Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Kip Grady/Scott Hunter, Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau & Ilya Rozanov, Kip Grady & Shane Hollander & Scott Hunter & Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Kip Grady, Scott Hunter (Game Changers), Cliff Marlow | Cliff Marleau, Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais, Hayden Pike

Additional Tags:

Shane Hollander Leaves the Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros, Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros Bashing (Game Changers), Dialogue Heavy, POV Shane Hollander, Relationship Reveal, Ilya Rozanov Loves Shane Hollander, Shane Hollander Loves Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander Needs a Hug, Shane Hollander Is a Menace, Fix-It, hockey contract bullshit, I did do some research on how this works but jesus christ I'm not a lawyer, Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov join Ottawa together, Bad Friend Hayden Pike, Bad Friend Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Homophobia

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-05-31 Updated: 2026-07-16 Words: 16,007 Chapters: 2/?

Fork in the Road

Summary

After a revealing chat with Scott and Kip, Shane faces the fact that his team treats him like shit. Set during the 2017-2018 season, the one right after Hollanov's first trip to the cottage, Shane then has to decide what to do next with his career.

Notes

So this started as a one shot where Shane was going to talk Ilya into coming out to Marly. That was it.
Then words happened and here we are. With a chapter 1 of ?. I hope it only ends up being 2 more chapters but I have no idea where it's going so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Chapter 1

…

 

“Weren't there any nice men in Montreal?”

His dad might not have meant any harm. Might have come to love Ilya as a son within hours of asking it. But it had still been one of the first things said once someone knew about their relationship, and it had hurt.

Maybe if it had just been the once, it wouldn't have been so bad, but it seemed to set the tone for people's reactions to their relationship.

Hayden finding out was a mess. Jackie did a little better, but she still mentioned that she would have been happy to set him up with men if she had known- in front of Ilya, no less. Even Rose gently asked if Ilya was anything like his ‘stage persona’ in person, and seemed relieved when Shane rolled his eyes and told her that Ilya was very good to him, thanks. Like she had been worried that Shane would risk so much to be with anyone who didn't respect him. 

Honestly, Svetlana telling Shane that no one would find his body if he ever hurt her Illusha was pleasantly refreshing. It had been such a relief, knowing that someone else was in Ilya’s corner. That Shane wasn’t the only one who saw him for who he was. It was good, she was good- but she also didn’t live in Boston full-time. Couldn’t always be there when Ilya had a bad day… and neither could Shane.

He had been mulling over that fact for a few days now. He had asked if there was anyone on the team that Ilya trusted, and Marleau had been his immediate answer. No hesitation.

Marly is good teammate. Good friend. Even if it was his fault playing Metros sucked end of last season. Was snoozefest. No star center for me to outscore and then fuck.

Shane had rolled his eyes at that answer, but the confidence Ilya had in who Marleau was as a person had him considering talking Ilya into maybe possibly coming out to him.

A snide comment from Hayden as they were boarding their current flight to New York about spending some time with Scott and Kip after the game and seeing ‘how wholesome a gay relationship can be’ only added to his resolve. He knew Hayden was trying to look out for him, to be a good friend, but… really, it just felt like he had decided that he had hated Ilya too long to try and change his views. Talking about Ilya with him felt like more of a chore than a relief, but Shane still went to dinner with him and Jackie every once and a while, because they were supposed to be friends and they were in the know… and they did support Shane, in everything else.

Maybe Marleau could support Ilya.

Shane knew he was a good man; he had apologized after that hit on the ice last season. Through Ilya, that first time, yes, but at their first Boston game this year he had skated over and done so in person as well. Shane might not be the best at reading people, but the fact that Marly felt the need to apologize twice even with everyone- Shane included- ruling it a clean hit… it said something good about the guy. At the very least it showed that he clearly didn't hate Shane; he didn’t think Hayden would do the same if he had ever taken out Ilya, or at least if he did he wouldn't sound so sincere.

Shane was still thinking about it as they suited up for the game.

 

…

 

After they lost- only by a single point, at least- Shane headed to the Kingfisher with Hayden, JJ, and a couple of the rookies who were curious about the place (the rest of the team said they wanted to find a real club. Shane didn’t ask them to elaborate on what they meant by that). He had been wanting to go since Ilya had talked about it, and figured now was as good a time as any. Going with members of his team post-game was much less damning than him sneaking in after a sponsorship shoot or in the off-season, at least.

His first reaction was that the place was old. Not in a run down sort of way, but that the support beams were solid lumber of a size you just couldn't buy anymore (Shane had tried) and the hardwood floor had divots worn into the aisles between tables in a way that told him those tables had been set up that way for a long, long time. Something about that mixed with the hockey jersey hung on the wall and the pride flag next to it made Shane feel comfortable in a way that places that weren’t his usually never managed. He was pretty sure Hayden clocked the way that his shoulders had suddenly relaxed, and they were barely through the door.

He sent the group of them to pick out a booth, and went up to the bar to get them a pitcher of beer and maybe a couple menus.

The man tending the bar was instantly recognizable. So, apparently, was he.

“Shane Hollander! Hello! Uh, what can I get for you guys? Nice to meet you, also.”

Shane smiled at Kip Grady, proud boyfriend of Scott Hunter. His jersey said so- not in so many words, but it was a Hunter jersey, and Shane knew just by looking at it that it was the genuine article, not one from the MLH store.

“Nice to meet you too, Kip.” He hoped the man didn’t mind the familiarity. Calling him Mr. Grady just felt like the wrong move (Ilya had laughed at him over considering it when he had spiralled about visiting the bar over a call, then told him he was cute), and pretending he didn’t know who Kip was felt disingenuous. “A pitcher of whatever you've got on tap for the guys. For me… I don’t suppose you have ginger ale?”

“We do, actually! Funny story, we had a poll about any new drinks people might want on the menu like, a month ago, and like a hundred people voted for ginger ale. But I’m pretty sure you’re the first person to actually ask for it without it being part of a cocktail.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to come by more often, work through your supply.”

“So long as you keep losing to my boyfriend, I doubt anyone on the team would mind you hanging around,” Kip teased, and Shane laughed.

“Yeah, not going to happen. We had a rough game, but next time we’ve got it in the bag.”

“As if. Admirals are going for a second cup this year.”

“Not if I can help it.”

They smiled at each other, before Shane ducked his head shyly. He liked Kip. He was loyal but friendly about it, and didn’t seem to judge Shane for competing against Scott in a pretty high-contact sport. Like, they had even fought once. Kinda. Kip was… wholesome, Hayden’s voice from earlier rang in his head. He doubted anyone from Scott’s life looked at Kip and thought he wasn’t good enough for Scott.

Their conversation petered off as Kip got busy pouring the drinks and grabbing a few menus for the boys to order some food from- Shane doubted there would be anything he could eat here. Bar food wasn't exactly macrobiotic. He mentally prepared himself for yet another round of the team ribbing him about his diet; it was always awkward and a little exhausting.

“Is Scott coming by later?” Shane asked abruptly. He had meant to ask more naturally, maybe ease into it, but he wasn't very good at that, ever, and he was feeling another wave of the belief that things would seem simpler if he could sit down and talk to the other captain. It was that feeling that had pushed him to come here tonight, after a series of conversations with Ilya about whether it was a good idea.

“Yeah, the team are starting at a bigger place before heading down here after. Should only be a couple hours,” Kip offered without hesitation, handing over the drinks as he did so.

A couple hours wasn’t that long, Shane reasoned.

“Cool, thanks.” He bobbed his head in an awkward nod of appreciation before walking over to the booth Hayden and the others had chosen, a chorus of cheers greeting the beer and stack of glasses he had brought along with him before the hungry hockey players started pouring over the menus with gusto.

“Ah! Capitane! There's even some of your bird shit here!” JJ exclaimed, causing Shane to perk up.

“What?” he asked, grabbing himself a menu. He hadn't even bothered looking, having expected the typical wings, nachos, and other assorted piles of grease.

To his surprise, there was a ‘healthy eating’ section of the menu that included things like miso soup, veggie platters with hummus, avocado toast, and quinoa salad.

“Oh my god,” Shane grinned, looking up at JJ and Hayden. “That's it. I'm trading to New York. You can drag the Metros through to the playoffs without me. They actually have food here.”

Before Hayden and JJ could react to that declaration, Kip interrupted from the side of the booth, where he had wandered up to take their order.

“You know, most people say that about pizza or bagels in this city. Not whatever you're looking at, which isn't either of those things because we don't serve them; only because we know we couldn't do them justice. Definitely not because we're too lazy to run a pizzaria.”

“Please tell me the quinoa salad is good, because it sounds amazing,” Shane pleaded, suddenly hit by how hungry he was. Normally he didn't even think about food when he was out with the team, knowing that there was a snowball's chance in hell of him actually finding something he felt comfortable ordering, but the Kingfisher was a magical place where miracles could happen, apparently.

“Oh, it's divine. One of the only things I actually eat from here,” Kip was quick to reply. “I'll make sure the kitchen knows it's for The Shane Hollander, too. Get them to zhuzh it up all nice for you.”

“You don't have to do that-”

“No! I insist! If Scott heard that you even considered moving here for our salad options and I didn't give my utmost effort to convince you that was a rational life decision to make, he'd be so very disappointed in me.”

“Okay, fine, fine. Do your worst,” Shane laughed, startling the rookies at the table. Hayden and JJ also gave him odd looks, and Shane took a moment to evaluate what was going on. It wasn't that weird was it? Kip was nice, he was just playing along with his jokes. He joked with the team sometimes! Right?

Well, not when the jokes were racist, he supposed. Or misogynistic. Or homophobic.

And a lot of them seemed to lean that way, these days, no matter how many times he told the other guys to cut it out.

Maybe the rookies didn't know that Shane could joke around when the occasion called for it. And maybe Hayden and JJ had forgotten that he knew how?

Kip finished taking everyone's order as Shane wallowed in his own mind, leaving with a parting wink and a remark about getting that salad out as soon as humanly possible.

“Well he seemed… friendly?” Hayden offered, looking at anyone but Shane.

“He does know we are a bunch of hockey players, yes?” JJ added. “Flirting will not get him very far at this table.”

Shane held back a flinch at that. Fuck, was that what their odd looks were about? JJ thought Kip was hitting on him and wanted to warn Kip away, and Hayden saw a gay man who wasn't Ilya and thought Shane should go for it but didn't want to say anything or accidentally out him?

“Seriously guys?” he asked instead of unpacking any of his feelings on that. “Do none of you recognize Kip, Scott Hunter’s boyfriend? He wasn't flirting, he was being friendly with his boyfriend’s coworkers.”

“Capitane, you would not know flirting if it bit you on the nose. Excuse me if I do not trust your judgment in the matters of the heart.”

More like matters of his fucking ego.

“Fuck you, JJ. I'm not wrong! That was Kip Grady, I talked to him when I got your beer. Just because you're in a gay bar doesn't mean every guy you see is flirting with you.”

Shane had certainly never looked at him twice. No offence to JJ, but he really wasn't his type.

“Ah, mon ami, you wound me! I am so handsome, why wouldn't every man here want me?”

“Well to start, you're missing multiple teeth, have a high risk of CTE, and will need knee surgery by the time you're 40, so maybe calm the fuck down.”

Not that any of that had kept Shane from wanting Ilya, but that was different. They were still kids when they had met; future junior league champions. Shane hadn't been worried about cumulative brain injuries or knee replacements, he had been worried about talent scouts, talking to the press, wearing the right clothes after all the brand deals his mom had been signing for him… and then on top of that he also had to contend with the fluttery feelings he got every time he watched a certain Russian menace play. Or do anything, really.

He and Ilya certainly worried about the CTE and knee issues now, though. Planning around the end of their careers and getting Ilya a Canadian passport and what if he gets injured and loses his work visa…

That shit was fucking stressful to deal with, okay? And yeah, okay, it wasn't going to stop Shane, but JJ could fucking deal with him pointing out the general suckitude that was the darker side of their careers.

“Fucking savage,” one of the rookies muttered, then blushed when he realized that everyone had heard him. It set off a round of laughter, though, and that seemed to push the conversation towards lighter topics.

They spent the next hour chatting as they waited for and then devoured their food. They went through two pitchers of beer and Shane even had two whole ginger ales. Then pictures started appearing in the group chat of the shenanigans the rest of the team were getting up to at their “real club”. JJ immediately wanted to go join in. Shane had another hour of waiting before he could see Hunter and talk about… he still wasn't quite sure how much he was comfortable bringing up. Controlling the locker room? Work/life balance? The pressure of it all? Being gay, maybe, if he was feeling brave?

He probably wouldn't. That was a big leap to take, and while he had talked to Ilya about it, and Ilya (after several dinosaur insults) had said it would be okay, he had never really seriously considered doing it.

Scott’s knowledge of their relationship had always existed in a strange sort of limbo. Shane had thought he had figured it out, that time he fought him on the ice. But Scott had never said anything afterwards, and now with his coming out, Shane was pretty sure he would never have threatened to out another closeted player. So he reevaluated, decided to hope that Scott knew nothing, and they had just… never talked about it.

Maybe he could feel that situation out a bit tonight. Shane wished Ilya could be here, he read people so much better than Shane could. Of course, him being here with Shane would kind of give the game away.

“Capitane! You are daydreaming, and there is a club full of beautiful girls waiting, and the night is young!”

Shane sighed, shaking his head no.

“You go on, I want to stay and talk to Scott about something, he should be here soon.”

“Like what? How annoying that last goal was?” JJ joked, and Shane huffed, searching his mind for a better explanation.

“Captain stuff, probably,” Hayden supplied, and Shane sent him a grateful smile. As far as lies went, it was actually closer to the truth. He, Scott, and Ilya were all captains, after all. Talking about any of their lives counted as on-topic material there.

“Yeah, captain stuff,” he agreed. “Plus, you all know I’m not really the partying type. Go on, have fun with the rest of the team.”

The rookies and JJ wasted no time booking an Uber and heading for the door. Hayden lingered, glancing at their retreating backs to make sure none of them could hear before he spoke.

“You going to be okay here, buddy?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“Yeah. This place… it’s nice. It’s not too loud or bright or sticky, like every other place the team always ends up going. And they have food I can eat! I like it here. I’ll be good. And I really would like to talk to Hunter.”

“Okay! New season, new Shane. Guy actually likes a bar. Maybe you’ll run into something else you like here. Someone,” he emphasized, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Shane’s previous good feeling soured in his chest. Another hint that he should find someone other than Ilya? Now?

“Fuck off,” he snapped, and Hayden flinched, at least knowing that he had crossed a line.

“Sorry,” Hayden started, but Shane didn’t want to hear it.

“Just go,” he sighed, not even looking him in the eyes, dismissal clear. Hayden went.

Shane groaned, crossing his arms on the table and burying his head in them.

Why couldn't Hayden just let him be? Let him love Ilya and play hockey and stop trying to force his opinions on him?

A clink near his ear made him flinch and sit up. An apologetic Kip stood at the side of the booth, the glasses that the others had been using stacked on a tray alongside the empty pitchers.

“Sorry. I can leave, if you want. You didn't seem to hate me earlier, so I thought I'd give you the option of company. But feel free to tell me to fuck off too, if you'd rather be alone.”

“You heard that, huh?”

“None of the context, just the parting remarks,” Kip was quick to reassure him. “Want to talk about it?”

Shane let out a sigh. Yeah, honestly, he kind of really fucking did. Which was very strange, for him. Normally he didn't want to talk about anything to anybody but… 

But Kip was gay too. And he knew the hockey world. And he was dating a player. He would get it, in a way no one else really did, except Ilya. And Ilya wasn't here.

Kip apparently read his yearning on his face, because he quickly slid the tray of used glassware onto a nearby empty table and then sat in the booth across from Shane.

Shane took a moment to gather his thoughts before saying a word, making sure he wasn't about to say anything he might regret. Kip waited patiently, a courtesy Shane very rarely got from anyone who wasn't family. 

He was counting Ilya in that category. There was no world where he wasn't Shane's family, after everything.

“Have you ever had problems in your life from people trying to make decisions for you? Treating you like a kid, acting like they know what's good for you better than you do?”

Kip's eyebrows raised.

“Sorry if it's too much,” Shane added. “We don’t have to talk about this. We only met an hour ago. It's just… you asked.”

Kip snorted.

“Yeah, I suppose I did. Don't worry, I can handle weird conversations upon early acquaintance, I promise. One of my first conversations with Scott that wasn't about selling him a smoothie was him telling me about the differences between serial killers and spree killers.”

“One is a series of single killings spread out over time, and the other is a whole bunch of killings at once, right?”

“Okay, what is with hockey players and knowing that? Is serial killing a common hockey side-gig?”

“Wrong criminal charge. You're thinking of domestic violence.”

Kip snorted.

“Sorry, that shouldn't be funny, but Jesus it really does keep making the news, doesn't it? Before mysteriously petering out into nothing, of course.”

Shane sighed frustratedly.

“That and the sexual assault allegations. The day Dallas Kent leaves the league will only be sad because I won't be able to watch Rozanov knock out any more of his teeth.”

“Oh my god, you're so right,” Kip said before leaning in and focusing on Shane. “Also, I feel like everyone has been lying to me about you. Because you are not shy or boring. You're just fucking deadpan.”

Shane smiled awkwardly.

“Welcome to the elite club of people who have, you know, paid attention and noticed that. It's… um, it's very exclusive.”

To be fair to a lot of people, he did have a very boring media persona that he fell back on under any sort of social pressure. But even his own rookies hadn't known he could crack a joke…

“Ooh, fancy. How exclusive we talking?” Kip asked, leaning back in his seat once more.

“Not naming names, but… more than five people, less than 10.”

His parents. Ilya. Rose. Hayden and Jackie, on a good day. Possibly Svetlana, after Ilya had told her so much about him. And now Kip.

Fuck. It was kinda sad, when he laid it out like that. Such a short list of people who knew he had a personality.

Okay, that wasn't fair. A few more people knew that he had one, they just didn't quite know what it was. Like JJ, Scott, and Vaughny.

Kip reached out and squeezed his arm, a comforting pressure, before retreating back to his side of the table.

“Well, you've got me in your corner,” Kip offered. “There's no way I'm letting you go now that I know you're awesome. And funny. I look forward to a delightful friendship where we bitch at the world.”

Shane huffed out a laugh.

“That's pretty much what Rose said when we broke up.”

“Rose Landry? You're comparing me to The Rose Landry?”

“Is that a problem?” Shane asked, confused at how intense Kip had just gotten.

“A problem? No! Never! Rose is a queen! I just didn't expect… she's like an A-list celebrity, and I'm just a very gay art history major who happened to work in the right smoothie shop at the right time. And here you are, casually like ‘oh yeah, my ex-girlfriend, the famous actress, you're very similar.”

“Celebrities are people too, Kip,” Shane deadpanned, amused by his tirade. “You're kind of one yourself, now.”

“I mean, kind of? But it's not the same. I didn't do anything special to get here.”

“You loved me and put up with all my shit, I’d say that's pretty special,” Scott drawled as he picked the perfect moment to enter the conversation. Shane was genuinely impressed at his timing. He slid into the booth next to Kip, giving him a peck on the cheek that made Kip melt and Shane blush, wishing he and Ilya could have that kind of intimacy anywhere but behind closed doors.

He saw Kip note his reaction with interest, and it dawned on him that the exclusive club of people who paid enough attention to know he was funny were also the people who paid enough attention to notice he was gay.

He stared at the half-empty glass of ginger ale sitting in front of him, watching as a bead of condensation ran down the side and onto his coaster.

Well, fuck.

“-ey, Hollander!”

“Sorry, what?”

“Kip said you probably wanted to talk?”

Right. The whole ‘if I talk to someone older than me with similar traits who seems to have their shit together then maybe my life will make more sense’ ploy.

“Oh, yeah, um,” he took a quick drink, hoping his brain would get in gear and supply him with a better opening than stammered filler words.

It didn't.

“Sorry, I don't really know where to start,” he admitted.

“Would you rather I go-?” Kip offered, gesturing towards the bar, but Shane quickly shook his head.

“No, no. You're- you're great, honestly. It's been really great just talking. You're a member of the exclusive club, remember? You can stay.”

“Exclusive club?” Scott asked, looking between the two of them with a raised eyebrow.

“The people who have noticed that Shane Hollander is not boring. Or shy. And is actually kind of hilarious,” Kip explained. “If a little awkward, sometimes.”

Yeah, Shane supposed that one fit him to a T.

“Really?” Scott asked, but it wasn't incredulous- like some people would certainly react to hearing that claim about Shane Media-Training Hollander, Canada's golden-boy hockey-robot. Hunter just sounded curious, like someone he trusted had just told him something he didn't know and he trusted that they had information he didn't.

Not that Shane had any experience with that kind of behaviour, Hayden.

“Okay, I know where to start now,” he said, and both Scott and Kip immediately snapped back to paying attention to him. “Have you ever had trouble with anyone not respecting your choice to be together? Especially someone who knows one of you personally, but not the other one, and immediately decides that they're not good enough for you?”

“Well, shit, Rook. You're seeing someone?”

“That's the part you chose to respond to?” he asked rhetorically, then sighed. “...Maybe,” he offered, but it didn't seem to be enough for them. They just gave him an incredulous look, which was fair. “Okay, yes. I'm seeing someone. And everyone I have told has reacted like shit and told me they're not good enough for me. But none of them know them! Not as a person!”

He was pretty sure that Kip, at least, had clocked the lack of pronouns being used.

“Well, call me old fashioned, but maybe what you do in your personal life is none of their business?”

“You're so old fashioned your childhood pet was a dinosaur,” Shane deadpanned. Scott blinked. “What? You said to call you old fashioned.”

“Okay, no, sorry, I have to derail this for a second, because you just reminded me; I've gotta know, what the fuck was up with that fight we had a couple years ago? I was chirping back at you about your rivalry, and all of a sudden you were off the deep end. But just now, that was exactly like back then. You opened your mouth and Rozanov came out. I wasn't wrong then, and I'm not wrong now; you really do sound like him sometimes!”

Shane froze for a moment, that phrasing giving him a very very different mental image than the one Scott probably intended. He had to shake it away to clear it, and then his brain finally kicked into gear, showing him the memories.

That fight, the adrenaline, the fear, the belief that Scott had figured them out, could expose them, could ruin everything he had built, could tear Ilya away from him forever…

“I thought you knew, back then. I thought you had figured it out,” Shane admitted, then realized exactly what he was admitting to. 

Scott stared at him. “Figured out what?” 

Shane blushed, looking away, but Kip seemed to have put it together. Possibly aided by Scott's horrible, very bad phrasing choice. He smacked Scott’s shoulder.

“Oh my god. Scott you idiot, you weren't calling out a rivalry, you made it sound like you were threatening to out someone else in the closet!”

“What?”

“I’m pretty sure they're… you know…” He looked at Shane for permission, so he nodded. He wasn't sure he could say it, not like this, but he wouldn't mind if Kip did, he didn't think. “Together,” Kip finished, nearly whispering the word. “The partner Shane has been talking about is… you know.”

Scott blanched. “Oh fuck. No, I didn't know, I would never do that on purpose, I just thought… you know, you two hated each other, and you would find the comparison a little insulting.” Then Shane watched as Scott paused, and the information seemed to really sink in. “Rozanov? Really?”

Shane glared, anger snapping in his chest.

“No. I get this enough from everyone else in my life. You don't get to do it too. Ilya is one of the kindest, smartest, most talented people that I know. Just because he plays into a stereotype for his fucking job doesn't mean that's who he is underneath it all. I think you'd know something about not bringing your whole self to the ice, Hunter.”

Scott had gone white, and he immediately started stammering out an apology.

“I am so sorry, Hollander. Seriously, I apologize. I… you had just been saying, and then I did the exact same thing. I fucked up. I'm sorry.”

Shane nodded, not having the words to say it was okay. Because it wasn't; he still felt the echoes of that stab in his chest. But…

“I appreciate the apology,” he managed to force out, not meeting either of their eyes. And he did. Because it was clear that he had meant it. And that had been a reflexive reaction Ilya had basically trained Scott into having, at this point. If he ever said something like it again, however, then Shane wouldn't be so forgiving.

Kip reached out, touching Shane's arm like he had earlier, giving him space to pull away if he wanted to. Shane didn't pull away. 

“Hey,” Kip asked, voice gentle, “are you okay?” 

Shane sighed, deflating. He looked back at them sheepishly, embarrassed for snapping at Scott, even if it was deserved. 

“I don't know. Not really? It's just… my parents found out, and the first things they ask are if I've been throwing games and if there weren't any nice guys in Montreal. Pike finds out, and tells me to break up with him. Rose finds out, and asks me if I'm safe. And I know Scott hates him too; I mean, most of the League does. It's just… a lot.”

“I'm sorry. That's really shitty,” Kip said, and his simple agreement made something in Shane finally give in and relax into the moment.

“Yeah. We're not homophobic, I swear, we just hate your boyfriend,” Shane laughed self-deprecatingly. “I know it's not what anybody means, but it's what it feels like. I love him! I've loved him for longer than anyone except my family have known me. But everyone… fuck, everyone around me hates the love of my life. And it hurts.”

“Oh shit. That long?” Scott asked, and Shane realized exactly what he had just given away. Uh, oops. It looked like Scott was trying to do the mental math and struggling, so Shane decided he might as well finish the explanation.

“Summer before our rookie season. We weren't admitting it then; we were just fucking. Ostensibly. Looking back though…” Shane shrugged, trying to convey the concept of being head over heels in love but desperately evasive about labeling it, with nothing but a gesture.

“Wow,” Kip said, eyes wide.

“No wonder you sound like each other; you've been seeing each other for nearly a decade.”

“And yet we couldn't admit we were in love with each other until after your big moment on the ice. Thanks for that, by the way. It… it gave us hope that we could have a future. Together.”

“Christ, kid, you're gonna make me cry.”

“Good. Then I won't be the only emotional one at the table,” Shane huffed.

“I think that ship has sailed,” Kip chimed in, and yeah, his eyes were definitely glistening with tears. Shane smiled apologetically, fiddling with his cup of ginger ale.

“Sorry. Thanks for, you know, listening. And I'm sorry for snapping at you, Scott.”

“No problem. Seriously. Sometimes it's better to get it out.”

“Still, it wasn't you I was really angry at. You barely said anything.”

“You can only be stabbed by so many forks before you snap, Shane,” Kip chimed in, instantly derailing the rest of Shane’s thoughts.

“What?” he asked, trying to think of any idioms he might be missing that would make the statement make sense.

“Oh! Sorry, it's this whole internet thing. There's spoon theory, which is using a metaphor of spoons in your cutlery drawer as a way to describe how much energy you have in a day. So then people made fork theory, to describe how many small annoyances you can put up with- being stabbed by forks- before you snap. It's like the straw that breaks the camel's back thing, but with better imagery.”

Shane could see that. He was already imagining being stabbed by multiple forks, each one engraved with a mean comment about Ilya. What if one had food particulates left on it, and the wound got infected? What would that be in this metaphor, someone's words getting under your skin?

He took another drink, just for something to do with his hands. When he brought down the glass, Kip and Scott were studying him, nearly identical looks on their faces.

“What?”

“You should tell us about Rozanov. What he's really like,” Scott said, “not the mask. The guy.”

“Tell us why you love him,” Kip added. “We're willing to be convinced.”

So Shane did. He told them about meeting up after games, yes, but also about Ilya in the summer; how gentle he could be, how beautiful his smile was- the real one, not the cocky smirk he always used for the cameras. He went over the plans for a charity they were going to announce at the end of the season, and how eager Ilya was to help work with the kids- he mentioned him playing with the kids at All Stars last year, and Scott admitted to having seen Ilya do so before at other All Stars. 

He even blushed and stammered his way through explaining how Ilya had been his first time with a man, and how he had constantly checked in and made sure Shane felt good and was comfortable with everything they did together. Scott got a little flustered at that topic- Shane wasn't judging, he was also very flustered- but Kip was very enthusiastic in telling him how much he respected Ilya for just that alone.

And then he explained how he panicked and ran away when it got too real. And dated a movie star as a last hurrah at attempting heteronormativity. And was basically a terrible person to his soul mate, his other half, his true love-

And Ilya had forgiven him anyway, so now they were trying to shape the world into somewhere that they could fit, together, and still play hockey.

“He sounds amazing,” Kip declared. “How does no one know any of this about him? You'd think it would be impossible to miss.”

“He hides it,” Shane said sadly. “Who’s going to even think to look behind the loudmouthed asshole persona that parties hard and drives fast cars to find a sensitive guy that likes to cuddle and watch terrible reality TV?”

“Well, you, apparently.”

“And very few others. Like, there's three others that I know, and that’s his childhood friend and my parents. Maybe Marleau, but that's it."

“Shit, kid,” Scott sighed. “Well, you've got two more to add to that list now, if that helps. I don't think I'll ever see just the mask anymore, now that I know.”

“Hayden seems to be managing, somehow.”

“Don't compare me to Pike, kid. He's only as popular as he is because he wings for you.”

“Oh my god, you and Ilya both.”

“Hates Pike too, huh?”

“Calls him Montreal’s 15th worst player,” Shane explained in agreement.

“...who does he put above him?”

“Oh, no one. I'm number one and everyone else is even worse than Hayden.”

Kip snorted a laugh.

“Okay, that's kind of iconic though.”

“He’s really not that bad,” Shane tried to defend his friend, but Kip waved his attempt away like it was nothing but cobwebs.

“Dude, he's being a really shitty friend right now, when you clearly need his support. Let us shit talk him for you. You're obviously too nice to do it, so outsourcing is fine.”

Shane couldn't help but smile at that. Hayden had been acting pretty shitty.

“Come on, Rook. You've got to admit that a couple of his passes were too slow for your positioning tonight. If that one halfway through third period had connected properly, you might have managed to tie up the game.”

“It's not his fault I'm so much faster-”

“If it was, say, Rozanov playing on your wing. Like he did at All Stars. Would that pass have connected?”

“Playing with Ilya, we would use a completely different strategy to sail through your defence, so that's kind of a moot point-”

“Pretend for a second that you had to make that same play for some bullshit reason that doesn't matter.”

“But whatever reason that is would affect whether Ilya gets to pass on time, like, the defence would be playing completely different if he was on the ice-”

“Oh my god, just say you agree. Your All Stars chemistry was amazing, of course Ilya would get you the puck on time,” Kip cut them both off.

“Yes, of course Ilya would get me the puck on time,” Shane agreed flatly, the tone emphasizing that he was only agreeing to keep the peace, not because Scott had won.

Kip just cackled.

“Oh my god, you're so bitchy. It's amazing!”

“I don't see how that's a good thing? Like, normally there's a lot of like, negative connotations with that word, right?”

“Girl. It's queer culture shit. I know you're more about sports and getting fucked into next week, so probably barely even know who RuPaul is-”

“I know Hayden watches the show with Jackie sometimes,” he offered, making Kip nod like that was the expected answer.

“Yeah. Anyway, I'm sure there's a billion gender theory studies on queer culture embracing insults usually thrown at women and using them as terms of endearment and signs of like, a strong person, but long story short, bitchy and catty are good things for us.”

“Not gay as in happy but queer as in fuck you,” Scott added, causing Kip to beam at him.

“Exactly! You remembered!”

“I liked that one. How… unapologetic it was. Rozanov is probably going to love it,” he added with a snort, and Shane had to agree. It sounded like something he would get a good laugh out of.

“Speaking of being unapologetically queer,” Shane started, drawing their focus, “what's the locker room been like, now that you're out?”

Scott sighed. “One or two guys are unsupportive, but they're being quiet about it. No one's breaking out the slurs or anything, and everyone still calls out any jokes that go too far. Overall, not too bad. Could have been a lot worse. I was expecting a lot worse, honestly."

“What do you mean everyone still calls out?” Shane asked, caught by that detail. He couldn't mean they had held back before, could he?

Scott raised an eyebrow at that.

“I mean,” he explained slowly, watching Shane as if for a reaction, “that we've always shut that shit down. Anything that was… I don't know the right word, but… anything really shitty to say. You know; homophobic, sexist, racist. You saying you don't do that?”

“I mean, I try,” Shane tried to defend himself, “but everyone says I'm just being prissy. The Golden Boy, too media-trained to be any fun. Hayden and JJ back me up sometimes, when it goes really far, but… the other guys just say I don't know how to take a joke and move on. And then they do it again, and we have the same conversation.”

“Your coach doesn't help you?”

Shane shrugged.

“He says it's just locker room talk and I should focus on playing the game.”

The silence from both Scott and Kip spoke volumes. Even Shane could tell that they did not approve of Theriault’s stance.

“That reminds me,” Kip said, breaking the silence. “The quinoa salad!”

Shane was a little confused at how that could possibly be connected, but he was happy to talk about how much he had liked it.

“Oh yeah, that was really good!”

“I'm glad. But I had a question about it. What did you mean when you said we ‘actually had food here’?”

“Oh, I mean, pretty much every place in Montreal we go to just has like, wings and pizza and stuff. I follow a pretty strict diet, so I can't really eat what the other guys do.”

Kip reached out, holding both of Shane's hands in his own and forcing eye contact.

“Shane Hollander. My sweet baby canada goose. My little dollop of maple syrup. You can just take the team to better restaurants. Their beer bellies will probably thank you a decade from now.”

“You think I haven't tried?” Shane scoffed, dropping Kip's hands and looking away. “They just complain the whole time about bird food and being forced to eat like rabbits, and then make fun of whatever I order. And god forbid I suggest a fusion restaurant of some kind, that's too girly for them. They'll only go somewhere fancy if there's steak involved. And then they complain about how expensive steak is. Trust me, it's just easier to let them pick the place and then I go eat at home.”

Shane glanced back at the pair, and was startled to see matching angry faces looking back at him.

“What did I say?” he asked, unable to hide the slight tremor that crept into his voice.

Scott was the one to reach out this time, placing his hand over Shane's and looking at him earnestly.

“Shane, buddy. I need you to know that the way they treat you is absolute horseshit. The way that your teammates are acting is not normal, it is not just buddies teasing, okay? You with me?”

“But-”

“Nope. No buts. I take it you've never told Ilya how they act towards you?”

“I mean, I complain about them teasing me, or not listening to me. I don't think I've ever like, gone over it in detail or anything-”

“Oh, I can tell that you haven't.”

“What? How?”

“Because the rest of your teammates still have jaws. And kneecaps. If he feels even a drop of what I feel for Kip, then he would go to fucking war for you if he knew. So I can only conclude that he doesn't know, because from everything you've said tonight, there's absolutely no way he isn't head over heels in love with you.”

“I mean, it's just like, team politics, he shouldn't be-”

“Nope. Team politics is two guys who don't get along sitting on opposite ends of the table so they can keep it civil. What you're describing is so much worse.”

“Okay, but Ilya teases me too! And I… I like it. It's fun! The guys are just taking it a bit far.”

“When teasing is not fun, we call that bullying, Hollander.”

“There's also the stuff around it, too,” Kip chimed in. “Like, the team makes fun of the food you like, and then keeps taking you to places where you can't eat. You said earlier that Ilya works with your diet; maybe pushing here and there with like, adding dessert or cheese or something for a bit of guilty pleasure, but he still makes sure you're fed and comfortable.”

Shane melted a little, thinking about it.

“He keeps buying my favourite protein bars and flats of ginger ale and keeping them at his house, so there's always something there for me even if I surprise him with a visit. Even though I'm a heathen and mix the ginger ale with his favourite vodka sometimes.”

“...How does that make you a heathen?” Scott asked, confused.

“He says proper vodka is meant to be tasted. I just tell him he loves me anyway. Which he does, so I win that argument.” 

“Hey, what’s Ilya’s favourite vodka?” Kip interrupted, an odd note to his voice.

“Uh, I don’t remember the name, but I’ve got a picture of the label saved… here-” he brought it up on his phone, flipping it to show Kip, who immediately started laughing.

“What is it?” Scott asked, looking just as confused as Shane felt.

“You know all those requests for us to start stocking ginger ale that I told you about? There were also about a hundred requests for that exact brand of vodka.”

Jesus Christ Ilya.

“Your boyfriend loooooves you~” Kip sing-songed, teasing him merrily. Shane smiled dopily in response.

“Yeah, yeah he does.”

Ilya had wanted him to be comfortable here and had clearly put in some work to pull off some sort of scheme to make sure of it as best he could. It was incredibly sweet and Shane kind of wished Ilya was here so he could kiss him about it.

Instead he pulled up his messaging app and sent his boyfriend a string of heart emojis.

Ilya immediately sent a string back.

Thanks for the ginger ale, Shane replied. I hear Kingfisher overstocked it because of you.

Lily: What is this overstocked? They have just enough stock. Or else you drink them out of house.

Jane: It's out of house and home

Lily: Redundant

Jane: And I don't drink that much. Just a normal amount.

Lily: There is nothing normal about you, Hollander. Exemplary in field. Even if field is drinking boring soda.

Jane: Exemplary. Big word.

Lily: I learned to describe my hockey skills

Lily: Obviously

Shane snorted at that.

Jane: Wait, if I'm exemplary, and you're exemplary, then who's the best at hockey?

Lily: Me

Lily: You are exemplary at taking my cock

Lily: Ass, mouth, slicking up your thighs and fucking between them

Lily: You are always perfect

Lily: So good for me, moya lyubov

Jane: Shut up, I'm still with Kip and Scott

Lily: What, they have never heard of sexting before?

Lily: Hunter I get, he still thinks radio is new technology

Lily: but Kip I expected better

Jane: I mean, I'm pretty sure people have been sending raunchy letters ever since writing existed, so I doubt Scott is unaware of the practice.

Lily: Raunchy? I do not know this

Jane: flirtatious in a sexual way

Jane: how do YOU not know raunchy?

Lily: You are right, is very me word

Lily: Ah.

Lily: I looked it up. Is because no one but boring Canadians and old men Scott Hunter’s age use this word

Jane: You could bring it back. Make raunch hip again.

Lily: Never speak these words in that order ever again.

Shane rolled his eyes and put down his phone. Then realized that he had just made Kip and Scott wait around as he texted Ilya, and blushed.

“Sorry.”

“No, don't apologize,” Kip insisted. “It was honestly super adorable watching your face through all that.”

Shane blushed even harder. If Ilya could see him, he would absolutely be calling him a little tomato by now.

“So, did he fess up?” Scott asked dryly, and Shane snorted.

“Oh yeah, it was definitely him. If there was any doubt.”

“There wasn't. I was just curious if he would admit to it.”

“He used the opportunity to start telling me how exemplary I am at drinking soda. And then started listing other things I'm exemplary at.”

“Do I want to know how quickly that conversation turned sexual?”

“Probably not.”

Scott nodded, unsurprised.

“Yeah, that sounds about right. Who knew? Canada's Golden Boy; not shy, just in the closet.”

Oh yeah, he should probably warn Ilya. He opened his phone again.

“One more sec, just gonna let him know that you both know about us,” he explained, glancing over the texts Ilya had sent since he last replied.

Lily: no, wait, come back

Lily: I did not mean it

Lily: you can say whatever you like

Lily: as long as it is to me

Lily: Jane?

Lily: JaaaAane?

Lily: you leave me for Hunter?

Lily: he will not fuck you like I can

Lily: probably throw out his hip trying

Jane: hush, I’ll never leave you

Jane: the one time I did was the most painful experience of my life

Jane: never again

Lily: ❤️

Jane: ❤️

Jane: anyway

Jane: they know

Jane: about us

Lily: you told them?

Jane: kinda, but not on purpose?

Jane: just kinda slipped out

Jane: but they're cool

Jane: also happy to join you on the Hayden hate train, apparently

Lily: COMRADES IN ARMS

Lily: excellent

Lily: see? even they think I am right

Lily: you must join in

“He's very happy that you also don't like Hayden,” he shared with the group.

Jane: Kip said outsourcing being mean is fine since I'm too nice to do it

Lily: you are not too nice

Lily: I have heard the things you say

Lily: you are bitchiest person I know

Lily: you just need encouragement to speak your truth

Jane: Kip told me today that bitchy is a queer compliment

Lily: of course is compliment! 

Lily: I love you being bitchy!

Lily: is pleasure to witness!

Lily: everyone thinks you are so nice

Lily: but I know truth

Lily: I see man behind the curtain

Lily: and that makes it even better

Lily: plus, hearing you tear apart other players ability is almost as good as sex

Lily: you see everything

Lily: is very hot

Jane: well apparently I've been missing some things

Lily: ???

Jane: I'll explain later

Jane: I don't want to have to talk you down from homicide in the middle of a bar

Jane: but yeah

Jane: Scott has been pointing out some things about my team

Jane: and I hate that he's probably right because I don't know how to fix it

Lily: is it that they suck at hockey?

Lily: because this I would tell you for free

Lily: have told you many times already

Jane: no, it's that they just suck

Jane: like, as people

Lily: could have told you this too

Lily: you did not want to hear

Lily: I have been waiting for that to change

Jane: I'm sorry

Jane: I'm listening now

Lily: Finish your talk with Hunter. Then we will have our own talk. Much more private. Much more sexy.

Lily: 😈

Jane: ❤️

Lily: ❤️

Shane put the phone down, looking up to find Scott and Kip watching him again. He huffed out a sigh, a little petulant that they were watching him like a zoo exhibit, but supposing he had it coming for making them wait on him.

“He agrees with Kip on bitchy being a compliment, especially for me,” he started. “And Scott, he says he agrees with you about my team being, uh, not so great, and he was just waiting for me to be willing to listen. So. We're gonna talk about that later.”

“I thought you hadn't told him anything?”

“I haven't,” Shane admitted. “So whatever he's noticed is apparently big enough to see from the outside.”

“I mean, we've all heard your guys’ version of chirps. If it wasn't for you, your team would probably have a similar rep to Toronto. Honestly, I would consider leaving,” Scott said bluntly. “I know they drafted you, but it sounds like a top-down culture problem, if it's being allowed by your coach, and there is zero chance of you getting support from Crowell if you complain to the league. Even ignoring the status quo of your situation already being awful, if you're still somewhere that toxic and your relationship to Rozanov leaks, it'll be a fucking nightmare.”

Shane blanched.

“I mean, you said things weren't as bad as you expected when you came out…” he tried, but the words sounded weak even to his ears.

“I started with a room that knew that slurs aren't chirps, kid. You don't even have that for a baseline.”

He deflated.

“Calling me kid all the time is not going to help you beat the dinosaur allegations, you know.”

Scott snorted.

“I think I can handle a little teasing from Rozanov. I mean, now I know his weakness.”

Shane narrowed his eyes.

“Just what are you planning to do?”

Scott grinned wolfishly. He really was handsome, Shane had to admit. Especially with that playful glint in his eye that Shane wasn't sure he had ever seen before. 

“Any time he tries to start something, I'm going to start complimenting you. He'll either have to agree with me, or get jealous. Either way, I'll win.”

Shane laughed.

“Oh, he's going to both love and hate that. It's perfect.”

“So you can be mean.”

“Only when I know it's not going to get me cancelled,” Shane joked. Even though it wasn't one, really. So much of his media persona was wrapped up in being unproblematic and marketable. He hated to think about it, but he knew that if he ever slipped up and said something the wrong way, then it would always hit him twice as hard as it would anyone who was white.

Like, say, the rest of his team. Who were hiding behind his reputation as a nice guy but saying shit that had been making Shane uncomfortable for fucking years.

Fuck.

“They were supposed to be my family. My brothers,” Shane said, and he could hear the grief he already felt coming through in his voice.

“Sometimes family is shitty,” Kip said, looking apologetic. Shane thought of Ilya, then, and the brother he had left behind in Russia.

“Fuck.”

He leaned against the padded backing of the booth seat and felt the weight of his choice land on his shoulders- because it was a choice he would make, now that he saw the fractures in his relationship with his team for what they were. 

He felt it in the terrifying uncertainty of coming change, of not doing what was expected, of how in the future people would look at him and say that he betrayed the team that had made him…

He heard Ilya’s voice in his mind then, arguing that Montreal hadn't made him. He had already been great, and had built Montreal into a cup-winning team around his greatness. He didn't need them; they needed him.

It would still be a betrayal. He would have to craft a narrative that could get him through with as little egg on his face as possible.

He would have to start pushing back against the team culture. Both visibly and behind the scenes. He could get his mom and Farah to keep an eye on his teammates’ socials, get them to let him know when to reply and call out bad behaviour online. In the rink he would be more emphatic about shutting down offensive jokes and comments. He would make himself into too much of a goody-two-shoes for management to want to deal with. It would be impossible for anyone to call him out on it without sounding like they were in the wrong, but it would still cause visible friction with the team, allowing a narrative for the choice to move that he just wasn't fitting with the rest of them anymore, and making for an uncomfortable enough locker room that management wouldn't feel too heartbroken about letting it happen. He was coming up on free agency just like Ilya was, after all, so the power was in his hands as far as moving went, but the public narrative would always be much more fickle than that.

He sat and plotted, knowing his plan would need to be airtight to make it through the next year. He would go over it with Ilya, Farah, and his mom later to make sure everything was covered to the best of their ability, but he needed to figure his framework and first steps now, so he could see if there was something he could do here, tonight.

Scott and Kip were kind enough to let him work through his thoughts. Kip even slipped away and came back with more drinks, including another ginger ale for Shane.

Shane then interrupted the silence with a request, startling both of them as they scrolled through their phones.

“Can we take a selfie together?”

They blinked at him.

“I mean, yes, but why is that the first thing you've said in ten minutes?” Scott asked.

Had it only been that long? Such a short time, and he had completely rearranged his plans for the trajectory of his entire life.

“I need to start having visible problems with my team. If we post a selfie and caption it with something about having a great talk about facilitating inclusivity in sport, it'll provide an inception point for the narrative that I'm going to sell- namely, that I'm not putting up with anyone's shit anymore. After I start building friction with the team, it'll be less of a shock when I move.”

Kip's jaw dropped.

“Wait, did you just spend that time plotting how to leave your team?”

“I mean, yeah? What did you think I was doing?”

“Mourning? Grappling with how you feel? Spiralling?”

“There was a little bit of that. I'm pushing off the rest until I have Ilya there to talk me through it. Until then; planning. So, selfie?”

They posed so that the hockey jersey and pride flag that hung on the wall were clearly visible in the background. Shane barely had to think about the caption, since the reason he had taken the photo meant it practically wrote itself.

 

realshanehollander ✅: Had a great conversation with @scotthunter21 and @kippersbits about facilitating inclusivity in hockey, both in the locker room and on the ice. Happy to help make the sport a safer place for everyone!

 

Reactions started pouring in immediately, and Shane was happy to see they were mostly neutral or positive in nature. Or Ilya.

 

hockeyfan99: first!

hollandersfreckles: so much hotness in one photo!!! 🥵🥵🥵

puckingaround: Golden Boy strikes again, such an inclusivity king!

justbrad: holy media training, batman

shanesfuturegirlfriend: we love to see an ally in the house!

rozanov_81 ✅: amazing! You got photo with real live dinosaur! 🦖

 

Considering the first step of his plan a success, Shane bid the couple a good night and headed for his hotel.

 

…

Chapter 2

Chapter Summary

Ilya and Shane talk, and so do Scott and Kip.

Chapter Notes

I'm so glad everyone seems so very excited for this story! Thank you all for your very kind comments, and I hope you like chapter 2!

…

 

The journey back to his hotel felt like it simultaneously took an eternity and no time at all. The whole way there he was thinking about how with a single conversation, he had decided to completely change the trajectory of his career, his life, his legacy… and he was rapidly oscillating between abject terror and actual hope for the future. 

As soon as he got there he hopped into the shower, dumping his outside clothes into the laundry bag he always travelled with and changing into a cozy pyjama set before sitting himself at the head of his bed and unlocking his phone.

Shane had finally requested a room to himself this season, so he was able to immediately call Ilya, very glad to not have to worry about Hayden's sleep schedule or whether it was worth braving the November weather on the fire escape to get a little privacy. It was very nice to have a guaranteed barrier between himself and the rest of the world- excepting Ilya, of course. He would much rather have Ilya here in person all day every day. But this definitely wasn't a conversation he wanted anyone else to be able to overhear; not if he was planning on leaving his team. This wasn’t just juicy gossip; this was literally game changing; if the wrong people heard even a whisper of this too early, there would be lawyers involved.

Ilya picked up after a single ring.

“Sweetheart! You look so good in your photo, even if there is old man taking up too much of frame.”

Of course he had to say something about him posing with Scott, though he was likely just jealous that he hadn't been there instead.

“Hello to you too, Ilya.”

“Yes yes, hello moya lyubov, is good to hear your voice.Tell me what Hunter knows about Metros that I don't.”

Shane rolled his eyes. The jealousy was blatantly obvious in Ilya’s tone.

“Well, to start, it's nothing I've been keeping from you on purpose. I've just never really laid it all out at once, I guess.”

He tucked his knees up against his chest where he sat on the bed, leaned back against the headboard.

“Laid it all out is like putting in order, yes?” Ilya clarified, which reminded Shane of exactly how many meanings laid/layed had in English. It really was a terrible language sometimes.

“Yeah, and like, in detail.”

“Okay. Like putting cards on table.”

“Exactly!”

“Alright, time to get laid then.”

Shane laughed, knowing that Ilya was messing with him by playing with the words. Probably to help him relax, because he knew Shane needed it. Fuck, he loved this man so, so much.

“I love you,” he said, because he was allowed to do that now. It had been months, but it still felt like a novelty every time.

“Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu. Now tell me, so I know how badly you are hurting, sweetheart. I know it is worse than you have been letting me think.”

Shane sighed.

“I didn't think it was so bad, you know? Just something I had to put up with because I'm me and I'm the captain. But Scott… I told him, and he said it isn't normal.”

“Shane.”

Right. Moving forwards from that thought. Ilya was keeping him on track, trying to keep him from stalling and then spiralling into an anxious puddle.

“Sorry. It's just… I didn't want this to be a big deal. It was just some locker room talk that was going a little far and some annoying shit that I just ignored and worked around. I had compartmentalized it- put it in a small box in my head and never thought about it too hard,” he rushed to explain before Ilya needed to ask. “I was getting by. But now Scott and Kip have pointed it out and told me exactly where it's going to lead and so I've actually got to do something and it's changing everything and we had a plan, and-”

“You're talking around it, solnyshko.”

Shane let his head fall back against the wall with a thud. He rubbed a hand over his face, having heard the gentle recrimination in Ilya's voice. His boyfriend was trying to help, he knew, but talking through it was a lot for him. Talking around things was just so much easier! 

“You know how my diet is,” he finally started, figuring it was as good a place as any to begin explaining properly.

Ilya scoffed.

“Everyone knows how your diet is, Hollander.”

“Yeah, well, my team hates it too. So they never let us go to a place that serves food that follows it. So then I just don't eat with the team, and I sit there. Hungry. Socializing, which I already hate doing in big groups. And then I have to cook myself something at home.”

Each word had him curling further into himself. It hurt to say it out loud. To admit how little his own team cared for him. Even when Kip was asking earlier, Shane had laughed it off, had talked around the issue like it was no big deal, but the truth was that it fucking sucked being given so little consideration and he hated being excluded like that. He really did want Ilya to know it was happening, he realized after he had said it. Even if there was nothing he could do, he was going to agree that it was wrong, and if he, Scott, and Kip all thought it was wrong, then it meant that Shane wasn't weird or a burden. That he deserved better. That he shouldn't have to sit in loud, sticky bars with an empty stomach just because his teammates felt like their masculinity was threatened by the concept of eating a vegetable.

There was a resounding silence from the other end of the line.

“Malysh, I will never make fun of your food again.” Ilya's voice was strained and upset, and Shane hated hearing him like that.

“No, no, when it's you it's good. You're kind about it. You push and joke but you still work with me. I like that, even when I'm frustrated. Just like the rest of your teasing,” he was quick to interrupt, needing to clarify that before Ilya got too far into self-recrimination. Because it was true; the way Ilya spoke to him was fun and full of love and support. And as Kip had pointed out, he always made sure he could eat. It was nothing like the team outings that Shane had come to dread.

“You say that now, just wait until you have had to put up with me for years-”

Shane wanted to ‘put up with’ Ilya for the rest of their fucking lives, and besides that point-

“I’ve already been putting up with you for years. If anything was going to annoy me into leaving, it would have happened already.”

“Yes, is not being mean that works, is being too nice.”

Ilya's tone was exasperated but fond, but Shane still felt the need to apologize. It had barely been a year since the tuna melt incident, and he had a feeling he would always feel bad about the way he had handled it.

“I'm sorry!”

“Yes, I know, I know,” Ilya soothed. “Is bed I helped make, we were both laid in it.”

Shane huffed a laugh. Apparently playing around with the word ‘laid’ had become the joke of the day.

“One day I'm going to go through your belongings and find a book of English idioms with notes in the margins of how to make them dirtier,” he teased, winning a playful laugh from Ilya in return.

“You think I need book for that?” he replied, mock offended.

“So you admit you're doing it on purpose?” Shane parried, though he doubted Ilya could be so easily trapped.

“I admit nothing. But if I were to do this, would not need book,” Ilya said, proving Shane right.

“I see, it's all completely hypothetical,” Shane laughed, conceding Ilya’s win of that round.

“Da! Yes! Hypothetical!”

“You're so full of shit.”

“You love it.”

“Yeah, I do.” He felt a fond smile curling its way onto his lips, and basked in the warmth of their teasing for a moment before Ilya carefully interrupted it.

“Shane.” Even Shane could hear the shift in Ilya's tone. His smile fell.

“Yeah?” he asked, already knowing where it was going. They had a difficult conversation to finish.

“There is more, yes? About your team. More to say.”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me.”

Shane could never say no to Ilya. So he told him.

“I learned today that the Rookies didn't even know that I could joke around.”

“I mean-”

“Don't say it. I know I'm boring sometimes, especially with the press. But Hayden, JJ and I used to crack jokes sometimes. You know, behind closed doors. Everyone on the team used to know that, but the Rookies this year don't. Hell, the ones from the last couple years might not either! Because that locker room is fucking toxic, Ilya. I haven't felt comfortable playing along with anything the guys have been saying for a while, now, and I didn't want to admit it, because that means I have fucking failed as a captain.”

“Shane-” Ilya tried to interrupt him, but Shane just needed to finish, needed to get the words out.

“And okay, some of it I let go because I thought it was normal. Coach said it was normal! But some of it I tried to control, because it was fucking rancid! Slurs and racist jokes and misogynistic bullshit. But it hasn't worked. They don't listen to me Ilya, they don't trust me, they don't follow my lead on anything except the plays. They know I'm worth something on the ice, but everywhere else they treat me like I'm nothing. Like I'm just some diversity fucking hire, and I hate it.”

“Diversity rules is so that actual talented people get hired instead of terrible white guys being picked because they are white. You know this.”

Shane snorted.

“I do know that. Doesn't mean the bigoted idiots do. They think it means we were just picked ‘cause we were diverse.”

“That is stupid. They are stupid.”

“I know.”

“Also, MHL does not have this rule. Very white sport.”

“I'm fucking aware, asshole.”

“And you are Shane Fucking Hollander. Such amazing player even racist idiots must admit. One of top two best players in League. The second-best, obviously, but still, indisputably one of best,” Ilya teased, and Shane rolled his eyes, finally seeing where Ilya had been going with what he was saying- that he was so great that he had climbed his way to the top of the league even without the protections diversity hiring could have given him.

“I’m the best player in the League. Even Svetlana says so,” he responded with an arch smugness that he knew Ilya could hear; this part at least was a well-worn argument by now.

“Lies, all lies! Sveta knows nothing!”

Since they both knew that Svetlana knew puck as well as either of them, it was a ridiculous argument and they both knew it. But it was also true that she staunchly insisted that Shane was the better player because it annoyed Ilya, so Shane's argument didn't really hold water either. Mostly, it was a familiar pattern of call and response that Ilya had initiated to help calm Shane down, and just because he knew what Ilya was doing didn't mean it didn't work. He took a deep breath in and slowly let it out, finding equilibrium once more. After a moment, he felt ready to admit to Ilya the biggest thing that he had realized when he talked to Scott and Kip.

“I want out,” Shane said quietly, and Ilya immediately went silent.

“...Shane?” he asked after a beat. “I am hearing you right?”

“Yeah. I want out. My team is full of bigoted assholes; they've been saying horrible shit about Scott and Kip. If anything about our relationship leaks, I'm gonna be targeted by my own guys-”

“They would hurt you?” Ilya's voice was sharp, and it made Shane pause. He had meant that they would say more horrible things, ice him out of team activities even more, maybe vandalize his locker or something. But now Ilya had put the thought in his head-

“I don't think they'd go that far, but… but I don't actually know for sure. And that scares me.”

The silence from the other end of the line made Shane nervous.

“Ilya?”

“Hush. I am working very hard on not committing murder.”

“I'm sorry,” Shane nearly whispered, his voice sounding small even to his ears.

“No, malysh, no, is not your fault. Am angry at your team, for making you feel bad. Not safe.”

Shane looked upwards to help hold back his tears, glad Ilya couldn't see the state he was in.

“I spent so long not thinking about it. And we had this whole plan to move you to the Centaurs, but if I'm not a Metro-”

Where would Shane even go? New York wouldn't have the cap space for him unless they made some big changes, and he had no idea if the teams in the area that did would be any safer than Montreal. What if he ended up in the western conference? Then he'd be even further away from Ilya, and play him even fewer times than he already did…

“We can both join Centaurs. Problem solved. They have plenty of cap, and I can take pay cut anyway.”

“You deserve to be paid what you're worth-” Shane argued, but his mind was already spinning with the possibility. Both move to Ottawa? Be together, in the same city?

“We hit tiny plastic disc around for money. I think I will survive getting a little bit less of the millions I am already making,” Ilya huffed, probably rolling his eyes. “Plus, we could get house together, save on living costs.”

Shane's heart fluttered in his chest.

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” he asked softly, a smile creeping its way across his face.

“...perhaps, yes. You do not want to do that?”

“Yes, god, yes. I would love to move in with you. But you don't think it's a little fast?”

Ilya huffed out a quiet laugh, and Shane immediately knew what he was thinking. Sure, they had only officially dated since the summer, but they had been dancing around each other for so long that you could hardly consider that the start of things.

“We have been… something… for long time,” Ilya said, vocalizing the words for them both. “Longer than we ever wanted to admit. Is not fast. Will also not be till end of this season. That is far away; definitely not lesbian U-Haul thing.”

“Lesbian U-Haul?” Shane asked incredulously.

“Gay joke. Funny because is often true; girls meet one day and are moved in the next. We are going much slower.”

“How do you even know about stuff like that?” Shane asked, a little bewildered. He had certainly never heard anyone talk about it before. The first person he had really heard any gay culture sort of thing from was Kip. Well, Hayden had tried to say some supposedly supportive things he had gotten off the internet right after he had found out, but it was so full of awkward and forced slang that neither of them really understood and highly generalized stereotypes that didn't really fit Shane at all that he had quickly given up and gone back to talking about hockey, much to Shane's relief.

“Some girls I have talked to. They were bisexual, like me. Did not tell them this, but perhaps they got… vibe. Knew they could talk and I would listen. Was nice, feeling included in that.” Ilya sounded wistful. “I almost wanted… but they could not know about me. Is not safe."

Which reminded Shane of what he had been thinking about before everything that had happened tonight. Ilya deserved to have someone around that he could talk to; someone who was there. He had Shane and Sveta and Shane’s parents but no one who could be there, in Boston, all the time.

Fuck it.

“You should tell Marleau,” Shane blurted out suddenly. There was a pause as Ilya processed what Shane had just said.

“Tell him. About me? Us?” From his tone he was highly incredulous.

Shane smiled to himself. Ilya was probably wondering if Shane had hit his head… again. He had always been so worried about secrecy- and he did realize the Russia of it all wasn't about to go away, but Ilya deserved to have someone who was there. Even if they did move to Ottawa together, that was still half a season away. From what he said about him, Marleau wouldn't be running to the press, so it was a minimal risk. Shane was also selfishly hoping that Cliff would be amazing and supportive so he could rub Hayden's nose in it like training a bad puppy, showing him how it was supposed to be done.

“Only if you want to,” he quickly offered, not wanting to push when it was Ilya’s safety- and one of his closest friendships at work- on the line. “But from what you said, he’s a good guy.”

“You are not worried?”

Shane snorted. Not worried? Hah!

“Ilya, I'm always fucking worried. But talking to Scott and Kip today… having someone there who supports you- it feels really fucking good. Not to say that you don't support me, but it's always felt like it was you and me against the rest of the hockey world, and Hayden pretty much just reinforced that for me. Now though, after talking to Scott…” he trailed off, not quite ready to say the rest. Ilya seemed to hear it anyway.

“Fuck, I will have to thank old man. Finally you know truth; Montreal is awful team. There are others that will treat you better.”

Shane laughed brokenly.

“I wish it wasn't. Fuck, I tried so hard-”

“Is not your fault. Durakov ni seyut, idiots show up by themselves. Like, ah, weeds. Unwelcome. You try to build good team, plant beautiful garden, they do not follow plan. Is on them what happens next.”

“Hockey team acts like a bunch of bigoted assholes, you'll never guess what happens next!” Shane joked, Ilya’s phrasing reminding him of all the ridiculous clickbait articles he had seen over the years. Ilya made it easier to joke than to focus on the pain he was feeling, at least for a little while.

“Yes, let's announce your trade like that. Will be funny.”

Shane snorted.

“If that's mine, what would your trade announcement be?” he asked, expecting something ridiculous. He was quickly proven correct.

“Is Rozanov hung like horse? Is Centaur either way.”

“That’s awful, but you would post that,” Shane chuckled. “It's so you.”

“Is why I said it.” Shane could hear the smile in his voice. He wished he could see it, could reach out and touch it, could kiss it off his lips- Shane sighed, again letting the back of his head hit the wall with a thunk. Maybe next year they'd be living together, and he'd be able to do just that any time he wanted.

“We're really doing this, aren't we?” he said, feeling incredibly torn. On the one hand Montreal was his team, he had been playing with them his entire career. He had expected to retire there. It was supposed to be his home. On the other hand… Ilya was his home. His real one. Moving to a team where they could be together, live together, play together… it was a dream come true. And a Canadian team would let them keep working on a Canadian passport for Ilya, something they couldn't do if Shane moved to an American team and Ilya stayed in Boston. They had already started looking into the immigration paperwork; it was doable, and safer than America. Canada might have their own problems, but at least their human rights protections weren't in quite as much of a sorry state.

“I think yes, we really do this,” Ilya gently agreed. “Will be good to be on same team, yes?”

“Yeah,” Shane agreed, but his voice broke as he said it. “I know it will, I know, I just- I wish I didn't have to leave. Not like this.”

He felt tears traitorously making their way down his cheeks. Fuck, he hadn't wanted to cry-

“Could be worse,” Ilya offered. “They could know already. Would be bad.”

Shane gasped in a breath, and it sounded like a sob.

“Fuck Ilya, it would be awful. I already hate having to hear what Hayden says about you, and he's trying to support me.”

“Yes, better for no one to know until we can be on ice together and punch them in the face about it.”

Shane wanted to argue that violence would do very little to help them, but he also knew that wasn’t always true. While he wasn’t an overly violent person, even he had stooped to it when Scott had seemed to come after Ilya all those years ago. Imagining a world where people knew, and were insulting Ilya for loving him… he could see himself punching some bigots in the face. He sighed.

“Yeah,” he agreed, and Ilya crowed his victory.

“Yes! Oh, Hollander, we are going to be terrifying. World thinks Centaurs are joke? We turn it around; joke is on them. We fuck up their shit.”

Shane couldn’t help but grin.

“I love you,” he said, "and I can’t wait to play on the same team. We are going to fuck up their shit. It’s going to be amazing.”

“Ya tebya lyubyu, moya lyubov.”

Then Shane started thinking about what their next steps needed to be. And he realized.

“I’ll have to talk to mom,” Shane said, dread starting to fill him again. “She’s going to be so disappointed.”

“In team? Yes obviously, they should have treated you better,” Ilya said, but Shane shook his head, that churning feeling of anxiety tightening in his gut at the thought.

“No, Ilya. In me. For leaving Montreal. They’re her favourite team. They helped her feel Canadian, she told the fucking GM that when I was drafted. She’s spent years talking about how much she loves us and wants Montreal to win.”

“Oh, moya lyubov. She will be angry, yes, but at them. Just like I am angry. She loves you more than she cares about hockey; this I can relate to.”

“I love you more than hockey too!” Shane quickly reassured, and Ilya chuckled.

“And I am very flattered, Hollander. Was not why I brought it up, though. Was just trying to say… They have hurt you. The moment she knows this, she will change her mind. It will not matter if they were her favourite. They hurt you, it was not accident, and they will never apologize, never try to fix, so she cannot love them. Is simple.” 

“Maybe they will try to fix it,” Shane offered. Ilya paused, and Shane could hear his doubts in that pause. It was okay; Shane didn’t really believe it could happen either.

“Maybe,” he offered, but Shane already knew the sound of that maybe coming from Ilya’s lips. That was a no in disguise. “I think perhaps expecting good intentions from Metros is like, ah, Russian saying… building sandcastles?”

“Something weak, crumbles away after a single wave?” Shane offered. Translating idioms was one place where every language seemed to struggle, though this one seemed like it might hopefully be more literal.

“Da, poor foundation. Expecting to hold up to pressure is… ah, silly idea, like dream.”

“Unrealistic.”

“Yes, this.”

Shane sighed.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“I am sorry.”
“Me too.”

“Shane?”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck the Metros.”

He chuckled. Trust Ilya to find the exact, inappropriate but somehow perfect thing to say to make Shane feel better.

“Fuck the Metros,” he agreed, smiling.

 

…

 

“Sooooo… what a night, huh?” Kip asked Scott as he shut the front door behind them. Scott snorted.

“That’s an understatement,” he huffed, shrugging out of his coat and leaving his shoes by the door so the winter slush would soak into the mat.

When Kip had mentioned that Shane Hollander was at the Kingfisher with some of his team and seemed interested in a chat, Scott’s interest had been piqued, but he figured he'd get to it when he and the Admirals he was out with headed there later. But when Kip had texted him again saying that the rest of Hollander’s team had left without him and he seemed a little off, Scott left for the Kingfisher as soon as he got the message. He was glad he did; that conversation had been one best had without a crowd.

Jesus Christ, what a mess. To know that Hollander had been left to fend for himself like that by both his team and management. Shane Fucking Hollander, a legend in spite of his team, not because of them. Scott was a little terrified to see what he would become once he found a team that actually supported him on and off the ice. Not that he didn’t support Shane leaving that cesspool of a team, now that he knew. Fuck the Metros, they didn’t deserve Shane Hollander.

He wondered what team Shane would move to.

Maybe he should start paying closer attention to the teams that hadn’t become problems when he came out. See if they were just focusing on the game- like professionals should, but that was literally the bare minimum- or actually supportive enough to be a safe destination for Hollander. He wished he could bring him to New York, but they didn’t have the cap space for someone like Shane. Thank god Boston was in a similar situation; he couldn’t imagine Hollander and Rozanov on the same team.

He curled up with Kip on the couch, Kip having grabbed them each something to drink while Scott got the fireplace going.

“It’s hard to believe they’ve been hiding themselves so long,” Kip murmured as they stared into the flickering flames. Scott hummed, thinking about it.

“They’re at least equally driven to keep it quiet. It wouldn’t be like us; you already out, me so far in the closet I’m basically in Narnia. For them, it’ll impact both their careers. And Rozanov is Russian.”

“Oh god, I didn’t even think of that. Can they ever come out, then?” Kip asked, shifting so he could look up at Scott.

“He’ll have to apply for citizenship, get rid of his Russian passport,” Scott explained, thinking about it. Not that America was the friendliest place for it, and especially not the hockey world, but it was at least legally protected here.

“You think they’ll get married?” he asked next, and Scott paused. Ah. Kip was thinking of Canadian citizenship, not American. Well.

“I’m not sure Canadian citizenship works like ours. I mean, I’m sure marriage would help, but I think there’s something about time spent in the country? I don’t quite remember; one of the guys was looking into it a while back, but I wasn’t really paying attention. It would make more sense for him to apply for an American passport since he’s on an American team.”

“Well, couldn’t he trade or move too?”

Scott’s mind screeched to a halt.

Both Hollander and Rozanov were on the same length of contract, he knew that; everyone liked to joke about how they had been twinned in everything since the beginning. Shane had already told them his contract was up this year, so that meant Rozanov’s was too.

If Rozanov wanted Canadian citizenship, and he needed to spend more time in Canada, he could have already been planning to move to a Canadian team.

Tonight, Hollander was upset about leaving his team, yes, but he wasn’t shattered by it.

And he had come up with a new plan awfully quickly.

Ottawa was only a short drive from Montreal- Scott knew firsthand, since they had bussed it once when winter storms had kept planes grounded during a roadie. If they had been planning on this already- and they had to be planning something, he had seen the way Shane looked at his phone when they were texting and the expressions on his face when he talked about Ilya and how much he loved him. Doing things the way they had been was going to become unbearable for them. Hell, it probably was already; Scott hadn’t forgotten that Shane had come there tonight to speak with Scott about Ilya and the difficulties he was having with people’s reactions to their relationship, even if he didn’t seem to have planned on using names at first. People were starting to find out. That cat was fighting its way out of the bag it was in.

So. They would have already been planning a way to be closer and a way to deal with Russia. That meant citizenship. American wasn’t off the table, but Boston couldn’t afford Shane without serious restructuring, New York didn’t have cap space, and Brooklyn was just starting to gel after their last restructure, so they were unlikely to be an option for trading Shane if Ilya wanted to stay in Boston. Anywhere else would be just as far away as Montreal if not further. On the Canadian side, the Metros would never have taken Rozanov even without cap issues, so that couldn’t have been part of the plan at any point, and it wasn’t like Toronto was an option. Fucking Dallas Kent was there- and thriving, because the rest of his team were either cowed by him and his enforcer Barrett or just as bad as he was. So regardless of anything else, the Centaurs were the most likely destination for Rozanov before the Metros had become an issue. With both Shane and Ilya on the move? They were probably the best possibility there was.

Ottawa was an awful team from a winning-games perspective, but that also meant they didn’t have any stars taking up cap space… and their team culture was the most insanely positive Scott had ever encountered. Plus, any team that could land Hollander or Rozanov was going to turn into a winning one sooner or later. The Raiders hadn’t won a cup or even been real contenders in years until Rozanov came along, just like the Metros with Hollander. One team getting both? The rest of the League wasn’t ready for the demons from hell they were going to be facing.

“He doesn’t even need to trade, he’s up for free agency at the end of the season, just like Shane,” Scott told Kip, staring into the middle distance as the enormity of that storm on the horizon washed over him. “They can go pretty much anywhere, as soon as the season ends. They can even join a team together.”

“Oh wow! You think they will?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think they just might.”

Holy fucking shit.

He was going to have to face Hollander and Rozanov on the same team after all. As fucking Centaurs.

And the Centaurs were going to win a fucking cup, if not next year, then the one after.

“I need to rewatch the All Stars footage of them playing together,” Scott groaned. “I know it’s gonna suck- for everyone that isn’t them- but I want to see just how much. Just to really soak in that pain.”

Kip laughed.

“It can’t be that bad; you’re just as good. You’ve beat them before. You won the cup last season.”

It was sweet that Kip thought so, but Scott knew his ability. He had never been as consistently skilled as either of them; his play slumped. He knew it, the fans knew it, the stupid sportscasters knew it. Playing against either of them at their peak, he never stood a chance. He was good enough; they were great. Hollander and Rozanov were going to be remembered as hockey legends first, queer icons second (there was no way they were hiding that forever). Scott was just going to be remembered as the first player to come out- and he was okay with that. It meant that the world thought the most important thing about him was that he had Kip, and he absolutely agreed with the sentiment.

“Rozanov was playing injured. And Hollander was out with a concussion,” he pointed out to Kip, holding him close. “Otherwise, it’s pretty likely one of their teams would have won instead.”

“Not that I want to celebrate Shane’s injury, but thank god it wasn’t the Metros winning. They don’t deserve another one. Not after what we learned tonight,” Kip muttered darkly. Scott nodded in agreement as he pulled up the footage from All Stars on the TV, quickly fast forwarding to the actual gameplay.

Watching it with the knowledge he had now, he quickly realized that the marketing around Hollander and Rozanov’s rivalry had been doing a lot of heavy lifting when it came to his thoughts on their supposed hatred. Now that he knew to look for it, it was obvious that they didn’t hate each other at all and were actually very much in love. Their eyes weren’t sparking with malice, they were sparkling with joy. The full on kiss on the side of Shane’s helmet- how did everyone not already know? He had leaned into it. He had been smiling. He was glowing with happiness!

He quickly forgot about watching their gameplay, and instead watched their chemistry. Kip happily joined in, calling them absolutely adorable. They went down a YouTube rabbithole, watching videos of their games against each other from years and years ago, and yeah, they had never hated each other. There were moments where you could see Ilya managing to piss off Shane, but Shane would just lock in on the game and play even harder, and it always made Ilya grin all the wider.

Except for one game where they both seemed to be glaring at the faceoff, but Kip noticed the date and pointed out that it would have been during the whole Rose Landry thing, and they quickly moved on. Scott couldn’t imagine the pain Ilya must have been feeling then, or what Shane had felt, trying to make it work with someone he just couldn’t be attracted to while still yearning for Ilya. He didn’t want to watch it playing out on their faces for a whole game.

They did watch a clip of the game where Shane got his concussion. They saw him looking behind himself with a smile on his face they recognized as how he looked at Ilya, and then suddenly Marleau was there and Shane was down. And then they watched Ilya react, shouting at the medics, desperately asking if Shane was okay as he was pushed away by the refs, and Shane just laid there on the ice before being strapped onto the spinal board and carried out.

Scott pulled Kip in for a kiss, then, holding him close.

“I’m really glad you don’t play hockey,” he told him, “and I’m sorry,” he added, realizing exactly how selfish it was that he did, that he could one day put Kip through the very experience they had just witnessed.

“Just be careful,” Kip murmured. “I knew what I was signing up for.”

While they were distracted, the autoplay had switched them to an old interview with both Ilya and Shane from when they were little baby rookies. Scott hadn’t expected to see much, it would have been early days, and Hollander had said they were ‘just fucking’ back then- but then he noticed it. The long, meandering question. Ilya hesitating to answer. The minute way they leaned towards each other. Shane stepping in. Ilya’s short answer of ‘what he said’. The look they shared afterwards.

The Ilya he knew now chirped with the best of them, was brash and chatty and annoying as shit, honestly.

But watching young Ilya struggle with a media question… he was Russian. They all knew that but they had all also overlooked what that meant- except Hollander. English wasn’t his first language. Shane had seen that, and smoothly and kindly covered for him.

So they were like, fated soulmates who just needed to learn to communicate a little earlier. ‘Just fucking.’ Give him a break. Shane covered for him once and Ilya’s eyes might as well be filled with hearts.

And the blunt, dismissive, rude personality that Ilya was known for since the early days… how much of that had been because he had no fucking idea what half the people around him were saying, and didn’t feel safe showing weakness and asking for help?

No wonder Shane told them it was mostly an act. If he hadn’t already believed him, this would have solidified it.

“Next time we play Boston, we’re inviting him out for dinner,” Scott decided. Kip smiled against his shoulder.

“Okay,” he agreed easily, and Scott relaxed.

He wanted to meet the real Ilya. From the sound of it, that was someone worth knowing.

 

…