on the ice and actually have fun.” He sees Ilya grimace at the reminder of the past few months (years if he wants to be honest, but he’ll save that for his therapist). “Do you and Nicole want to come watch the game tomorrow?”

Ilya and Cliff both start laughing. Shane raises an eyebrow at his husband. “Your husband already offered. He said we weren’t welcome today, so we should come tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah. We’re busy today, meeting with Coach LeClair, unpacking.”

“Fucking.” Ilya adds, dodging his husband's attempt to pinch him in retaliation. Marlow just laughs again.

“I figured. Well have fun, my wife is due home from the grocery store any minute and I’d rather hang out with her.”

“Bye Marlow.”

“Goodbye, Marly.”

“God, you are such an asshole. Don’t say stuff like that.” Shane isn’t actually angry, mostly embarrassed. But, he reminds himself, he’s an adult, a married adult. He has sex with his husband, and people know that. Marlow hadn’t said anything about it, hadn’t tried to embarrass him further. But Ilya couldn’t get away with it all the time. 

“You like when I am asshole.” Ilya crowds Shane against the counter. “And when you look like this? In my clothes?”

He presses his lips hard to Shane’s, licking into his mouth with single-minded determination, running his hands under the shirt to feel Shane’s skin, scratching lightly to make Shane shiver and moan. 

They pull into their meeting exactly on time. Barely. 

—

When they pull into the parking lot of the rink, Shane is already nervous. It’s one thing to know the Bears wanted him here, it was another to actually be here to skate with them. This was their first impression of each other on the ice, the chance for Shane to prove himself. On the one hand, he knew he was Shane motherfucking Hollander, Ilya reminded him enough. On the other hand, he didn’t want to feel like the pet project, the new guy. If he didn’t mesh well on the ice with these guys, this would have been a waste of everybodies time.

His fears were unfounded. 

Shane and Ilya were met with cheers when they made it to the ice, dressed in practice gear, the handful of Bears already on the ice waiting for them.

“THEY’RE HERE!” Connors shouts when he spots them, skating very quickly towards them. He crashes into the boards next to where they’re standing. “What’s up, Hollander? Welcome officially to the Bears!”

Ilya moves to stand between them, “Do not crowd him.”

Shane rolls his eyes at his husband and gets on the ice, “Leave him alone, Ilya. Hi, Connors.”

He meets everyone else at center ice. Marlow is there, along with Bugsy, Clarke, St Simon, Simmons, and Dante Picco, Anita’s husband, who greeted him, “Welcome to Warrior Ice Arena, our practice rink.”

“Hi. Thank you, I’m excited to be here.” Shane feels a little breathless, being on new ice, surrounded by new teammates for the first time in six years. 

Ilya skates up beside him, standing half a step back, protective. “Why are we crowding my husband?”

“We’re not crowding, Roz,” says Vicky. “We’re excited he’s here. Are we going to play hockey? We’ve got enough for a light scrimmage."

They knowingly make the mistake of letting Ilya and Shane play together. It’s selfish, they want to see what happens. It’s the first time they’ve been on the ice and not been pitted against the other. But that means the other team is slaughtered in minutes. Eventually, it turns into an all out score-fest, hockey husbands vs everyone else with Simmons in the net.

Simmons was right, it’s magical watching them. They’re telepathic, not even looking at each other for passes, trusting implicitly that their partner will be where they need him to be. Shane skates effortlessly around any obstacle in his way, neatly avoiding the boards, keeping the puck exactly where he wants it.

“Fuck yeah! That cup is ours next year!” Picco shouts, gliding past the goal where Shane has just sunk another puck.

“Hell yeah!” Simmons agrees, not even upset about missing the puck until it was already behind him. This was a scrimmage, not his personal sleep paralysis demons. No, this was the rest of the league's nightmare to deal with come October. The best part was, while the world knew Shane Hollander had waived his no-trade and hadn’t resigned with the Voyagers for ‘professional differences’, they didn’t know which team had gotten him. There were rumors of course, but nothing substantial and nothing that wasn’t met with intense scrutiny. Boston couldn’t wait for the fall.

— 

The Bears gathered at the Hollanov house to watch the playoff finals. Setting up a potluck style food buffet in the kitchen and squeezing onto couches and the floor to watch Scott Hunter and the New York admirals absolutely destroy the other team. 

Ilya was still pissed off at Carter Vaughn, but had largely let that anger be washed away by the unintended consequences of Shane’s injury. He was thrilled at how everything turned out, his husband was away from the toxic environment threatening him at every turn, he was here in their home, they were playing hockey together. It was perfect.

Shane was sitting back against the couch, Ilya between his legs on the floor, head resting on his husband's thigh. Ilya was occasionally handing him bites of food from his plate, knowing Shane wouldn't be strayed from watching hockey. Besides it was his job as husband to keep his man fed when he was too distracted to do it himself. 

Shouts, cheers, jeers, and chirps were yelled out at the tv. A constant pressure of noise, not bad, just present. Shane let himself relax into it as much as he could. This wasn’t Montreal, there was no pressure to perform or make himself smaller. His opinion was asked for several times with a sincerity he wasn’t used to. Halfway through the second period, Shane was explaining something to a wide-eyed and attentive pile of rookies hanging off his every word.

New York won, just like his mother predicted; it really was Scott Hunter's year. The team is shifting the conversation now that the game is over, celebrations happening on the ice. 

“What is he doing?” Vicky asks, directing attention back to where Scott Hunter is motioning for someone to come down from the stands. The man is good looking and nervous. The room holds its breath, murmuring questions about who this is and why he's being invited to the ice. 

Then Scott Hunter is kissing a man—his boyfriend—at center ice, in front of thousands of hockey fans and god himself.

“Holy shit!” Exclamations echo through the room. Shane and Ilya can only look at each other, eyes wide. They weren't alone and they weren't the first. Scott Hunter just kissed a man on tv and came out. 

“Wow. Good for him.”

“That’s really brave.”

“Do you think his team knows?” asks Marlow, narrowing his eyes at the rest of the Admirals on screen. Most seem to be in shock, but no one is making moves towards Hunter’s boy. A few of the Admirals are surrounding Scott, clapping him on the back, introducing themselves to his man.

“If they’re not supportive I don't know what we can do, we spent all our money on Hollander. This team ain't big enough for two gays.” Clarke says, to a few chuckles.

“We should reach out, send him a message letting him know the Bears got his back.”

Ilya tears his gaze away from Shane to address his team. “I will. I am captain, I will send message for team. You all send message individually, will mean more that way.”

“You got it, Roz!”

“How are you two feeling about this?” Connors asks them.

Shane speaks for the first time, “Overwhelmed. It’s a scary thing, coming out. That was a very brave thing he did. They both did. Is it bad to say I’m relieved we didn't have to come out first? Happy for Scott, but,” He shrugs. “I don't know.” Ilya rubs his knee, applying light pressure. 

“No, not bad. Someone had to be first, old man Hunter is first. Is good for him and us.”

Chapter End Notes

listen: the admirals only won in 2017 (canon) because both Shane and Ilya were injured, which took their teams out of the playoffs. so, we're moving the Skip timeline up by a year.

Chapter 15: look at the man in the mirror

Chapter Summary

Summer 2016

Chapter Notes

As much as the Bears want to keep them in Boston over the summer, they understand that they need to return to Canada for the summer both as part of Ilya’s citizenship requirements and also to rest before the news of his trade drops to the world. 

Shane sends Scott an email thanking him for being brave, letting him know he had support. He included a vague warning that his new teammates might be enthusiastic in showing their support, so be prepared. He'd gotten a response that said ‘What do you mean new teammates? Is this about the text I got from Cliff Marlow??’ to which he hadn’t responded, but privately smirked. Everyone thought Ilya was the asshole, and they weren’t wrong, but their relationship wasn’t entirely opposites attract. He couldn’t wait for the look on Scott’s face when he saw them together on the ice for the first time, certain that no one would believe Shane Hollander was now playing for Boston until his first game. It gave him a small amount of joy, the chaos. 

For the first time, their cottage feels like their summer home because it is. When September rolls around, they’ll be living in Boston together, making a home there, leaving the cottage as their space away from hockey. It always was, but it felt different now. 

He had several invitations to hang out with Hayden and JJ before his ‘impending doom at the hands of rabid Boston fans’ they were calling it. The idea of him being a Bear hadn't quite sunk in yet, and he was sure it wouldn't until the first time they faced him on the ice in October. 

He and Ilya scheduled a two week stretch to stay at Shane’s Montreal apartment before they sold it. For the first time, Shane let himself make summer plans with his friends. As strained as their relationship could be at times, Shane wanted to give them a chance off the ice, without the pressure of being captain or the locker room culture weighing them down. 

—

He’d wanted Hayden and JJ to hear about his trade from him, feeling bad about ditching them when the season ended. He’d told them at the beginning of his final stay in Montreal, inviting them over while Ilya made himself scarce for the afternoon.

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

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

“They would, Hayd.”

“You have a NTC, they can’t trade you.” adds JJ.

Shane shakes his head, “Farah got an email a few months ago about potential contract renegotiations. I’m not going into it, but I waived my no-trade. It was the best decision to make and I’m sorry you have to find out like this.”

“You really got traded?” Shane nods. “Really, really? Wait, is that where you were the last few weeks? After the Toranto game?”

Shane nods, “Yeah, I was meeting with my new coach and looking at apartments.”

“Wow. This is insane, Shane. Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I’m going to Boston.”

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

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

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

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

—

Shane found himself a week later at the aquarium with the Pikes and JJ Boiziau, watching Hayden chase down his twins while holding the newest Pike to give Jackie a break. Shane was pushing the stroller for her, trying not to groan at each new person being thrown at him. He should have realized all three of them would take the time to gang up on him about this. 

“How about my friend, Janice? She’s a yoga instructor, very flexible.” Jackie finished with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle. 

“Sorry, Jackie. I don’t know what Hayden's told you, but I'm still not interested. I’m focused on hockey right now, not a relationship.” Part of him really just wants to throw it out there that not only is he seeing someone is pretty serious. Like, married for years serious, but years of keeping it locked up tight hold his tongue. 

“You need someone to help you relax, Shane. You’re way too stressed out because of hockey.” JJ chimes in an agreement.

“I’ve just had my whole life flipped upside down, Hayden. I don't need to change another thing right now.”

“We just want you to he happy, captaine.” JJ adds. “Someone to keep to occupied while you're off in Boston."

“Please drop it guys.” Shane pleads. “I’ll have hockey in Boston.”

“How about just an idea?” Hayden offers. “What should we look out for in a woman? Qualities, features? Then we won't bother you about it until we find your soulmate.”

Shane already found his soulmate, thank you. He was a six foot Russian menace waiting at home, probably looking at dog videos and preparing an argument for why they should get one that will end with Shane blissed out and fuck drunk and trying to remember why he shouldn’t agree. 

He promised to think about it. 

“Well stop looking for women first.” Shane can't help but slip out. He means to cut them off again, but the way it comes out sounds a lot more like giving in. Surprisingly, JJ takes it in stride. 

“Ok, so what kind of guy should we look for? Taller than you? Athlete?”

Mortified at what he just said, Shane buries his face in his hands, “Shit. I didn’t mean to say that.”

JJ stops. “Shane? Captaine? I’m sorry, are you ok?”

The Pikes have also frozen; Ruby and Jade shrieking at fish is the only sound in the thankfully empty room. 

“Shane? Are you- did you just come out?” Jackie asks tentatively. “That’s ok, if you did. I think we're all just in shock. Thank you for telling us.”

She pinches her husband who adds, “Yeah, buddy, you're my best friend. Nothing changes that.”

Shane looks up at them, face pale. “You can’t tell anyone. You don't know anything, fuck, no one can know. No one does know. Fuck.”

Jackie hands baby Arthur to Hayden and pulls Shane into a hug. “It’s ok, Shane. Your secret is safe with us.”

She calls for her children and shuffles two toddlers and three grown men out the door, back to the car, and back to the Pike home. 

Color still hasn't returned to Shane's face, but the shaking has stopped. He settles on the couch, letting JJ press a cold ginger ale into his hands. “Thank you.” He says quietly. “You’re really ok? With this? With me?”

“Of course, Shane.” JJ says. “Why wouldn't I be?”

Shane winces, but decides he should say something anyway. “JJ, how many times have you been punched for saying something homophobic?”

JJ at least has the decency to look ashamed. “Oh. I'm sorry, you’re right. That is a very good reason to think I would not be ok.” He looks Shane in the eye and says, “I will do better in the future. I'm sorry my words hurt you.”

“Thank you, JJ.” It can be a start, but Shane has a long memory.

“He’s right.” Hayden is back in the room, Jackie having gone to put the kids down for afternoon naps. “We should be better about locker room talk. I already apologized for what I said a few months ago, but I will again. I’m sorry, I didn't know the real reason you were so upset, but I still shouldn't have said it. Even if I missed you and wanted a fight.”

Shane wasn't supposed to know what had gotten Hayden in so much trouble on the ice and with Jackie while he was recovering in Boston, Hayden still refuses to tell him, not wanting to repeat the word, but Shane has context. He’s still pissed at Hayden for the incident, but he wants to leave Montreal with as little hurt as possible. "I forgive you. But if it happens again, Hayden, I don't care how tame it is, I will punch you myself."

“Understood.”

“Yeah, captaine, understood.” JJ can’t seem to let the silence stretch very long

—

When Shane gets home, Ilya is waiting for him. Sprawled on the couch, dishwasher running, he lights up when he sees Shane, only for his excitement to dim at the line of tension and exhaustion in his husband's shoulders. 

“Take me out of my head for a while. Please. I’ll tell you after.” Ilya scoops him up and carries him to their bedroom to do just that. He reduces his husband to nothing but senseless noises, slowly piecing him back together when he’s done.

“I came out to JJ and the Pikes today. It was an accident, but they were trying to set me up again and I just blurted out that they should stop looking for women.”

Ilya looks up from where he's been playing weighted blanket on Shane's chest. “How did they react?”

“It was ok. I think it went better because Jackie was there. JJ didn't even flinch, just started asking what my type in guys was instead.”

“Wow. Did not expect that from him.” 

“Me neither. He actually apologized for the locker room talk when I pointed out that's maybe why I hadn't come out to anyone.”

“Do you believe him? Did Pike apologize too?” Ilya would really like a reason to stop punching Boiziau. Mostly because it upset Shane.

“I believe him, I think. I don't know. I won't be here to see if it sticks, but I'm willing to give them a chance.” Shane is silent for a loment. “Is it weird that I believe JJ's apology over Hayden’s?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, I know they're not bad people, and JJ has a bigger history of saying shit, but…” he lets out a frustrated huff, trying to find the words. “Hayden won't tell me what he did wrong, even though I know because you told me, he doesn't know that. Every time he apologizes I feel like he’s sorry he got caught and yelled at by Jackie. Like he apologized because I’m gay, not because he's sorry about being an asshole. JJ sounded like he was actually going to try. It still sounded like he hadn't considered he was homophobic until I pointed it out, and he definitely changed his tune so fast because it’s me, but his apology felt more sincere. Does that make sense? I feel bad thinking that it should be the other way around.”

“I get it. Hayden disappointed you more. Boiziau did not consider before, but now he does. Pike listens to wife, so it is unusual for him to disappoint you.”

“Hayden disappoints me all the time, remember All Stars?” Ilya kisses him, once, twice. “Yeah, but this is a line he’s never crossed before. I didn’t think I had to worry about it, but then that game happened, and…” Shane trails off, unsure of his own thought process.

Ilya rolls them over so Shane is laying against his side. He doesn’t say anything, just lets the minutes stretch out, running a calloused hand up and down his husband’s arm, feeling soft skin and hard muscles. There’s hot breath against his neck making his skin tingle. Shane is tracing the lines of his pecs and abs, scratching a fingernail lightly every so often. 

“I hope they do get better.” The admission is quiet, tinged with something bittersweet. The traces of what could have been lingering in Shane’s voice, a hopeful edge for the next someone like Shane in the Voyager’s locker room. 

Chapter End Notes

a little bit of a longer chapter, i'm going out of town soon so I don't know if I'll get another chapter up before the sixteenth, but i'll be writing the whole time. new chapter of time travel parenting is going up tomorrow probably.

also, yes, JJ is a better friend then hayden, I said what I said. i don't feel like explaining right now.

Chapter 16: i miss my husband

Chapter Summary

Shane talks to his parents and misses his husband. Ilya is sad and misses his husband. (they're approximately 8.5 miles apart, its been 19 hours)

Chapter Notes

one more extra-long chapter until i can get back to my laptop :)
Your comments give me life, i love all of you, enjoy!

“Mom!”

“Sorry, Shane. I’m still in shock, going back and forth over this! You’ve always played against Boston, now in a few weeks you’ll be playing for them. Not to mention you’ll be living in a whole new country for the first time.” Yuna shakes her head. “I’m excited for you, Shane. You’re making all these hard decisions, I guess I’m not used to you making them by yourself. I’m disappointed in Montreal, disappointed that you felt like you couldn’t come to us.”

“You would have tried to talk me out of it.” Shane points out when she pauses for breath. “And I didn’t decide anything alone,” he adds that part a little quieter, “I just knew you would try and convince me to stay and that wasn’t an option.”

Yuna looks a little shocked at his candor, but doesn’t try to refute it. “Maybe, Shane, but I just want you to be happy. I thought you were happy in Montreal, and you hate big changes like this. I just want what's best for you.”

“Honey,” David interrupts, “You would have tried to talk him out of it. Or you would have gone scorched earth on the Voyager’s management.”

He’a right, Yuna can’t deny. Doesn’t mean she’s happy about it. 

“Well, what they did was appalling.” She defends. 

“It was,” agrees Shane, “But it wasn’t how we wanted to handle things.”

Shane winces, hoping his parents don’t catch the ‘we’ in his sentence. He’s been so stressed out about managing the move and dealing with the swinging emotions of the people around him; it’s causing slips. He’s already come out to people this week and, while it hadn’t gone poorly, Shane wasn’t quite ready to do it again. There was still a back and forth about handling the social media fallout from his trade, he didn’t want an extra thing to worry about. 

“It needs to be handled regardless. It hasn’t leaked yet, so we still control the narrative around it.” Shane sighs. “Shane, there are going to be questions—”

“I know, mom, just- I’ll email Farah, the two of you can handle it. Please can we drop it now? Nothing's going to change. I’m going to Boston to play hockey, that’s what I care about. Not being captain, not controlling some narrative, just playing damn good hockey.”

Yuna and David look stunned at his outburst. Shane was never one to snap or to swear in front of them. Yuna held her hands up in surrender. 

“You don’t care about not being captain?” David asks, surprised at the admission. He thought his son liked leading his team on the ice, thought there would be a bigger fight about going somewhere he could step into the captaincy immediately. It must be worse than we thought, David thinks, if he’s giving up so easily. No, he corrects mentally, not giving up, Shane doesn’t give up, but he is letting go of a lot of dreams David always thought he’d fight for harder then this. 

“No, not right now. It’ll be better to establish myself and rebuild from the start than trying to force myself into an already established team dynamic." Shane cuts off his mothers questions before she can ask. “No, I don't think it will be hard. Once again, Boston asked for me. They'll be good teammates and make room for me the same they would with any new guy. I'm not fighting for respect in Boston, I'm learning where I fit in.”

“Ok, ok, I’ll stop for now. We’re going to miss you when you move.”

“We’ll watch every game still, and make it to as many as we can, especially when you play nearby.” David tacks on before taking pity on his son and redirecting the conversation, “So, how are the Pikes? Hayden and Jackie, right?”

“Yeah, I had dinner with them a few days ago. JJ was there too.” It’s not the safest turn, panic creeping back in. He forces himself to take several steadying breaths. “It was fun, the twins are growing up fast.”

“They just had a baby right?” Yuna asks. 

“Arthur, yeah, he’s cute I guess.” Shane can hear Ilya’s voice in his head reassuring him, one breath at a time, solnyshko, you’re safe, you can do this. “I’ll miss them when I move. Jackie’s always been great.”

His parents share a soft smile. “Well, you’ll make new friends in Boston hopefully, but it’s nice to know you have friends here.”

David stands, “I should get started on dinner.”

Shane sees his chance and stands, saying, “I’m going to go on a run before dinner. I just need to… yeah.” 

He heads upstairs to change into workout clothes, serious about getting out of the house. He’ll call Ilya once he’s outside, mapping out in his mind the perfect halfway point to still make it back in time to shower. 

Talking to Ilya helps, Shane just telling him to talk about anything so he can listen while he runs. Ilya tells him about his day in as much detail as he can, stretching it out for Shane’s sake. The Russian soothes him, washing over his ears, giving just enough concentration to translate. When he gets back to his parents, he bids his husband goodbye, promising to see him in the morning, and hangs up to take a shower. 

After dinner, Shane settles into the couch with his parents, some movie playing on the tv. He’s stretched out, half his attention on the movie, the other half watching his parents curl into each other. It makes him miss Ilya, eyes glazing over as he imagines Ilya sitting on this couch, thighs under Shane’s head, combing fingers through his hair. It’s a nice daydream, imagining his whole family together, something he can almost feel in his grasp. 

Yuna turns to catch Shane’s gaze. “You ok, Shane?”

Shane blinks a few times to clear his head, staring at his mom. Her eyes hold a drowsiness, but she’s diligently searching Shane’s face for anything wrong. He feels the words get stuck in his throat, I’m gay. 

Shane shakes his head instead, “I’m fine.”

“You sure?” The words are pressed behind his teeth now, Shane swallows them down. Now is not the time, he thinks, not like this, I’m not ready. It wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t change the important things, Shane amends in his head, but it would change things. I’m not ready for more things to change. 

“Yeah, just tired. I’ll probably head up to bed soon.”

The searching look on his mother's face lingers for only a minute more before she decides he must be telling the truth. “Ok, honey. I love you.”

“I love you too, mom.” Shane needs to talk to Ilya, start establishing their public friendship, and bring Yuna (among others) around to the idea that he’s maybe more than his media and hockey reputation. A little longer, please, I’ll tell you soon. 

The next morning Shane texts his husband to let him know he won’t be home until lunch, promising to make it up to him enthusiastically. Ilya responds with, ok, i love you. ;). 

From one moment to the next, Shane almost regrets deciding to stay for breakfast with his parents. Scott Hunter comes up, conversation shifting to his coming out. It’s a harmless enough conversation, full of words like brave and groundbreaking. There’s a moment where Shane is positive his parents have figured him out, tip-toeing around straight up asking him. Thankfully they relent when he gives them nothing except he’s proud of Hunter and he hopes his team is sticking by his side. He tells his parents that he knows the Bears reached out as a team and no one’s been anything but good about it as far as he’s heard. He doesn’t mention that his new teammates were more shocked that Hunter came out then that there were gay hockey players in the league. Or that they'd been sharing a locker room with a bisexual hockey player for years before recruiting his gay husband.

Shane says goodbye, promising to call from Boston and to have them over for dinner after his first game of the regular season. A game they promised they weren't going to miss. 

Ilya is still in bed when he gets home, curled onto his side. Shane sits on the edge of the bed next to his knees. 

“Hey.” Shane puts a hand on Ilya’s thigh and rubs his thumb back and forth. “I’m home. Thought you'd be waiting by the door for me.” Ilya rotates his torso to look at Shane, blinking at him. His voice sounds a little rough when he says, 

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too. Are you ok?” It’s not unusual for Ilya to sleep in, especially in the summer, but it’s almost noon and several other red flags are being raised in Shane’s head. Ilya shrugs at the question. 

“English is hard.” Shane can work with that, there were days Ilya couldn’t—or didn’t want to—handle translating everything. 

“Ok. Do you want to get up for lunch?” Ilya shakes his head. 

“Nyet, not yet. Will my husband come cuddle me?” He makes a grabby hand towards Shane, who stands to change into more comfortable inside clothes before climbing under the covers and letting Ilya pull him into his arms. Once his husband has all four limbs wrapped around him, Shane finally feels Ilya relax, all the tension bleeding out of him. 

“Did you eat breakfast?” Shane knows how to ask around the question he really wants answered, which is do you want to talk about it? because he knows the answer will be no. But he’s established his own kind of baseline for Ilya’s hard days, same as Ilya’s done for him. They have different methods for their respective issues, but they work. 

“Da, I had smoothie.” Ilya hesitates. “I got back in bed after. I really missed you. I shouldn’t, I saw you yesterday, kissed you goodbye, talked to you. We are living together. But I still missed you a lot.”

“You’re allowed to miss me as much as you want. I miss you all the time too. Yesterday, we were watching a movie and all I wanted was to be holding you.”

Ilya’s arms tighten around him, the spot where his face was buried into Shane’s neck is damp. “Really?”

“Really.” Shane frees his arm from where it’s been trapped between their bodies and uses his newfound freedom to play with Ilya’s hair. “Do you want to head back to the cottage early?” Ilya stills. “We don’t have to be here for anything else. If I load the car, I can have it done in a few hours. We can head home whenever you want.”

“Really?” Shane hums. 

“Da, there isn’t much to finish packing and I can hire someone to come clean it before it goes up for sale. If you let me get up now we can leave by dinnertime.”

Ilya doesn’t let go, mulling it over. He reluctantly releases his husband. “Ok. I can let you go for this.”

Shane has the rest of the apartment packed and everything gathered by the door to be brought downstairs to the car. Most things were already in Boston, but the remaining non-staged personal belongings were going to Ottawa. He’s clearing out the fridge, packing away items in a cooler, when Ilya comes down stairs. He’s wearing one of Shane’s sweatshirts, hair damp from a shower, and latches himself onto Shane, arms around his middle and chin hooked over his shoulder. Content to watch his husband organize the contents of the fridge to be transported. 

“Feeling better?”

“A little, I am still tired, but I am better.” He presses a few kisses behind Shane’s ear, nuzzling the spot. “I will be best when we are at the cottage, alone.”

“First, you should eat something.” His words are distracted, tilting his head to give Ilya more access to his neck. 

“Can we stop at McDonalds?” Ilya mumbles against Shane’s skin. It’s a common cheat meal for him, but something Ilya rarely asks for. Shane considers for a moment, but knows he’s already going to give in. Picking his battles, this doesn’t need to be one, and if it’ll help Ilya feel better…

“Sure, but come help me load the car.”

—

They pull into the parking lot of a Thai restaurant they both like, deciding against cooking tonight. It’s still light out when they get to the cottage, food balanced on Ilya’s lap. Shane stops Ilya from serving up the meal, instead directing him outside to the dock, following a few minutes later with a picnic blanket from the back of the closet. 

They spend the evening like that, cross-legged by the water, watching the sun set over the lake. When their food is gone and Ilya has pulled his husband to be tucked against his side, laying down and looking at the stars, he speaks. 

“Thank you.”

“Hmm? You’re welcome.”

Ilya brushes a tear away. “Thank you for taking care of me today.”

Shane rolls so he can look at his husband, hands coming to cup his face, thumbs brushing unshed tears away. “It’s my job, remember, to love you forever? This is part of it.”

They clean up after that, Shane leading Ilya inside and upstairs.

Chapter End Notes

:) i need yalls help. there was a fic a read not too long ago, but long enough i cant find its a social media fic where someone om twitter tries to defend dallas kent by trying to throw ilya under the bus but all pf twitter comes to his defense. if someone could tell me the name plz i beg of you i want to bookmark it. ill love you forever.

ok, see you next week with more!

Chapter 17: shane's lesbian therapist

Chapter Summary

Therapy Montage ft. the other half of the evil lesbian therapist wives

Chapter Notes

yes, this chapter got inserted between ch16 and the old ch17 (now 18) because it made more sense.

April 2015

Shane attends his first therapy appointment over the phone. For two reasons, one, it’s easier to be vulnerable when he doesn’t have to control what his body and face are doing in a social setting. The second is because his therapist is based in Boston. Shane would admit to his husband and his husband only that he’d done that on purpose. For all the research he did, when it came to choosing his own therapist, he’d just used Ilya’s already compiled list of therapists. They were all already gay friendly and most worked with athletes or other famous individuals. 

His first choice had been a man named Lyle. Lyle was only a few years older than Shane and boasted his years in the baseball minor leagues before an injury had forced him into another career. Several email exchanges had dissuaded Shane from booking an appointment; Lyle only did appointments in person and Shane had been uncomfortable with some of the approaches Lyle took after he’d explained his and Ilya’s circumstances (anonymously, of course). So Lyle was crossed off the list, as was any other straight man on the list, regardless of their credentials. 

The second and third emails had been unanswered, the fourth was no longer taking clients, and the fifth had been straight up rude.

Shane almost gave up, decided he didn’t need therapy, but he couldn’t get the way Ilya had burst into tears out of his head. The broken way he’d said It hurts sometimes how much I miss you. Shane knew that whatever was going on in his husband’s head was different, but Shane understood missing Ilya so much it hurt. The internet research spiral he went on made him aware of the weight on his own shoulders, reading accounts from people who didn’t think they needed therapy only to realize it’s exactly what they needed. 

The seventh therapist was a woman named Emma. She was in her fifties, married to a woman, and replied to Shane’s email so professionally he wanted to cry. She provided every piece of paperwork outlining the professional boundaries and patient-confidentiality she was confined to, explaining everything Shane needed to feel comfortable scheduling his first appointment. 

The skype call was the most nerve-wracking thing Shane could remember since he’d asked Ilya to kiss him. By the time the hour was over, Shane found an ease at Emma’s professionalism and her by-the-book attitude. She hadn’t reacted to seeing his face on the computer and retained a neutral face through every revelation he’d thrown at her.

“What brings you to therapy?”

Shane looks off into the distance, letting his eyes go unfocused while he considers how to answer her. He’d rehearsed several explanations for the things he knew would probably come up, but there wasn’t much he could prepare. He swallows, “My husband started going about a month ago and I researched so I could support him the best I can. The more I looked into it, the more it seemed like a good idea for me to be here. Or at least try it out, you know.”

She keeps watching him, letting him decide when he’s done talking. Now that he’s started, he doesn’t want to stop.

“We’re in a complicated situation; neither of us are out, or can afford to be out, especially with each other. The only other person who knows about our relationship is our agent, but like you, she’s a professional.”

“Ok, always correct me if I get it wrong, but it sounds like you’re in an isolating situation.”

Shane nods, then shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s a word for it. It’s not like we’re hiding away from the rest of the world. I’ve still got friends and my parents, but none of them know I’m in a relationship. They don’t even know I like men.”

“Let’s start with you then. It . Tell me about yourself and your relationship, give me a baseline for future appointments.”

—

His plan was to talk to Emma once a month, but with playoffs looming on the horizon and the weightless feeling after the first appointment, he renegotiates with himself to every other week. He’s not sure he could fit in an extra hour every week, but every other feels manageable with his current schedule. 

Shane’s promise to Ilya–bringing his diet plan, both the old one and the modified one from Montreal’s nutritionist, to her–is delayed by one appointment. He doesn’t tell Ilya this, but Ilya doesn’t always tell him about his sessions either, not even the things Shane requests he bring up. It’s a habit they settle into, when one of them notices something about the other; they’ve always been better at reading each other. (It’s easier sometimes to say Ilya noticed… Do you think he could be right?)

“Let’s talk about it,” says Emma. “What exactly are his concerns about your diet?”

“It’s not the diet, well, yes it is, but he doesn’t like the nutritionist we hired this year. Thinks he’s bad at his job.” Shane taps his fingers on his arm, contemplating how to explain. “I’ve been following the same diet most of my career, but this year it’s gotten… it’s stricter? That might be the best way to describe it. Mark is making us do these food logs, like tracking calories and macros. We turn them in so he can make sure we’re on track and stuff. I don’t love it, he’s been telling me to cut some stuff out. I feel bad telling him no to his face and bad for modifying the logs, but I feel worse when I listen.” Emma doesn’t interrupt and the rest comes rushing out. “At the beginning of the year, I listened, made my diet stricter and more in line with what he was telling us to do. Ilya and I got into a fight about it, actually, after about three weeks. Eating together is one of the few things we can do together, even over the phone, and… I was snappish and irritable. I wasn’t sleeping well. Ilya thought it was related to the new diet plan. Between putting my foot down with Mark and fighting with my husband? I just modify the logs, but I still swing between They wouldn’t hire someone who doesn’t know what they’re talking about and If I have to lie about what I’m eating so I don’t pass out at practice…” Shane shrugs, bringing his hand to his knee to squeeze. It’s a gesture that Ilya uses when he can feel Shane pulling into his own head. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Ilya’s concerns, and yours, are valid.” She starts. “I’m looking over the plan now and I understand where he’s coming from. I’m not sure what your nutritionist’s credentials are, but this is a working diet plan. For someone who’s not an athlete. At least not an athlete of your caliber. I’m not surprised at your symptoms if you were to adhere to this strictly.”

Shane feels himself deflate in his chair. It’s not that he thought Ilya didn’t have a reason to bring it up, or that he thinks Ilya will gloat about being right. Shane hates being wrong about something like this, hates that the primary emotion is embarrassment. He’s embarrassed he couldn’t figure this out by himself, that two people in his life had to bring it to his attention. Shane knows that’s not fair, but none of it is. 

“We’ve got forty more minutes, Shane, let’s figure it out.” Shane forces himself to take several deep breaths while she talks. “We can talk about the actual plan in a minute, but I want to start with Mark. Why do you feel like you have to listen to him?”

Shane doesn’t respond for a few minutes, mulling over the answer that immediately comes to mind as if it would change if he thought more. “He’s the expert. He was hired by my team for one job. It’s disrespectful to not let him do his job and it’s disrespectful to management if I don’t utilize the resources they have available.”

Emma doesn’t let him spiral too far into himself, pulling him out by asking him clarifying questions. It helps–her method–forcing him to think logically about a situation by asking questions in a way that leaves no room for argument. Her favorite is who is the adult in charge of you?

The first time she asked that, it confused Shane out of his anxiety attack. It was the reminder he needed the most. Just because there are other authority figures in your life does not mean they out rank the most important one, himself. It put words to a specific feeling he’d never been able to name since he’d turned twenty and started his second year of professional hockey. I’m an adult, I am in charge of myself.

He thought it wouldn’t be as comforting as it is, a reminder that he’s the one juggling all of his responsibilities, but it did the opposite. It was an emotional reminder, not a physical one. 

—

February 2016

“It’s unusual for you to move our appointments around,” starts Emma when Shane logs on for his appointment. “If I’m remembering correctly, it was your break. The weekend you get to see Ilya for a few days?”

“Yeah…” Shane can’t help the exhaustion in his voice, only made more prominent now that he’s in a (metaphorical) space he feels safe. He launches into a retelling of the weekend, his parents' unexpected visit, Hayden crashing dinner, his frustration at having the one weekend he gets to himself interrupted. He ends up on his feet, pacing around his living room, gesturing wildly while his feelings explode from him; the Voyagers and their expectations of a second cup, the way he feels isolated from his team because the only thing they have in common is hockey, Hayden’s constant overstepping, the emails from his mom that feel like they’re becoming more frequent than their texts. Emma listens to all of this, occasionally noting something down, letting Shane steer the currently one-sided conversation wherever his brain takes him. This isn’t just All Star weekend, it’s the entire season. 

“Are these things we can fix one at a time?” She asks when he’s done. Shane shakes his head.

“I don’t know,” he confesses, “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“It sounds like you need a completely blank slate.”

“I need a nap.” She cracks a smile.

“Your support system is fractured and you’re separated from your safe spaces while actively surviving in a hostile environment. You need more than a nap.” Shane drops back into his chair and puts his head in his hands, scratching at his own scalp.

“What can I do to just fix one?” Emma gives him a long look before sighing in a way that meant she was going to bring something up he was going to fight her on. She did that sometimes, would just repeat the same thing every few sessions, never pushing further than mentioning it to force Shane to ruminate until he was ready. He groans in preparation for whatever she brings up now.

“We’ve spoken about your hesitations for coming out, and you know I understand why your husband must remain a secret,” He did, her wife was Russian, “have your feelings changed at all after this weekend?” 

Shane keeps his eyes trained to the middle distance as he considers it. This doesn’t come up very often, even when they talk about his parents. They’d gone back and forth for months when Shane gave his reasons for keeping his parents in the dark, prompting a debate about balancing having a mother and a manager be one and the same. Shane had ultimately left it alone, his mother had always been his manager and it was more comfortable than hiring a stranger to fill the role. Besides, he still didn’t feel ready to tell his parents he was gay (a word he was still getting comfortable using out loud in reference to himself, because really, it had always been Ilya and it always would be, so did it matter if he liked girls as well or not at all?) whether or not his mother would be managing it.

“No… Yes, I mean, my feelings have changed, but not good. I’m not happy with anyone right now. They’re all so positive they know what’s best for me, but no one even asked me a question the whole time, just talked at me.” He shakes his head. “Coming out still feels like giving them a part of myself I’ll never get back. It’s been mine and Ilya’s for so long that the two are hard to separate, especially when one is so hated. I know they won’t hate me for being gay, but they hate Ilya so much, or seem to, and he’s at the center of the whole gay tootsie pop that my feelings are all tangled together.

“Don’t even get me started on telling them about Ilya. I know she didn’t mean it, especially the way it came out, but she said something that just… I’m scared that telling them will unite them against me against him. Like they’ll decide he’s not good enough and just bulldoze me in attempts to get me against him. And if they knew we were married! Did you think this through? You’re so young, Shane, you don’t have to settle down with the first man. What about a nice man from Montreal? If it was a girl, it would be different, they’d be so happy I settled down and found someone. Even a different guy would be ok, they’d be hurt, but they’d say they understand why we hid it. But Ilya? All the stuff I already hear in a new context, he’s not good enough for you, he’s violent, he’s an asshole, why him? I can’t handle that right now, not when he’s the only one holding me together.” The last confession is quiet and true. “We still have a few years until he can get his citizenship, so telling them will at least feel safer. I just… I want telling them to feel easy.”

“So we can’t fix anything individually; we have to find a solution to everything all at once instead, it sounds like.”

“Ilya and I are planning to figure it out this summer. Basically, we’ve tabled the discussion, but we both know it needs to happen and it’s not going to be easy. We’re not going into the next season without a gameplan.”

“Good. I can assume you’re already considering all possible options to be prepared?”

“Yeah.”

“Shane. I’m going to say it, because I need to know one hundred percent that you’re aware of it. Your best option, in my opinion, is a fresh start. I know enough about hockey to know you’re in control. I need you to understand that life is unpredictable, I'm sure you know better than anyone that life doesn’t always turn out like we think it will.”

“I know,” he says quietly, “I know.”

—

They’d had their usual calls over the summer while Shane sorted through his feelings accidentally coming out to Hayden and JJ (that had been a fun appointment, once Shane had gone through all five stages of grief and invented a sixth), his trade, and the complicated emotions of getting to live with Ilya full time while still hiding their relationship from (almost) everyone. 

The most annoying thing had been everyone’s reactions to his trade, his mom still in disbelief that the Bears had gotten him. His rivals. She had plenty to say on the subject, most of all on the subject of the locker room culture and the behavior she expected from the man who was supposed to hate him. Both expectations for what he would do and what she thought he should do. Shane wanted to appreciate her version of support, but it feels like too much. It’s not until he snaps and reminds her that they were all adults and once again Boston had asked for him.

His irritation doesn’t last long when he sees how quickly his parents back off, a clear effort to try and listen to him. It’s a start.

—

October 2016

Shane’s first therapy appointment upon his move to Boston is more draining than he expected. Especially since he’d foolishly assumed that he had prepared adequately for his new routine. No such luck, instead he held back frustrated tears, unable to decide what kind they were. His teammates were settling into a groove with him and he felt welcomed, not just as an extension of Ilya, but as a player, an equal. There had been ribbing at his desire to just go home at the end of the day instead of out, but it stopped there. The two times he had gone out with the team, no one said look who decided to show up. 

Playing hockey was fun.

And Shane still felt a little overwhelmed with how much he did and didn’t miss Montreal. He felt guilty at how relaxed he felt compared to the previous year. He was sad that he felt guilty. He was kind of relishing in the surprise on everyone’s faces when he’d played his first game in black and gold.

When his hour was up, Shane stayed in the office, looking at his face reflected in the dark laptop screen. Ilya finds him when he doesn’t emerge, face a little worried, like he wasn’t sure what he would find. Shane just beckons him over and uses his husband as leverage to pull himself up and fold into Ilya’s arms, burying his head into the crook of his neck.

“I’m ok, just thinking.” Ilya holds him tighter, swaying them slightly. “I love being here, being with you, in Boston. I love our team. I think my body is still in shock a little.”

“I understand. When we got married, for a few weeks, felt like dream, but also too real, yes?”

“Yeah, I can’t believe it’s real.”

“Is real, solnyshko.” Shane was starting to believe it.

Chapter End Notes

(bad friend hayden pike is now a searchable tag and it's inspired more WIPs from me. So if i post several more works...)

Chapter 18: a fun surprise

Chapter Summary

Shane and Ilya start to navigate actually being on the same team.

Chapter Notes

this chapter fought me the whole time, but i've wrangled it into submission. Kinda.

edit: this used to be ch 17, it is now ch 18. just for anyone confused.

Despite the evidence proving Shane Hollander had been traded and was no longer starting center for the Voyagers, no one really believed it. Especially since the rumors placed him in Boston and no one believed Hollander would leave Montreal, least of all for his rival team. Shane wished he could say that no one had seen him in his new city, but that wasn't entirely true; several people had spotted him around the city the rare times he went out during the week between arriving officially and the first preseason game in Boston. Unlike Montreal, fans had stayed at a respectable distance, pointing and whispering, but no pictures had made their way online. Shane was willing to ride that out as long as he could, hoping that it was a sign of the respect Boston had for their athletes mixed with utter confusion.

There had been a lot of debate about whether Shane would be first or second line. Ilya could play on his wing no problem, but Shane refused to make him give up his spot just so Shane could keep his first line spot. In the end, they decided Shane would play second line this season, center, to be reevaluated next season. 

It was a good idea, because that first game proved that Shane Hollander now played for the Bears, but revealed nothing of the power couple Boston now had. Coach LeClair wanted to keep the two of them away from each other on ice for as long as possible, as a fun surprise for the league. 

The fourth game finally put the Hollander-Rozanovs on the power play together. MTL-BOS, in the Bell Center, facing the team he’d been traded from. The energy in the locker room was bloodthirsty while they prepared. Ilya was prowling around, hyping his team up between checking on Shane.

Shane laced his skates, focused on his routine, keeping half an eye on his husband. He was nervous about facing Montreal, facing the people that drove him away. It was supposed to be his home, the palace he was going to retire, and it never had been. The visitor’s locker room felt foreign to him. His nerves are on edge, just a little. Ilya, ever the best husband, sat down next to him, quietly rubbing his back up and down, soothing out as many of those nerves as possible. Everyone else was too busy getting their own gear on to pay attention to them. 

“Will be ok, yes?” Shane looks Ilya in the eye, and nods. It would be ok. Shane could look at the facts, since he’d left, the Voyagers’ season wasn’t off to a strong start. When he’d been on the team, Shane had to be most of his own support system, but now?

Now, he had Ilya and the Bears. A team that did want him. They played well together, they liked each other, they were going to-

“Send Montreal home crying!” Cheers filled the air, Ilya was now standing on a bench delivering his pre-game speech. “Prove we are better in every way. If they wanted to win, they should not have given us best player.”

Ilya bumped helmets with each player as they headed to the ice to deliver on their promise, roaring echoing down the hallway. Shane was last, bumping helmets twice, the second in place of a kiss.

If the Voyagers thought the last game they'd played against Boston–the bloodless massacare–was brutal, it had nothing on this one. The Bears weren't reining themselves in this time, happy to spend time in the penalty box. The Voyagers defended themselves as much as they could, but the second penalty of the night gave Boston the power play. It’s the first time the hockey husbands line up together for a real game. 

Disbelief that Hollander and Rozanov not only can play together, they're actually really good at it unites the otherwise divided fans for a historic moment for hockey. The crowd roars when Shane scores, the movement so smooth, the goal light was the only indicator of what happened.

Montreal hadn’t been quiet about who exactly was at fault for the trade, believing they’d made the best decision for their franchise and not above lightly bragging about ‘cleaning house’. This game didn’t just wound Montreal’s pride, it destroyed it with a final score of 7-1, Boston.  

—

Shane wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or not that starting over in a new locker room came with the additional challenge of how exactly he should act with his husband. On one hand, rebuilding his routine almost from scratch was easier, but there was a new anxiety that he was going to overstep the boundary of being professional in the work place. 

Not that he and Ilya couldn’t be professional; they’d had plenty of practice over the year with appropriate pda, finding a comfort zone amongst their friends and coworkers. Shane would die with the secret that he’d watched the other couples on the team during gatherings to figure out a baseline of what was considered normal. He and Ilya were a little touchier, but Nicole told him that was normal when he asked, besides, she’d assured, their ‘touchyness’ was relatively pg and there was nothing wrong with wanting to be in contact with his husband at all times – fingers interlocked, shoulders touching, Ilya draping himself over Shane, or a hand on Ilya’s back were all normal.

Shane did make Ilya promise to refrain from overly sexual comments at work, knowing he couldn’t stop all of them, just the ones that would get both of them in trouble with themselves. Ilya behaved. Mostly.

The first time Ilya slapped his ass, he almost didn’t notice. It was accompanied by Ilya saying, “Go shower, solynishko, we have dinner reservation.” The gesture was so normal, Shane forgot they were at work and not home until he caught Simmons eye who gave him a raised eyebrow.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing.” Simmons raises his hands, “You just act like an old married couple.”

“We are a married couple.” Shane’s eyebrows scrunch, trying to find the double meaning.

“Not usually here, though,” retorts the goalie. “You guys are professionals, but it’s nice to see you relax about the pda a little in the locker room. None of us care.”

“Oh.” Shane's not sure what to say to that. They did talk about work boundaries, keeping their affections a little quieter, for the sake of people on staff who didn’t know and out of respect to their teammates. Shane finishes his shower in silence, pinching Ilya as they trade spots, and ultimately decides to let the ass slapping go for now. Unless it becomes excessive or someone complains, of course.

Ilya never expected the rink to become a place he got to relax his vigilance about keeping their relationship a secret, but he found himself surprised at the middle ground they were building. Anything that could be passed off as ‘a little friendly, but harmless’ was fair game, they staggered their showers, and as long as it was clothed, Ilya was allowed to touch his husband's butt in the locker room. Kissing wasn’t exactly passable as a friendly gesture, kept to private spaces, so he’s surprised the first time it happens.

Late December, a few days from the holiday break, playing a home game against Nashville. One of Nashville's defensemen got into a fight against Marlow, gloves dropped. Cliff was nursing a black eye on the bench, but the other guy had a broken nose. They ended up in overtime, Boston eventually scoring a goal putting them at 2-1.

Coach poked his head in, “Hollander, they want you for media.”

Shane pauses where he’d been getting undressed, “Huh. yeah, I’ll be right there.”

He abandons the plan to remove his shirt, but his husband has other ideas, reaching out to tug the hem.

“No, Hollander, take your shirt off. Don’t be boring.”

“Boo, Roz! You just want to look at him shirtless, don’t lie,” calls Carmichael, who gets something chucked at his head by Ilya. Shane chuckles, grabbing his husband's face and planting a quick peck on his lips.

“I’m not dealing with you fighting twitter again because you didn’t think this through.” He walks out to face the reporters, shirt on, leaving a flabbergasted husband behind.

“Man, he got you good.” Marlow laughs.

“You ok, Roz?” asks Picco, waving his hand in front of Roz’s face. “You’re looking a little red.”

“Russian’s do not blush, I am not blushing.” argues Ilya, who is in fact red in the face, unsuccessfully fighting a smile.

“Right…” drawls Marlow, “That’s not a blush, that’s just what you look like every time Shane looks at you, or smiles, or does anything really.”

“Fuck off, Marly.” Ilya aggressively grabs his stuff and stalks towards the showers, leaving behind his now howling teammates.

At the bar later, Connors brings it up. “So, Hollzy, how much does Roz fight twitter for it to be a thing?”

“Huh?”

“You said something about Rozy fighting twitter.”

“Oh, yeah. He gets in twitter fights because he forgets that other people on the internet will thirst tweet about me and gets upset about it.”

The entire table bursts into loud, raucous laughter. Marlow slaps the table a few times, pulling himself together to say, “Why haven’t we noticed? I feel like that’s the kind of thing he’d go viral for.”

“He has a burner account.” A ripple of oh duh goes around the table.

“Tell us more.” A very red Ilya Rozanov starts protesting at that.

“Nyet, nyet, nyet. No more telling. Shane, why are you telling?” He pouts at his husband next to him who has just raised an eyebrow.

“Every single time. You forget every single time. Do you remember Calvin Klein?” Ilya’s pout gets deeper. “I told you it was going to be a repeat of 2012, but you said you would be fine.” Ilya grumbles under his breath in Russian. “You’re right, I wasn’t complaining. But you were grouchy for weeks! I had to take your phone away.”

The Bears are watching this exchange, amused at the way their captain was scowling at his husband. The argument almost immediately switched to Russian, voices never rising, but Shane was crossing his arms now, and Ilya was gesturing wildly. 

Connors leans over to Carmichael, “Do you think we can find his private twitter?”

“Maybe,” he says. “We just have to dig through all of the other Shane Hollander fan accounts.”

That sets off another round of giggles from the people around them, drawing the attention of the hockey husbands. 

“What?”

“Nothing!” says Connors, “What happened with Calvin Klein?”

“Well,” Shane leans in, “Calvin Klein is an underwear company, right? I modeled for them a few years ago, with Ilya’s blessing. Except my husband forgot, despite me warning him, what exactly that would mean.”

Ilya has his arms crossed in front of him, body angling towards his husband, and grumbling more. “They should not speak about you like that. Or look at you, ever. You are mine.”

“Calm your tits, Rozy.” Hammersmith placates.

“What? My tits are calm.” Ilya is frowning more than pouting now. “English is stupid. Twitter is stupid.”

“Ok, I think it’s time for us to go home.” Shane stands, reaching to pull Ilya with him. He waves goodbye and drags Ilya out of the bar towards their car. He doesn’t need to see it happen to know that his husband’s pout has turned into a smirk. Ilya had gotten exactly what he wanted.

Chapter End Notes

I said I would be back and here I am. I've got a lot written, but it's out of order, so thank yall for continued patience. If i cant get my brain to focus on the next chapter here, ill finally edit and post ch 4 of time travel parenting.

Chapter 19: scotty doesn't know (sveta does)

Chapter Summary

Svetlana shows up and doesn't leave until she's befriended her best friend husband.

Chapter Notes

I had to bring her in at some point. and yes, this is the club mentioned in Scott vs Cliff.
dw, she will be more prominently featured in the future.

February 2017

Ilya can imagine another universe where Shane stayed in Montreal and this All Stars game was the first time they were on the ice together. He’s incredibly thankful that it’s not this universe. Instead, the five Boston players who’d been a combination of invited and voted in were receiving dirty looks from everyone else for having the audacity to obtain Shane Hollander and rewrite the rivalry narrative. It wasn’t even a consolation for everyone else that hockey’s power couple would be separated from the rest of the Bears, the two would be on the same team and the only people happy about it were their teammates.

Ilya strutted around the hotel with an air of smugness. He was able to play up the asshole persona, sling an arm around his ‘newest teammate’ and boast as much as he wanted about his husband as long as he kept it to how good they were at hockey and resisted the urge to kiss him. It was equal parts better and worse to be in the same place. Now they had the excuse of becoming friends to be seen together in public, but they still had to be aware of every touch, every look. Having their team in on the secret helped, as did the already physically affectionate nature of the Bears. Ilya wished sometimes he could just skate laps around the ice shouting for the crowd that Shane Hollander was his husband, we play hockey so good together and he’s all mine. None of you fuckers stood a chance.

Instead, he and Shane exchanged secret looks and argued the way they always did; no one would suspect that they were flirting even if they were looking for it. They knew they were an odd combination of people to be in a relationship, but that’s what made it so easy to hide in plain sight. Ilya relished in making innuendos only Shane would recognize for what they are. (Ilya forgot sometimes how much of a little shit he married until Shane fired back with his own innuendo that would stop Ilya in his tracks and, if Shane was lucky, turn him bright red.)

The cover up worked a little too well apparently, because Scott Hunter still hadn’t figured it out, even with all the very obvious clues they kept giving him. Shane lay on Ilya’s chest later, spent and satiated. They’d been giggling together about Scott’s broken gaydar, brought to their attention at the bar earlier and Kip’s message afterwards that Scott had assumed Cliff was bisexual. Shane couldn’t boast a particularly good gaydar either and he was particularly bad at being gay according to his husband, but something about Scott’s obliviousness was particularly charming. 

Shane was grateful for the addition of Kip to the group chat. His identity was still a secret from Kip, but it was nice to be able to talk to a fellow gay man as a friend. He loved his team, they made him feel welcome, but he liked having his own friends, not just sharing Ilya’s.

Jane: Scott has a really bad gaydar

Jane: Trust me, this will be really funny later.

Kip: Ok? You’re right, but you can’t tell him, he doesn't know

Jane: I don’t plan on it, but one day, you’ll look back at this and understand how funny it is

Kip: Is this about Cliff?

Jane: Yes, but also no

One year later

Kip: You motherfucker

Kip: You just sat at that table and didn’t say a word

Kip: bad gaydar is right

Jane: I told you it would be funny

Jane: in our defense, we thought you knew until after you guys left

Kip: I hate you, why are you like this

Jane: Have you met my husband?

Kip: he corrupted you

Jane: He didn’t have to. He liked me for a reason ;)

Kip: Bitch. 

Kip: I need the full story asap

Jane: :)

— 

Shane was riding the high of making it to the playoffs. The adrenaline of that final game to secure their spot follows them home and to the bedroom where Shane is also riding Ilya. One hand braced against the headboard while his hips rolled in time with Ilya’s thrusts. It had been like this all year, any time they’d won a game together–which was most of them–they’d find themselves at home as soon as possible, tearing clothes off with such eagerness that Shane couldn’t even be upset that they ended up on the ground in a messy trail from the front door to wherever they end up fucking. 

They thought competing against each other was fun, winning together was an entirely different emotion. Ilya had pointed out that they’d each won a cup individually and now any more they won would all be together, they’d never beat each other in the cup count. Shane hadn’t even blushed at the wolf whistles when he pushed Ilya out of the locker room, declining the invitation to go out that night.

Shane was more comfortable going out these days, even to the gay-friendly bars they tended to frequent. Picco had come in once with a recommendation from his wife who’d run into a few of the PWHL players for the Fleet and extended an invitation in good faith to their male counterparts to join them at the sports bar they frequented after their own games. He still preferred the more quiet spots, but Ilya had a way of dragging him out of his comfort zone. 

With Ilya to steady him and surrounded by people who liked him (and if they were at a gay bar, people like him), Shane found that he enjoyed himself. He still turned in early, refused most drinks, and would rather sit at whatever table had been commandeered.

Ilya, too, was going out more than he had been the last few years. Being a married man hadn’t changed him, but with his husband’s eyes on him, Ilya rediscovered his love for being the center of attention on the dance floor. Shane had to tell him several times that he didn’t mind Ilya’s shameless nature, confessing instead that he found it hot; jealousy stemming from a desire to be seen with Ilya in the same way Ilya could be seen with girls. Even back in their early days, Shane never begrudged Ilya’s more sexual nature, just wished he didn’t have to watch other people get his attention. Now that they both knew where Ilya would go at the end of the night, Shane got his free show (and if TMZ wanted to fan the flames, free entertainment) and his husband got to show off like a peacock. 

Shane only wished he could touch. Could join his husband on the dance floor without running the risk of someone outing them. They’d been able to disguise dates easily enough; it was Shane’s first year in Boston and someone had to show him the sights, why not his new captain. Pretty quickly it became apparent to Boston and social media that the two had become fast friends, some of their teammates getting online to tweet helpful things like they’re both so weird about hockey, now we can just throw Hollzy at Roz and run away. They’ll entertain each other for hours. Or Don’t worry, the rivalry is still about who can score more points. Now they just argue in the locker room instead.

Shane loved his new team, loved feeling like he could be in public without having a panic attack, but there was a part of him that had been split open the first time he’d kissed Ilya in front of people that refused to close again. It was accidentally letting Svetlana in on the secret that provided a solution.

She’d shown up out of the blue at Ilya’s door, freshly moved permanently to Boston, expecting to find her best friend and lay into him for pulling away while she had been traveling between Russia and the States for her job. Instead, Svetlana sat on the couch, crossed her legs, and waited for the noises coming from the bedroom to stop. 

Svetlana knew that Ilya found someone; he’d pulled away years ago, putting a distance between them that hadn’t been there before, but he’d been happier and she’d been busy, so as long as they still talked occasionally, she was content to wait for him to come to her. Part of it had probably been her still living in Russia part-time, whatever secret too dangerous for her to know. Sveta had her suspicions about Jane, so she didn’t push.

Her best friend had frozen, wearing nothing but boxers, on the way to the kitchen when he’d spotted her. She raises one eyebrow at him/

“Jane?” is all she asks. Ilya swallows and glances back at his bedroom. She takes pity on the fear and resignation in his eyes and stands to pull him into a hug. “It’s ok, Ilya. If he’s ready to meet me, I’d love to meet him. I’m living in Boston full time now, so I can wait.”

She watches Ilya grab a glass of water and disappear into the bedroom without a word. Sveta is a little disappointed, but not for long. Ilya emerges only a minute later with a very familiar looking man trailing behind him. Well, that explains a lot, she thinks.

“Sveta, this is Shane.” The man in question is eyeing her warily, but holds a hand out anyway and says, in impeccable Russian,

“It’s nice to meet you. Ilya has told me a lot about you.” Svetlana takes his outstretched hand and uses it to pull him in for a hug. It’s brief, but gets her point across.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Shane Hollander. Why don’t we sit and Ilya can tell me about you this time?” She’s not sure what they are to each other except important, but when Ilya says it, she can’t help her own surprise that she hadn’t noticed the ring before. It sits nonchalantly on Ilya’s right finger, a matching one on Shane’s right hand.

“Sveta, you cannot be mad, because nobody knew.” Ilya warns her, to which she scoffs. Of course no one knew about his secret boyfriend, but that’s not what he meant. “Sveta, he is my husband. I love him.”

Oh. She’s taken aback by the confession. Husbands. 

“How long?” Shane and Ilya look at each other in a way that suggests this isn’t even close to new.

“2014, in the summer. When I didn’t go back to Russia that year.” 

“Ilya…” Svetlana has to get up to hug them again. She wishes she could have been there for her oldest friend, upset that she missed not only the happiest day of his life, but missed him falling in love completely. It won’t do any good to bring any of that up, so she steers the conversation to better topics. They end up on how Shane is finding Boston compared to Montreal. When Shane confesses that while he doesn’t like clubbing the way Ilya does, he wishes he could at least have the option instead of feeling like he’s being forced to turn down going out.

Sveta has the perfect solution.

—

Ilya can’t convince his husband to dress up, but getting him to a club is already pushing it, so Ilya backs off easily. Battles to be picked later and all that. The club Sveta got them an invite to has a strict no-phone policy on top of having a reputation where closeted people didn’t have to worry about being outed. It was invitation only, guaranteeing that everyone there would be respectful and wouldn’t gossip. It took Shane eight days and one therapy appointment to agree to try it out with Ilya and Svetlana. He had reinforced his boundaries about PDA, looking Ilya in the eye to warn him about keeping his hands to himself tonight. 

They check in, turn in their phones, sign a lot of initial paperwork promising to honor the integrity of the club, and make their way into the crowded and smokey room. Instantly, it’s not Shane’s favorite, choosing to find a seat along the wall on a raised platform. Ilya peels off to get them drinks while Shane adjusts to the environment. Svetlana sits with him while they wait for Ilya.

He inexplicably finds himself relaxing as he gets used to the noise. Shane reminds himself that everyone is following the same rules that have just been outlined to them and it helps. The other thing is watching all the couples around the room. He’s watching men dance up on each other, imagining doing the same with Ilya. Everyone seems to be in their own bubble, with friends, or partners, or strangers. His husband sets a ginger ale and two glasses of vodka down in front of him.

“Thanks.” Shane touches his husband’s knee lightly in gratitude. 

Ilya checks in with him too many times before finally letting Sveta drag him onto the dance floor. Shane shoos them away and keeps an eye on where they end up, not too far from their table. 

It’s intoxicating, watching Ilya in his element. Even more than the usual spots they frequent, something about this place defies all usual rules. Shane still doesn’t feel like he can join them, but it doesn’t feel as impossible or as scary.

Chapter End Notes

the next few chapters (including this one) are all going to be quick cut scenes pushing us into the future. It's all mostly fun and fluff and smut cause we need to get to 2019. (any ideas/prompts for scenes set during summer 2017/shane's 2nd year in boston are welcome)

a quick poll: if yuna thought that shane was keeping a secret, accidentally found out about the cottage, learned the code to the gate, do you think she would show up to see what was up? would she, with good intentions and horrible execution, show up and (unfortunatly, technically) break in? do we think she would go that far, or should i scrap it? nothings decided yet, i want yalls opinions. does yuna have one more bad decision in her? (it will not affect when/how they tell her about them, that's already decided.)

Chapter 20: never have i ever

Chapter Summary

Let's wrap up the 2016-2017 season

Shane throws his head back against Ilya’s shoulder. His husband grabs his hair to force his head up enough for Shane to be looking at himself in the mirror. They’d been kneeling in front of it, Ilya behind him, arm wrapped around his waist while his cock dragged over Shane’s prostate, for what felt like hours.

“Look at yourself,” he growls, “Stanley cup champion and all you can think about is my cock.”

Shane whines, watching through half-lidded eyes where they’re connected. His chest is flushed and heaving. Ilya’s skin is sweaty where they’re pressed together and all it does is turn Shane on more. As soon as they’d finished celebrating as a team, the two of them had disappeared with instructions for no one to bother them for a few days unless it was an actual emergency. The warning had gotten them hoots and hollers to which a slightly tipsy Shane had bowed dramatically to roaring laughter. Sue him, he had just won his second Stanley Cup, with his husband, surrounded by their friends; if he wanted to be proud of the marathon sex they would be having, he would be proud goddamnit. It wasn’t like most of the guys weren’t planning on doing the same with their partners. So here they were, in front of the full length mirror in their room, on round something. Shane lost track and he’s positive Ilya stopped keeping count after three.

“Ilya, please.” Ilya just chuckled against his throat, teeth scraping slightly.

“You can do it, my love. Just like this, see how pretty you take me? How many times now? I know you have more in you.” Shane reaches a hand back to grip at Ilya’s curls, holding him against his skin, and starts to move. He doesn’t have much leverage in his shaky legs anymore, but he can lean his weight back and grind his ass against Ilya’s hips. Sucking another mark to join the molting bruises spanning his shoulder and neck, Ilya lets his teeth sink in just a little more. It’s the sharp pain and the hand on his dick that finally drives Shane over the edge. Come splatters on the mirror, Ilya’s eyes locking in on it.

“Lick it up.” Shane’s brain isn’t processing anything, so Ilya grips his chin and pushes him forward, “Lick.” he commands again in Russian. Shane trusts Ilya’s hold his weight and sticks out his tongue. The mirror is cool against his tongue. He makes eye contact with his husband in the reflection, streaks of white sitting in his red mouth, and slowly pulls his tongue back in to swallow. Ilya, who’d been grinding against Shane while he’d cleaned up his own mess, moans and spills into Shane without warning. “Fuck, Shane.”

They sit there, panting, for a few minutes. As soon as Ilya can move, he’s pulling out gently, soothing Shane when he hisses. Ilya somehow manages to get his legs underneath him, “Come on, solnyshko,” and supports Shane to the shower. He knows they’re both still horny and riding the high of winning, but they need a nap before either of them can go again. He also knows that if Shane wakes up sticky, there’ll be hell to pay, so they sit on the floor of the shower, against the wall, and Ilya rinses them off.

Shane has regained enough semblance of self to get himself to the bedroom and under the covers, but once he’s tucked against Ilya’s side, breathing in their scents, he drifts off, but not before saying, “Ya tebya lyublyu.” Ilya follows him into sleep a few minutes later, enjoying the feeling of soft warm skin against his. 

—

They should be in Canada already. It’s the end of June, they’ve got the MLH awards in a week, but Shane mentioned once that it might be nice to stay in Boston for a little bit and they could fly home after the awards. Ilya knows that if his husband mentions something like this, forced casual and just once, that he’s definitely thought it through, but doesn’t want to be the one to make the choice for them. So Ilya calls Cliff and arranges for them to do a double date.

It turns into a triple date because Ilya suddenly worries that just the four of them will start the wrong kind of rumors, so he invites the Piccos. Six of them doing laser tag looks like a group outing and not a date. 

Shane surprises everyone, including his husband, with how good his aim is. He’s not even that good at the rest of it, his smooth coordination off the ice reserved for yoga and yoga-like activities, like sex. But what he does have, apparently, is the hand eye coordination of a sniper and the ability to find high ground.

They play several rounds, splitting into new groups: couples against couples, free-for-all, the ‘bisexuals’ vs the straights (Ilya said they couldn’t be the gays because Shane was the only gay one; him and Anita were both bisexual, so they won naming rights). One game, Shane and Ilya end up only targeting each other while everyone else takes sides. It’s pandemonium and Shane doesn’t think he’s had this much fun in ages. 

Shane is the one that, after a breather, pulls Anita and Nicole aside and convinces them to do them vs their husbands. He’s surprised at himself for being ok with being on the SAPs team instead of the hockey player team, but the girls were his friends first and listening to Ilya complain that he was also technically a SAP and should be on their team was really funny. Especially when he’s just standing in the middle of the room unprotected for all three to shoot him in quick succession. 

“Betrayal!” he shouts after them, pouting while he waits for his own gun to recharge, and going to find his teammates, grumbling in Russian under his breath.

“Sorry, man. That was on you,” says Cliff where he’s pressed flat against one of the walls, peering around the corner, eyes scanning for his wife. 

“Focus, both of you, we can’t lose,” Dante adds where he’s creeping up on them. All three lock in, determined not to lose. In the end, it’s almost a tie. The boys pull ahead just barely until Shane gets right up close to Ilya.

“Поздравляю,” he says, leaning in to kiss his husband. Ilya is distracted enough that he doesn’t notice that Shane’s lips aren’t the only thing pressed against him until there’s the sound from his vest indicating a hit right before the timer runs out.

“Come on, Roz! What was that?” Ilya looks down in surprise; he’s in disbelief. Shane had just seduced him to win. A honey-pot kill. He’s equal parts upset and turned on. His husband just kisses him again and walks away to high five his team.

“Don’t be sore losers,” he calls behind him.

“Yeah, Dan,” yells out Anita, “Like you wouldn’t fall for the same trick!”

—

The other thing they do between the season ending and going home is a trip to the club Svetlana had introduced them to. They’d been several times by now, Shane’s discomfort lessening with each trip. The last time they’d gone, he’d even made it to the dance floor, arms around Ilya’s neck. He still refused to kiss him in what was still, technically, a public space. But he felt comfortable enough to be seen dancing with his husband. It’s not like anyone was paying attention anyway, no one had ever approached them, Shane hadn’t even caught anyone staring like they were recognized. Which was ridiculous, everyone in Boston knew them, they got approached on the street all the time, but here? Not that Shane had ever seen. 

They’d managed to secure invitations for Cliff and Nicole and Connors and his fiance. Anita had been able to get her own invitation for her and her husband. It was a good group to go out with. 

The Marlow’s offered to buy the first round of drinks and brought back a tray of vodka shots. More than enough for everyone. Ilya hooked his elbow through Shane’s and they threw back their first shots together. Like everything he was nervous about, doing it with Ilya was always easier. Now that it was the off-season, he saw no reason not to celebrate so he wasn’t exactly nervous about drinking, but taking the first shot of the night with Ilya was ritual.

Ilya dragged them to the dance floor almost immediately, followed by their teammates. Shane lost everyone at some point. He started the night with Ilya, grinding unashamedly forward, letting his husband guide their hips together. Ilya peeled off when Shane started to lag, settling him at their abandoned table with Nicole, and went to get him another drink. He returned with a Moscow Mule and a glass of water, which Shane immediately downed. He waved Ilya off to go dance some more, pointing out where Cliff was dancing with his wife and a group of women.

Nicole struck up a conversation that turned into a game of never have I ever. Anita and Dante joined them at one point, needing a break. It was how they were found an hour later, another round of shots mostly gone in front of them and so, so drunk.

“Ok, ok, my turn,” Anita hiccups, “Never have I ever… used a sex toy in public.”

Shane takes a drink. He’s the only one who does so, and the girls shriek. 

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Nicole is slapping the table, “Tell us. What was it?”

Shane’s face is already flushed from alcohol, but he manages to blush more, but he confidently states with a grin, “A plug. Never have I ever had a threesome.”

“Never?” Shane shakes his head. It’s not actually that big of a surprise.

Anita links pinkies with her husband and they both drink. Dante is next up, “Never have I ever, shit, I don’t know, never have I ever… Oh! Answered the phone while having sex.”

Anita hits her husband, but drinks, then reaches over the table to high five Shane, who takes a sip of his own drink. He’s having fun, genuine fun. Ilya lost his shirt at some point, Shane notices when his husband joins him, Cliff and the Connors in tow. Really, Shane notices because he’s thinking about sex and immediately zeros in on Ilya’s abs. They’re glistening with sweat and he’s a weak, weak man. Ilya leans down to kiss him. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, leaning down over Shane, one hand on the back of his chain, the other on the table. 

“Never have I ever,” answers Dante, “Come join us.”

“Roz, I have a question,” Nicole says, “Is it true that you once got a concussion during sex?”

Ilya looks at her, looks at Shane, looks back at Nicole, looks at Cliff. “What?”

“I agree, what?” Sam, Connors’ fiance asks. 

Cliff has his eyes narrowed while he sits next to his wife in the booth, trying to think through the haze of alcohol, “Is that the concussion you said was from tripping into a door?”

Ilya blushes, “No.”

Shane looks up at him incredulously, “You told them you ran into a door?”

“It’s the only one I can think of that didn’t come from hockey. And you seemed weird about it,” says Cliff. 

“Oh my god, I remember that,” Connors adds, “That was before we won the cup and I remember because… I don't know, but it was early. It was a sex injury the whole time?”

“Was back before we were married,” Ilya confesses, shooting Shane a significant look, “They would have asked questions about sex injury.”

Shane raises an eyebrow, “I think they’re aware you have sex, it wasn’t like they would find out it was me back then.” Ilya’s cheeks go a little pinker and he mumbles something under his breath. “What?”

“I did not want to lie about you.” Oh, it’s Shane’s turn to blush. 

“That’s sweet,” Nicole interjects, “But it’s true? How?”

Shane is looking at Ilya, giving him the green light to answer. A few minutes ago he would have been positive about Ilya's desire to tell any sex story, but now he wasn't so sure. 

“Yes, yes, is true,” he says, throwing his hands in the air, “I hit head on back of bed. Had small concussion.”

“Well, yeah, you hit your head, but like, what position? Oh my god, I'm so drunk, you don't have to answer that.”

Shane leans over and just whispers the answer into Nicole's ear, she slaps a hand over your mouth, turns to him and says, “Shane Hollander!”

Shane winks and picks up his drink, “Whose turn is it?”

The table wants to ask more questions, but Ilya moves the conversation along by saying, “Never have I ever been pegged by a woman.”

The night moves on; Shane pulls his husband down onto his lap and snuggles into his neck, arms wrapped around Ilya’s middle. He taps out of drinking, but raises his glass of water to indicate his continued participation.

Chapter 21: parents, dead and alive

Chapter Notes

July 2017

Shane wins MVP this year. Ilya watches his husband thank his family, team, and friends. He knows he’s included in all three categories, but Ilya wishes Shane could include him as a separate person, the way he’s always been. He occupies a unique space at Shane’s side, even if no one here knows it, and he wishes it could be acknowledged. His comfort is Shane finding him in the crowd and delivering the speech right to him instead. There’s only a few years left until he can properly apply for his citizenship test; a light at the end of the tunnel. The longer they are married, the more both of them are looking forward to the safety that will provide. Even Shane has become more antsy about potentially coming out. They’re publicly friends now, best friends even. They’re seen together around Boston, they play together well; their relationship might still come as a shock, but this easy narrative they’ve managed to build only makes them want more. 

Rehabilitating their rivalry was easy, but Ilya’s own reputation is harder. Not for lack of trying, but his early years can’t seem to stop following him, despite a distinct lack of evidence. Well, the evidence locker isn’t entirely barren. Since Shane moved to Boston, Ilya’s been going out more, so tabloids have things to blow out of proportion again. The city they live in doesn’t care, doesn’t really believe it. But Shane’s been having a harder time with his parents recently, stemming from an article Yuna had seen and called Shane about. It had devolved into a shouting match, a rarity for both mother and son. Shane hadn’t even been involved, just appeared in the background of a picture, but that had been the catalyst for a few rumors online about the Bears ‘corrupting’ the golden boy of Canada. The handful of tweets held no substance and had died out rather quickly, every hockey fan in Boston coming to the defense of their newest player, displeased that Montreal fans would dare slander Shane Hollander after fumbling him so badly.

It didn’t stop Yuna from panicking about her son’s reputation and calling him. Shane hadn’t been happy with the accusations thrown, not at Shane, but at Ilya, at Rozanov. His husband originally thought the article was funny, following Ilya around while scrolling through it and the comments asking pointed things with a grin. He hadn’t appreciated his amusement being cut short by being told You never used to be like this, Shane. I worry that you’re being forced out of your comfort zone in an effort to fit in and I don’t want you to get caught up in a sinking ship.

He’d yelled right back that he’d actually never been so comfortable and he didn’t feel forced, it was actually the opposite. Shane felt like he could go out without feeling like a wet blanket, is that what you think too? That I’m so boring I never want to go out? I just never had people who were fun to go out with before. I can handle a few rumors, mom, it’s not like there’s any truth to them. Calm down about this please.

He’d hung up, unwilling to discuss it further. 

Ilya watched his husband make his way off the stage. He waits a few minutes for Shane to re-join him. His hand settles between them, lightly brushing Shane’s thigh, the most they can get away with right now. Shane taps his foot back.

After the boring part of the night, they move into the second boring part of the night. Shane sticks close to Ilya because he can. They can’t touch anymore than a pat on the shoulder or a friendly side hug, mostly initiated by Ilya with his reputation for being overly-affectionate to his teammates. (Shane had been worried at first, that rumors would fly online, but there’d been nothing of note except that part of the internet, but nobody put much stock into it, but Ilya enjoyed spending time there. Just for fun, you know?)

Shane eventually has to bring Ilya to his parents, the plan is to re-introduce them. Ilya hadn’t had much time to meet the elder Hollander’s since Shane’s move. Just a few team get togethers, post-games, a few calls Shane had answered while they were ‘hanging out’. Yuna and David were aware that they were friends, and close, but they had never really warmed up to him. Probably because Ilya and Shane both made an effort to keep Ilya at a safe distance, lest they get discovered before they’re ready. That, and it was clear that the Hollanders still didn’t really like him. 

Since the phone call, Shane was trying to figure out a good way for them to be seen in public in Ottawa together. A good way to get some positive press and force a change in the narrative behind Ilya’s reputation. Shane had stayed up late for a week before Ilya cracked and sat on him until he confessed.When he explained his idea of doing a charity, Ilya had jumped on board, eager to do whatever Shane needed. 

His husband had been nervous about presenting his original idea, a charity honoring Ilya’s mother. Ilya just kissed him hard anywhere he could reach, saying ya tebya lyublu and spasibo over and over against Shane’s skin. Ilya was the one to come up with the idea of hockey camps. Once they had everything together, they just had to present and sell it to Yuna Hollander, then the rest of the world. One of those would be significantly easier.

“Mom, you know Rozanov,” Shane presents him to his mother.

“Yes, it’s nice to meet you again,” Yuna says in a voice that doesn’t betray what she’s really thinking. Really, Ilya’s been on his best behavior, and always has been at formal events like this. No, Shane, teasing you doesn’t count. Ilya shakes her hand and does the same with David.

“We’ve been talking and want to get your opinion,” says Shane, “Ilya’s going to come with me to Ottawa this summer. We’ve been talking about starting a charity together. Maybe summer hockey camps, and we’d donate the money to mental health organizations.”

Yuna doesn’t quite manage to hide her surprise, but she’s an expert at covering it up. “Oh, that sounds wonderful Shane. This is something the two of you decided together?”

“Yes,” says Ilya, “Shane had idea, knew it was important to me, so he asked if I would like to help.”

“I see,” it was clear that Yuna did not see, “And you’re going to be in Ottawa all summer?”

“No, just a week or so. To visit. We were hoping for your help setting everything up. I’ve done some of the research–” an understatement– “but getting it all done is a tall order. I don’t want to miss anything.”

“I’d love to help, Shane.” Yuna looks between them, “And you, Rozanov.”

“Thank you.”

Shane takes back over, “We want to be able to announce it this winter; have it ready by next summer.”

And they’re off, Yuna and Shane firing back and forth about logistics. Ilya can only stare at his husband. He’s sure he’s doing a bad job of controlling his face, but he can’t find it in him to care. He doesn’t need to follow what they’re saying, so he lets himself stare, occasionally sipping his champagne. Ilya looks up when he feels eyes on him and catches David Hollander watching him. There’s nothing discernibly negative in his gaze, in fact it almost seems like David is analyzing him the same way Shane does when he’s trying to figure something out. When David notices him, he offers a reassuring smile. Ilya returns it. Whatever Shane’s father was looking for, he’s done now.

Ilya feels Shane’s hand on his arm and returns his attention to his husband. 

“It was nice to see you again,” he says to the Hollanders, as Shane leads him away to finish socializing before they can disappear to their hotel room.

— 

“Are you ever going to stop?”

“Nyet, I have told you Shane, is good luck,” Ilya said, abandoning their bags in the car to carry Shane into their home like he had every summer since 2014. Shane would never actually complain; he likes the ritual they have.

“I can’t argue with that.” Shane is set down in the kitchen, “Go get our bags, I’ll get everything else.” The tasks were split, Ilya to unpack the car, Shane to pull protective sheets off of their furniture and get the cottage ready to be lived in. Ilya returned and headed straight to the bedroom to unpack, Shane joining him a few minutes later.

Shane wakes up to a cold bed, much earlier than he planned. The sun has barely peaked over the horizon and his husband is already out of bed, unusual for Ilya. Shane finds him outside, sitting in front of the little garden they’d planted their first summer here. It was where Ilya sat and spoke to his mother when he needed it. 

He approaches slowly; Ilya knows he’s there and doesn’t stop him from settling next to him on the grass. They sit in silence for a few minutes, a blanket Shane brought out draped over their shoulders. 

“Sveta called,” says Ilya. His voice is devoid of emotion, only the slight tremble of his lower lip betrays him, “My father is dead.”

Shane sucks in a sharp breath, but doesn’t say anything. Ilya hasn’t spoken to any of his family members since they got married. Since before, even. After Sochi, he’d stopped picking up calls and had blocked their numbers entirely that summer. Shane has known since the very beginning of their relationship that Ilya’s family is a sore subject, one Shane has always navigated by offering physical comfort instead of words unless Ilya tells him otherwise. 

Now, in the chill of the early summer air, he wraps his arm around his husband’s waist, squeezing his hip and tucking his head into Ilya’s neck. The shuttering breath Ilya lets out is only a precursor to the sobs that wrack their way out of his body. Shane pulls him closer, into his lap and against his chest. Ilya’s face is buried into the space between Shane’s shoulder and neck, tears wetting Shane’s skin. 

Shane holds him until the sun has thrown the world into a soft golden glow. Eventually, the shaking subsides, but Ilya still doesn’t remove himself from Shane. If he didn’t know his husband so well, Shane would think Ilya had fallen asleep against him. It still doesn’t stop him from doing some awkward maneuvering to pick him up and carry him into the house. 

He sets Ilya gently on the edge of the bed and strips him. He’s not confident that he can get Ilya into the shower right now, so he settles on changing him into comfy clothes; one of Shane’s sweatshirts and worn sweatpants. Shane gets him under the covers and makes to leave, but Ilya grabs his wrist with a whine. Leaning down to kiss his forehead, Shane strokes Ilya’s cheek.

“It’s ok, sweetheart, I’ll be right back.”

True to his word, Shane takes only two minutes to gather two water bottles, a handful of granola bars, and slip under the covers to pull Ilya into his arms. This is how they’ll spend the rest of the day. Ilya will eventually start talking in a hoarse voice, spilling things about his childhood he’s kept locked up for a long time, he’ll whisper about the first time his father beat him, the only time he can remember his father feeling proud of him. He’ll tell Shane through tears that he doesn’t know how he should feel about everything; being unable to return to Russia for the funeral, not knowing if he would even want to go, wondering if he should reach out to his brother despite knowing it’s a bad idea.

Shane will murmur condolences and soothe Ilya’s fears. He’ll brush away tears and kiss Ilya like it could drive the pain from both of them. He’ll watch his husband slowly come back to himself over a few days, spending more time sitting outside or in their bed.

For right now, Shane just holds him, letting him cry out twenty-five years of hurt that ended without answers.

Chapter End Notes

I know what im doing w yuna and david now. unfortunately, she will not be making her one more bad decision. but, that part of the story has existed on paper longer than ilya's unplanned overnight stay in 1410, so i'll still publish the chapter as a non-canon divergence just for anyone who cares. (not kidding, the time stamp on my notes app for the original draft of the yuna finds the cottage chapter is 2/17/26 lol
if you notice theres only one more chapter in this work, dw, its just the end of this fic specifically. ill wrap this one up and we’ll get into the next era. so all the coming out will be a separate fic. ive got davids pov work almost done and yunas is getting there. then ive got a wonderful oc named Petro for yall.

Chapter 22: little bug

Chapter Notes

i elude briefly to shane coming out to his parents. this happens during the summer, sometime between Irina Foundation meetings and 'going back to boston'
I really just don't feel like squeezing it in when (1) its been written a thousand times and we know how it goes and i'm not reinventing the wheel here, they're supportive, they love him, they’re surprised and all that and (2) the ilya reveal is more important and i want to focus on that and (3) i forgot shane hasn't come out as gay to them in this series specifically and searched frantically until i realized i was imagining like three of my other fics...

December 2017

With the end of the summer comes their return to Boston. The start of their second year playing together arrives quicker than they’d like. They usually prefer their cottage, but after two months of laying out their plan for the charity with a well meaning but a tad enthusiastic Yuna, spending a few days with the Pikes, fielding blind dates from JJ and Jackie, and finally telling his parents he's gay, both Shane and Ilya are glad to be back in the city amongst people who don’t expect anything from them except good hockey.

And play good hockey they do, starting the season strong with a six-win run, only losing to New York because of the flu ripping through everybody, leaving them staggered with players in multiple stages of recovery at the worst times. Life keeps moving. The team finds things to do between winning games and nursing injuries; Shane hosts wag night, Ilya convinces Cliff to host a BBQ, Andrews invites everyone to his baby shower. 

The rookies corner them at practice one day, begging for a movie night at the Hollanov house during their time off. They can’t really call them rookies anymore, but they remain the youngest on the team, so the name has stuck at least when referring to them as a group. Plus, they do have a new rookie this year. August ‘Gus’ Kearney has been folded into the group like a younger brother and taken to following Shane around like a duckling. It’s the first time Shane’s had a rookie like this, even including his time with Montreal. He finds the earnest searching approval endearing and actually likes having the kid around to teach him.

The kid was drafted onto the team with stars in his eyes, quickly scrutinized, and then informed of The Secret™. He’d looked at the husbands with big eyes and whispered, “I have two moms,” to Ilya’s great amusement. Shane didn’t think they’d have any trouble with new guys joining the team, especially younger guys who were still wet behind the ears, but it was reassuring to accept someone new into their lives who understood.

Shane pulled Ilya down onto the couch before he could wander back into the kitchen. Once settled between his husband’s legs and leaning chest-to-back, Ilya lets himself relax. Shane wraps one arm around him under the blanket he’s thrown over them, the other finding curls to play with. They’re watching some movie the rookies said had just come out and swore up and down was good.

The kids are in a pile in the corner of the sectional, curled under a few blankets, eyes trained on the screen while Hugh Jackman gives a rousing speech to his group of–

“What’s going on again?” Shane whispers in Ilya’s ear. His husband shrugs.

“I think they are putting on show, tsirk, maybe?” His eyebrows are furrowed, so Shane traces the space with his thumb to smooth it out, keeping his attention on Ilya while he keeps playing with his hair. When he tunes back into the movie, it’s because Ilya hits him to get his attention. On screen, there’s that one actress Sveta really likes, her hair no longer pink and the other guy Shane recognizes from the last movie the rooks made them watch. They’re alone and singing, which is why Ilya got his attention. The lyrics are getting to both of them. Shane might not know exactly what’s going on in the movie, but these characters are in some kind of secret it-can’t-happen relationship and it’s hitting close to home.

At least there are sniffles coming from the other people in the room, so Shane doesn’t feel as ridiculous squeezing his husband who is wiping at his own eyes. It feels bittersweet to watch their younger players loosen up like this. When Shane was a rookie, the room always felt a little oppressing. He thought that was just the way it was in hockey, but now he’s a part of the kind of change that can happen. He wishes he had rookie friends like that, other than Ilya, who was an entire country away. He knows Ilya wished his room had been as welcoming when he joined the Bears as it is now, a result of Ilya’s own hard work as captain.

—

“Shane!” The man in question looks up, glaring into the space in front of him and taking a deep breath before closing his book. It’s the tone of voice Ilya uses when he’s found a spider or other creepy-crawly that he doesn’t want to deal with, but won’t admit that his city-boy ass is afraid of. 

When he finds his husband outside, he can’t help but snark, “You know, bugs are supposed to be outside. I’m not sure what you want me to do about that.” But there isn’t a bug, not that Shane can see. Instead, Ilya is crouched in front of one of the hedges that line their yard. “What’s going on?”

“Ah, Shane, you’re here,” Ilya looks up at him briefly, “Come look. I think there is animal.”

Shane squats next to him, peering into the bush, squinting to see if he can find what Ilya is referring to, “You know, you shouldn’t be playing with wild animals.” That’s when he sees the eyes staring back. Not any sort of city vermin, but definitely an animal. When it sees Shane, it meows loudly, startling Ilya onto his ass. Shane just moves closer, reaching out to the creature. It moves forward slowly, sniffing the air and skirting Shane’s fingers. When it comes tumbling out of the hedge, Shane holds very still, waiting for it to come up to him. The cat brushes his leg and Shane scoops it up, held tight to his chest where it can’t wiggle free to hurt any of them. 

“Shane?” Ilya follows his husband inside, calling after him in confusion. He finds them in the spare bathroom, Shane already filling the sink with warm water and fetching a towel and soap one handed. “What are you doing?”

“Dish soap, to make sure there are no fleas. Look, no collar, so no owner. And look at the state of her, definitely living on the street,” he starts talking to her in a low voice in a mix of Russian and English, he calls her bukashka while gently rinsing soap off of her gray fur. Ilya just watches his husband handle her in awe and a little jealousy. Shane never called him bukashka. Why would he? But the point still stands.

When he’s done, Shane sees Ilya's expression and laughs, holding up the small, damp cat, “Are you jealous of the cat, Ilyusha?”

“Nyet,” Ilya turns and walks away so Shane can’t see anymore of his pout. His husband follows him a minute later.

“We should call a vet, make sure she’s got her shots and everything. She looks young, definitely a kitten still, maybe a runt?” Ilya just crosses his arms and watches Shane coo over the animal, “I don’t think your papa wants to hold you, he’s all jealous in the corner.”

Fuck Shane for knowing exactly how to break him; he stalks over to stand in front of the two, “We’re not keeping her.”

Shane raises one eyebrow, “No?”

Ilya holds eye contact, not breaking it when he reaches out to take the cat from Shane, who hands her over willingly. The moment the cat is in his hands, and fuck is she small enough to barely fill them, he melts under her purrs. She licks his thump, putting her paw up onto his chest to bump her head under his chin.

“Fine, you can keep her.” Shane’s smile widens, a glint in his eye, “You can keep her, she is your cat.”

“Ok,” Shane kisses his cheek and walks off to call a vet, leaving Ilya with their new daughter.

“Shane? Shane!” He calls after him, still holding the purring cat, “Looks like your father just left you behind. What are we going to do with you?”

—

Shane enters the living room, looking for his husband. What he finds is Ilya passed out on the couch, Bukashka sleeping on his chest. Shane didn’t mean for the name to stick, but their cat decided that she spoke Russian, not English, so Bukashka–little bug–it was.

Ilya was determined not to like her, self-proclaimed dog person that he was, but Shane kept finding them like this. He snapped a picture quietly and sent it to the Marlows with the caption, he swears he doesn’t even like her.

Shane picks up his book from the side table, careful not to disturb either of them, and sits in the armchair where he can still see them. A tranquility settles over the house. Shane can’t help but smile while he reads, alternating between his book and watching Ilya’s chest rise and fall, lifting Bukashka with each breath. He takes a few more pictures, deciding that these ones aren’t incriminating enough to print and delete.

Ilya wakes half an hour later, sharply breathing in and raising his head, dislodging a disgruntled cat, “Nooo, krokha,” he whines after her before he notices Shane, “Solnyshko, good morning.”

“It’s three in the afternoon, Ilya.”

“Hmmmm.”

“Enjoy your nap?” He gets a nod and a sleepy kiss from Ilya now standing over him, hands braced on the arms of the chair. Shane yelps when Ilya adjusts to scoop him up and carry him to their bedroom.

“I want to enjoy something else now.”

Chapter End Notes

she's no Anya, but don't worry, Anya will come. besides, reluctant cat dad ilya rozanov consumes me.
also, city boy ilya rozanov vs spiders is about to inspire a whole new story… any of my readers from the pnw? seattle?

next work/update may 1st. i love yall, thank you for sticking it out this long. i love reading your comments, theyre the best way to end my day.