Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

F/M, M/M, F/F

Fandom:

Game Changers | Heated Rivalry - All Media Types

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander/Jessica | Shane Hollander's Ex-Girlfriend

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Jessica | Shane Hollander's Ex-Girlfriend, Ilya Rozanov, Hayden Pike, Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros Team Ensemble (Game Changers), Montreal Voyageurs | Montreal Metros WAGs Ensemble (Game Changers), Jean-Jacques Boiziau | J. J. Dagenais

Additional Tags:

Shane Hollander Has Internalized Homophobia, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Maybe a little OOC, I'm doing my best, Fuck AI, no AI, seriously I don't know show canon vs. book canon vs. fanon anymore, just go with it, no beta we die like my interest in anything other than these gay hockey players, Light Angst, Shane needs lesbian friends

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-05-14 Updated: 2026-10-02 Words: 36,371 Chapters: 21/?

Shane's (Ex) Girlfriend

Summary

Shane broke up with his high school girlfriend before leaving for the NHL. He doesn't think he'll ever talk to her again, but one day just before his second season, she shows up at his apartment. She tells him she's gay, and her parents kicked her out. Obviously, he offers her a place to stay. His parents, the Metros, and the media all make assumptions about their relationship, and they figure... why not let them assume?

He says, “It’ll be cool. Like… a sleepover with friends.”
He says, “What else do you need?”
He does not say, “I think I get it more than I should.”
And that’s how Jessica comes to live with him.

Notes

As per usual, I do not permit my writing be put into any sort of AI.

Hope you have fun!

• Inspired by this post by whichie

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Chapter Notes

Sometimes Shane still thinks about Jessica. They broke up over a year ago, when they had to go their separate ways, and he misses her, but he doesn’t think he misses her right. He still finds himself thinking he should text her about something he knows she would like, or when his teammates badger him about not dating, but he doesn’t think about her from the moment Rozanov meets his eyes across the ice until well after one of them leaves the hotel room that night. He’s never felt a pang when he’s gotten a text and seen it’s from Rozanov instead of her. So he misses her, but he’s not… hung up on her. Not like some of the guys describe months or a year after a breakup (which he doesn’t get; they were all nice girls, even if he can’t tell half of them apart, but moping after that much time? Really?). Certainly not like his parents expected him to be, carefully asking after his well-being and if he’s ready to start dating again.

He doesn’t expect to ever see her again. She likes hockey -- so much of his life is hockey that it wouldn’t have worked out otherwise -- and he’s considered that she might come to one of his games, but it’s not like he’d be able to find her in the crowd. And it’s not like she’d want to see him, right? Because they broke up, and you’re not supposed to be friends with your ex.

Besides, she’s at college now, so she’s busy studying and making art, because she’s one of those people whose brains work in a way that he’ll never understand -- but in a good way, not the awkward usual way. He couldn’t imagine imagining the stuff she was already dreaming of having the resources for before she got accepted into college. He checks her Instagram every once in a while, when his mom or Farah make him log in to post something, just to see what she’s come up with. Each time, it blows his mind that someone could do that, even though he’s sure he’s missing at least half of the meaning behind it.

So he misses her, and wants to text her and ask about her art, or talk about hockey, but in the end he never does. Because that’s not what ex-boyfriends and -girlfriends do.

- - - - - -

He’s just finished unpacking from Ottawa -- he came home last night, unpacked half, then went to bed on time and left the remaining half for this morning -- when the building’s doorman calls him.

“Mr. Hollander? I have someone here requesting to be let up to you. She says her name’s Jessica Byrne?”

Shane blinks. He tries to think of a reason she might be here, but comes up empty. She’s not the type to search him out for his fame or money. As far as he can tell, she’s never even mentioned online or to the press that they used to date.

After a second too long, he replies, “Send her up.”

“Are you sure?” He sounds reluctant.

“Yes.”

After a minute, there’s a knock on his door. He looks out the peephole to make sure it’s her -- he’s not stupid -- and he can tell it is even with her head down. He opens the door, a strange mix of nervous and confused and excited.

She steps in just far enough to close the door behind her. She has a backpack on, and she fiddles with one of the straps as they both stand there, neither saying anything.

“Jessica,” he eventually says, unsure of anything else but aware his mom would be glaring at him by now for being a bad host. “Hi.”

Finally she looks up, and his breath catches. Her eyes are red and puffy, with dark purple bags under them, and dried tear tracks stain her cheeks. Now that he sees that, he notices her shirt is rumpled and she isn’t wearing her signature red lipstick.

“Jessica?”

“Sorry.” Her voice is hoarse. “I just -- they made me leave, and I couldn’t stay, and I just started driving, and you’re the only person I -- please. Please, Shane.”

“Okay. It’s okay.”

Actually, he has no idea what it is, but now’s clearly not the time to ask for elaboration; even he can see that. She’s literally swaying on her feet. He reaches out for her backpack, and she hands it to him without protest.

“Do you want to lay down? I have a guest room. You look like you could use some sleep.”

He realizes too late that’s probably rude, but there’s really no pretending she doesn’t. She doesn’t seem to care, anyway, so he leads her to the guest room and sets her backpack down next to the door. She sinks into a plush armchair without a word.

“I’ll get new sheets real quick. Uh, there’s a bathroom… right across the hall, if you want to shower or anything while I do?”

It takes her a couple seconds, but she shakes her head, drawing her knees to her chest. He changes the sheets as quickly as he can, leaving the old ones in a pile outside the door instead of taking them to the wash right away like normal. It doesn’t take long until he’s done and she’s leaning half her weight on him as she moves the few steps to the bed.

“Is there anything else? Can I get you anything?”

She shakes her head no. It doesn’t seem like she wants to talk, and Shane understands that well enough, so he just pulls the blanket up over her, then quietly shuts the door as he leaves the room.

- - - - - -

For a blissful moment when she first wakes up, Jessica has no memory of what happened. Then she realizes she’s in an unfamiliar bed, not in her bedroom at home in Ottawa. After that, everything comes pouring back in.

She’s gutted all over again. For just a second she considers closing her eyes and hoping to god she falls back asleep, but she forces them open instead. The clock on the nightstand says it’s just after three. She got here… what, around ten or eleven? She can’t be sure; everything’s a blur.

She pushes herself up against the headboard. Next to the clock is a glass of water, a few small bits of ice cubes still floating at the top. She doesn’t remember that. Her backpack -- everything she owns, now -- is propped up carefully beside the door. She stands, her body feeling heavier than normal, and picks it up. She takes it across the hall to the bathroom.

God, she looks a mess. She can barely face herself in the mirror. Her hair isn’t quite greasy, but it’s messier than usual, more tangled and frizzy, and not in the way it sometimes gets when she’s distracted by her art. And she’s not usually too concerned with her clothes, but at least they don’t normally look like she slept in them.

Because you did, she reminds herself.

She sighs, closing her eyes for a long minute, then turns on the shower, fiddling until it’s the right temperature, and shucks off her clothes. She didn’t grab her usual products -- didn’t think to, didn’t have time to -- so she makes do with the ones already in there. Not his -- she went to the Hollander house enough to recognize what he uses -- but a good brand. More expensive than anything she could afford, at least without thinking of all the art supplies she could buy instead. Just not products for curly hair. Oh well. Her hair’s the least of her problems right now.

She stays in the shower until her fingers are wrinkled and she’s starting to overheat. She’d feel bad about using so much water, but she’s seen what professional hockey players make. After, she puts on new clothes and brushes her teeth and hair, and by the time she’s done she feels marginally better. Cried out and not about to either break down or fall asleep where she stands, at least.

She takes a deep breath, then ventures out.

The apartment is big -- of course it is, she knew that when the doorman let her into a separate elevator because the main one doesn’t go to the top floors -- but she finds the living room relatively easily. From the doorway, she can see him on the couch, frowning down at something in his lap. Probably games from last season. She shuffles in one step, suddenly unsure, and his head snaps up.

She gives a weak smile, the best she can muster right now.

“You’re awake,” he says. Then his mouth tugs to the side. “I mean, obviously. How are you feeling?”

She nods. “Better. A bit.”

He nods as well. “Good. That’s good. Do you want to sit down?”

She abruptly realizes she’s still hovering at the edge of the room, and moves to the opposite end of the couch, leaning against the arm as they look at each other.

It’s been so long since they were this awkward with each other, since they first started dating -- no, when they broke up -- and before that, when they first became friends. She clears her throat.

“I should probably--”

“Can I get you--”

They both stop, smiling a little.

“I should probably explain. Why I’m here.”

His brow furrows. “You don’t have to -- if you don’t want to. You can just… rest for a while.”

It’s a tempting offer, but she owes it to both of them to say it, no matter how many knots her stomach is tying itself into.

“No, I showed up at your house without warning and you didn’t even… It’s--” She takes a deep breath. “They kicked me out. I’m gay, Shane. They -- they hate that I’m gay more than they love me. I’m gay and they kicked me out.”

She covers her mouth to stop her babbling, hoping it’ll also stop the tears before they fall. She’d thought she cried so much she didn’t have any tears left, but apparently she was wrong.

She’s so focused on not letting the tears fall that she doesn’t notice him moving until his arms are around her. She sinks into the hug, finally breathing freely. It’s not that she expected a bad reaction from him -- she knows his parents raised him better than that, and he’d get an earful from Yuna while David looked on in disappointment if he was anything but accepting -- but she’s also aware hockey isn’t the most… open-minded sport ever.

And she hadn’t exactly thought her parents would kick her out, so.

“Do you have a plan?” he asks. “What do you need?”

“Um…” She blinks, pulling back, trying to sort her thoughts. Why, why hadn’t she listened to the websites and made a plan even if she didn’t think she’d need one? “I need…”

“A place to stay? I can call my parents. I’m sure they’d--”

“No. Please don’t tell them. I’m not ready.” She’s had enough of coming out for the near future. “And besides, I transferred to college here. I just need someplace until the dorms are open, if you could help me find somewhere.”

“Yeah, of course. What’s your budget?”

Her eyes widen as it hits her. “I don’t have a job. It’s back in Ottawa. No place is going to rent to me, between that and moving into the dorms… Maybe a hotel?”

“Or…” He glances away, plucking at the fabric of his pants. “Or you could stay with me.

- - - - - -

Jessica stares. “Shane. You live in a penthouse. I’m just a broke college student who needs a cheap place for a month.” She laughs. “Starving artist, right? Getting an early start, I guess.”

“It is cheap,” he tells her. “I wouldn’t charge you.”

Her lips part. “Shane…” she repeats, slower this time. “I can’t just -- live in your fucking penthouse rent-free, that’s… I mean, I’m your ex-girlfriend! Your gay ex-girlfriend!”

Part of him wants to say it: wants to say I might like guys, too. But he can’t, because he can’t. Shane Hollander can’t like guys. No matter how he might feel around a certain other hockey player. Because it’s a certain other hockey player, and it’s not -- it’s nothing. Besides, he dated her, right? Liked her? So he doesn’t. Instead, he says, “Of course you can.”

He says, “It’ll be cool. Like… a sleepover with friends.”

He says, “What else do you need?”

He does not say, “I think I get it more than I should.”

And that’s how Jessica comes to live with him.

Chapter End Notes

I'm sorry if it takes me a while to update; I'm busy with work and college stuff, and I'm also trying to outline a bit. I don't have access to the show right now, either, which makes it harder. I promise I'm doing my best

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Chapter Notes

I'm not an artist, and the only hockey games I've been to were with my high school pep band. Please either suspend your disbelief or politely correct me if I'm egregiously wrong.

Shane skates hard, keeps his eyes on the goal, pulls back his stick, and… the puck goes flying past Drapeau’s head.

Yes. A perfect shot to end practice with.

They file into the locker room, his teammates shoving him and slapping his back. Some -- the losing team of the scrimmage -- grumble about his goal, but they all compliment him on it. He just smiles at them and nods.

“Lucky shot.”

It wasn’t. He practiced all summer. Hayden gives him a look that says he sees through it.

Shane turns away before Hayden can call him on it, methodically taking off his gear and setting it in a neat pile before he pulls out his phone. He has a few texts: a couple from his parents asking how preseason practices are going, and one from Jessica.

Jessica: still on for our gossip session?

He smiles at the screen, rolling his eyes.

Shane: Game night
Shane: And yes

She moved into the dorms a couple weeks ago, right before the semester started. She’d been out in the hallway, a new wheeled suitcase at her side, when she spun on her heel to stare him down.

“This feels too much like last time, and it’d better not be like last time,” she asserted. “In fact, I won’t let it. We’re going to have weekly hangouts, you hear me, Hollander?”

She sounded so much like any of his coaches that he didn’t even think of protesting.

“We’ll have to schedule it.” She made a duh face. “I can send you mine.”

Raising a brow, she said, “You don’t do anything other than hockey, and that schedule is public. You’ll have to work around my classes.”

“I do some work with brands sometimes.”

And depending on who they were playing, he sometimes disappeared for a few hours after a game. Not that that mattered, because it wasn’t going to happen again. It couldn’t. No matter Rozanov’s texts, or how Shane’s mind kept going back to them for days. If it was just words on a screen, it was under control. It didn’t mean anything.

“Who’re you smiling at?” Hayden’s voice is startling close as he tries to look over his shoulder, and Shane jumps. He quickly turns off his phone and sets it down on the bench.

“Nothing. I just… saw something.”

“Mm.” Hayden nods very seriously. “Something. Something like a text from a girl?”

“What?” The shout comes from Hayden’s side, where JJ’s paused with half his gear on and half thrown haphazardly on the floor. “Hollander’s got a girl?”

“No--”

But they’re not paying attention to him.

“They have game night tonight,” Hayden confirms.

“Hollander’s got a girl and a date?!”

“I’m pretty sure having a girl means dating her,” Shane deadpans. He realizes his mistake when they whirl to face him so quickly he’s half surprised they don’t get whiplash. “And no, that doesn’t mean I have a date. Or a girlfriend.”

A ding distracts them before they can start interrogating him, but he’s not grateful for long. JJ swipes Shane’s phone before he even registers it was his that made the noise, and his mouth widens in a grin that already has Shane making a mental note to silence his notifications. God forbid they ever saw Rozanov’s texts, even as ‘Lily.’ He’d never hear the end of it.

“Jessica!” he declares triumphantly.

Hayden gapes. “Jessica? As in your high school ex Jessica?”

Shane rolls his eyes. “Fine. Yes, as in my high school ex Jessica. But that’s not -- we’re not dating.”

Hayden’s giving him that look again. “Mm-hm.”

“Really, we’re not.”

“Whatever, dude.”

- - - - - -

The Sorry! board sits on a tray on the couch between them. One of Shane’s blue pieces is just a couple spaces past his start. All of her pieces -- green, and she fought tooth and nail to keep him from getting his lucky color -- are still waiting.

“So,” she says casually as she picks up the top card. She flips it over to reveal a 2 and moves her piece out of start. “How are practices going?”

“Good.” He watches impassively as she picks another card, an 11 this time, and switches their pieces. “We’re clicking pretty well. Nothing too interesting yet.”

Her eyes narrow; she calls bullshit. She’s never known him to not have anything to say about hockey. It’s the one thing guaranteed to get him talking. He’s just trying to focus on their game and not get distracted enough for her to win. Not that she needs him distracted for that to happen, of course.

“How’s college?” he asks. He flips over a 12.

“Oh my god, Shane, I love my classes. They have so many more supplies than my old school, and they’re nicer, too, and…”

She launches into a description of a project she’s planning out as they continue playing. He does his best to follow along -- he always has, which is more than she can say for some people, even her parents when they were busy, though she’s trying not to think about them -- but she can see she loses him a few times. Hockey has clear rules, but art’s a little too open-ended.

She’s in the middle of modeling the shape as best she can by twisting her arms and splaying her fingers, wrists bent uncomfortably, when she follows his eyes down to the board.

“What?” she exclaims. “No! Fuck! Fuck you!”

One of her pieces is on start. A second is one space away from being in the safety zone. A third sits on the arrow right before her safety zone, not moving because it’s her own color. As she watches, glancing with dread at the sorry at the top of the discard pile, he bumps the third piece off the arrow, then slides and knocks the other two out.

“Sorry,” he says with a wince, but the effect is ruined by the smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

She growls at him in mock anger. “Oh, you’re on, Hollander. I’m gonna get you back for that.”

He raises a brow, glancing pointedly at her suddenly very full start. “Good luck.”

“Oh, fuck you. Canada’s golden boy my ass.”

That smirk deepens.

She’d forgotten -- she can’t imagine how, now -- how competitive the Hollanders can get. Often, when she’d play with them in Ottawa, Shane and Yuna would chirp each other until they were solely focused on making sure the other lost. Meanwhile, David would smile calmly at Jessica before wiping the board with them all. Every time, Shane and Yuna would be flabbergasted that he won -- or maybe just that they somehow lost.

Despite her newfound focus, she can’t entirely keep herself on task. There’s too much to tell.

“I already can’t stand one of my professors, though. He’s so annoying, you can just tell he thinks he’s the shit. But at least the class is interesting. More than I can say for my roommates.” She pauses. “Actually, that’s not true. They’re a little too interesting.”

He raises his brows.

“They’re good girls, but there are only so many times the same girl can cry over the same guy in a couple weeks before I can’t pretend to be sympathetic anymore. Or so much time I can wait for the bathroom with three other girls sharing it.”

“Oh!” Her eyes light up. “There’s this one girl in two of my classes and she’s absolutely gorgeous. Like you would not believe it, Shane. She’s a goddess.”

Unsurprisingly, she loses.

- - - - - -

While Jessica takes care of her wine glass and his ginger ale can and grabs her bag, Shane puts the game back in its box and the box back with the other games, lining it up evenly with them. She chatters from the foyer -- moved on from school, and now talking about something he can’t really understand from this far. When he rounds the corner, finally close enough to start making out the words, is of course when she stops for breath.

“You could stay here.” It’s out of his mouth before he questions it, for once, but he’d been thinking about it during the game -- a game that he won, thank you, but it was closer than either of them expected.

Her eyes widen, and she stammers for a second before managing to actually respond. “I -- what -- no -- You can’t keep doing this!”

He shrugs. “I liked having you here.”

It can be easy for him to get overwhelmed -- it always has been, whether it was the chaos of school or now the noise and fame of being a professional athlete, especially at his level -- but not usually with her. And it’s nice, having someone who sees him as Shane and not Shane Hollander; even his parents see him as the persona first, sometimes.

“But--”

“It’s a good location. Not too far from the school, and it’d be easy to get a ride if the bus is slow. Plus, it’s got a great view.”

“Killer view,” she says under her breath. He gets the sense she didn’t mean for him to hear it. “Don’t you want a space to yourself?” she questions. “You don’t want someone around all the time.”

“You wouldn’t be. You have school.” When her expression doesn’t change, he adds, “It’s a big apartment.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s a penthouse.” She grumbles something that sounds suspiciously like four girls and only one bathroom.

“So…?”

She smiles and sighs heavily. “Ugh. You’re so annoying. Fine, you twisted my arm. I guess I’ll move back in.”

Chapter End Notes

Sorry to anyone who read the first chapter before this one was published, I didn't realize until right now that the italics didn't transfer over when I copy/pasted it. It should all be fixed now!

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Chapter Notes

Well I turned off the tv early last night meaning to go to bed at a decent time for work, and then I stayed up for two more hours finishing this chapter, so good thing I get free caffeine every shift!

Shane grabs the egg carton from Jessica’s shelf in the fridge and hands it to her, then pulls a glass container with one of his pre-prepped meals from his. He dumps it into a pot on the stove; he could heat it up in the microwave and save himself from having to wash another dish later, but he hates how it warms things unevenly. Better the extra dish than risk taking a bite that’s half piping hot and half still cold. It’s a surefire way to kill his appetite, and that’s saying something as a hockey player.

Jessica works around him easily, their routine practiced almost to the point of muscle memory by now. He gives his food a stir, then moves to her other side to grab spices from the drawer, picking them out without thought thanks to their alphabetized order and labeled lids. He’s just finished with the first when his phone starts ringing.

He picks it up.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, honey. How are you doing after that hit last game?”

“Fine. I told you as soon as it ended,” he reminds her. “Barely even bruised. Looked worse than it was.”

Jessica looks over her shoulder to raise a brow at him. Eavesdropper, he mouths accusingly. She just shoots him a sweet smile before turning back to her food.

His mom hums. “Well, remember to ice it if it bothers you…”

“I know, Mom, I’ve been playing hockey for longer than I can remember. I know what to do.”

“How’s Hayden?”

He blinks at the subject change. “Good -- I think. Why?”

She makes a noise he can’t interpret. “No reason. Just wondered if you two are hanging out, or if you’ve met anyone, or…”

There was a girl at a club after the last game. Jasmine? No, Jackie… he thinks. Shane wasn’t there long, but he heard the team’s chirps at Hayden about them making out on the dance floor, and then he’d nodded along as he watched game tape while Hayden went on about how she has to be the one. Hayden’s trying to convince her to go out on a date.

But he can’t say that, because it’ll open the doors to an interrogation about his own dating life.

“Of course we hang out, we practice together basically every day.” He knows that’s not enough, so he adds, “I went out with the team after the game.”

“Good. You need to connect with your teammates, especially if you want to be captain one day.”

When she doesn’t continue -- doesn’t ask him about girls again or remind him to be responsible and make sure he doesn’t give the press anything to use against him -- he narrows his eyes and waits. Sure enough, a minute later, she starts again without prompting.

“You know,” she comments casually, “I heard Jessica’s in Montreal now. You haven’t run into her, have you?”

He holds in his sigh. “Yeah, actually, she’s here right now.”

“Oh?”

Jessica must still be shamelessly listening in, because she spins around and calls out, “Hi, Mrs. Hollander!”

“Hi, sweetie!” Her voice drops back to its normal volume, and Shane puts the phone to his ear again. “That’s so fun! How did you guys find each other? Montreal’s a big city.”

“She’s here for college. She stopped by to say hi.”

“It’s good that she already had a friend there. It wasn’t awkward, since you guys broke up?”

“No.”

“So you guys… hang out? I mean, you must, if she’s at your apartment.”

“Yeah, we do a weekly game night.”

It’s not a lie, per se. Technically, they do have game night. They also have watch tv night, and Jessica does homework while Shane reads night, and sitting on the couch doing their own separate things night, and whatever other nights end up happening.

His mom laughs. “She always was brave, playing with us. Is she going to go to any of your games? Maybe we could meet up with her at one.”

“Uh, maybe, I don’t--”

“Does she have a Montreal jersey? One of yours?”

“Actually, we were just about to eat dinner. I should probably get going.”

“Oh, right, of course. Well, your dad and I love you.”

“You too. Bye.”

He hangs up and sets his phone on the counter, shutting his eyes for a second. When he opens them, Jessica offers him his food. He hadn’t realized she was keeping an eye on it for him, and he takes it gratefully, happy to discover she seasoned it to perfection.

“Thank you.”

She nods and sits in what’s become her seat at the table.

“Thanks for not telling her why I really came here.”

He lifts a shoulder. “I wouldn’t, like, out you or anything. I’m not a complete asshole.”

“No, only when we’re playing Sorry! Speaking of,” she demands, “when am I going to be able to come to one of your games? They’re so much more fun in-person.”

“We’ve only had two, and you were sick for the home game. The next one is away, too, and you can’t skip classes to follow me around.”

“Says who? I could become your professional stalker. It’d get you a lot of press.”

“Because I need more of that,” he grumbles.

She laughs, then sobers and muses, “It might be worth it for the game in Boston, though.”

“Don’t you have midterms then?”

He knows she does; he checked. Maybe it means he’s a bad friend, but he’s kind of relieved. He’s not… There’s nothing between him and Rozanov. There wasn’t, and there certainly isn’t anymore, even if they exchanged a few texts over the summer. But it’s manageable when they’re hundreds of miles or more away, and he’s just afraid that in person, at the game… Isn’t it a thing that gay people can, like, sense other gay people? He’s pretty sure there’s a word for it. And it’s not like he’s gay, but he can’t be entirely straight, either, right?

So, yeah. Part of him breathes easier knowing she can’t make it.

“You’re right,” she laments, snapping him out of the spiral. “Damn. Another time, then. Guess I’ll just have to make use of your giant TV.”

- - - - - -

Jessica sits in the couch with one leg folded under her, fidgeting absently with one of the paint stains on the pants. It drives Shane mad that all her pajamas are various shirts and sweatpants or shorts that have been downgraded due to paint splashes or the odd clay stain, depending on what type she’s working with, but she refuses to buy new ones because she knows she’ll just get paint on them again. She can’t help it if inspiration strikes in the middle of the night.

True to her word, the TV in front of her plays the Boston-Montreal game. She’s exhausted from her midterm, and she might very well fall asleep on the couch as soon as it ends, but she wouldn’t miss it for anything.

They’re counting down the minutes until the end of the first period, and Shane and Rozanov are tied. Technically, their teams are tied, she supposes. But they’re the only ones who’ve scored, and the commentators are barely making the distinction, anyway. Like their rookie All Stars game last year.

The two star centers skate into position for a face off. Their mouths are moving, but she can’t make out what they’re saying. She wishes one of them would be mic’d up for these games, but if she knows Shane at all, he resolutely refuses -- and from what she’s heard of Rozanov, the league doesn’t dare invite that trouble. Probably almost none would be usable.

Shane wins, snatching the puck away, and Rozanov barks a swear -- that, she can lip-read without problem -- before racing after him with a grin.

Her phone pings from the coffee table. She leans forward to grab it, pulling up the message as soon as she sees who it’s from.

Josh: i miss you

Jessica: I know
Jessica: I miss you too

Josh: why did you have to leave

Her heart twists. Her little brother is only eight. She doesn’t know how much he overheard, or what their parents told him, or what he’s put together on his own. She’s tried to be careful with what she’s said the handful of times they’ve texted; as angry as she is at their parents, it wouldn’t be fair to tell him the full scope of it. He still has to live with them for the next decade. She just hopes they don’t teach him their views in that time.

She takes the coward’s way out.

Jessica: I’m in school here now

Josh: but you left early
Josh: you said you werent leaving for a month

Jessica: I know, I’m sorry
Jessica: Something changed and I had to leave earlier than I thought

Josh: all your stuff is still here
Josh: you didnt take your stegosaurus
Josh: or the sign i made for shane

She closes her eyes, willing away the mistiness. He bought her a stegosaurus stuffed animal a few years ago, when he was in his dinosaur phase, for her birthday. She wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without it. It rode to school with her every day for her entire senior year, and one of her graduation photos features it with a mini graduation cap she and Josh made for it.

And the sign… that was probably why she’d thought to drive here, to Shane’s. Josh adored him, had loved going to his games, and was ecstatic when he signed with Montreal. His excitement was only tempered by their breakup meaning he wouldn’t be around anymore. So when he heard she was going to college in Montreal, he made a sign and insisted she bring it to a game for him.

Jessica: I’m so sorry, Josh, it was an emergency, I didn’t have time to pack

Josh: is that why mom and dad were angry

Jessica: Sort of. It’s complicated

Josh: they said you arent coming back
Josh: is that true

Jessica: Are they home right now?

Josh: no

Jessica: I’m going to call you, okay?

She stands as she hits the call button. This is a standing type of conversation. She attempts to run a hand through her hair before remembering the messy curls are piled on her head in a haphazard bun (and probably paint-stained, but she’ll deal with that tomorrow). He answers on the third ring.

“Hi, Jess!”

He sounds happy, despite everything. This is the first time they’ve talked on the phone since she moved out.

“Hey. How’s school going?”

“Oliver said soccer’s better than hockey,” he huffs.

She gasps in mock outrage. “How dare he? You just remind him soccer doesn’t have Shane Hollander.”

“Yeah!” he agrees. Then, “I wish you could help me with my homework still.”

She used to help him with his difficult assignments no matter how much of her own work she still had left to do.

“I know. Me too.”

“Why can’t you? Why did they say you’re not coming home ever again?”

She sighs, looking to the side like there might be somebody there who could help her. Instead, her sigh turns into a sharp hiss when she sees Rozanov slam Shane into the boards. She winces, but Shane recovers quickly and catches up to him, smoothly stealing the puck.

“We just… got into a bit of an argument,” she finally answers. “So it was better if I went somewhere else for a while.”

“Why are they mad at you?”

“I… They think I did something bad, okay?”

“Did you?”

God, how can she explain this? How can she point her brother on the right path without making him hate their parents? Does it really have to be her or them?

“No -- I mean… I did what they think I did, but it’s not a bad thing, you hear me, Josh? It’s not bad, they’re just confused, I guess. I promise you, it’s nothing bad.”

“Okay… Then can we go to a Montreal game together someday? I could bring the sign.”

“Maybe. I would love to, Josh. Maybe.”

It feels like a lie, even if it isn’t, but there’s no fucking way her fucking parents will ever let her spend another minute around him ever again. But she can’t just shut him down. She can’t do that to him, even if giving him hope might end up being crueler.

She just -- fuck, she can’t do this.

“I just heard their car,” says Josh.

“Alright. I’m gonna hang up, then. And don’t tell them you talked to me, okay? I don’t want them to get mad at you, too.”

“I know.” It was the rule even for their texts. “I love you.”

“Love you.”

She hangs up, throwing her phone onto the couch, where it sinks between the cushions, muttering fuck under her breath. She glances at the game, but it’s a commercial break, so she decides to go to the bathroom and maybe grab some chocolate on her way back. There has to be some somewhere in this apartment, right? She’s pretty sure she bought some last week.

After, on her way to the kitchen through the living room, she checks the TV for the score. But instead she sees a slow motion replay of what must’ve happened just seconds before: a Boston player checks Shane from the side. Shane slams into the boards again, but this time she watches as he catches himself awkwardly. She sees his face go tight with pain. He stays there for a second, the air knocked out of him, as one of his teammates drops gloves.

The replay cuts to now, as Shane finally moves, hobbling off the ice -- by himself, at least, thank god. But after showing the viewers he’s at least okay enough for that, the camera focuses on the fight and the commentators speculate on penalties.

She hurriedly fishes for her phone between the couch cushions, pulling up her exchange with Shane from just earlier today.

Jessica: I just saw that hit. I know you can’t answer for a bit, but please tell me if you’re okay once you can
Jessica: Fuck Boston. At least you’re ahead enough you could still win

She checks her phone every couple minutes, but it’s not until after the game that she gets a response.

Shane: I’m fine. I have a minor sprain in my wrist and some pretty good bruising, but I’ll be back in a couple weeks. Practices in a week if I don’t strain myself.

Jessica: Good. And you won anyway

Shane: Only because Rozanov got himself sent to sin bin and gave us a power play

Jessica: I think it has more to do with you being the better player, but whatever you say

- - - - - -

Shane grins at the text, then backs out of it to read the one message he has left after reassuring his parents that he’s okay.

Lily: What did doctor say?

Shane: Sprained wrist and bruising, out for a couple weeks

Lily: Which wrist?
Lily: Does not matter, you can just use mouth tonight instead

Shane turns his phone off and sets it face down on the bed next to him. He doesn’t want to admit it, but maybe it’s a good thing he got injured. Without the bone-deep aching all along his side and the brace around his wrist -- and Jessica’s texts to keep him entertained -- he’s not sure he could’ve kept himself from letting Hayden have the hotel room to himself for the night.

Chapter End Notes

Sorry the text formatting is slightly different in this one than last chapter, I tried to fix it but it's being weird. Don't worry about getting a Ilya/Shane POV, it's coming, you'll just have to wait :)

Edit 5/21: I'm still annoyed by the text formatting so I'm trying to fix it again

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Chapter Notes

Congrats to the wives of hockey for winning the Walter Cup! (That was the first professional hockey game I've watched in my life. I was so excited!)

This chapter takes place later in the season, so it's now late winter/early spring of 2012

“Hey.”

Hayden slides into view on Shane’s side. A second later, JJ leans against the locker on his other.

“Hi?” Shane’s immediately apprehensive.

“Hello,” JJ adds, smiling.

Shane looks back and forth between them. “What?”

“What do you mean what?” JJ’s entirely too casual. “We can’t just say hi to our friend?”

“Not like this.”

The last time they cornered him like this, it was to convince him to go out with the team after their game, which wouldn’t seem so bad, except they did it by promising to stay with him all night… and then promptly abandoned him for the dance floor. Hayden’s at least still dating the girl. JJ went home with someone and declared the next day that she wasn’t bad, but if he had the choice again, he’d choose the couple extra hours of sleep this time.

Suffice it to say, he doesn’t trust them right now.

Hayden takes pity on him. “We’re going out. The three of us.”

“No.”

“You haven’t even heard what we’re doing!”

“What are we doing?”

“Bowling.”

“No.”

“Come on, Hollander.” JJ grabs his shoulder and shakes it a little. “It’ll be fun! When’s the last time the three of us did something without any of these idiots?” He nods at the rest of the team, grinning.

“Last season,” Hayden answers when Shane doesn’t. “If you won’t come to the clubs with us, you can at least bowl.”

“I did go to a club with you,” he points out.

“Yeah,” JJ repeats, “a club. As in one. The entire season.”

“The season’s not done yet.”

“And are you planning on going to another one this season?” Hayden questions, brows raised.

Shane doesn’t respond.

“Exactly. So you’re coming.”

“Or else we will kidnap you,” JJ adds.

Hayden rolls his eyes. “No, we won’t. But you are coming. Got it?”

Shane sighs. They aren’t going to let him know peace until he agrees. And at least it’s bowling and not, like, clubbing or go-karting or something. Can they even go-kart, or is it against their contracts? He doesn’t know, but now he’s curious. He’ll have to check later.

“Fine. I’ll go.”

“Promise?” Hayden pushes.

“Yes, Hayd, I promise.”

JJ holds out a finger. “Pinky promise?”

Shane stares at him, but he doesn’t put his hand down. “Yes, fine, pinky promise. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic.” He grins wide.

“Now can we get ready for practice? I don’t want to be late.”

- - - - - -

He should’ve known to question them more when they made him promise. It’s during a two minute break, while he’s squirting water into his mouth, that they flank him again, sitting on either side of him on the bench.

“So,” Hayden starts. “I think we accidentally left it out earlier--”

“Accidentally,” JJ emphasizes. “Completely by accident.”

Hayden glares at him. “--but I’m bringing Jackie to the bowling thing. And JJ’s bringing his girlfriend--”

“Zoe.”

“--so we were thinking maybe you could bring a girl. Maybe Jessica? It could be a triple date!”

He must make a face, because suddenly they’re shouting over each other, reminding him he promised -- pinky promised even, and apparently everyone knows that you can’t break a pinky promise. He almost asks what’ll happen if you try. Unless there’s evidence it’ll lose him a game, he’s pretty sure he can.

“Just think of it as another game night,” Hayden suggests.

“We wouldn’t want you to fifth wheel us,” JJ says.

Then maybe you shouldn’t have invited your girlfriends, Shane thinks. Instead, he tells them, “Thanks, but I’ll be fine. She’s busy with school, anyway.”

They open their mouths, but Theriault saves him.

“Hollander, Pike, Boiziau!” he yells. “Get your asses on the ice!”

- - - - - -

It isn’t until later, as he’s sitting in his bed reading a book, that he starts thinking about it again: how awkward it’ll be. A double date, plus him. A fifth wheel, as JJ said. And worse, there’ll be two new people there -- well, new-ish; he’s met Jackie once, briefly, at one of their games, but that’s still new enough to be considered new -- and no one in his corner since he’s sure Hayden and JJ will be more concerned with their girlfriends than with him. So he’ll probably end up standing there, smiling in a way he’s been told looks more like a grimace and not sure what to say since he doesn’t see the point of small talk and never knows what topics are considered appropriate. (Is hockey okay? Probably, since they’re dating hockey players, right? But what if he talks about it too much for them, or gets too technical and makes them feel stupid? But surely they have to know at least some players’ stats, or the difference between backchecking and forechecking?)

He does his best to push the thoughts aside, but he can’t seem to focus on his book again, no matter how good of an analysis it’s currently providing on the league. He rereads the same paragraph three times in a row before he decides he has to do something. He sticks his bookmark -- a mini hockey stick Jessica got him as thanks for letting her stay with him -- between the pages and gets up, resigned.

Jessica’s sitting on the couch, the TV on but muted and a sketchbook on her lap. She gnaws on the end of her pencil as she stares at her work so far, not noticing him standing in the doorway.

“Hey,” he says, then curses himself for sounding exactly like Hayden earlier today.

“Oh, Shane, hi.” She takes her pencil out of her mouth, frowning at the teeth marks. “Damn it, that was my good pencil.”

“You can just buy a new one.” He is fully aware he’s avoiding the reason he came out here.

She points to herself. “Broke college student.”

“Right. Yeah.” He makes a mental note to look at the brand when he gets the chance. Her birthday’s coming up.

“So, did you come out here just to stop me from eating my pencil, or…?”

He resists the urge to clear his throat -- or just change his mind, say he forgot what he came out for, and turn back around. But as much as he hates this, it’ll be worse if he goes without a date.

He steels himself and says, “Will you go bowling with me and pretend to be my girlfriend?”

Immediately, he feels his face turn red. His only saving grace is that instead of laughing or immediately rejecting him, her brows furrow in obvious confusion.

“A couple of my teammates convinced me to go bowling with them,” he explains. “Except they didn’t mention until after I already agreed that they’re bringing their girlfriends, and I don’t know either of them. So will you come with me so I’m not the only one by myself?”

“I mean… why can’t I just go as your friend?”

“They’ll assume you’re my girlfriend either way, so we might as well go along with it.” He frowns. “Unless you want to tell them you’re gay; they’ll believe us then.”

“Well, why not find a different girl to go with you? One you can actually date.”

He shakes his head. “There are already enough people I don’t know there. I’d prefer to go by myself than bring a puck bunny.”

He could already imagine the tabloid headlines: Is bowling a good first date? Montreal’s star center sure seems to think so!

Not like enough people already think he’s boring.

“And you don’t know any other girl? Maybe, you know, one who’s not gay?”

No.

“I don’t want to lead anyone on.”

“That’s frustratingly nice of you,” she complains. They stay quiet for a minute, and he lets it drag on, afraid interrupting her -- even to persuade her -- would rush her to a decision he doesn’t want. She narrows her eyes at him, evaluating something, and her examination make him nervous for reasons he can’t pinpoint. He shifts, suddenly too aware of his hands fidgeting with his pants. Finally, she nods slowly. “Alright. I’ll pretend to be your girlfriend, but you have to do something for me, too.”

“Of course,” he agrees too quickly. “What?”

“Send tickets to Josh and my parents for your next game in Ottawa.”

“Okay, but… why do you want your parents to get free tickets?”

Maybe he just doesn’t understand, but if he were in her place (he mentally crosses that out and replaces it with if he were her), he wouldn’t want them to get anything. Not so much as cheap seats they pay for themselves or a bad coupon to the team store.

“I don’t,” she says immediately. Then her voice softens. “But Josh really wants to see one of your games, and they’ll only let him go if they get tickets, too.”

He nods. “Okay, then. Deal.”

“Deal.”

- - - - - -

The bowling alley is small, and no one else is there besides the staff. None of the other four lanes are in use, not even anyone finishing up a game as they arrive. She suspects Pike or Boiziau -- Hayden or JJ, as they introduced themselves -- she gets a little thrill at being on a first name basis with them, even if she made sure not to seem starstruck; Shane has always been a friend before a famous athlete, but these two are different -- rented out the entire place to avoid rabid fans interrupting constantly. She can’t blame them, but -- wow, they’re really in a different tax bracket. She can barely afford good pencils.

“Alright!” JJ rubs his hands together eagerly. “Three teams, one for each couple.”

“Or,” she proposes, “two teams: boys v. girls.”

She gets that they want to hang out with their girlfriends, but really. They invited Shane to hang out as friends. If they wanted couple time, they shouldn’t have begged him to come to something he didn’t even want to do. Seriously, how many concussions have these two had already? Surely there’s a number where they have to stop playing, because she thinks they might’ve hit it. Or maybe they’re just straight men.

Hayden and JJ start objecting, arguing that it’s a triple date, but to her delight the other ladies back her up.

“Yes, I want to get to know some other girlfriends,” says JJ’s date, Zoe, who has a slight French accent.

“What?” Jackie taunts. “You big, tough hockey boys are afraid we’ll beat you?”

Jessica’s face splits into a surprised grin.

“No!” exclaims Hayden, sounding scandalized she could even think such a thing. “Obviously not. We’re the professional athletes!”

Jessica stifles her laugh. She was on a rec bowling team last year in college, and though she wasn’t the best, she was also far from the worst. She mentioned it to Shane a while back, but either he doesn’t remember or he doesn’t feel the need to warn his friends. She hopes it’s the latter. He deserves some petty revenge.

“Then you have no reason to not want those teams,” she joins in. “Unless you’re lying.”

Jackie looks at her and nods in agreement. Zoe raises her brows.

Hayden gives in first.

- - - - - -

The boys are… not great at bowling, to put it politely. Shane’s the worst. At least sixty percent of the time his ball ends up in the gutter. Not even the same one consistently. It’ll end up in one, and then he’ll overcorrect and it’ll go in the other. He scowls every time, but at least the rest of his team isn’t good enough to tease him without being hypocrites themselves.

Finally, Jessica takes pity on him and gets up from the table where she and the other girls are waiting for their turns.

“You’re helping him?” Zoe asks, betrayed.

Jackie raises a brow in pointed agreement.

“It’s not fun if there’s no competition.

“Excuse me?” JJ asks. Jessica’s pretty sure he’s only pretending to be offended.

“Shane, your girlfriend is mean to us,” Hayden complains.

Shane only shrugs, but she’s pretty sure she sees his lips quirk for a second before he’s frowning at the arrows on the lane again.

She comes up and stands next to him. “Like this with your wrist.”

“Yeah, Hollander, like that!” JJ says, laughing. “And then with your fingers--”

He’s abruptly cut off with what sounds like a hand smacking over his mouth. She ignores it and continues coaching him. When she’s done, he tries again. He only knocks down a couple pins, but it’s a couple more than the other times.

The boys whoop and holler for entirely too long considering how badly they’re losing. When they finally stop, Hayden smirks at Shane.

“I thought you were the one who’s supposed to be pulling that move! You let your girlfriend steal it from us.”

Shane’s ear turn red, but he replies, “Aw, Hayd, I know you don’t have any other tricks, but you’re not good enough to use it here, anyway.”

Hayden’s eyes go wide and Jessica has to bite down on her lip to keep from laughing.

“You can fucking chirp?” he exclaims. “What the fuck, dude, you’ve been holding out on us.”

“You should hear him on game nights.”

Shane rolls his eyes at her. “I barely chirp you, you’re just a sore loser.”

“You gotta bring this to the games, Hollander!” JJ slaps him on the shoulder. “Where is this when we play fucking Rozanov?”

Shane takes a step away, forcing JJ to move his hand. “It’s your turn.”

JJ picks up his ball and Jessica returns to the table.

“He seems pretty comfortable with you,” Jackie says. “I’ve only met him a couple times, but he’s always seemed… quiet, I guess.”

“I’ve known him for years. We were friends before we started dating in high school.”

“That long?” Zoe asks. “I never heard anything about Shane Hollander having a girlfriend.”

“We broke up when he moved here for the team and I stayed in Ottawa for college.”

“Long distance is hard,” Jackie says understandingly. “I tried to do it once with one of my exes.” She looks toward the boys and smiles. “I’m glad it didn’t work out though.”

“Did you transfer here for him?” Zoe wonders.

“No, I, uh -- they have a good art program here, and I stopped by his place to say hi before the semester started.” She makes a quick choice to go with the story Shane told Yuna.

The boys finish with their round, and the girls take their turns before they switch again.

“Did you want to get back together?” Zoe takes a sip of her drink, then seeing Jessica’s confusion, clarifies, “When you visited him.”

“Oh. No, I was focused on other things.” Understatement of the year.

“That’s fair. I don’t know if JJ and I are going to work out. He’s nice enough, and good in bed, but I’m not sure we… click like you’re supposed to, you know? But I’m having fun, and it’s only been a couple months.”

Zoe finishes her drink and offers to grab more for them, too, while she’s getting another for herself. They thank her and hand her cash.

“I knew right away,” Jackie confides in Jessica. “With Hayden. I still made him beg for a date, though. I’d just gotten out of another relationship and swore to myself I was going to stay single for a while, go to clubs and just do hookups who were falling over themselves to get to me. And then comes this hot fucking hockey player to make me break my promise. And he was so sweet and nervous asking me out.” She crosses her legs and leans in. “He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s going to propose. I’ve set my mind to it.”

If it was any other girl saying that after a handful of months dating a professional hockey player, Jessica might be wary, but somehow she knows that’s not Jackie.

“I have no doubt he will.”

It’s true; Jackie has the confident, level-headed, strong personality that you can’t help but be pulled toward. It’s hot, honestly. If she weren’t dating Hayden -- and if Jessica wasn’t being Shane’s beard for the night -- she’d be half-temped to ask Jackie out herself.

“You’ll have to tell me how it goes,” Jessica adds.

Jackie waves her hand. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll invite you to the wedding.”

- - - - - -

The girls win, of course, and by enough that it’s clearly not just Shane’s fault.

“They must have cheated,” Hayden grumbles. JJ nods.

“How do you cheat in bowling?” Jackie asks.

“I don’t know -- that’s why you guys won.”

“I think we just won because we’re better than you, babe.”

“There’s a reason they’re hockey players,” Jessica agrees dryly.

“What do you think, Shane?” JJ demands. “Did they cheat?”

“Jessica was on a bowling team last year.” Shane shrugs. “She’s right. I think they’re just better than us.”

“Ugh, Hollander, no, you’re whipped! What happened to br--” He cuts himself off, glancing around at the group. Jackie crosses her arms. “--pals before gals?”

“What happened to ‘the three of us are going out’?”

JJ winces.

“We still should’ve won,” Hayden sulks.

Jackie pats him consolingly on the arm. “It’ll be okay, babe. I’ll make it up to you tonight.”

At that, he perks up.

- - - - - -

He spots Jessica’s family through the glass during warm-ups. Josh is holding a hand-written sign that says 24, I know you’ll score! Shane skates over and tosses a puck over the glass. Josh’s wide smile and excited bouncing remind Shane of going to Ottawa games before he got too busy playing the sport to watch it in person. He gives him a thumbs-up before skating back to his team.

- - - - - -

True to Josh’s sign, Shane does score. In fact, he gets a hat trick. After the game, Josh and his parents make their way over to him. He says hi, ostensibly to all of them, but he can’t quite meet Mr. and Mrs. Byrnes’ eyes.

“Hi, Shane! Do you like my sign?” Josh holds it up.

“Yeah, it’s great.” It’s certainly better than some others, like the one a few weeks ago that said 24, I’ll be your whore. Even worse, the press asked him about it afterward. He’d managed some response about how hockey is supposed to be inclusive and welcoming to people of all ages. “I’m glad you brought it. Thanks.”

“It was supposed to be for Jessica to bring, but she forgot it when she left.”

Mrs. Byrne clears her throat. “Thank you for sending us the tickets, Shane. And such good seats, too. Your parents raised you well.”

He smiles the way he does for the press. What would they do if they knew about him? Would they have even come today? They probably wouldn’t still think his parents raised him well. And for that matter, how would his parents react? He wants to think they’d be better, but Jessica didn’t expect to be kicked out. At least he has his own place. His own money. He’d have to get a new manager--

“My sister’s in Montreal now!” Josh’s voice snaps him out of it, back into reality. “If you see her, will you tell her I said hi?”

Shane nods. “Yeah. Of course.”

It doesn’t matter, he tells himself. There’s no reason his parents will ever have to know. He’s done with Rozanov -- the last couple games against Boston proved that to him -- and eventually, he’ll get a girlfriend, and then a wife. When he’s ready.

He doesn’t let himself think about how wrong the word wife feels.

Chapter End Notes

Did I look up "technical hockey terms" to write Shane's POV? Yes, yes I did. And no, I still don't know the difference between a backcheck and a forecheck. And if you were wondering, there is no max limit to concussions in hockey. Also, can you tell I was overly caffeinated while writing some of this?

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Chapter Notes

This chapter is pretty short -- it's just meant to show the passing of time and set up something else.

I was going to wait until tomorrow to publish it so I could get ahead a little more, but I was scheduled for a three-hour solo shift on a holiday like two blocks from the parade, so this is a treat for all of us because I need it.

It’s the workers’ break right now, so Shane is surveying the progress on his new cottage -- just ten minutes from his parents’ house, where he’s staying for the summer -- with his pair of noise reducing earmuffs around his neck. (His pair, because the heat of summer and the labor of construction work mean that any borrowed pair would be soaked in sweat. Plus, he’s here often enough that it just made more sense to ask the workers what ones they recommend and buy those.)

He wants to talk to the workers about the gym they’re building, but they just started their break, and he doesn’t want to be rude, so he’s attempting to distract himself by checking his phone for texts every minute or two -- from his parents, or maybe from Jessica, who decided not to come back to Ottawa and is instead staying in his apartment, taking one summer class and using the rest of her free time to work.

He won’t admit he’s also waiting for a response from Rozanov, but the time difference between Canada and Russia means that’s unlikely.

Who he’s not expecting contact from, however, is Hayden. And definitely not a phone call.

“What’s wrong?”

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong! Dude, I’m getting married!” Hayden lets out a loud laugh that makes Shane flinch away from the phone, wincing. “I proposed and Jackie said yes!”

“Oh. You proposed?”

“Shane. I told you like a month ago I bought a ring. I said I was going to propose.”

“Yeah, I guess, I just didn’t realize you meant, like -- now. How long have you been dating? It can’t be a year, because you met her during the season.”

“No, but it’ll be more than a year by the time we’re married. She wants a big one, you know, so we’re going all out. She’s already working with a planner. But we don’t want to wait until next summer, so we’re doing it in winter, during our break.”

Shane blinks. “Wow, Hayd. That’s great. Congratulations.”

He wishes Hayden would’ve called while he was at his parents’ house. His mom would’ve already taken the phone and said all the things you’re supposed to say when someone tells you they just got engaged. Unfortunately, Shane doesn’t know what those are, aside from what he’s already said, and he’s pretty sure he’s said some things he maybe shouldn’t have, too.

“I’m excited for you.” His voice is as flat as normal. “Uh, tell Jackie I said congrats.”

“Of course, yeah, I will, she’s calling all her friends and family right now too. Oh! She told me to tell you Jessica’s invited. Actually, she’d love to get Jessica’s number and invite her personally.”

The minute he gives Jackie Jessica’s phone number, she’ll be added to the WAGs chat -- he’s sure of it. She might have been good to play his girlfriend for one night, but he doesn’t think she’ll want to indefinitely.

“I’ll pass the invitation along,” he says. “But it’s not that serious -- she and I aren’t,” he adds quickly, to make sure he’s not misunderstood. Obviously, the engagement is serious. “We haven’t even seen each other all summer.”

“Yeah, and neither have you and I, but you’re still my best man. Wait, are you? Did I ask you yet? Shit, I think I forgot.” He pauses and clears his throat. “Shane, will you do me the honor of being my best man at my wedding?”

“Of course.” He looks down at his feet, unable to reign in his smile. “But you’re not worried Comeau will feel left out?”

Hayden laughs in surprise. “He’ll be lucky if he gets a plus one with the people he hangs around.” He chuckles a little longer before saying, “You, though -- am I sending you an invite with a plus one I assume will be used for Jessica, or do I need to send her a separate invitation? How not serious are you?”

“I don’t know, man, just… maybe send us each an invitation without a plus one?” It’s not like Shane has anyone besides Jessica outside of the hockey world to bring, and anyone in it he’d bring will already be there.

“But what if you guys don’t go together and she wants to bring someone?” Hayden groans. “This is why we hired a wedding planner. Jackie may be good at this, but I am not. I’m good at plays, not parties. The hockey kind, not the theater kind,” he clarifies thoughtfully. “I would not have made a good theater kid.”

“She’ll be fine without a plus one, I promise.” She won’t want to bring a date to a hockey function -- not when they’re both fully aware of what’s slung around as everyday insults in the locker room. He could only imagine what would happen. Comeau getting drunk and asking to watch comes to mind. Either that or offering to turn her straight. Maybe both.

“And you’re sure you can’t give me her number? Or you could give her Jackie’s number.”

Shane doesn’t have Jackie’s number. He doesn’t point that out.

“No, just send both the invites to me and I’ll make sure she gets hers.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, we wouldn’t want hers getting lost in the dorms.” He shudders. “Nightmare scenario. Also, bud -- it’s on your head when Jackie finds out I didn’t get her number. Just warning you. If she turns into bridezilla, I’m siccing her on you.”

“Good thing I’m in Ottawa. And you’d better not let her hear you talking about her like that.”

“Fuck, you’re right. Okay, I’m going to go start making dinner to cancel out the bad karma. Love you, man, talk later. Send me pics of your new place.”

“You too. Congrats again -- oh, and send me a picture of her ring.” His mom will want to see it. “Bye.”

“Say hi to your parents for me. Bye.”

Chapter End Notes

I think part of why Hayden and Shane work so well is that Shane doesn't know or forgets the "correct" things to say sometimes and Hayden just goes with it. It's not even that he doesn't care either way, it's just part of Shane and Hayden accepts it and doesn't make him feel bad for "being wrong."

Also, I feel like Shane was one of those kids who really liked the big construction/road work vehicles (his only complaint is that they're loud) and now it's translated to something more "appropriate" as an adult in his real estate fetish.

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Chapter Notes

Later update than I wanted, but I was dying coming up with all these names

Montreal Metros star player Shane Hollander seen leaving wedding venue with mystery woman
Click link in description for full article
[Image 1: a blurry photo of Hollander in a suit and a woman, whose face is not visible, in a blouse and pants arriving at Le Windsor]
[Image 2: the backs of Hollander and a woman as they enter the ballroom]
[Image 3: Hollander and a woman climbing into a car. Her face is blocked by the door. By the lighting, this photo was taken much later than the other two.]

Maia 😍 @lovetheplayersnotthegame: WHAT? Shane got married? Without me?

Future Metros WAG @nataliabarnes: Who is the baddie that locked down THE Shane Hollander?

Alex🏳️‍⚧️ @nopewrongagain: If you would have asked me two hours ago I would’ve bet you my life savings Hollander would be single for life. And now you’re telling me he’s MARRIED?!

Elijah @elijahd: All these people freaking out about Hollander getting married need to calm down. It’s Pike’s wedding. Hollander’s his best man. He posted the announcement weeks ago.
     ↪️Elijah @elijahd: [screenshot of a post by @hpikeofficial: One month until I marry the love of my life, Jackie!] It’s just clickbait, guys.

Ayman Davis @aymandavis2: Not Pike being a side character in his own wedding 😭

Brax St. Jean @metrosrule: Why is Hayden Pike barely in this article, it was his wedding

Sophia Mann @sophiem34: Okay but Hollander in a suit though

Madison Zavala @madiz: I don’t care if it wasn’t his wedding who is she and how can I become her
     ↪️Lia (loves hockey) @lia8675: no fr girl cause I did everything I could short of going to the police theres not enough of her face to find her

Amelie LeClerc❤️ @aleclerc: Imagine you get married to the love of your life after a whirlwind romance and the only thing about it the tabloids care about is your best friend’s mystery date
     ↪️Chloe Wilson @chloew7826: Jackie Pike must be so strong, I’m sorry, I’d be committing manslaughter

Ali White @metrospuckbunny: come on girls we can do this, we can FIND HER

Lili Wells @liliwells6739: That headline was such a jumpscare omg I swear my heart stopped

Katelyn Le @hollanover: Guys. She’s his beard. Obviously.
     ↪️Katelyn Le @hollanover: I’m begging you all to pick up a book. Or do a google search. Or just talk to a queer person. I’m hear to spread the good news of Hollanov, not teach queer terminology
          ↪️↪️Violet Lambert💜 @vlambert: I know what a beard is but what’s a hollanov
               ↪️↪️↪️Katelyn Le @hollanover: Do you have time to learn about our lords and saviors, Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov?

Becca Campbell @beccacampbell: HOW has nobody claimed to be her yet? She has to have social media? Why hasn’t she posted pictures yet?
     ↪️Anna Wright @annaiswright: maybe -- and hear me out here -- she’s interested in this thing called privacy. ever heard of it?
     ↪️24’s whore @elsiehill: I know, if Hollander was my man I’d be plastering that shit everywhere
          ↪️↪️Anna Wright @annaiswright: and that’s why you’ll only ever be a parasocial creep

Leah Cheung @leahcheung: I know I was never going to end up with him, but really? Right in front of my emotional support fantasy?

- - - - - -

Shane Hollander’s mystery woman spotted at his Montreal apartment
Clink link in description for full article
[Image 1: Hollander and a woman walking into his apartment building together. She holds a bag from an art supply store, and he carries a canvas under an arm.]
[Image 2: the same woman walking out of the apartment building wearing a backpack and a Metros beanie]
[Image 3: the same woman walking into the apartment building wearing a backpack. She is in the same outfit as the previous photo, but now her curly hair is piled into a bun on top of her head. The beanie is seen stuffed in the side pocket of the backpack.]

Future Metros WAG @nataliabarnes: They LIVE TOGETHER?

Lucy G @lucygraham: Apparently I now have a thing for men in ballcaps. Yes I have seen men in ballcaps before, just not Shane Hollander in one
     ↪️Sophia Mann @sophiem34: The only unfortunate part about this is that I’m only finding it out because the photos were with his fucking girlfriend

Lia (loves hockey) @lia8675: ALERT FAM WE HAVE HER FACE

Alex🏳️‍⚧️ @nopewrongagain: Those arms… I’m looking respectfully 👀

Katelyn Le @hollanover: To all the people @ing me, use your brains. She wouldn’t be a very good beard if they were never seen together
     ↪️Mason Taylor @masont7837: this sport is for real men and Hollander’s not gay look at him
          ↪️↪️Katelyn Le @hollanover: That closet is glass, bud

Lili Wells @liliwells6739: a backpack? is she a student? does she go to uni in montreal?

Remy @remyromcom: a hockey player and an artist, oh my romance loving mind is going insane over this

Smithy @megansmith9: The pure bi panic I experienced over these pics, lord save me (or don’t)

Hannah Thomas @iactuallydontlikebananas: OMG! I don’t remember her name but I went to high school a few years below her, they dated for a while!
     ↪️Becca Campbell @beccacampbell: girl plz i will pay you to dig out those yearbooks, i need a name
     ↪️Chloe Wilson @chloew7826: What school?
     ↪️Gia Cooper @giacooper2: I need more deets NOW.

Ali White @metrospuckbunny: They’re serious enough for her to move in but we haven’t heard anything about her and wouldn’t even know about her existence if not for the fucking paps? smh
     ↪️Anna Wright @annaiswright: I think the paps taking pictures of them directly outside his building is probably exactly why they were keeping it quiet

Elena Torres @elenatorres: One day Shane Hollander is on the market. The next he has a mystery woman at his friend’s wedding. LITERALLY THREE DAYS LATER SHE’S LIVING WITH HIM? What’s next, they get married next week?

Violet Lambert💜 @vlambert: She’s a lesbian
     ↪️Ryan Jones @ryanjones2957: Source?
          ↪️↪️Violet Lambert💜 @vlambert: My gaydar
               ↪️↪️↪️Ryan Jones @ryanjones2957: “Source: just trust me” you’re just jealous, it’s okay to admit it
                    ↪️↪️↪️↪️Violet Lambert💜 @vlambert: If anything, I’m jealous of him

Amelie LeClerc❤️ @aleclerc: High school sweethearts. An artist and a professional athlete. MY HEART 😭
     ↪️Remy @remyromcom: like when does the movie release
     ↪️Leah Cheung @leahcheung: They’re high school sweethearts?!?! 🥺🥺🥺

Grace Edwards @gracedwards: what I wouldn’t give to be her rn

Paige Green @paigegreen8: That woman is living the life, dating Shane Hollander, living in his penthouse apartment, having him carry her things, seeing him naked (oops, did I say that last part out loud?)

Kitty Turner @kittyturner3489: Oh so they’re SERIOUS serious for notoriously private Shane Hollander to bring her to his best friend’s wedding and have her move in okay
     ↪️Molly Brown @mollybrown3966: on an unrelated note, if you need me I will be drinking wine and eating ice cream straight from the container

Daisy Allen🌼 @daisyallen1: definitely NOT connected to certain sports news released this week, but is anybody else feeling a sudden urge to get into witchcraft?
     ↪️Liv Tremblay @livlovhockey: we talking black magic or love spells? cause I’m down either way
     ↪️Courtney Baker @hockeyandhollander: I’ll bring the candles
          ↪️↪️Ali White @metrospuckbunny: I’ll get the lock of hair if we’re going in that direction

Rachel Evans @rachelevans5: I would not have expected Shane to be dating a girl who wears a red lip but I see it now
     ↪️Noa Gagnon @noagagnon: giving man who makes the money and fixes things around the house and his woman who don’t take no shit for either of them
     ↪️Bee🐝Bouchard @pheobebouchard: brb omw to the store for some makeup. btw ladies what do we think are perms back in

Ivy Mae🌿💖🎨🌈 @ivymaeclark: see this is what I mean when I say wealthy people need to get back into supporting the arts

Chapter End Notes

If you like this setup, I have another fic that includes social media where the Centaurs read hockey romance books for their fans. It might help hold you over until Ilya shows up in this one.

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Chapter Notes

And for the chapter you've all been waiting for...

Ilya sets his phone down with a thud. He’d known he shouldn’t have read that article the other day. He definitely knew he shouldn’t read the follow-up today. And yet.

The headlines, he could have ignored. Well… as long as he remembered it was Pike getting married. Ilya knows how the tabloids misconstrue things to get clicks; he’s had his fair share of misleading articles written about him. Okay, less misleading than that, because his reputation is not unearned. But those pictures… Those, he had to know about.

The articles took for-fucking-ever to read. Not just because he’s better at speaking English than reading it, or because the slang terms he wasn’t sure he understood correctly, but because the whole time, his mind kept circling back to the same thought: He’s been sexting Hollander for more than a fucking year and he’s had a girlfriend the whole time?

Fuck. He sent Hollander a fucking dick pic.

It’s different for Ilya. He sees a lot of girls. A few guys too, and people who are neither, exactly. But Hollander’s not that type of person. No, he’s Canada’s golden boy, so this girl must be serious. Or, Ilya supposes, Hollander must be serious about her. He can’t speak for the girl. Hollander’s mystery woman.

Or maybe not so mysterious, he thinks, remembering the person who claimed they dated in high school.

Blyat.

He picks his phone back up, studiously ignoring Jane three down -- just above the Boston group chat, and under Sveta -- and instead clicks on the first number: Marly.

Ilya: gym?

He doesn’t wait for a response. He chucks it across the room onto the couch. It bounces once, then clatters to the floor.

Maybe… maybe it wasn’t the whole year and a half. If they dated in high school, it could be recent. The people online said she probably goes to school in Montreal -- they could have run into each other and reconnected just in time for him to invite her to the wedding. And it would make sense for her to move in for the new semester so she doesn’t have to pay for dorms.

Or, he reasons, she could be Hollander’s beard. But that would mean he’s hooking up with another guy, since he’s certainly not hooking up with Ilya.

He slumps in his stool and lets out a sound between a sigh and a groan.

It’s not that Hollander has someone else; Ilya has many people, and those people have people. It wasn’t anything other than good sex with someone else with good stamina and a reason to keep quiet. The thrill of the danger and secrecy was an added bonus. But they’ve been sexting for a year and a half. They, because Hollander responded. Ilya didn’t mind if they haven’t ended up fucking again yet, because flirting is half the fun. (He’s tempted to say that with Hollander it’s more than half the fun, imagining the way he scowls at the phone when Ilya annoys him, or the way his ears turn red -- but then he remembers the noises Hollander made when they fucked and can’t quite bring himself to say it after all.)

He would have been fine if it never happened, even. Completely fine. But now he can’t help wondering if he ever stood a chance, or if he was just entertainment. A distraction. A good one, sure -- he always is, and he’s proud of that. It’s just not really fair if they were not on even playing ground. If they were, Ilya would have won. Eventually. He’s fucking irresistable.

His phone makes a sound, and he jumps up. It’d better be Marly, because fucking hell, he needs to get out of this apartment and do something. Maybe he’ll be open to boxing. It would feel good to hit something.

It’s Svetlana. Not quite as good as hitting things with Marly, but close.

Sveta: Something’s wrong

Ilya’s heart jumps into his throat.

Ilya: What?

Sveta: Not me, you
Sveta: Something’s wrong with you. I can feel it

Ilya: What makes you think that

Sveta: That wasn’t denial, Ilyushka
Sveta: Because I know hockey and I know you
Sveta: So what is it

Ilya: Nothing

Sveta: Bullshit.
Sveta: Tell me. I will either help fix it or help distract you

Ilya: You aren't in Boston to do either

Or Montreal, to figure out what the truth is. Not that he could ask her, even if she was there.

Sveta: What, because I’m not there I can’t be a good friend?

Ilya: I don’t want to talk about it

Don’t want to, can’t, won’t. What’s the difference?

Sveta: Okay
Sveta: I’ll send you pictures of our new car

A minute later, half a dozen pictures of a brand-new sports car come through. It’s sleek and shiny, and he imagines how it would feel to speed down the highway on it. Closer to flying than a plane. He feels himself starting to smile.

Sveta: I tested it
Sveta: It’s a dream

Ilya: Is there one in Boston
Ilya: You could take me for a ride when you get back

Sveta: Not yet
Sveta: We could do a different type of ride if you want though

He is not in the mood to flirt right now, at least not with Sveta. Someone else, a stranger, maybe, but not his best friend. She deserves better than what he can give at the moment. Thankfully, Marly finally responds.

Ilya: I have to go, going to the gym with Cliff

Sveta: Don’t push him too hard just because you’re in a shitty mood
Sveta: But if you do, send pictures of him all sweaty. You owe me for the car

Ilya grins and assures he he will, then switches to his texts with Marly.

Ilya: Bring your gloves, I need to fucking punch something

Marly: everything alright?

Ilya: Why do you people keep asking me that
Ilya: It’s fucking perfect
Ilya: Just bring your damn gloves

Marly: you got it Roz
Marly: 🫡

He looks at Hollander’s contact one more time before turning his phone off and getting ready for the gym.

If Hollander still wants anything from him, he’ll have to come ask for it.

Chapter End Notes

If this chapter seemed kind of rambling, that's because it is. I decided not to outline it in favor of finding Ilya's voice and letting it take me wherever he needed to go, especially since I've only written him after they both moved to the Centaurs (go check out my fic Sweetheart for more of his POV). I think it turned out pretty well, and it did get us a surprise visit from Sveta (it seems she's a fan of those).

Just a heads up, I'm trying to keep to a pretty regular schedule, but the next chapter's longer than the past few so it might take me a bit more time than normal.

Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Chapter Notes

This one took me forever! I knew it would be long, but I didn't think it'd be that long.

Shane silenced notifications on his phone a year and a half ago after Hayden and JJ saw his notifications and interrogated him about Jessica, and for the most part, he does not regret that decision. His parents’ texts are on silent, but their calls still come through, and the same with Farah. Anyone else knows not to expect him to respond immediately during the season. It’s times like this, though, with more than a dozen texts from the team group chat, that he isn’t sure if it’s more annoying than it is helpful. Normally, he’d read the most recent and call it good; most of their texts aren’t anything important. But these all seem to be talking about him. Apprehension starts to build as he scrolls up to see what’s going on.

Couillard: did you guys see that article

Olsson: dude what article

Mitty: And when

Olsson: you need to be more specific

Couillard: that one about cap

Hayden: He didn’t do any press recently

Couillard: [link]

JJ: man the fucking tabloids
JJ: why are you paying attention to them

Hayden: Wait
Hayden: What

JJ: okay wtf

Drapeau: Hollander has a gf? and it’s serious?

Couillard: so I take it none of you saw until now

Mitty: @Hayden @JJ you didn’t know?

Hayden: We knew about her, we had a triple date with them, she’s the one he brought to my wedding
Hayden: We didn’t know she lives with him

JJ: yeah what’s that about cap

Comeau: i wasnt at the wedding whatd i miss
Comeau: fuck shes hot didnt know hollander had it in him

Olsson: the comments are saying they dated in high school that true?

Shane sighs, then mouths Fuck. He fucking hates the tabloids. And these photos… the paps must’ve been practically right outside the building door. He tries to tell himself it’s nothing too bad, but he knows how these work. The tabloids will find some way to dramatize it, make it controversial. That’s what they do. Fuck. He mouths it once again, then navigates back to the group chat. A couple more have come through since.

Hayden: Yeah they did, I didn’t know they were serious again though

Drapeau: can’t believe we found out from the paps before he told us
(👍 by JJ, Comeau, Couillard, and Olsson)

Shane: Hey guys, sorry for the late response, I had to catch up
Shane: Yes, Jessica and I dated in high school, but we broke up when she went to college in Ottawa and I moved to Montreal

Olsson: but when’d you get back together

Mitty: It must have been a while if she lives with you?

Shane lays his head on the back of the couch. The impact is a little harder than strictly necessary.

He can’t deny it, even if it’s the truth. They wouldn’t believe him anyway, and that’d mean admitting the lie to Hayden and JJ. He can’t do that. They wouldn’t believe that it’s not serious, either, if she’s living with him. That’s a serious step in relationships. He remembers Hayden stressing out before he asked Jackie to move in, and the triumphant texts to the team after she agreed. Maybe he could say they decided they work better as friends but it was too late for her to get a dorm? He considers. A couple of them might buy it, but he doesn’t think the rest would.

That leaves one option: go with it. It’s his least favorite. Everyone tells him he’s horrible at lying. (Even if he isn’t about the things that matter enough to be lied about, and the proof is in Boston. He just doesn’t like to. The guilt makes his insides feel oily.) But his best friends already bought the lie, and he can just… pretend he’s dating her, and then pretend to break up.

Shane: We were reconnecting as friends for a while. She moved in at the beginning of the school year so she doesn’t have to pay for dorms
Shane: I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but we were trying to keep it quiet

Mitty: That makes sense with her being at school and shit

JJ: oh yeah I bet that would be annoying if you’re not used to being watched all the time already
JJ: sorry the paps and media pried cap but at least you’re not hiding anymore

Yeah. At least he’s not hiding.

He suddenly feels such a rush of dread at the thought of what could’ve happened if he and Rozanov were meeting and relief at the fact that they’re not that he starts to feel dizzy. This is exactly why he told Rozanov they couldn’t meet at his apartment, exactly why he bought that building before the snowstorm canceled their game and their plans even though part of him felt completely ridiculous doing it.

And-- Mitty’s and JJ’s comments finally register. Jessica. How is this going to affect her? He avoids a lot of the internet, but he’s seen how people can treat the WAGs online. Some of the famous ones like it; he’s heard a couple of the players saying that any interaction, positive or negative, gets them more money, so they don’t mind. But Jessica’s a college student who was trying not to attract attention after what she went through with her parents, and now suddenly she’s dating one of the top hockey players in the league, and there are paps waiting to take her picture without her knowledge right outside his fucking building and every aspect of either of them separately and both of them together is going to be fucking dissected online for the world to see--

He drops his head into his hands. Shit. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He hears the key in the lock, and he forces his expression to clear as he sits up straight again. His hands shake faintly as he opens his phone again, watching as more texts come in from the team without reading any of them. Then the door opens and Jessica walks in, backpack hanging off one shoulder. He’s about to say hi when a new text comes through -- separate from the group chat, from an unknown number.

Unknown number: Hi Shane! This is Jackie. I can’t believe I didn’t already have your number! I hope you don’t mind Hayden gave it to me

He adds her contact, smiling at Jessica as she walks by.

Shane: It’s okay

Jackie: Good
Jackie: So obviously it’s kind of big news right now that you have a girlfriend, and us WAGs were wondering why we don’t have her added in the chat yet…

Before he can respond, Jessica comes and sits on the other end of the couch with her legs crossed on the cushion. She frowns at him.

“What’s up?”

“Hmm?” His phone screen is black, but he still glances down at it.

“You’re quieter than normal, and you didn’t say anything when I came in.”

“I smiled at you.” It takes more energy than he wants to admit to get the words from his brain to his mouth.

“It looked painful,” she tells him matter-of-factly. “What are you worrying about?”

“Um…” He gathers his thoughts. “The tabloids wrote a couple articles. About us. And there are pictures. The whole internet thinks we’re dating.”

She pulls a strand of hair that escaped her bun until it’s straight. There’s a patch of dark blue paint in it, and she starts pulling it out gently with her nails. His breathing comes easier without being the focus of her attention.

“So that’s why people were staring at me on campus today,” she says.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” She finishes with the paint clump and lets go of her hair. It springs back into a spiral. “I’ll manage.”

Shane tries to smile, but he doesn’t think it’s any better than his earlier one. He knows, logically, that it isn’t his fault; he didn’t ask the paps to take their picture, or the tabloids to write the articles. But his stomach still twists in guilt. It wouldn’t have happened if he wasn’t Shane Hollander, Canada’s golden boy, hockey phenom. And now, because of him, her life is going to get harder again.

“Jackie texted me,” he offers. “She wants to add you to the WAG chat. I was going to say no, but maybe since everybody already thinks you’re my girlfriend it could be helpful in some way?”

He isn’t sure how, but he’s gratified to see her considering it. If he made life harder for her, the least he can do is try to find a way to help.

“No,” she decides finally. “Thanks for asking, though.”

He nods and turns back to his phone.

Shane: She says thanks but no

He feels bad about it, so he adds on.

Shane: We didn’t mean for everyone to know

Jackie: Fiiiiine
Jackie: But know the only reason I’m not trying to convince you is that I’m on my honeymoon and I have better things to do right now
Jackie: Like my husband

A minute passes before she texts again.

Jackie: I know you’re both probably overwhelmed right now. Tell Jessica that if she wants someone to talk to without the chaos of the WAG chat she can message just me if she prefers

Shane: I will
Shane: Thanks, Jackie
Shane: Have a good honeymoon

- - - - - -

The man in the seat across from her on the bus will not stop staring. It’s not at the splotch of paint in her hair -- because for once, she managed to keep her paint on the canvas instead of her body. That leaves two options: one, he’s a creep, or two, he recognizes her from those stupid fucking tabloid articles. Or option three, she supposes: both. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.

She pretends to be distracted on her phone, every once in a while glancing up covertly to see if he’s still watching her. Of course, he is. He’s not even trying to be subtle about it.

Only a couple more stops until she gets off. She tries not to show her nerves, forcing herself to hold her leg still instead of bouncing it like she wants. Instead, she runs through all the ways she could fend him off, protect herself, if it came to it. She’s taken self-defense classes since early high school -- and keeps up on them regularly. Doesn’t mean she wants to test the skills for real.

Finally, as the bus nears her stop, she looks him dead in the eyes. “Can I help you?”

He blinks -- for what might be the first time in twenty minutes -- in surprise. “You’re Shane Hollander’s girlfriend.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “I am?”

“Yeah, you are.” Well, that’s news to her. He nods, picking up steam. “Can I get his autograph?”

She looks to either side of her. “I don’t see him here,” she tells him. “So no.”

His eager expression immediately turns ugly. “No need to be a bitch about it.”

The bus slows, then stops. She stands, making sure to hold her bag so she can swing it if need be. “Then maybe don’t be a dick first.”

She walks away before he has a chance to respond.

She shouldn’t have done that. For her own safety and for Shane’s sake if anyone happened to be recording. But it’s been a handful of days since the pictures of her were posted online for anyone to see, and she’s fucking sick of it. She’s taken to sitting in the back of her lectures, because for how many eyes she felt on her when she sat further up, you’d think she was the professor. She’s almost been late to classes a couple times because people keep approaching her on campus to ask about Shane. No, about Hollander, because they only see him as the name on the back of his jersey, not the person who wears it.

God, no wonder why he’s so private.

Thankfully, the bus stop is only a block and a half from Shane’s apartment, and she makes it inside without incident. Just what she needs is to be accosted on the street. Actually, it might be a good idea to get a keychain with some pepper spray. That might be illegal, though.

Shane’s sitting on the couch when she opens the door, watching a hockey game on the TV with the commentary muted. Every once in a while he looks down and writes something in a notebook -- observations on one of the teams, probably. She puts her things away and grabs a snack, then plops down on the other end of the couch.

“Lemaire’s favoring his left side.” He doesn’t look up at her as he says it.

“He’s injured?”

He nods. “He got hit two games ago. I thinks his ribs are bruised.”

“When do you play him?” He wouldn’t be thinking about it if it wasn’t soon -- probably their next game. Otherwise he’d be studying other players.

“Tomorrow. We fly out in the morning.” He watches as a goal is scored against Lemaire’s team, then jots down something else. “He’s one of the Nomads’ stronger players, so we need to take advantage of it.”

“I’m sure you’ll beat him. Their new defenseman isn’t meshing.”

He nods in agreement, then frowns. “But Comeau’s out tomorrow. He sprained his ankle over the break and they want to make sure it heals enough.”

“Yeah, but JJ’s good enough to cover the gap from whoever covers for him. And even without your defensive line, your offense makes up for it.”

He makes a sound -- agreement, she thinks -- but falls quiet as he watches a fight break out between the two teams. Without him to distract her, her mind goes back to the bus ride and all the other times something similar happened on campus. She leans back against the couch, head tilted up toward the ceiling, and sighs.

Then she sits back up and faces him.

“Hey, Shane?”

“Yeah?” The refs have broken up the fight, so he turns to her.

She doesn’t let herself second guess it. “Can you give me Jackie’s number?”

“Sure.” He’s already reaching for his phone. “But -- you know if you text her, everyone’s going to think we’re dating.”

She rolls her eyes -- not at him -- and mutters, “What else is new?”

“They won’t believe us if we say we’re just friends.”

She’s sure. “Heteronormativity’s a bitch.”

“You don’t mind?”

She shrugs. “They already think we’re dating. And I’m kind of curious about what it’s like behind the scenes.”

If she’s going to get the negatives of “dating” Shane, she might as well take advantage of the positives.

He nods and reads off Jackie’s number for her. Once she puts it into her phone, he asks, “Are you saying you want to keep pretending to date?”

She hadn’t thought of it that way, but… “Yeah. Neither of us really wants to date, right? So I’ll get access to the hockey world” -- including the WAGs, if and when she decides to join their chat -- “and you get--”

“People off my case about getting a girlfriend,” he finishes.

“Deal?”

“Deal.”

- - - - - -

Jessica: Hi, this is Jessica
Jessica: Shane gave me your number

Jackie: Hi Jessica!
Jackie: I’m so glad to finally be able to talk to you! I was so mad at myself for not exchanging numbers after bowling
Jackie: So what changed your mind?

Jessica: I wanted to ask your advice

Jackie: Shoot!

Jessica: How have you dealt with the attention of being with a pro hockey player?

Jackie: This is because of those tabloids isn’t it
Jackie: I hate the paps
Jackie: 😡🤬😤
Jackie: But to answer your question you just get used to it eventually<
Jackie: I know that isn’t the answer you want. And it was different for me because Hayden’s popular but Shane’s practically a god. Plus I wasn’t in school so I didn’t have that added complexity
Jackie: But honestly you will get more used to all the eyes on you, and I promise you it’ll die down eventually, probably the next time Rozanov does something ridiculous so it shouldn’t be long now

Jessica doesn’t know if Jackie’s being serious or trying to make her laugh with the last part, but she smiles at it anyway. It’s not too far off; Rozanov’s overdue to be seen at some club with a girl hanging off each arm, dressed in a way that should be ridiculous but he somehow manages to pull off. (Listen, she may be gay, but she still has eyes. He may be an asshole, but she has to admit he’s gorgeous, and a damn good hockey player. Not that she’d say either of those to Shane, or any other Metro.)

Jessica: Thanks, I needed the reassurance
Jessica: I’m getting sick of people thinking I’m a free all-access pass to Shane Hollander

Jackie: I bet
Jackie: Though if you want to look at the bright side at least people are showing you their colors right away
Jackie: Speaking of, if you want people you know aren’t here for your bf you can join the WAGs chat
Jackie: No pressure though if it’s too much right now

Jessica waffles. On the one hand, it’d be nice. New friends, people to commiserate with her, gossip. On the other, it’d be more people to lie to. More people to worry about coming out to. A lot of chaos, too, she’s sure.

As if Jackie senses her deliberation, she texts again.

Jackie: If it gets too crazy for you, you can always ignore us, we won’t take offense. Or just yell at us
Jackie: And we’d all love to have you

Jessica: Fiiiiiine you talked me into it
Jessica: I guess you can add me

Jackie: Yay!

WAGs

(Jackie added one number)

Jackie: Everyone say hi to Jessica!

Luci: Hi!!! I’m Mitty’s gf

Eva: hi Jessica
Eva: I’m Olsson’s fiancee

Madeleine: Hi, Jessica! I’m Couillard’s girlfriend

Charlotte: Hi, I’m Drapeau’s wife
Charlotte: Comeau’s wife Camille is usually here too, but she’s busy right now. She’d say hi if she could!

Elodie: Hi, Jessica, I just started dating JJ a couple months ago

Luci: You must be Shane’s gf then?

Jessica: I am
(♥️ by all)

Jackie: Be nice ladies, don’t scare her off

Eva: I take offense to that
Eva: when have I ever scared anybody off

Madeleine: Zoe?

Eva: not fair
Eva: that wasn’t my fault
Eva: even Jackie said she wasn’t going to stay around long

Madeleine: She might’ve stayed longer if you hadn’t scared her off

Eva: oh fuck you
Eva: I’m wonderful, it’s not my problem if not everyone can see that

Jackie: See, this is what I was talking about

Luci: We all love you, Eva, but you can be a bit much

Madeleine: Speak for yourself
(😔 by Eva)
Madeleine: 🖕

Jackie: ahem

Eva: sorry

Madeleine: Sorry

Charlotte: So Jessica, the first rule of surviving in the group chat is to ignore those two when they get going. Elodie can attest to that

Elodie: I can

Charlotte: They like to pretend they hate each other, but secretly they’re best friends

Madeleine: Excuse me

Eva: hey! take that back, we do not like each other

Jackie: We all see right through you
Jackie: Anyway, Jessica joined us because she wants advice on how to deal with the attention of dating someone famous
Jackie: If she hasn’t silenced us already, that is

Jessica: I’m still here
Jessica: Against my better judgement

Eva: well Madeleine might not be able to help but the rest of us have experience with that

Madeleine: Like you can talk

Eva: half the fans can’t even spell your bf’s name hon

(Jackie removed Eva from the chat)
(Jackie removed Madeleine from the chat)

Jackie: Sometimes they need a timeout to remind them to keep it out of the group chat. We’ll add them back in later

Luci: Or we could forget for a few days…

Charlotte: Luci!!!
(😂 by Jackie and Elodie)
Charlotte: To get back to the question, though, in some ways you get used to it and in some ways you don’t. It’s died down for me because it’s been a few years since Patrice and I got married

Luci: It helps to have a good support system
Luci: My friends really closed ranks if someone was being a little too curious

Elodie: I know it’s different for me because it’s not news too much when JJ starts dating someone new, but my parents were super helpful with the initial reactions

Her parents. They have to have heard by now. If not from seeing it online, then from their friends or neighbors or family. Not that she would know either way, because they haven’t reached out. Maybe they think she’s bi and can’t accept that, or maybe they think Shane somehow turned her straight or some bullshit but still don’t forgive her. Maybe they see through the act and know it’s just the media lying for clicks and views like normal. Whatever the reason, she’s not sure she cares -- and it has to be better than Shane’s call with Yuna the other day. She’s just glad that Josh hasn’t said anything about it yet. She could handle her parents, but she doesn’t want to lie to him. At the same time, an explanation would be… complicated.

She sighs.

Jessica: Thanks guys. I’ve got to go, but you’re not silenced for now

Chapter End Notes

The WAG chat kind of got away from me (Eva and Madeleine were removed for my sake and the story's sake more than the WAGs' sakes, because they would've kept going back and forth otherwise and I wouldn't have been able to stop them).

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Chapter Notes

Happy Juneteenth for those in the US!

This is a short chapter, but whew, is it loaded.

Shane’s honestly surprised that it took his mom a full day to call him after the second tabloid article released. He’s decently certain she has notifications set up for anything with his name; Farah definitely does. Whatever her reasons for waiting until today, he’s glad he wasn’t dealing with her and the team at the same time.

The call echoes in the room. He knows he’s going to answer it, but he still watches it ring for an extra moment before he does.

“Hi, Mom.” He tries to inject a smile into his voice.

“Shane Hollander.” She doesn’t bother with a greeting. “I know you didn’t mean for your parents to find out from the tabloids that not only do you have a girlfriend, but she’s also living with you?”

He knows the exact face she’ll be making right now: lips pressed thin, eyebrows raised. Serious, stern, recriminating. He doesn’t like phone calls, but he doesn’t mind not being there to have that look pointed at him.

“You and Farah know to never take the tabloids seriously,” he deflects. It may be his mom calling him about a girlfriend, but he knows well enough it’s a business call. His dad would’ve already chimed in otherwise.

“Mm. We know not to trust what they write, but we also know how they shape the images people have of who they write about. And right now, Shane, they’re writing about you. You know how this works. People are looking up to you, you need to maintain your image.”

He takes a calming breath and asks, “It’s hurting my image that I have a girlfriend?”

He wonders what she’d say if she knew the alternative: Hi, hockey world, I hooked up with my rival! Multiple times!

“It’s not that you have a girlfriend. It’s that you’re serious about her but you didn’t trust your fans enough to tell them about her. And it’s Jessica -- she’s so sweet. I know everyone would love her. It’s not like it’s someone you have reason to be ashamed of.”

“It’s personal, Mom. I’m allowed to have my private life.” He knows the speech that’s coming -- about nothing being 100% personal or private when you’re famous and a role model for so many young kids -- so he adds, “And Jessica wanted to keep it quiet. She wanted a normal college experience.”

“You could have at least told your father and me. We know how to keep a secret.” For a moment, her voice is soft. Then it snaps back into business mode. “We could’ve alerted your brands, too, before the pictures came out and the media had their chance to spin everything however they wanted.”

It’s one girl, Mom. It’s not like I like men and, oh, I don’t know, hooked up with fucking Rozanov, for example.

Shane bites his knuckle, then moves it and starts tapping the side of his leg instead so he can still talk.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Mom. Is there-- Can we do anything about the paps? Is there a way to keep them farther away from the building?”

His voice feels tight, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“I’ll talk to Farah about it. I’ve got to go, Shane, but say hi to Jessica for your dad and me. We love you.”

“Yeah. Love you too.”

She hangs up, and he stares at his screen until it goes dark. He wants to drop it, let it clatter onto the kitchen island he’s been standing at the entire time, his food long since forgotten, but it would be too loud. He can’t deal with the noise right now. Instead he sets it down gently, lining the edges up perfectly with the corner of the counter, and leans his head into his hand, relishing in the way his nails dig into his scalp.

He stays like that until Jessica comes in to make her own food, her quiet movements snapping him out of it. She looks at him and offers a smile, but doesn’t ask any questions; and later, when he turns on an old hockey game, she just sits silently next to him on the couch.

Chapter End Notes

I hope I was fair to both Yuna and Shane in this chapter. I don't dislike her, and I think she's genuinely doing what she thinks is best for him (not that that negates the harm done). To be fair to her, while she probably should've noticed how she was affecting him, he's also not free from responsibility because he won't communicate (a theme with our boys). Also, I'm white and my family's been here for generations, but I can only imagine that her being an immigrant makes that dynamic even more complex. So did she seem harsh? Yes, because she can be and because it's in Shane's perspective. But also, try to understand where she's coming from. (But this is not to say you can't be mad at her in the comments, I am too.)

Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Chapter Notes

TW for brief homophobia at the beginning, but honestly I think it's lighter than what we've seen with Jessica's POV and even Shane's worrying.

This takes place near the end of the season before they hooked up in the show (saying this for everyone's benefit because I myself am having a bit of a difficult time keeping track of the timeline).

It’s their first game against Boston since before the winter break, and the team is talking their usual shit. Mostly about Rozanov, of course. Shane tunes most of it out, instead staring at his phone. They have to be out on the rink in minutes, and Rozanov hasn’t texted. He hasn’t texted in weeks, but surely he’ll text before the game. He always texts before the game, trying to get under Shane’s skin.

“That fucking cocksucker goes home crying!” one of them shouts. A cheer goes up.

Shane checks his phone again. Nothing. Something tightens unpleasantly in his gut. What’s going on? Did he do something wrong? He runs through their last exchange, searching for anything he might have said, but nothing stands out. He can’t think of anything different. It was all normal.

But maybe that’s the problem. Maybe Rozanov finally got bored of him. The thought stings.

He turns his phone off and puts it back in his locker, suddenly disgusted at himself. Why does he even care? He should be glad Rozanov finally gave it up. He should be glad that Rozanov isn’t trying to get in his head. He should be glad that now he won’t be tempted every time to say fuck it.

“Captain!” The call snaps him back. “Time to get on the ice.”

This is what he wanted.

- - - - - -

The first face-off is Shane and Rozanov. It always is. At the dot, Shane waits for him to say something -- some sort of innuendo, a taunt -- but Rozanov doesn’t even smirk and barely even glances at him.

The puck drops.

Rozanov wins.

- - - - - -

The second time Rozanov gets a penalty, Shane’s sure something’s up. He usually plays aggressively; their rivalry wouldn’t be as big otherwise, and it wouldn’t be as fun playing against him. He may not have Shane’s hockey IQ, but he knows it’s no help to Boston if their best player is constantly getting himself in trouble and giving Montreal the advantage, and usually he plays like it. This is not strategic penalties -- it’s him getting his anger out on the ice. Which means there’s something he’s angry about.

Shane’s standing not far from the penalty box when Rozanov comes out after his two minutes. There’s no one close enough to hear them, and the fans will assume they’re trading chirps. It’s his best chance.

He almost talks himself out of it, but as Rozanov draws near, Shane mutters, “Is something wrong?”

Rozanov’s eyes slide toward him, and then he skates off.

- - - - - -

Once again, Rozanov seems content to ignore him and pretend they’re not feet away from each other. Shane can’t help but compare it to that CCM photoshoot, when they laughed so hard they almost fell into each other.

This is what I wanted. He made a mistake that night, and now it’s been righted.

This is what he wanted.

His gaze flickers toward the ref. He’s close, but Rozanov’s said riskier things in riskier situations without being overheard. Of course, they would’ve assumed he was chirping Shane if they did, but -- but if he’s going to do this, he needs to do it now before the opportunity’s gone.

“Did I do something?” he asks lowly. He immediately regrets saying it like that, so he tacks on, “Why haven’t you texted?”

Finally, Rozanov looks up and meets his gaze. “I don’t know,” he says, his eyes burning Shane’s skin. “Ask your girlfriend. Maybe she has idea.”

Confusion flashes through him.

Rozanov wins that one, too.

- - - - - -

Shane knows it’s coming half a second before it does, and he braces as Rozanov slams him into the boards. His breath still leaves him, the impact harder than usual from Rozanov -- hard enough to hurt, but not to injure. The other players skate past them, and in his periphery the fans in the front rows jump back from the collision. This might be his best chance for the rest of the game.

In the second before Rozanov moves, Shane mutters, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

He’s winded, and trying to keep his lips from moving enough for the closest fans to read them, and for a moment he thinks Rozanov didn’t hear him or didn’t understand him -- or maybe he’s still ignoring him.

Then their eyes meet. Rozanov skates away. A minute later, Shane takes a deep breath and follows after him.

- - - - - -

Montreal won -- barely. Ilya knows he should be upset about it, a loss to their -- to his -- biggest rival on home ice, but he can’t quite make himself angry or disappointed or any other form of miserable, even when he remembers their booing fans or Montreal’s bragging. Every time he thinks about the game, his mind goes back to one thing: Hollander saying that woman isn’t his girlfriend.

Ilya had turned his phone off -- powered it down completely -- before he left for the rink so he wouldn’t be tempted to text him. But he couldn’t avoid Hollander on the ice. He could only do his best to ignore him, and every time Hollander looked at him or they were close enough for Ilya to feel the buzzing under his skin, he was desperately holding onto that discipline by a thread. He hated it. Hated how he felt his resolve crumble a little bit more each time, hated how Hollander didn’t seem to have any idea what happened, hated himself for still wanting him, hated that woman.

The penalties were a mix of relief and torture. At least in the penalty box he wasn’t around Hollander. But at the same time, each one set Boston back. Montreal scored two of their goals while he sat in the sin bin. One was Hollander’s, which wasn’t too bad; even if Ilya was on the ice, he might still have scored. The other was Hayden Pike’s, which stung a bit more, because Ilya was sure he could have stopped Pike from even getting the puck.

And then Hollander asked if he did something wrong, which made him feel guilty, then angry at that guilt because he shouldn’t feel guilty, he shouldn’t care at all, they were barely even fuck buddies, and so he broke his silence just long enough to spit out an answer, to remind himself he’s fucking angry, not guilty. He barely registered Hollander’s confusion.

And then the response that threw him off enough for Montreal to score the game-winning goal, which he can’t even be mad about, the response that’s been playing on repeat in his head since it came out of Hollander’s mouth.

He didn’t go out with his team to drown their sorrows -- he wasn’t sure if he had sorrows to drown or not anymore -- so now he’s sitting on his couch in the dark. He phone sits on the next cushion, taunting him.

It lights up with a notification, almost blinding him in the black room, and he hurries to pick it up, only to set it back down without even opening it. Just another text from Marly, making sure he’s okay because apparently he was acting weird today.

No shit.

He bounces his knee. Maybe he should have gone out, got rid of this restless energy. He’s sure he could find some beautiful lady who’d be happy to brag about fucking Ilya Rozanov, who’d be so out of it after he’d given her so many orgasms that she’d never guess he was distracted the whole time.

He picks up his phone to text Marly that he’s on his way, squinting at the brightness. Instead, he finds himself staring at Jane’s last text from over two months ago.

The words play over and over.

Ilya: What do you mean

He sends the text before he can think better of it. For a minute, he thinks maybe Hollander won’t answer. Or maybe he hopes it. But the typing bubble pops up only seconds later.

Jane: It’s fake. We’re just pretending to date.

Ilya: Why

Jane: My team will stop bothering me about dating, and she gets access to the hockey world.

Of course she wants something from him. Maybe they dated before, and maybe Hollander thinks she’s nice enough to spend his time around and share his space with, but she wants what all the puck bunnies want: celebrity, status, money, bragging rights about fucking Shane Hollander and being the one to finally crack hockey’s golden boy. Does she even really like him, or just what his fame can do for her? Or maybe she’s hoping it stops being fake.

Jane: It’s mutually beneficial.

Ilya: Is it
Ilya: It seems to me she gets more from arrangement

Jane: The whole world thinks I have a girlfriend now.

Ilya: Yes I know, that is the point, no?

The typing bubble pops up, then disappears. After a second, it comes back. Hollander types a while, and then it’s gone again. The third time, he finally sends the message.

Jane: I mean people don’t care as much who else I’m around anymore.
Jane: Because they’re making certain assumptions now.

Ilya has to look that word up -- assumptions. As he reads the definition, something in him begins to feel hesitantly lighter. He is not sure he wants to call it hope, but something like it. He types out the next sentence slowly.

Ilya: You are saying she’s your beard?

There’s a pause in the conversation, and Ilya wonders if Hollander’s looking that up. He holds his breath.

Jane: Yeah, I guess so

He lets out a long exhale, and something in his chest loosens. He always knew that was a possibility, but-- The meaning suddenly clicks. He looks at the time.

Ilya: What time do you leave tomorrow?

Jane: Late

Even though they’re miles away, Ilya has a sudden awareness of Hollander. He can practically feel the heat of Hollander’s body, hear the way his breath stutters before getting heavier. He remembers the way Hollander looked at him after his confession: She’s not my girlfriend.

He sends an address.

It’s not until Hollander’s on his way that he realizes he gave in first; he didn’t hold out on making Hollander come ask for it. But maybe it’s not too late to make him beg. Hollander always looks good on his knees.

Chapter End Notes

1. We finally got them interacting!

2. I hope you thought this chapter was as much fun as I did! I just had a bit of a hard day (yay death threats woohoo) so I'm excited to spend some time with these characters and this story.

3. Sorry to disappoint, but the next chapter will not be picking up where this one ended. If you want the smut, please feel free to write it yourself or read someone else's and pretend it's a continuation of this chapter.

4. Thank you guys for all the comments, I love reading them! Some of you have even sparked new ideas for this fic (Jessica says thank you)

Chapter 11

Chapter Notes

The three year old screaming at the beginning is how I feel about the dog we're currently taking care of.

For those trying to keep track, we're now at the point in the canon timeline where Shane finally gives in and invites Ilya to the sex condo (fall 2013).

Last thing, before I posted the last chapter, this fic had around 9,500 hits. It's now over 11,000. I kind of lost my mind when I saw it reached 10,000. (I love you all!!!)

The first Boston-Montreal Jessica can make it to is at the beginning of the next season. It’s a home game, and Jackie leads the rest of the WAGs in pitching in to buy a box for the occasion. Well, for that reason and the fact that Jackie is pregnant with twins and has looked ready to pop for the last two months. She’s due in the next few weeks. Hayden’s ecstatic, according to Shane. According to Jackie, he’s also more liable to have a nervous breakdown than she is.

It was late in the season when Jessica joined the WAGs chat, and between that and her school workload, she’s barely met some of them in person. It’s a little bit better at the moment; for one, Shane’s been paying for her to get rides to school, which takes so much less time, so she doesn’t have to take the bus. She tried to say no at first, but after another… eventful bus ride, she changed her mind. It’d probably be okay now that everything’s died down, but she doesn’t want to risk it. For the second thing, midterms just ended, so for once she doesn’t have homework to catch up on and papers to write and take-home quizzes to finish and art projects that keep her in the studio for hours after classes end.

“So,” Jackie asks. She sits down in a seat with a sigh. “Are you excited to finally see the famous rivalry in person?”

Before she can answer, Eva sits on her other side and says, “I, for one, want to hear what it’s like living with one half of the rivalry. I know he doesn’t really chirp, but he has to have things to say about Rozanov around you, right?”

Jessica shakes her head. “Actually, I’m not sure I’ve ever heard him say anything about Rozanov.”

Apart from maybe mentioning a time or two that he’s a good player, or that they’d have to watch out for him, but she doubts the Montreal WAGs would appreciate that.

Madeleine takes the seat behind Eva and leans forward. “Good on him for being the mature one.” They all turn to her with narrowed eyes right before she continues, “But if he decides he’s sick of always taking the high road, I’m happy to give him pointers.”

“You are exceptional at being annoying,” Eva agrees, rolling her eyes.

“No better than you,” Madeleine replies sweetly.

Eva starts to respond, but quickly shuts her mouth when a three year old in a bedazzled Metros jersey -- Comeau’s, Jessica thinks -- runs over. A two year old toddles after her surprisingly quickly.

“He won’t leave me alone!” the girl wails.

Sure enough, the little boy grabs a handful of her sparkly jersey. The girl rips it away from him and stomps, her little sneakers lighting up. Jessica winces as a couple of the jewels tear off in the boy’s hand; the others wisely don’t point it out.

“Go away!” she shrieks, and then hurries away herself.

Eva grabs the little boy before he can follow her and pries the jewels out of his hand seconds before he attempts to stuff them in his mouth. She sets him back down and puts them in her pocket.

“I love Charlotte and Camille,” she says, “but if they keep expecting us to take over babysitting duty, I’m going to start teaching their kids swear words.”

Jessica huffs out a laugh before she can stop herself.

“Just do it after I’m in the hospital with the twins so they don’t expect me to moderate the fallout in the group chat,” Jackie says mildly.

Below them, the game starts. The volume in the box drops as they watch Shane and Rozanov battle for the puck. Rozanov wins the face-off, but Shane quickly steals it away from him, passing smoothly to Hayden.

A sudden incoherent scream draws their attention away from the ice. The little girl has thrown herself down onto her butt, bawling.

“Here we go,” mutters Madeleine.

Jackie sighs. “And to think I’m going to have two of those at once.”

A moment later, Camille comes bustling over, throwing a hand up in the air helplessly. “Ella’s jersey’s missing a couple jewels. She’s inconsolable. Anyone happen to see where they fell off?”

Eva digs in her pocket and hands them over. “Brodie ripped them off. Accidentally.”

“That little--” Camille takes a deep breath. “Thank you for saving them, Eva. I’m going to go try to convince her she’ll survive until we can glue them back on at home.”

Jessica glances at the girl, now spread-eagle on the floor. She’s no expert, but she’s pretty sure it’ll take more than logic and reasoning. A nap seems to be the best bet. Failing that, a distraction. Josh always had the attention span of a squirrel.

She looks back just in time to see Rozanov slam Shane into the boards. The whole box winces as Rozanov smirks at Shane and skates away with the puck. Shane just shakes it off and speeds after him.

Soon enough, they’re between periods. She pulls out her phone and spins around to take a selfie with the rink in the background, sending it to Josh. He knows that she’s dating Shane; she couldn’t keep it a secret forever. It feels a little… invalidating, she supposes. Not that she told him she’s lesbian, and not that she couldn’t be bi, but… She doesn’t really know how to explain it. It doesn’t feel that way with anyone else, but maybe it’s because some part of her hoped he’d guess -- he’s ten, now, old enough to start putting things together -- and start thinking for himself on that front. Realize their parents are wrong, even if she doesn’t want him to go through that. It’d be nice to have her brother on her side.

She’s sure her parents are pretending her dating Shane means she’s turned straight. Sometimes she wonders if it would’ve been easier if she was bi and they’d let her stay with them as long as they could pretend that other side of her didn’t exist. Of course, she knows that’d hurt in a different way. Maybe being kicked out was the better option. Kept it simple, at least.

She cuts off that line of thinking before it can go any further (she hates that her relationship with her brother puts her in such a miserable mood) and looks up the score for her university’s women’s hockey team. They’re playing a game tonight, and though sometimes she takes advantage of the discounted student tickets, she obviously wasn’t going to miss the Montreal-Boston game.

A few highlights from the second period of the women’s game pop up, and she watches the captain, a girl with light brown skin and dark hair pulled back in a tight braid, score a truly amazing goal, weaving the puck between an opposing defenseman’s legs, passing it to one of her wingers just to have it passed immediately back to her, and shooting it into the net while the goalie was still facing her teammate. It’s the kind of speed Shane would appreciate, and she sends the clip to him.

“Hey,” Eva says from her side. Jessica puts her phone down. “Are you coming out with us after the game? You should. Especially when we win.”

“No, Shane’s not going.”

He’s busy tonight, though he didn’t say what with, and she knows him well enough not to ask if he didn’t offer. She half wonders if he’s hooking up with someone. At the beginning of their arrangement, they had a very brief, very awkward conversation agreeing that they can see other people as long as they’re quiet about it. He’d turned bright red and stammered out a response about that not being a problem, looking anywhere but her eyes.

“And? You two aren’t attached, I don’t see him in here right now.”

Jessica looks to Jackie. “Are you going?”

Jackie laughs. “No, thank you, I am too pregnant for that. I am going home and eating my disgusting pregnancy craving food, and then sleeping for as long as this pressure on my bladder will let me.”

“And forcing your husband to sleep in the guest bedroom again because he smells,” Madeleine adds.

“It is not. My. Fault,” Jackie rants. “I cannot fucking sleep next to him while he still smells like the locker room after a game, and I swear I can still smell it on him for a full day no matter how many showers he takes.”

“We’re getting off track,” Eva interrupts. She turns a serious expression on Jessica. “Are we not good enough for you? You need Shane or Jackie to tolerate spending time with us? Bitch.”

Madeleine rolls her eyes at Eva’s dramatics, but Jessica laughs. “We’ll see. I make no promises.”

To the side of their seats, hidden by Jackie’s belly, a little voice happily exclaims, “Bitch!”

Eva’s eyes fly wide. “Oh, for fu-- Charlotte’s gonna kill me.”

Madeleine cackles as Eva starts trying to convince Brodie not to repeat the word. Even Jackie can’t contain her laughter. Jessica’s suddenly very glad she let Jackie convince her to join the WAG chat. Between them and the hockey game, she hasn’t been this entertained in a long time.

Speaking of the game, she looks out the box to see Shane and Rozanov skating to the face off dot for the second period. Bent close to each other, Jessica sees Rozanov’s lips moving as he says something to Shane. It’s hard to tell from here, but she thinks the tips of Shane’s ears turn red. Rozanov smirks.

And then they’re off.

- - - - - -

The Metros and their WAGs go out to lower-key bar after the game, rather than their normal type of bar or club. They’re drowning their sorrows, not celebrating a win.

At least her college team won.

Eva and Madeleine are bickering across the table while their other halves look at each other and sigh. What they’re arguing about, Jessica has no idea, because it started before they even walked through the door. Charlotte and Camille, unsurprisingly, decided not to come join the chaos after putting their toddlers to bed, despite their husbands both being here, and Hayden’s at home with Jackie. Apart from Shane, though, everyone else is here.

She and Luci have been talking -- mainly because they’re sitting next to each other, but they get along well. She’s glad, because JJ seems to have gotten it into his mind to get to know his best friend’s girlfriend, and she really doesn’t want to have to keep track of the lies about their relationship later. Plus, Hayden’s restored himself (mostly via Jackie), but she still holds a little bit of a grudge against JJ for the triple-date thing. Yes, two years later. To be fair, she hasn’t spent enough time around him to change that first impression.

“Jessica!” a voice snaps. She looks to see Eva and Madeleine looking at her expectantly. “What do you think?”

“Um…” She thinks that she doesn’t want to get involved in whatever this is. “I’m actually gonna go grab another drink. I’ll be back in a minute, though.”

She leaves before they can protest.

She goes to the bathroom first, just to give them extra time to forget about wanting her input, and when she comes back out she waits at the bar for the bartender. As she does, another woman walks up, too.

Jessica does a double take.

“Sorry, but are you Victoria Jolicoeur?”

The woman turns, facing her head-on, and she’s right. It’s definitely the captain of the women’s team.

“Yeah. I am.”

Oh my god.

“Congrats on your win tonight! You guys were amazing.”

She hopes she doesn’t sound as starstruck as she feels. Is this what normal people feel like when they’re around Shane?

The captain’s eyes light up. “Thank you! But I thought you’d be too busy watching your team lose to keep track of us.”

“Fucking Comeau,” she mutters. He’d taken a stupid penalty for letting Rozanov get under his skin, and didn’t even get in a good hit for his troubles. “I was checking the score on my phone.”

“We saw that.” She nods at a tv that must’ve been playing the game earlier. “He was an idiot,” she scoffs. After a second she adds, “There isn’t some sort of WAG rule against getting distracted from your players by another hockey game?”

It takes a minute for that to sink in. “Wait, you know who I am?”

“Well, you did come in with a few guys I think I recognize from somewhere. But yeah,” she says, chuckling, “you were kind of famous on our team after those pictures came out.”

Ah. “Right. Somehow I forgot that everybody knows me now. That’s what happens when you date Shane Hollander.”

“Sure, that’s how we found out about you, but that’s not why we all recognize you.” She smiles at Jessica. “Sorry, I feel weird that I know you on sight but don’t know your name.” When Jessica hesitates, she adds, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to sell you out to the paps.”

“Jessica.”

The bartender comes over before Jolicoeur can reply, and they both order. Once they have their drinks, she asks, “Do you want to join us? The team would love to meet you.”

Jessica knows that they’re students at the same school she goes to. She’s pretty sure she had a lecture with one of them her first year there when she was finishing her gen eds. And, hell -- she lives with one of the two most well-known hockey players in generations, went on a triple date with him and his teammates, and has a group chat with the partners of a whole team of professional hockey players.

None of that quiets her inner fangirl.

She looks to the Montreal players and WAGs; nobody seems to be searching for her. And Eva and Madeleine are still going at it, which seals the deal.

“Sure.”

The college team are crowding a booth, a table and chairs pulled up next to it. Jolicoeur sets down the beers she bought between them all, then bumps the woman next to her with her hip.

“Scooch,” she orders.

The woman rolls her eyes but obeys her captain, crowding onto the bench and opening up an extra chair. Jolicoeur takes it, leaving the one at the head of the table for Jessica. The team have grabbed the beers without breaking their conversations. No one’s noticed her yet.

Jolicoeur puts her fingers in her mouth and whistles loudly. The talking cuts off immediately.

“Okay, everybody, say hi to our guest.”

They turn to look at her. The silence stretches on for another couple seconds. Then--

“Bitch! You found her?!”

“It’s her! It’s the mystery girlfriend!”

“She’s even hotter in person, oh my go--”

“Alright, calm down, shut the fuck up!” orders a woman Jessica recognizes as the alternate captain, Geneveive Ouellet. “If you all scare her away before we even get her name I’m never forgiving you.”

There’s a chorus of grumbling, but Jolicoeur grins and says, “Her name is Jessica.”

“Hi, Jessica!” echoes around the table, not quite drowning out one of the new players who looks at the girl next to her with wide eyes and hisses, “She has a name now!”

“Hi.” Jessica waves, then, because she can’t quite help herself, looks at the rookie. “I mean, technically, I’ve always had a name.”

The poor girl turns bright red and hides her face in her hands as her teammates chirp her.

“Please,” Jolicoeur scoffs. “Like any of you were any better.”

The teasing quiets down. A couple of them fake glare at Jolicoeur for giving up their secrets.

“I thought our chat was sacred,” one complains.

Ouellet raises a brow at Jessica. “Are you sure you want to deal with us?”

“Of course she does,” Jolicoeur answer for her. “Who wouldn’t prefer to be with the winning team?”

“Yeah,” Jessica sighs dramatically. “It’s kind of pathetic, losing to Boston on home ice.”

“Wow, what would your boyfriend think of you talking about his team like that?” Alison Belanger, their goalie, asks.

She thinks of the look he gave Comeau after the fight. “He’d probably agree, honestly.”

“Do you need to get back to him?” Jolicoeur wonders. “I didn’t see him, but…”

“No, he’s not a fan of going out, I’m here with the WAGs but they’re being annoying right now. Oh!” She grins at Jolicoeur. “Shane was very impressed by your second period goal.”

He’d replied to the video not long after the game: She’s good. Some of our guys could learn from her. She’d texted back (cough, Gagnon, cough), but he hasn’t seen it yet. It’s okay; she knows she’s right.

Jolicoeur’s face has turned red. “He -- he saw my goal? Shane Hollander saw my goal? And he was impressed by it?”

Further down the table, one girl says quietly to apparently nobody, “Shane. Girl, fuck you.”

Ignoring that, Jessica answers, “Yeah, I sent it to him between periods, I knew he’d appreciate it.”

Jolicoeur drops her head into her hands. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Shane Hollander knows who I am. Shane Hollander’s girlfriend, who I am sitting next to, sent him a video of me playing hockey. What the fuck.”

“You broke her,” Ouellet accuses, while Belanger pats her captain consolingly on the back and asks gently, “Do you want me to pinch you?”

Jolicoeur takes a deep breath, then sits up straight again, brushing her hair out of her face. “Nope, nope, I’m cool. I’m cool.” She pastes a smile on her face and turns to look at Jessica, her eyes still a little wider than before. “So. Jessica. How much more do you like us than the Metros players?”

For a second, Jessica can only stare. Then she laughs, long and loud. She is so glad she let the WAGs convince her to come here.

Chapter End Notes

Poor Victoria trying desperately to stay cool around Jessica, and then Jessica just goes and blowtorches that by mentioning Shane was impressed by her playing.

I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. I don't think I quite have the feel for the hockey girls yet, but I think that's as good as I'm going to get it for now.

Besides my brain dump where I basically word vomit every idea I have for this about where I think it'll go in the timeline, I don't outline more than one or maybe two chapters at a time, but I think we're about halfway through, give or take. It'll also depend on how many more scenes I think of and add in. I think we're going to lean a little heavier on Jessica's POV coming up, because a lot of the stuff we've already seen from the boys' perspective in the books or show, plus as you might guess we're seeing a little more of Jessica's life outside of Shane.

As always, please comment to give me fuel, I'd love to hear your rambling and ranting. (I think I added three more scenes just from ideas sparked by the comments on the last chapter.)

Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Chapter Notes

I wrote this chapter and the next in record time (like, both chapters in a single day) after all those comments, so thank you so so much, I loved reading them all!

Happy Disability Pride Month! Also happy Independence Day to those in the US, I celebrated by going to a protest and screaming about human rights

Jessica’s so focused on writing the essay to accompany her latest painting (it’s not that she dislikes English, but if she wanted to be writing essays, she wouldn’t have gone into art) that she doesn’t see the woman standing right in front of her until she says, “Found you.”

Jessica startles violently -- thank god she was writing or there’d be a streak of paint across her canvas -- and looks up to see Victoria Jolicoeur.

“We forgot to exchange numbers,” she says, ignoring the heart attack she just gave Jessica. “I’ve been hoping to find you since we talked at the bar.”

Despite the manner of interruption, Jessica’s glad for a reason to abandon the essay for a few minutes. She raises a brow. “Is that your way of saying you used your team to figure out my schedule and realize I come to this cafe almost every day?”

“And if it is, and I told you Alison saw you here two days ago?”

“Then I’m torn between being impressed at your dedication, feeling bad for your team at their captain’s mistreatment of them, and looking up how to get a restraining order.”

“Impressed by my dedication,” Jolicoeur says immediately.

“I’m not sure you get to make that decision for me.”

“It’s been months since the bar; I had to find you somehow, since you didn’t come find me at one of my games. I would’ve made do with a sign declaring your everlasting love for me.”

Jessica rolls her eyes. “Then I would’ve been the stalker.”

“Eh, but you’re famous now and your rich boyfriend would bail you out of jail.” Jolicoeur waves it off, then leans to look at her screen. “What’re you working on?”

“An essay about one of my paintings.” She opens her sketchbook to show her the page where she planned out the painting. “This was just a draft, it looks different on canvas, of course, but I can’t go hauling that around.”

“That looks really fucking good, Jess, wow.” She stares at it another minute before asking, “Can I see any of your other stuff?”

Nerves flutter in her stomach at the thought of showing someone new her work. She’s long since become mostly immune to sharing it in class, and Shane has no artistic talent (she supposes she loves him in spite of that) so he’s always impressed by anything she does. Jolicoeur is neither other students she’s gotten used to nor someone she knows well enough to count on unconditional support from. But she hands over her sketchbook and gestures for her to look through it.

Jolicoeur -- Victoria, it feels weird letting her look through her sketches but still thinking of her by her last name -- sits on the edge of the table and flips slowly through the pages. Her brows flick up at every one, and her eyes study the page like she wants to catch every detail before moving on to the next.

“Wow,” she murmurs.

Jessica feels her cheeks tinge pink.

After a couple minutes, Victoria slows to a stop on a page not quite halfway through. Jessica knows which one caught her attention even before Victoria flips it around: two girls sitting next to each other on the ground, viewed from their backs, gazing at each other with such adoration it’s impossible to miss. It’s an old one, from a couple years ago; she’d misplaced this sketchbook for a while and was mostly sad about losing that sketch.

Victoria looks at her. “Does Hollander know?”

“Yeah.” Jessica nods.

“And he’s good with it?”

“Shane would never think less of anyone for being queer.”

It’s Victoria’s turn to nod. Her shoulders seem to drop a fraction of an inch. “Good. It’s just that men’s hockey players aren’t always the most open-minded.”

Whereas women’s hockey -- women’s sports in general -- tend to be the opposite. That’s part of the reason why, despite her slight clammy feeling handing the sketchbook over to Victoria, she’d still been comfortable enough to do it. It’s one of her better coming out experiences.

“We haven’t mentioned it to the Metros,” Jessica admits. “Or the WAGs.”

Jackie, she has no doubt would be perfectly fine with it. Hayden, too, even if he gives bumbling, clumsy ally vibes. The rest of the WAGs… she hasn’t gotten a good feel of them yet. Not enough to risk it. Shane would probably have a better idea about the players, but there are some she knows she definitely wouldn’t feel safe around.

“Well, I’m glad to hear they’re not all raging homophobes,” Victoria says dryly.

“Actually…” Jessica waffles, but Shane deserves to be bragged about, and now that she has someone who know that part of her and knows the context, she wants her to know how amazing he is. “My parents kicked me out a few years ago.”

Victoria’s expression turns dark. “Fuck, Jess.”

“I was already transferring here, so I guess that’s why I thought of Montreal? I don’t know, I wasn’t really thinking clearly, and the dorms weren’t open yet. Somehow I ended up at Shane’s apartment, completely unannounced, and he just took me in. Without even asking any questions.” She laughs. “We hadn’t even spoken in a year. I was a mess, and his ex, and he just brought me to his guest bedroom like he wouldn’t think of doing anything else.

“So, yeah,” she ends, wishing she had a spot of paint to distract herself picking off. “There’s at least one good one.”

“Holy shit,” Victoria mutters, apparently at a loss for words. After a moment, she adds, “How does Shane Hollander just keep getting cooler?”

Jessica laughs again, but more fully this time. “You’ve gotta remember that he’s just a guy. Just a man.”

God, it’s good thing he has almost no ego to speak of. He’d be unbearable.

“Right.” Victoria flattens her expression. “Just a man. A straight man, at that. Why do I care so much about a straight man? I mean, he is an an ally and an amazing hockey player…”

He’s also been acting weird recently. He’s on his phone a lot, smiling at it as he types, and sometimes he’ll disappear after a game. She has -- suspicions. But it’s not her place; she won’t ask questions, either.

She presses her lips together, trying not to laugh. “Do you have a crush on my boyfriend?”

“No.” Victoria gives her a look. “I’m a lesbian. But if I had to choose a dude… Yeah. You’re a lucky bitch.”

She definitely is, even if not for the exact reason Victoria thinks. She’s very lucky to have Shane in her life.

“It’s okay,” Jessica consoles with a grin. “I’m pretty sure most straight guys have a crush on him too.” Hell, Jessica might not have a crush on him, but she -- a lesbian -- dated him. “He transcends sexuality.”

Victoria turns faintly red. “Okay, okay, Jess, you’ve had your fun teasing me about my fangirl crush on your boyfriend. Now can I at least get your number in recompense?”

- - - - - -

Unknown number: Whaddup
Victoria: (This is Victoria btw)

Jessica: Dang, I thought it was some other girl with a huge crush on my boyfriend
Jessica: Or that random barista I gave my number to

Victoria: Sorry, wrong number actually
Victoria: I thought I was texting the girl dating the nicest man in the nhl but clearly that can’t be right

Jessica: 🖕

Victoria: Bye have a nice life 👋

Jessica: Wait, I have something for you before you go
Jessica: [selfie of Shane Hollander smiling and waving next to Jessica]

Victoria: Fuck
Victoria: You

Chapter End Notes

Does Shane make a point of disappearing after games that aren't just against Boston to keep Jessica from guessing? Maybe. (Call him paranoid, but you know she'd catch on by the third time it happened.)

He does not know about Victoria (yet). Jessica told him to sit down for a picture and he sat down for a picture.

Also, call for your help: I have very purposefully not named the college Jessica goes to so I don't torture myself by having to make it accurate to a real-life school, but I'm going to need a name for Victoria's team in an upcoming chapter, so if you have ideas, I'm all ears. And as always, I would love to read your rambling! It's what got us this chapter so quickly, along with the ideas for like three more scenes that I added to the list.

Chapter 13: Chapter 13

Chapter Notes

This chapter is short but angsty. The boys are kind of going through it here, because we've reached the Sochi Olympics and we all know how that went.

Thank you to everyone who gave me recommendations for Victoria's team's name! It doesn't show up in this chapter, but it will in either the next chapter or the one after that.

Shane sits in his room in Olympic Village, staring at the tv. It’s late enough that the events are done for the night, and the tv station he’s stopped on is rehashing today’s hockey games. Or he thinks they are, at least. It’s all in Russian. He might be able to fiddle with the remote and put on English or even French subtitles, but they’d lag. Instead he just mutes the volume and waits for the commentators to disappear to show the plays they’re discussing.

Scott Hunter and Carter Vaughn and a couple of the Team USA players invited him to hang out tonight. So did some of the other Canadian players, though they seemed more reluctant, like they didn’t actually want to but they invited their captain anyway out of a sense of loyalty. He’d turned them all down. He wasn’t in the mood to socialize.

The screen switches back to the commentators, and he groans internally. Thankfully, he only has to watch them silently speak for a few seconds before his phone starts ringing.

“Hi, Shane!” Jessica greets happily.

“Hey.” He’s not disappointed that it’s her instead of somebody else. She’s his best friend; it wouldn’t be fair to her.

“I caught your game today! You played so good, I’m positive you’ll get the gold at this rate.” She must hold the phone out to catch the noise as she knocks on wood, because he hears a thump, thump, thump from her end before she lifts it back to her ear.

“Weren’t you in class during the game?”

“Yes. And?”

“You were watching on your phone?”

“I can catch up on my work later. And I only got a little bit of paint on my phone, and it’s just the case.”

His lips pull up in a reluctant smile.

“I’d be there in person to cheer you on, but I am a broke college student, and also I’d rather not be arrested and thrown in a Russian prison for being a lesbian.” She tsks. “If my professors have an issue with that, they can go fight Putin for me. I’d even pay to watch it, broke college student though I am.”

“Oh, yeah. Some of the other guys were talking about it. How Russia isn’t safe.”

He doesn’t know how she’s joking about it. It feels like a weight to him. Like wearing a backpack that just keeps pulling down on his shoulders, but there’s no way to take it off for even a minute or two. And if it feels like that to him, how does it feel for Rozanov? He’s lived here his entire life. He has to come back here every year.

He considers texting Rozanov, but he hasn’t responded to Shane’s message from earlier. He’s seen it by now -- he admitted as much when they talked, if you can call it that -- which means there’s a reason he’s not replying and means he won’t reply to a second.

Suddenly he realizes he’s been quiet for too long.

“How’s everything there? In Montreal?”

“Good. Are you okay, Shane? You sound…”

“Yeah, I’m good. Just -- tired.” It’s not a lie.

“Do you want me to hang up and let you get some rest? I kind of keep forgetting you’re seven hours ahead.”

“No, you can keep talking. If you want.”

So he listens as she talks about a project he doesn’t understand for one of her new classes this semester, and by the time she’s done, he’s at least a different sort of tired.

- - - - - -

Finally released from the party and now back in his room, his tie hanging undone around his neck and half of his tux lying on the floor where it will surely get wrinkled, Ilya stares at Hollander’s text. Ilya is drunk, but only just a little bit. Not enough to actually text back. Not fucking drunk enough for anything.

He’s not drunk enough to deal with the looks his father gave him, repeating out loud every thought Ilya had about disappointing him and Russia and his mama and probably God himself as soon as he’d realized they were going to lose to fucking Latvia. He personally let down every single person in his country, apparently, and worse, he’d embarrassed the colonel in front of all his super important fucking friends. Alexei should have come, just to really drive it home, every way and every person he’d failed.

Fucking Latvia. Fucking Bolshoi and Sharapov and Abdulayev and their stupid fucking petty arguments that kept them from acting like grown fucking adults on the same fucking team. Fucking Vasechkin and his fucking injury.

And fuck Sasha, too, while he’s at it. They’re adults now. He has real issues to think about, and Sasha expects to cure it with some fucking coke and a blow job like they’re still teenagers? Half the government was in the next fucking room. What if they were caught fucking right under their noses? That would go over well. What if it got out that he did drugs and the NHL didn’t let him go back to play for Boston and he was stuck for the rest of his life in Russia? But Sasha didn’t think of these things, because he’d never matured past a teenager who just thought he was being rebellious without considering the consequences.

His phone dings. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring at it long enough for the screen to go black.

Marly: how ya holding up cap?
Marly: fucking latvia
Marly: your goalie shouldntve even been playing

Ilya: Wonderful

Marly: at least you got to visit home again?

Ilya: I love Mother Russia

Marly must catch on to his mood, because he stops texting. Probably good, because he thinks he is just drunk enough to say something he might regret later.

Not that he could say anything right today. Even though his father forgot half the things Ilya said minutes later, he never forgot that he was mad at him about something. Or maybe that’s just his normal state of being, and he assumed that unless he remembered otherwise, Ilya must have done something wrong. It’s true enough, always has been.

Another ding.

Sveta: How are you?
Sveta: Sasha said you left?

Ilya: I wasn’t in the mood

Sveta: You know we all love you even when you don’t win?

Ilya: Yes my father made that very clear

Sveta: He is an asshole. So is your brother
Sveta: But everyone who matters still loves you
Sveta: Me, Cliff Marleau, the rest of your team
Sveta: Jane

Some of them, maybe she’s right about. But not Jane -- Hollander. It wasn’t possible in the first place, and even if it was, it’s not now. Not after Ilya snapped at him. And either way, he can’t make himself regret it. Yes, a lot of it, maybe most of it, was Ilya’s own fault, his bad mood. And yes, he wouldn’t have had to snap if Hollander had just left like Ilya told him from the beginning. But part of it he can admit was to keep Hollander safe. Ilya is used to Russia, knows how to keep himself out of trouble. Hollander didn’t realize how it would be taken if they were seen talking -- the betrayal people would see from Ilya, especially. He didn’t realize what could happen if one wrong look or work or touch was caught at just the right time. So Ilya had to end it before anything could happen, and if that meant being mean… then at least they were both safe. Safer, anyway.

Ilya: I’m tired, I think I’m going to bed

Sveta: Okay
Sveta: Sweet dreams, Ilyusha

If he stays up for a few more minutes and stares at her texts a little too long, trying to convince himself she's right, at least nobody else is there to notice.

Chapter End Notes

I may not have been completely fair to Sasha here, but I just didn't like him and Ilya's in the sort of bad mood where he doesn't really like anybody and nobody's spared from his shitty mood and possibly unfair judgements (except Sveta, of course).

The next chapter will be longer, probably by a good bit, but I've fallen behind again and haven't quite finished the first scene of four, because it seems I'm either farther ahead than I need to be or rushing to meet my self-imposed deadline, but hopefully I'll have it to you within a week.

As always, please feel free to yell your thoughts at me in the comments, it feeds me!

Chapter 14: Chapter 14

Chapter Notes

Victoria's team is officially named the Hornets, courtesy of the person who suggested it as a play on the Stingers; I liked the explanation. The team they play against in this chapter is inspired by the person who suggested taking an animal native to Canada and using the French word for it (I did use translate since I don't speak French), and I purposefully used the female word for wolf because it seems like the type of thing a school would pull. In my high school we were the Sailors, but our girls sports teams were the "Lady Sailors" (barf).

I was having a *lot* of fun with the Princess Bride references in this chapter, and I'm actually reading the book (which is somehow even more ridiculous than the movie). Pirates of the Caribbean is a big part of the reason I'm bi, so of course I had to bring it up. There is a very sad shortage of good pirate media in the world.

“This is impossible,” Victoria grumbles. She drops her pencil with a clatter and thumps her head on the desk.

“No, it isn’t,” Jessica says -- very helpfully, she thinks.

Victoria holds the problems sheet up to the camera for Jessica to see. “Look! Does this look possible to you?”

“No,” Jessica tells her after barely having to glance at the complex math, “but I’m taking art classes, not math classes. Maybe you should’ve taken art.”

“Never mind. Suddenly this seems way easier.”

Jessica smiles.

They’ve been texting regularly since they exchanged numbers -- almost daily. About classes, or Jessica’s art, or Victoria’s practices and games, or professional hockey, or anything else that comes up.

Tonight, Jessica had been sitting in bed, watching The Princess Bride, when she texted Victoria Shane says McMahon’s injured, a continuation of their conversation yesterday. Victoria only replied sporadically until Jessica’s phone rang with an incoming FaceTime request. She’d quickly muted the movie -- she can just about quote it word for word the whole way through anyway -- and answered the call.

“Sorry,” Victoria said. “Practice went long so now I’m catching up on homework.”

“Then why’d you call? I can--”

“No, I want to talk to you, I just can’t text right now.”

And that was that.

“What part are you on?” Victoria asks now without looking up from her paper. “I’m living vicariously through you.”

“‘I am not left-handed,’” Jessica answers in a convincing imitation of Inigo Montoya.

“I’d say ‘I’m not left-handed, either,’ but that’d be a lie.”

Jessica gasps in delight. “You like it! And you’ve seen it enough to quote it!”

“What kind of monster hasn’t? We were talking about it at practice the other day ‘cause our coach accidentally said something from it and he had to end practice a couple minutes early because we were all to distracted quoting it at each other.” She rolls her eyes. “Ali and one of the sophomores decided to fence with their sticks.”

“How’d that go?”

Victoria makes an amused sound. “Talk about high sticking.”

“Please tell me you got a video.”

“I was too busy trying to keep the fight from being to the pain.”

“You asshole, you never let me have any fun.”

Still looking down at her homework, Victoria flips her off.

“Rude,” Jessica complains.

“Today they were talking about 10 Things I Hate About You,” Victoria continues, ignoring her. “It’s good, but not my favorite. What I really like is Pirates of the Caribbean." She finally looks up, grinning, her brows raised. “Elizabeth Swann?”

“Ohhh my god, yes.” Jessica fans herself in agreement.

“That was little baby Victoria’s gay awakening.”

“As it should be.”

“My birthday was pirate themed for years after that.” She laughs, “There’s a reason none of my family was surprised when I came out.” The silence stretches on a beat too long. “Shit, Jess, I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“No, don’t be. Just because my parents are dicks…”

Victoria must understand her silent request for a subject change, because she picks back up like nothing happened. “Speaking of birthdays, mine is next week.”

“Another pirate theme?”

“Hockey theme -- we have practice and a game. We’re celebrating it on Friday instead.”

“Well, that’s sad.” Ideas start to form in Jessica’s mind.

“Only if we lose the game.”

“You won’t.”

“While I appreciate your confidence, you’d better knock on wood. Right the fuck now.”

“Hockey players,” Jessica mutters, rolling her eyes and reaching behind her to thunk her knuckles on the headboard a few times. “Satisfied?”

“For now. If we lose, it’s still your fault, though.” Victoria yawns.

“I knocked on wood!”

“You still voiced it.” Her voice is muffled, her face buried in her arms on top of her homework. “If my birthday is sad, I’m blaming it all on you. All of it. Every little bit.”

“Mm.” On the tv, Vizzini laughs maniacally, then abruptly stops and drops dead. “Are you still doing your homework, or are you about to fall asleep?”

“No. I’m just taking a break.” She turns her head to face the camera, but her eyes are still closed when she adds, “It was a long day, Jessica. I’m tired and my brain hurts.”

“Is it all the concussions?”

Victoria lifts one arm to flip her off again, then lets it drop back down. “You mock my pain.”

“Life is pain, captain.”

Victoria grumbles something unintelligible, but Jessica sees a smile pulling at her lips before turning back to the movie, where Buttercup is flinging herself down a hill after Westley. She can hear Shane moving around in a different room, and what might be a hockey game but is too faint to tell for sure. She’s not sure who’s playing tonight. Boston and Chicago, maybe? Or he could be studying an old game.

The wheels in her head start turning, building on the start of the plan she thought of earlier for Victoria’s birthday. She might have to ask Shane for a favor or two.

Buttercup and Westley are just exiting the Fire Swamp when she realizes she hasn’t heard anything from Victoria in a while. She glances over to see the captain’s eyes shut tight and her lips parted in sleep, breathing softly. Jessica wishes she were with Victoria so she could at least move her homework out of the way, but instead she makes do with leaving the call running a while longer, telling herself Victoria said she was just taking a quick break. She barely sees the rest of the movie.

- - - - - -

The Metros are out of the playoffs now -- as Russia proved in the Olympics, you can only get so far with an injured goalie -- so he agrees easily enough to Jessica’s favor, even if he doesn’t sound overly excited about it. After he checked with the Hornets’ coach, of course -- and as any hockey coach with even a single brain cell would, he happily told Shane to please come any time he wanted.

So now they’re walking into the rink, Jessica feeling almost giddy, Shane wearing the carefully blank expression he puts on whenever he’s unsure of something or meets someone new.

The team is at the end of practice when they enter, busy focusing on the drill they’re running. At first, nobody notices them standing on the other side of the boards. Then Alison Belanger turns and spots Jessica, raising her hand to wave. Jessica can point out the exact moment she notices Shane next to her: her hand lowers as if she’s forgotten it, her mouth hangs open, and her eyes go dinner plate-wide.

“What the fuck?!” she shrieks. Her gaping turns into a grin, but she looks like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing. “Someone fucking pinch me!”

“Gladly, Bel, no need to ask twice,” one of the other girls replies, and pinches her before even turning around. Then she twists around and follows Belanger’s eyes.

“Holy… Jesus Christ.”

“No,” Jessica calls, leaning her arms on the board, “just Shane Hollander.”

Victoria, who was skating facing away from them and ignoring her teammates’ dramatics, makes a wide turn after shooting on the goal and suddenly sees them directly in front of her. She slips, flails like a newbie, and just barely manages to catch her balance. She comes a couple feet closer, then spins around and moves in the opposite direction, covering her face with her hands for a few seconds before lowering them and finally gliding over to the boards -- on the other side of Jessica from Shane.

“Hi.”

Shane sticks his hand out. “Hi. Happy birthday. I’m Shane.”

Victoria shakes his hand. Her eyes are still a little wide, but Jessica can tell she’s desperately trying to play it cool. “I’m Victoria Jolicoeur. Captain of the Hornets.”

“Yeah.” He taps himself where the C is on her practice jersey.

“Right.” She clears her throat, her eyes darting to Jessica and back again. “Thanks for coming. We’re all big fans.”

He gives a small smile. “Jessica said. She also said you have a game tonight?”

“Yeah, we do, against Les Louves.”

“They’re good this year. But their A is favoring her left side and it’s leaving a hole in their defense. Watch for it and take advantage. I’ve seen your goals; you’ll win.”

“How do you know that?”

“I looked them up yesterday.” He shrugs. “By the way, your coach suggested we could scrimmage as long as we’re careful, now that Montreal’s out of the playoffs? If you want? If you don’t, that’s--”

“Fuck yeah, we want!” shouts Genevieve, the Hornets’ A, from where the rest of the players are not-at-all-subtly eavesdropping.

“What they mean to say” -- Victoria shoots a glare at her team -- “is that we’d love to have you on the ice with us.”

“I’ll go get my gear.”

The rest of the team start arguing over who gets to be on his team as soon as his back is turned, but Victoria waits until he’s out of earshot to demand, “Happy birthday?”

“You said the theme was hockey. But if you don’t like it, I can always return the tickets we bought for tonight--”

“You better not. I better see you sitting rinkside.”

“Just me?”

“Hollander can come, too, if he wants.” She suddenly realizes something. “Fuck. I’m about to play hockey with Shane Hollander.”

Jessica nods at where the rest of the team is pushing each other around -- teasingly, she thinks -- hopes. “If you don’t act quick, you might be playing against him.”

Victoria rushes off without another word. “Hey, it’s my birthday! I’m not about to be one of the suckers defending against him!”

- - - - - -

Shane and Jessica sit in a private box at the Hornets game. Part of him hadn’t wanted to get the box -- had wanted to watch like he used to, before he was a household name. But given how many times the cameras had focused on him, it was the right decision. At least this way, he couldn’t be swarmed by fans until after the game. And even more importantly, their focus was on the game, not him.

The Hornets are winning 2-1 halfway through the second period, and both of their goals were scored by slipping through the defense’s hole, just as he told them. Jolicoeur would’ve picked up on it herself -- he’d searched the Hornets, too, after Jessica sent him that clip of her goal, and he could tell she’s perceptive -- but now they were able to use it to get a goal in the first period.

Some of the Metros would probably roll their eyes at him for saying it, but they’re good. They kept him from scoring more than twice and were almost able to keep up with him -- Jolicoeur, on his wing, especially.

And it was fun -- way more than he expected when Jessica asked him to do it. He thought it’d be awkward -- and it was, because he’s always awkward, and bad at small talk, and it doesn’t help when people get tongue-tied and star-struck around him -- and because it’s Jessica’s friend, and he wanted to make a good impression, which just made him more nervous and awkward -- but it was a bearable sort of awkward. And once they started scrimmaging, it got better.

He’d say it was like he was part of the team, but he was more included with the Hornets than the Metros. Maybe it’s because he’s the captain of his team, and so he’s always set apart that way, while the Hornets made a point of it because of the novelty of having him there. But even among themselves, they were laughing and chirping -- without the sting of insults disguised as jokes. It was… easier, in a way, than with the Metros. Although, again, that could be the result of the pressure of him being captain, or maybe because this is college hockey instead of the NHL.

And… He heard multiple of them talk about liking women. They weren’t even trying to hide it, or be quiet about it. He’s used to hearing Jessica talk about liking women, but it was… weird. He wants it to be a good sort of weird, but if he’s being honest, he’s not sure it was. It was more like another rock was added to that backpack, pulling on his shoulders just a little bit more.

He should just be happy for them. God, they’re Jessica’s friends, why can’t he just make himself be happy for them? Jesus fucking Christ.

The sound of the crowd cheering as Jolicoeur scores another goal with eight seconds left in the period shocks him back to the present. He pastes on a smile -- he is glad she scored and the Hornets are winning, truly -- and claps as Jessica whoops and yells Jolicoeur’s name.

- - - - - -

Shane and Jessica meet up with Jolicoeur outside the locker room after the game ends and the fans have left. Most of them, anyway. A few stragglers are left, hoping to run into him, but thankfully they aren’t allowed back here.

The Hornets won 4-1; Jolicoeur got a hat trick.

“Let’s get a picture together,” Jessica says.

She starts arranging them, Jolicoeur in the middle. Shane’s done enough modeling for his different brand deals that he doesn’t feel quite as awkward and unsure of himself anymore as he did his first couple years when fans would ask for selfies with him. At the very least, he knows what to do with his face, and he thinks his hands are fine as long as he doesn’t focus on them, and Jessica gives him a quick smile in approval before snapping a handful of pictures.

“I’ll send them to both of you,” she declares. Then she grins at Jolicoeur. “Separately. Wouldn’t want you to have his number -- not sure I can trust you with it.”

Jolicoeur turns red, but then Shane’s phone pings as the pictures come through, and he misses her response.

They’re not bad. Actually, one of them is pretty good. He saves it. For a brief moment, he considers sending it to Rozanov -- why, exactly, he’s not sure -- but then second guesses himself. It’d be weird, right? Sending a random picture out of the blue with no context when Rozanov still hasn’t sent so much as a word since before the Olympics? And he’d have to delete it anyway, so there’s really no reason. He closes out of his texts and puts his phone away.

- - - - - -

“Happy late birthday.”

Jessica hands Victoria her present -- the real one, not Shane showing up. That was a gift, too, but it was still more hockey on an already hockey-filled day. Not that Victoria seemed to mind. Or Shane; he seemed to enjoy himself.

Victoria takes the bag and starts pulling out the tissue paper, and Jessica has a sudden realization that it’s a stupid gift. It’s old, and nothing she really has a use for, and Victoria’s going to smile and lie through her teeth about it because she’s nice, but she’ll still wonder why Jessica thought it was a good idea.

She finally reaches the pirate hat and eye patch.

“Jessica,” Victoria says. She braces herself. “Oh my god. I love it! Where’d you get it?”

“It was mine. Our highschool mascot was a pirate.”

Shane went to her house last summer while he was in Ottawa, under the guise of being her boyfriend, and grabbed some of her stuff, including the box with the hat and eye patch. She’d hated to ask, and was fairly sure he was more anxious about it than he let on, but he didn’t want to let Yuna and David do it when she suggested that, either; he said it was too much of a risk, either that her parents let something slip or that his were friendlier with them than either she or Shane wanted. He hadn’t said anything about it when she asked other than her parents were polite and Josh missed her.

“So… Do you like it? Really?”

“Of course I do!” She starts laughing. “I’m going to have so much fun with this.” She puts it on and tries to stop laughing, but her mouth still twitches. In a truly horrible pirate voice, she asks, “What be a pirate’s favorite letter?”

“Arrrrrgh?” Jessica asks dryly.

“You’d think, but our true love be the C.”

“Oh my god,” Jessica sighs, dropping her head into her hands in exasperation -- but definitely not to hide a smile. “What have I done? That is terrible joke.”

Victoria grins. “The girls are never going to forgive you.”

Chapter End Notes

When Jessica and Victoria eventually go to Shane and Ilya's wedding, just as it's about to start, when everyone's quiet, Victoria leans in and whispers in Jessica's ear, "Mawwiage." Jessica laughs so hard she nearly double over and has to cover her mouth to keep from interrupting the ceremony.

Poor Victoria was trying (and failing) so hard not to fangirl in front of Shane.

Next chapter is going to be another social media interlude. Hopefully it's easier this time because I already have handles from the previous one. We'll see!

As always, I love it when you scream your thoughts and reactions at me in the comments!

Chapter 15: Chapter 15

Chapter Notes

We've reached 1,000 kudos! AHHHHH!

I am completely aware the songs in this chapter wouldn't have existed yet. I'm ignoring that. This is my sandbox to play in and I'm not letting reality get in my way.

Hornets Hockey 🐝🏒 @HornetsHockeyMontreal✔️: Join us in wishing a happy birthday to our wonderful captain @VictoriaJolicoeur … and in welcoming a surprise guest at today’s practice! (And a shoutout to our goalie @alibel who did not expect practice today to be harder than our game will be tonight.)
[Video 1: A camera shows the rink, with Hollander at the side of the frame from an angle next to and slightly behind him. On his other side, mostly blocked from sight, is a woman recognizable from her curly blonde hair as his girlfriend. She grins at Alison Belanger, and Hollander blushes at whatever was just said. The camera focuses on Captain Victoria Jolicoeur as she turns around and spots Hollander on the other side of the boards. Her eyes go wide, and she slips and nearly falls. When she catches her balance, she turns as if in denial, covering her face with her hands. After a moment of skating away from Hollander, she turns back around and finally skates smoothly up to the boards. Her cheeks are lightly pink as she says, “Hi.” Hollander offers her his hand and replies, “Hi. Happy birthday. I’m Shane.” She takes his hand and shakes it. “I’m Victoria Jolicoeur. Captain of the Hornets.”]
[Video 2: Hollander’s shoulders drop at the end of a shrug. “By the way, your coach suggested we could scrimmage as long as we’re careful, now that Montreal’s out of the playoffs? If you want? If you don’t, that’s--” Genevieve Ouellet interrupts him, “[Bleep] yeah, we want!” Jolicoeur glares at her teammates and tells Hollander, “What they mean to say is that we’d love to have you on the ice with us.” Hollander announces he’s going to get his gear and exits the frame. After a few seconds, Jolicoeur looks at Hollander’s girlfriend and demands, “Happy birthday?” to which she responds, “You said the theme for tonight was hockey. But if you don’t like it, I can always return the tickets we bought for tonight--” Jolicoeur rushes to answer, “You better not. I better see you sitting rinkside.” Hollander’s girlfriend asks, “Just me?” and Jolicoeur answers, “Hollander can come, too, if he wants.” A pause, then, “[Bleep]. I’m about to play hockey with Shane Hollander.”]
[Video 3: A Hornets rookie passes the puck to Hollander. He masterfully weaves between the opposing defenders, including Alternate Captain Genevieve Ouellet, and shoots. Goalie Alison Belanger lunges and catches the puck in her glove. She opens her glove and looks down at the puck in it with wide eyes behind her mask.]
[Video 4: Ouellet and another player converge on Hollander. He feints to one side before passing to Jolicoeur on the other. She receives the pass and immediately shoots. Belanger drops to her knees to block it, but the puck slides between with millimeters left to spare.]
     ↪️Captain Victoria Jolicoeur @VictoriaJolicoeur: Thank you to everyone for the birthday wishes and to @ShaneHollanderOfficial for showing up and his girlfriend for making it happen! To all my teammates, it’ll be your fault if we don’t win and my birthday sucks 😉
     ↪️Genevieve Ouellet @goullet: You may think she managed to keep a lid on her fangirling. What you don’t see here is how she freaked out in the locker room a soon as they left.
          ↪️↪️Amelie LeClerc❤️ @aleclerc: but did you get a video is the question
               ↪️↪️↪️Alison Belanger🏒🥅 @alibel: I did!
                    ↪️↪️↪️↪️Captain Victoria Jolicoeur @VictoriaJolicoeur: You wouldn’t dare
                         ↪️↪️↪️↪️↪️Alison Belanger🏒🥅 @alibel: Gen says I can’t because it’s your birthday😔But there’s always tomorrow😀

Maia 😍 @lovetheplayersnotthegame: Can I get Shane Hollander for my birthday too?

Elena Torres @elenatorres: step 1: go to uni in Montreal. step 2: befriend this girl who happens to be dating Shane Hollander. step 3: SHE BRINGS HIM TO MEET YOU AND YOU GET TO PLAY HOCKEY WITH HIM
     ↪️Paige Green @paigegreen8: Step 4: share him

Ayman Davis @aymandavis2: That’s my alma mater!
     ↪️Sophia Mann @sophiem34: I just graduated a couple years ago, why couldn’t he have showed up then 😫

Elizabeth de Vere @elizadv: Really Vic? You couldn’t have made a new friend last year so I could meet my personal hero?
     ↪️Captain Victoria Jolicoeur @VictoriaJolicoeur: I didn’t see you making any new friends 🤨 Guess that means I’m the better captain🤔

Lia (loves hockey) @lia8675: Hollander’s gf wasn’t on the ice, does that mean she doesn’t play hockey?
     ↪️24’s whore @elsiehill: Yeah if I was her I would not have introduced him to a girls hockey team 😬
     ↪️Ryan Jones @ryanjones2957: everyone says he’d marry hockey if he could and she thinks he won’t leave her for someone who actually plays it?
     ↪️Mason Taylor @masont7837: he’s going to cheat on her
     ↪️Anna Wright @annaiswright: Omg have any of you ever heard of basic human decency? Some people actually have it believe it or not. Radical idea: he loves her as she is
          ↪️↪️Future Metros WAG @nataliabarnes: yeah but he’s a hockey player

Noa Gagnon @noagagnon: Hear me out: he’s not going to leave his gf, he’s going to get another (and NO I don’t mean cheating)

Lucy G @lucygraham: “I’m Shane” he says YES SHE KNOWS WE ALL KNOW YOU’RE LITERALLY FAMOUS

Lili Wells @liliwells6739: She scored a goal off his assist she has to be on cloud nine right now
     ↪️Abbie @whyamihere: I just know that’s going to carry over to the game tonight, they’re going to beat their asses. Go Hornets!

Alex🏳️‍⚧️ @nopewrongagain: Am I the only one who thought that “just me?” was a little 💅🌈
     ↪️Kitty Turner @kittyturner3489: right everyone talking about Jolicoeur trying to steal him, I’m like bitch she’s trying to steal her

Brax St. Jean @metrosrule: he was going easy on that goalie. there’s no way she would’ve stopped his shot otherwise
     ↪️Olivia R @besttykescoachever: Why? Because she’s in college hockey? Or because she’s in women’s hockey?
          ↪️↪️Brax St. Jean @metrosrule: because he’s shane hollander
               ↪️↪️↪️Olivia R @besttykescoachever: And no one ever stops Shane Hollander’s shots🙄
     ↪️Elijah @elijahd: Look at the way his eyebrows flick up, he was impressed
          ↪️↪️Brax St. Jean @metrosrule: impressed with what? her makeup? cause you cant see her body with all that padding
     ↪️Alison Belanger🏒🥅 @alibel: All I hear is “blah blah misogyny blah blah I hate myself blah blah I’ve never given a woman an orgasm”
          ↪️↪️Elizabeth de Vere @elizadv: LMAO Ali I love you
     ↪️Shane Hollander @ShaneHollanderOfficial✔️: I did not go easy on any of the Hornets. @alibel is a great goalie -- on par with some I’ve faced in the NHL. Your prejudices say more about you than about Alison Belanger’s skill. I invite you to examine them and, in the future, consider your subconscious biases before you post.
          ↪️↪️Alison Belanger🏒🥅 @alibel: 🔥

Marisol @tiredgradstudent: DID NOBODY ELSE CATCH THAT SHANE’S GOING TO BE AT THE HORNETS’ GAME TONIGHT???
     ↪️April St. James🌷🌻 @mytearsbringflowers: I get a student discount on tickets 🥳🤸

Imani @orami?: Genevieve Ouellet is me. Yes, I want anything that gets me closer to Shane Hollander
     ↪️Marisol @tiredgradstudent: She is ALL of us

Sora💮 @imfemnotstraight: 🌈🚨SOMEONE🚨🌈 in this equation is gay, I just can’t figure out who
     ↪️Violet Lambert💜 @vlambert: It’s the girlfriend
     ↪️Katelyn Le @hollanover: It’s Shane, she’s his beard
     ↪️Smithy @megansmith9: Isn’t Jolicoeur lesbian?

Ivy Mae🌿💖🎨🌈 @ivymaeclark: Okay but to be serious for a second I love that Shane -- arguably the most famous hockey player in the world -- is making time to go visit a women’s hockey team, and a college one at that. Especially when it’s something that seems to matter to his gf
     ↪️Ivy Mae🌿💖🎨🌈 @ivymaeclark: I hope this brings more attention to women’s hockey and we can get the professional league going a bit more

- - - - - -

Hornets Hockey 🐝🏒 @HornetsHockeyMontreal✔️: Captain @VictoriaJolicoeur celebrates her birthday with a hat trick!🎉🎂🎈
[Video 1: Jolicoeur scores the first goal of the game. Instead of her normal goal song, the chorus of Birthday by Selena Gomez starts blasting. Surprised, she points up at the speakers and laughs as her teammates celebrate the goal with her.]
[Video 2: Jolicoeur scores her second goal, and music blares again. She and her teammates celebrate, ignoring a Louves player angrily knocking her fist into the boards behind them. On the Jumbotron, Shane Hollander blinks and starts clapping, his girlfriend jumping up to cheer next to him.]
[Video 3: Jolicoeur scores her third goal of the game just before the clock runs out on the last period. The cheering is so loud the music can barely be heard over it. Her teammates rush over to congratulate her, Alison Belanger leaving the goal to jump onto her back as Genevieve Ouellet slams into her for a hug.]
[Video 4: The Hornets, now out of their gear, celebrate Jolicoeur’s birthday with cake in the locker room. Someone has cued up BIRTHDAY by Anne-Marie and they sing along to the chorus, Jolicoeur shaking her head and smiling at their dramatics. She joins in with their screaming at “goddamn, it’s my birthday/everybody love me/yeah, yeah, yeah/look at me, give me money/damn it’s my birthday/everybody love me” -- Belanger holds up a sheet of paper with the Louves logo printed on it with one hand and uses the other to flip it off with her teammates -- “and I ain’t thinkin’ ‘bout you/it’s my birthday”.]
     ↪️Shane Hollander @ShaneHollanderOfficial✔️: I had a great time watching the game tonight. Happy birthday again, @VictoriaJolicoeur!
     ↪️Genevieve Ouellet @goullet: Glad your birthday didn’t end up sucking @VictoriaJolicoeur congrats on the hatty

Alex🏳️‍⚧️ @nopewrongagain: “it’s my birthday ima do what i like ima eat what i like ima kiss who i like” this does not resolve the question of which one of them she’s stealing
     ↪️Noa Gagnon @noagagnon: him. obviously. who wouldn’t.
          ↪️↪️Sora💮 @imfemnotstraight: A lesbian
               ↪️↪️↪️Noa Gagnon @noagagnon: idk, i’m a lesbian and if i had to i’d go straight for Hollander
     ↪️Rachel Evans @rachelevans5: Who says she’s stealing? It’s her birthday, let her have them both
     ↪️Daisy Allen🌼 @daisyallen1: everyone focusing on the “kiss who I like” line, not enough people focusing on the “eat what I like” line 👀👅

Elijah @elijahd: That stadium was PACKED, I’ve never heard of a college women’s hockey team selling out
     ↪️Gia Cooper @giacooper2: The power of Shane Hollander

Ivy Mae🌿💖🎨🌈 @ivymaeclark: Everyone who’s upset the Hornets game only sold out because Hollander attended needs to take a breath. Yeah, it sucks that most of those people only care about women’s sports if a famous man is going to be there. But if that’s what gets women’s sports on the map, I’ll take it. Also, the revenue from ticket sales will go toward the Hornets whether they were there for Jolicoeur or a rookie or Hollander or just to watch good hockey.

Mason Taylor @masont7837: Hollander clearly didn’t want to be there. Look at him. He’s bored and distracted. His feminazi girlfriend dragged him there
     ↪️Alex🏳️‍⚧️ @nopewrongagain: Ah, yes. Bored and distracted. I’d hate to think what that says about his own games then. [Image 1: Hollander on the Jumbotron just before he started applauding Jolicoeur’s second goal.] [Image 2: Hollander sitting on the bench at a Metros game with the same expression.]
          ↪️↪️April St. James🌷🌻 @mytearsbringflowers: Exactly. This is his Thinking About Hockey face

Hannah Thomas @iactuallydontlikebananas: And just when I think he can’t get any more hot, he goes to a women’s hockey game🥵

- - - - - -

Genevieve Ouellet @goullet: The players of @HornetsHockeyMontreal would like to thank @ShaneHollanderOfficial’s girlfriend for the birthday gift she gave @VictoriaJolicoeur. We’ve been listening to nothing but sea shanties and bad pirate jokes for the past week. SOS. Save our ship. Please make it stop.
     ↪️Alison Belanger🏒🥅 @alibel: If I have to hear something as stupid as “A pirate walks into a bar. It was at that moment he realized he was wearing his eyepatch on the wrong eye” one more time, I’m volunteering myself for suicides until I pass out
          ↪️↪️Genevieve Ouellet @goullet: Or Druken Sailor
               ↪️↪️↪️Alison Belanger🏒🥅 @alibel: I nominate you to take over as captain
                    ↪️↪️↪️↪️Captain Victoria Jolicoeur🏴‍☠️🦜 @VictoriaJolicoeur: I’m sensing a mutiny. A… conspira-sea against me, if you will
     ↪️Chloe Wilson @chloew7826: lmao what’d she get her?

Chapter End Notes

I've kind of fallen in love with Ali's particular brand of chaos.

Would Shane have posted something this strongly worded at this point in the timeline without the Irina Foundation to give him more reason to besides just calling someone out? Maybe not, but I like to think having a bit more of a support system would bring out BAMF Shane Hollander a little bit more a little bit earlier. Plus, good hockey is good hockey! And don't talk to his lesbians like that! (Is Ali lesbian? I don't think so, but she's an honorary one.)

Shane didn't have to send that picture last chapter. Ilya is definitely lurking anyway.

I'm about to be super busy for the next few days, so just a heads-up that it'll probably take an extra few days to get the next chapter out. Thank you all so much for your support so far, ahhh quadruple digit kudos! I enjoy reading all the comments!

Chapter 16: Chapter 16

Chapter Notes

I'm so glad you all seemed to like that one part last chapter so much! I cracked myself up writing it, I think I'm hilarious.

If my attempt to write flirting in this chapter is less than impressive it's because I have no idea how to flirt in real life either.

The rink is so loud he can’t hear his teammates greeting their families as they pour out onto the ice. Horns are blaring and people are screaming and feet are stomping on the floor in the effort to make as much noise as possible because the Bears just won the fucking Stanley Cup.

He’s freed from the crush of his teammates’ bodies against him in celebration as the last of them go to meet their wives, their children, their siblings, their parents. And he… he just stands there.

Slowly, but somehow also all at once, the all-encompassing amazement of winning -- against every other team in the League, against every other player -- dies down.

There is nobody coming down to the ice for him.

The realization is so sudden that he doesn’t have the chance to deny it: He wishes he had someone to come down from the stands and congratulate him. He wishes he had someone to be proud of him at all. His father, his brother -- they don’t care beyond what his success does for them, the money and connections and status they get from his accomplishments. His mama always knew he would do it, never doubted him for a second, but she didn’t live long enough to see it. Couldn’t. Perhaps Hollander-- But no; he’s probably pissed that Ilya won the Cup first. Pissed that he never texted him back, too.

Instead, he makes sure to be the best captain he can. He goes from teammate to teammate, congratulating them, greeting their WAGs, joking with their kids, charming their parents, then moves on to let them have their moment. And if, by the end, he’s still left standing on the ice alone, well, it doesn’t really matter.

- - - - - -

This club has shitty vodka. He doesn’t know which of his teammates picked it, but whoever it was is never choosing where they go ever again. Ilya’s drunk -- drunk enough for him to be staring at his phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard under Hollander’s contact -- but that’s still not drunk enough to make the vodka tolerable. Apparently even a fucking Stanley Cup champion can’t get good fucking vodka in America.

Marly looks over -- the woman with the very low cut top and very short skirt he’s been watching must have gone to the restroom. “Who’re you texting? Montreal Jane? Can’t believe she didn’t come out even for the fucking championship!”

“No.” Ilya turns his phone off and quickly sets it face down next to his leg. “I’m not texting anybody.”

But Marly, even though he’s speaking with surprising clarity given the number of shots Ilya’s seen him do tonight, is drunk and doesn’t get the hint.

“I know she’s got work and is shy or whatever, but fucking come on!” He slaps Ilya on the shoulder. “I know you keep saying it’s nothing serious, Roz, but she’s your best lay!”

“She’s a good lay. Reliable.” Marly doesn’t look convinced -- or maybe it’s him who isn’t -- so he adds, “I can get just as good from anyone else here.”

“Yeah, but none of them make you blush like her. You’re a millionaire, Roz! You’re a motherfucking Stanley Cup champion! I don’t know why you didn’t just fly her out.”

“I don’t blush.”

Ilya’s spared Marly’s reply by his phone dinging with a text.

Sveta: I’m sorry again for not being at the game
Sveta: I’ve been too busy running to the bathroom to throw up every couple hours

Ilya: Lies
Ilya: You don’t run to the bathroom you strut
Ilya: Like a model on the runway

Sveta: Okay, fine
Sveta: I’ve been too busy strutting to the bathroom to throw up every couple hours

Ilya: Don’t feel too bad I’ll join you in the morning
Ilya: We can throw up together

Sveta: You are not spending the night with anyone?
Sveta: I bet Jane would be happy to fuck a Stanley Cup winner

“Hi,” a voice says right next to him.

He turns. Marly’s eye candy has made her way over, and she brought a few friends with her. The one who interrupted him from having to explain -- again -- that he and Jane are not serious, just fuck buddies, is perched on the edge of the table. The neckline of her sequined crop top hangs low between her breasts with nothing but thin straps around her neck and back holding it in place, and most of the fabric of her leather skirt is above her hips. The way she sits looks casual, but she must be being careful not too show too much.

“Your friend said you might be interested in having some fun tonight.” She smiles at him, and his eyes go to the freckles that bunch up when she does.

“Maybe,” he admits. “Are you fun?”

“Tons. Work hard, play hard, right?”

“And do you work hard…?”

“Dakota,” she offers.

“Do you work hard, Dakota?”

“I’m getting my degree in biomedical engineering,” she tells him with a confidence that makes him run his eyes over her again. “I haven’t had the chance to go out in a while, so I intend to make the most of tonight. You’re welcome to join me.” Then she leans in, brushing her long, dark hair over her shoulder. “And the assholes in my classes would lose their shit if I told them I got to fuck Ilya Rozanov.”

He grins. Who is he to deny fucking with asshole classmates?

“Only if you’re okay with it, of course,” she adds. “If not, I can keep a secret, too.”

“Sounds like fun,” he says.

She slides off the table and he follows her out of his seat, Svetlana’s unanswered text forgotten. Before they leave, he turns back to the table and whichever of his teammates are still there -- a handful seem to have come back to flirt with Dakota’s friends.

“Okay, listen up, you beautiful Stanley motherfucking Cup champions!” he yells at them. A cheer goes up as they all turn to listen to their captain. “I am leaving with this lovely lady next to me.” More shouts. One of them whistles. “You all have fun, drink so much you have no memory of winning, then take cab home. No fighting, no cheating on your girls, no puking in taxi. Da?”

He waits for them all to agree.

“Alright, see you fuckers in chat tomorrow for proof of life or I’m sending Marly’s ugly mug to wake you up. You don’t want his face to be first thing you see when you wake up with hangover, so you all better answer.”

Cliff’s protests are drowned out under their laughter.

Ilya and Dakota get into a cab, and he gives the driver the address for the team’s hotel and tries to ignore how somehow, despite achieving the biggest accomplishment of his life and the beautiful woman next to him, he still feels empty.

Chapter End Notes

And if you thought this was angsty, coming up next week we have Las Vegas!

Chapter 17: Chapter 17

Chapter Notes

Ilya had his angst last chapter, and now it's Shane's turn! Welcome to Vegas.

It’s late -- or very early, really -- and Jessica’s eyelids keep getting heavier, but school’s out for the summer and Victoria’s had business outside the city, so they haven’t had time for more than sporadic texting in a few days.

Victoria cuts off recounting the drama between a couple of her aunts with a yawn.

“Sorry.” Then her eyes brighten. “You think if I’m tired enough tomorrow I’ll space out for the entire time and not have to listen to their arguing?”

“I think it’s more likely you’ll just be more irritable and they’ll annoy you even more.”

Victoria sighs. “Oh, you know what else? My cousin was complaining about his girlfriend. I’ve met his girlfriend, Jess. I told him if he doesn’t want her, I’d be happy to take his place.”

Jessica ignores the way her stomach flops. “How’d he take that?”

“Shut him right up. God, the silence was beautiful.”

She chuckles, hoping Victoria’s too tired to hear the falseness of it, or at least that she’ll chalk it up to Jessica being tired.

Victoria continues, “Honestly, men sometimes, I swear…”

A text shows up at the top of Jessica’s screen.

Shane: Are you up

Jessica feels the wrongness before she even notices what’s off -- the too-casual wording, the lack of punctuation. Never mind the fact that he normally would never text when he knows it’s after 1 am in Montreal. She frowns and switches over to her texts.

Jessica: Yeah
Jessica: Why, what’s up?

Shane: Can I call

She hurries back to the tab with the video call and doesn’t bother waiting for a good time to interrupt Victoria.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go, something’s up. We’ll talk tomorrow, yeah? Goodnight.”

Victoria barely gets the chance to respond before Jessica hangs up. As soon as she does, she calls Shane.

“What’s wrong?”

“Lily.”

She knows the name -- she’s seen notifications from that name on his phone, and she has… ideas, but it was never her place. Their agreement is that they can both do whatever they want as long as they’re discreet, and Shane is nothing if not private. As long as it doesn’t impact her and doesn’t give her reason to worry for him, it’s none of her business if she sees him smiling at his phone or notices he disappears after games sometimes.

“Lily?” she asks. She may have ideas, but she doesn’t want to base whatever this is on assumptions that may or may not be right. And either way, right or wrong, she could make it worse.

“We met up tonight.”

“Okay.” She tries to keep her voice neutral. When he doesn’t continue, she prompts, “Shane, hon?” She’s usually not one for pet names, especially with Shane given their past and their current arrangement, but it feels needed right now. “What happened?”

“I…” His voice is flat, emotionless, and it somehow makes it that much worse. “We didn’t even kiss.”

She’s still missing almost any context, but she knows enough to say, “Oh, Shane, I’m so sorry.”

Unfortunately, she usually hears things along these lines from drunk girls in the bar bathroom with five other women to help, and she’s not quite sure how to best support a mostly sober Shane by herself.

Either her awkwardness transfers through the phone or he feels awkward himself, because he suddenly says, in the same empty tone, “I shouldn’t have called, actually, it’s super late there, and, uh -- I shouldn’t have called. I’ll -- I’ll let you sleep, sorry--”

“No!” she blurts before he can hang up. “Yes, it’s late, but I was up anyway. If you want to talk to someone, I want to listen. You can even just rant and tell me not to respond if that’d be easier.”

He’s silent, and for a second she wonders if maybe he hung up without her noticing.

“We met up after the awards and -- fuck,” he hisses, and she’s worried about the way the word shakes, but finally there’s something in his voice other than that horrible blankness. “It was good. Really good? But after… she just sat there. Barely even talked before she basically shoved me out the door. We didn’t even kiss,” he repeats.

She wants to oh, honey him, because it’s a fucking awful situation, but he’s a grown man, not a teenager going through their first heartbreak, and she knows him well enough to know he probably wouldn’t take any perceived pity well. So instead she decides to go with the drunk-girl-in-the-bathroom strategy and assure him it’s Lily’s fault and has nothing to do with him, because it damn well doesn’t and that’s the fucking truth.

“That’s an asshole move. I don’t know, maybe she’s not an asshole, but that’s definitely an asshole move. I mean, I’m a lesbian and we’re only fake dating, but I’d kiss you, and then she could see what she’s missing.” She hears an exhale that sound vaguely like a surprised laugh. “Or you could send me her number and I could cuss her out. I’ll be pissed for you if you’re not in the mood to be pissed yourself.”

A little bit more of a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“But seriously, Shane, anyone would be lucky to have you, and it’s Lily’s loss if she doesn’t realize that.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re an amazing person, and I don’t just mean in terms of your hockey skills, okay? I wouldn’t have dated you the first or second time if you weren’t.”

“Okay.”

“And if something ever happens again and you want to call me, please don’t worry about the time and whether or not you’ll wake me up. I want you to call me.”

It’s true -- every word of what she told him -- and she suddenly regrets not saying it before. But also, if she ever meets this Lily… they’re going to have a talk.

- - - - - -

Shane lets his head fall back and hit the mattress behind him with a soft thunk, staring blankly at the ceiling. His phone is still in his hands, screen dark. He’s sitting on the gross hotel carpet, but he can’t find it in himself to care, just like he can’t quite bring himself to care he hasn’t showered since the penthouse.

He knows he should -- care, that is -- or at least that it’s vaguely concerning he doesn’t -- but he doesn’t have the energy. Not to shower, not to get up off the floor, not to care.

Well, that last one’s not entirely true. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t feel like crying. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have called Jessica.

Fuck. Fuck. He leans forward and puts his head on his forearms. He’d been so close to telling her. To confessing. He could do it without revealing Rozanov’s secret, just his own. She’d understand; out of anyone, Jessica would understand.

But there’s nothing to understand, because she’s gay and he’s… he doesn’t know what he is, but not that. He can’t be. And it doesn’t matter what the word is, anyway, because it’s just fun, nothing else. It’s not serious, and it never will be. That’s not allowed. Not for people like him.

Chapter End Notes

This is a short chapter but it was fighting me and I had a couple double shifts at work this week so I was a bit burned out. Just a heads up, I have the same work schedule next week and then I'll be getting ready to go back to school, so it'll likely keep taking a few extra days to get chapters out (you're all super polite about it, I just have a self-imposed due date for these and saying it gives me permission to publish it "late").

Not related to this chapter, but I want to take a moment to celebrate the victories in the US primaries this week! I was so on edge I practically had to sedate myself to be able to sleep before the votes were all in, but I woke up to very exciting news! Thank you to everyone who got out and voted, it's thanks to all of us that people like Abdul El-Sayed can win even when they're outspent 9 to 1 with a smear campaign from israel (purposely not capitalized because fuck israel and netanyahu and zionism) and attacks even from their own party. Yay!!!

Back to the fic, I briefly considered having Shane say it's a guy (or not use pronouns at all, but that was too awkward) and just not the name, but I don't think he's quite that far yet. He knows Jessica's a safe space, and he is further ahead of where he was at this point in the books/show, but he's just not all the way there.

Chapter 18: Chapter 18

Chapter Notes

The timeline is confusing and I'm not sure if Scott was with Kip at this point and wouldn't have had his mid-season slump this year, but whatever, we're going with it.

The New York Admirals are on a roll today -- Scott Hunter might be plagued by his usual mid-season slump, but their defense is better than ever. Neither team has managed to score yet, almost halfway through the second period.

Jessica sits on the far side of Jackie, away from the other WAGs. The twins are with their grandparents, so they didn’t bother with a box. Instead, they’re sitting rinkside, and Jessica’s trying to ignore the eyes she feels on them. Or maybe she’s just paranoid and making things up.

Even separated by Jackie, Jessica can hear Madeleine and Eva -- teasing or arguing, she can’t tell, and she’s long since given up on trying to -- but she tunes them out to focus on her sketchbook. She’s been doing so much for school that she’s been neglecting her “for fun” sketchbook, and she’s starting to feel it -- her art becoming more of a chore than a hobby. She couldn’t just ignore it earlier when her brain told her she needed to create, even if she did have to leave for the game in less than an hour.

Shane skates by on his way to the face off dot after a break in the play, and she knocks on the glass. He slows, and she flips her sketchbook around for him to see. It’s him from just below the shoulders, the C partially obscured in the folds of his jersey. She’s been glancing up at him intermittently during the game to make sure the details are right, but his expression is one she only ever sees when they play Boston: his eyes bright with determination, the smallest smirk pulling at his mouth.

In front of her, the real Shane grins and tries to give a double thumbs-up as best he can with his gloves and stick before skating away again. As he does, she notices the same thing happening on the Jumbotron and quickly returns the sketchbook to her lap. How much did they show? How many people saw her (very rough) sketch?

Jackie grimaces in sympathy, glaring at her own image on the screen. “I swear, sometimes these cameramen make me wonder if they’ve never heard of privacy. Especially when the kiss cam goes around.”

Jessica shudders, suddenly very glad she and Shane are separated by the boards.

“For what it’s worth,” Jackie goes on, tone lighter, “you’re an incredible artist. Nobody in their right minds would look at that and think anything else. And…” She hesitates, choosing her words. “You seem to have a good base of friendship with Shane. That’s important in any kind of relationship. He trusts you.”

Shit. Jessica’s heart skips a beat. Does Jackie suspect something? Was it just an oddly phrased compliment, or was she purposely vague? She’s saved from having to figure out a response when the home crowd cheers after a good save by Montreal’s goalie. By the time the noise dies down enough to talk again, Jackie’s moved on.

“Is that from a face off against Rozanov?” she asks, pointing at the sketch.

- - - - - -

Shane sits down heavily on the bench, breathing hard.

“Great goal, man,” Hayden says, clapping him on the shoulder then offering him his water bottle. The crowd is still cheering, and they’re finally up 1-0.

Shane takes it gratefully and squirts some water into his mouth. “Yeah. Thanks.”

It’s quiet for a moment as he tries to catch his breath -- but only for a moment.

“So. Shane,” Hayden says.

“Yeah?” he asks. It’s more breath than word as he pants.

Hayden nods to where Shane knows without looking the WAGs are seated. “When are you putting a ring on it?”

Shane actually, legitimately chokes on his water, launching into a coughing fit. Huh, he thought that only happened in books and tv. Hayden thunks him on the back -- unhelpfully, Shane might add. When he finally gets air into his lungs again and his throat doesn’t tickle with every breath, he says hoarsely, “Hayd, what the fuck?”

“It’s a legit question, man!” Hayden defends.

No, it really isn’t. Especially because it’s not a legit relationship.

“Okay, but -- now? We’re in the middle of a game.”

Hayden just looks at him like, Well?

“I don’t know,” he evades.

“You’ve been dating for what, three years now? More? C’mon, you’ve gotta have some idea.”

“We’re just… we’re not ready.”

And we never will be, he doesn’t add. They could get married; it would be the natural progression of their ‘dating,’ what everyone expects, probably even his parents and definitely his teammates, but he wouldn’t -- couldn’t -- do that to her. She’s a great friend and fake girlfriend, and probably the only person he can stomach the thought of marrying one day (a part of him, which he quickly shoves to the side and ignores, protests), but she has her own life, and someday she’ll fall in love with some wonderful woman, and he’d never take that away from her.

Hayden considers him with a more serious expression than Shane thinks the conversation warrants. Actually, he thinks the conversation warrants a subject change.

“Are you nervous because you guys already broke up before?” Hayden asks. “Because that was high school. I know we have roadies, but at least you’ll live in the same city. And hell, dude, you already live together, it’s basically just legal stuff now.”

Down the bench, Comeau laughs. “Yeah, and if it doesn’t work out, that’s what prenups and good divorce lawyers are for, Cap.”

Hayden rolls his eyes, turning his back to Comeau, and mutters, “Or couples’ therapy, not that he’d know what that is.” Then his voice goes back to normal, albeit slightly more quiet than before. “I know you don’t really bring her around much -- and I can’t really blame you, after that -- but Jackie loves her, and Jackie’s got a great intuition, so she has my approval, too. And she says the WAGs like her.”

Then Jackie can marry her, he thinks irritably. She’s more Jessica’s type, anyway.

He shrugs. “We haven’t really talked about it. And she’s still in school, and I know she wants to graduate first.”

Not a lie -- she has mentioned she wouldn’t want to deal with a wedding before finishing school.

Thank god, Hayden just shrugs, mirroring Shane. “Alright. But whenever you decide you are ready, I’ll be happy to help you out if you want. Shopping for the ring or planning the proposal or whatever.”

Shane nods and thanks him, and then they’re both back on the ice, the conversation mercifully left behind on the bench.

Chapter End Notes

Shane (deep in a walk-in closet): [freaking out because the guy he's been secretly hooking up with for years didn't kiss him and uncomfortable truths are starting to get hard to deny]
Jessica (falling for a woman): [is a good friend about it]
Hayden (happily oblivious and excited for his kids to have cousins their age): "So when are you getting married?"

Chapter 19: Chapter 19

Chapter Notes

I may or may not have come up with the plot of this chapter after I went to bed and then ended up crying myself to sleep. Do with that what you will.

“I’m dying,” Jessica groans.

She and Victoria were hanging out in the apartment Victoria shares with a couple of the other Hornets when Jessica’s period started a couple days early, and the cramps were practically instant. Now she’s laying on Victoria’s bed, curled up tightly in the fetal position.

Victoria makes a sympathetic noise. “The meds should kick in soon. I think Genevieve has an electric blanket, I could ask to borrow it if you want?”

“No,” she mutters into the blankets under her. “The reaper should be here soon enough anyway.”

Victoria chokes on a laugh. “Geez, Jess, dramatic much?”

“Not at all.”

“Well, I’ll go get that blanket just in case he’s late. Wouldn’t want you dying in agony.”

Victoria stands, the bed shifting and jostling Jessica, and lets the door close most of the way behind her. Jessica keeps her knees to her chest but throws her arms wide, groaning dramatically. She isn’t sure how long she stays like that before her phone rings, piercing the quiet and making her jump.

“Ow,” she complains. She pats her hand around the bed until it hits something hard, then holds it up to see.

Josh.

She immediately presses the button to answer, pushing herself up to sit, then to stand. “Hey. Is everything okay?”

Far be it from her to complain -- at least about talking to her brother -- but they don’t call without planning it, or at least asking over text first.

“I don’t like school,” he tells her without preamble as she starts to walk aimlessly around the room. “The teacher is giving us so much homework and our math has letters in it and we’re doing poetry and I hate poetry and I have to retake my math test.”

She blinks, needing a second for the rush of words to take on an actual meaning through the faint fog of pain.

“I’m sorry, Josh, that sucks. Could Mom or Dad--”

“They won’t help me. They say I need to know how to do it on my own.”

Which is true, but there’s a difference between taking a test for him and giving him tips on his homework. God, she hates her parents sometimes -- most of the time.

She leans against the corner, deciding that pacing isn’t helping her cramps, then sinks down to the floor, using the walls behind her to help her curl tightly inward. “Is there anyone at school who could help? A teacher or a tutor, maybe?”

“No. I want you to come home and help me.”

Fuck. She leans her head back and swallows her sigh because she doesn’t want him to take it the wrong way. “I know, me too. I’d help you if I could. I wish I was able to. But you probably wouldn’t want me to, I’m so bad at math; I don’t think I’d be much help.”

The joke is weak even to her ears.

“I don’t care! I want to see you.”

“And I really, really want to see you, but you know I can’t. Mom and Dad don’t want me there.”

“Can’t you just apologize?”

She squeezes her eyes shut. “It won’t… it doesn’t work that way this time.”

The bedroom door opens and she hears Victoria come back in, but she doesn’t open her eyes. The bed creaks as Victoria sits on it and waits patiently.

“Just lie, then!” Josh demands. “Tell them you’re sorry even if you’re not.”

“I can’t.” Even if it’d make a difference, she won’t do that to herself. “And even if I could, I still have to be here for school. I’m sorry, J--”

“Fine! I hope you’re having fun being an only child.”

And he hangs up.

Jessica half drops, half throws her phone to the ground and puts her head in her arms, her elbows propped on her knees. After a moment, the air stirs next to her and Victoria joins her on the floor.

“I’m okay,” Jessica tells her. She’s clearly lying. “Just emotional.”

“Periods,” Victoria agrees. She pauses a second before asking, “Who was it?”

“My little brother,” she admits. “Josh.”

“I didn’t know you had any siblings.”

Victoria says it casually, like it’s a fun fact to learn. It makes Jessica feel fucking horrible.

“Yeah. He’s eleven now. I haven’t seen him in three years or so. He doesn’t get why, and obviously I hate it just as much, but he’s…” Jessica sighs and closes her eyes again. A tear drips into her lap. “He’s mad that I won’t just make up with our parents.”

“He doesn’t know what happened?”

She shakes her head. “He’s still so young and I don’t want him to feel like he has to choose between us.”

Especially because he has to live with them for years. Either he sides with her and grows to hate the people he has no choice but to rely on, or he sides with them and grows to hate her. She knows which one she’d prefer, but she also knows which one’s smarter.

Victoria leans side to side in a shrug -- her shoulder brushes against Jessica’s and Jessica can see the light shifting as she does, even if she isn’t looking at her -- and hums. “I think he’s old enough to understand if you tell him. Obviously it isn’t my choice, but I think he’d probably like to be trusted with that and not kept in the dark.”

Jessica turns her head to finally look at Victoria. Before she can think too hard and stop herself from saying it, she asks, “But what if he hates me too?”

“At least you’ll know.” Then she shakes her head. “But he won’t. I only heard a little bit of the conversation, but it’s obvious how much you both love each other.”

Jessica thinks of the stegosaurus stuffed animal sitting on her bed -- the one Josh got her that Shane brought back when he grabbed some of her things for her.

“Maybe.”

- - - - - -

Shane knows he isn’t the most observant person when it comes to things that aren’t hockey. He’s used to being called oblivious -- lovingly, if sometimes exasperatedly, by Hayden and Jackie, and less lovingly by some of the other players when he misses the fact that a girl is flirting with him -- which is fine, anyway, because he isn’t really interested and it helps cover that and keep them from thinking about it too hard. But he isn’t blind. He isn’t the unfeeling, uncaring robot some people make him out to be, even if he isn’t always good at showing that.

Which is why he and Jessica are walking into the art museum after hours.

“Shane?” she asks as he opens the door. “Why are we here?”

“You’ll see.”

It doesn’t even really matter, because he’s sure the check-in will give it away as soon they reach it, but he’s proud of himself for this. Maybe a little unreasonably so, given that it’s just a public event he found before the seats all filled, and he barely even had to spend any money on it -- just $40 a ticket. HIs teammates would probably scoff at him. But it’s something he knows she’ll like.

Sure enough, after she signs in, she turns to him with a surprised smile. “A paint and sip?”

“I saw it and thought you’d like it.” He shrugs.

True; he did see it and think she’d like it. But the full truth is that he went searching for something she’d like. She’s been off for the past couple days -- and not just periods suck off. She hasn’t seemed like she wants to talk, and he isn’t going to push -- aside from the hypocrisy, it just feels like bad karma -- but he could try to find a way to cheer her up.

Shane feels the eyes on him as he and Jessica take their seats. He smiles politely at a few but tries his best to ignore the attention. Thankfully, the tables are small and he and Jessica are the only ones at theirs. He hopes it stays that way.

The instructor comes around makes sure they all have everything they need: canvases, paints, brushes. Then she points out the wine to the side of the room and everybody happily gets up to look at the selection. A handful of them make impressed noises, and he’s quietly proud of it; he wasn’t sure what they’d have available, so he bought a couple types he knows Jessica likes and a couple other nice ones -- according to Jackie and his mom -- and had them delivered.

At the front of the line now, Jessica catches his eye and raises her brows in question, lifting up a wineglass. He shakes his head, and she comes back a minute later with just the one glass of wine for herself.

“Alright!” The instructor claps her hands once the last of the attendees are making their way back to their seats. “Tonight we’re going to be painting a sunrise over a lake.”

- - - - - -

It’s late by the time they leave with instructions to come pick up their paintings in the next day or two once they finish drying. Shane doesn’t really care about his -- he had fun, but mostly because he was spending time with Jessica -- but hers is amazing. Even the instructor was impressed.

Jessica, he can tell on the drive back, is somewhere between pleasantly buzzed and slightly drunk.

“That was fun,” she states. “Although, Shane, you are so bad at painting. It’s a good thing I love you. I could only tell what yours was because I knew what we were supposed to be painting.”

“Oh, fuck you,” he says lightly. His lips pull up into a small smile. “You’re an asshole.”

She gasps and lays a hand on her chest. “You’d say that to your girlfriend?”

“You’d mock your boyfriend?”

“Listen, if you won’t let me win on game nights, you can at least let me make fun of your nonexistent art skills.”

“It’s… what did you call it? Abstract?” She nods. “It’s abstract art, thank you. And would you really want me to let you win?”

“Well, no, but it would be nice to win sometimes.”

“Then get better,” he tells her, deadpan.

“Rude! How’d you manage to convince everyone you’re some uber-polite Canadian golden boy?” Then she catches herself. “Wait, I know -- never underestimate the power of Yuna Hollander. She can do the impossible.”

“Excuse you, I am an uber-polite Canadian golden boy. Who else has been on a ‘Welcome to Canada’ sign?”

“You and your mom have them all fooled. Not me, though. I see through your act.”

“Mm-hm.”

The car falls quiet. Streetlights blur past the windows. Snow falls lightly. Then--

“I’m thinking about coming out to Josh. Just telling him I like girls, not about, you know, this. He doesn’t know why I can’t go home and see him, and he’s starting to resent me for it, I think.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t know what else to say. Congrats? Good luck? Neither seems right, so he doesn’t say anything.

I just--” She sighs and crosses her arms, keeping her eyes forward. “What if my parents already got to him, you know? At least right now I still have him. If I tell him and he agrees with them… I have no one. I mean, not no one, but no more family.”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t know why it’s a fight to keep his voice steady, why his knuckles are white on the steering wheel. It’s not like he’ll ever have to… come out. He has nothing to come out about. This -- Rozanov -- is all just -- experimenting. Having fun. Rozanov’s proven that over and over. Eventually one of them will get sick of it, and then Shane will find a nice, pretty woman to settle down and have kids with, like Hayden keeps pushing him to do. Like everyone expects.

He ignores that that thought doesn’t help him unclench his grip.

“Thank you for this,” she adds. “The painting. I had fun. It was a good distraction.”

“Uh-huh. Of course.”

If he barely sleeps that night, his mind whirling and spinning and spiraling, then it’s just because he’s worried for her. For Jessica.

Chapter End Notes

Hi everyone I'm back! Unfortunately this semester is shaping up to be busy as hell, almost all of my classes are going to be super reading heavy, a lot of them are theory-based and also one of my textbooks is The Odyssey. Fortunately I like all of my classes so far. However this does mean that I'll probably only be able to add chapters every couple weeks or so, especially once I get a job. But I promise I'm not forsaking you guys.

I've mentioned this in a couple comments, but one of the things that really interested me as I started writing this AU was the impact Jessica and her experiences would have on Shane and his internalized homophobia. Because on the one hand, obviously knowing and loving a queer person (especially one who's proud of her identity) is going to normalize it a bit and help him see that it's not wrong. But on the other hand, not only does it not erase the blatant yet casual homophobia he's grown up with and is around every day, but it also brings him closer to the consequences of a bad coming out experience. So I had fun exploring that this chapter.

Also. You cannot convince me Shane isn't knowledgeable about and perfectly fine with menstruation. Yuna Hollander was not about to raise a man who couldn't stomach buying tampons for his girlfriend or who thought pads stick to the vagina. It's also important to me that even though he doesn't know anything about art and understands it even less, he's paying enough attention when Jessica talks about it that he has some concept of things like abstract art. That's his gay best friend, thank you, and he will treat her as such.

Thanks for all the love in the comments section, I promise I'm reading every one and properly appreciating it, I just can never figure out how to respond so I don't <3

Chapter 20: Chapter 20

Chapter Notes

It's finally here! I was surprised it took as long as it did, but social media chapters are both so fun and so annoying to write.

Guyssss I got a ticket to a Paris Paloma concert and I cannot be calm about it and in fact I don't think I've been calm since I bought it, I'm so excited! Also I discovered that she and Kiki Rockwell are friends?! I accidentally squealed when I found that out. (Also if you haven't heard anything by Kiki Rockwell you should definitely check her out. You might know her for Burn Your Village, but I've really been liking A Dying Knight's Lament and Selkie recently. Cup Runneth Over is another good (and sapphic) one, and if you like The Last of Us, her song Apocalypse Child is inspired by it.)

Quick CW for homophobia and the use of a slur

Amelie @iamalie: Guys? I went to a paint and sip with a couple of my friends yesterday for a girls’ night and I’m pretty sure??? Shane Hollander??? Was there with his girlfriend???
     ↪️Amelie @iamalie: I’m not going to tell you guys anything about them except that they were super cute together because we respect privacy in this home, but I will say there’s a reason he’s a hockey player. I love him but please don’t ever let that man get into the arts

Elena Torres @elenatorres: i’d never heard of a paint and sip before and now i desperately need to go to one (and no not just because there’s a chance shane hollander will be there 👀)

Paige Green @paigegreen8: It’s a good thing I wasn’t at that paint and sip because if I was I’d be playing a game called ‘how wine drunk do I have to get to ask Shane Hollander and his gf if I can be their third’

Brax St. Jean @metrosrule: Painting and drinking wine? Really? Just say youre a fag and be done with it
     ↪️Elijah @elijahd: Fellas, is it gay to *checks notes* go on a date with your girlfriend?
     ↪️Kitty Turner @kittyturner3489: Homophobes really just be out here saying anything now huh
     ↪️Alex🏳️‍⚧️ @nopewrongagain: Ooh! Ooh! I can play this game too! You literally follow a Shane Hollander fan account, just say you’d put out for him and be done with it
          ↪️↪️Alex🏳️‍⚧️ @nopewrongagain: LMAO he unfollowed them 😭 too bad I have receipts [screenshot of a following list including @number24snumber1fans]

Future Metros WAG @nataliabarnes: Is this even true? Far be it from me to call someone a liar w/o proof but she didn’t have proof either. And it seems really unlikely that Hollander of all people would go to a paint and sip, I mean he doesn’t even drink.

Lia (loves hockey) @lia8675: Okay but his painting just had to be bad next to his artist girlfriend’s right, like I refuse to accept that Shane Hollander is bad at anything
     ↪️Willa B. @wallaby: …he had fun and that’s what matters
     ↪️Noa Gagnon @noagagnon: Exactly, I can’t believe it, it’s a smear campaign or something, he’s a god
          ↪️↪️Imani @orami?: the Greek gods had specializations. he’s just a hockey god

Abbie @whyamihere: The case for Shane Hollander being a feminist is getting stronger, he brought his gf on a date to do something he’s horrible at but she loves 😍
     ↪️Lili Wells @liliwells6739: Girl are you okay that’s like the bare minimum I fear
     ↪️Noa Gagnon @noagagnon: dump ur bf get a better one

24’s whore @elsiehill: I hate to say it but I do think that Hollander paint and sip thing is fake, just someone wanting her five seconds of fame

Hannah Thomas @iactuallydontlikebananas: God sends his hardest battles (not getting to date Shane Hollander) to his strongest soldiers (me, unfortunately)

Mason Taylor @masont7837: spending time on things like wine and art is why the metros are never going to win the Stanley Cup
     ↪️Anna Wright @annaiswright: you are aware he’s part of this thing called a team right?
          ↪️↪️Mason Taylor @masont7837: he’s their captain
               ↪️↪️↪️Anna Wright @annaiswright: and that little black thing they hit around is called a puck, I don’t see what that has to do with this
     ↪️Leah Cheung @leahcheung: He spends more time on the ice than any of his teammates
     ↪️Ben @metrosownthecup: But Rozanov gets papped at some club with a different woman every other night and somehow you have nothing to say about that

Willa B. @wallaby: Can confirm all of that post about Hollander and his gf at the paint and sip night at the art museum! Would also like to add that he made sure we all had safe rides home and called AND PAID FOR rides for those of us who didn’t. And I’m pretty sure he bought the wine that made us need those rides in the first place 🤪

Gia Cooper @giacooper2: I know everyone goes on about hockey men but honestly Hollander’s one of the only ones I’d want to spend more than a night with

Anna Wright @annaiswright: It’s really funny actually that it’s a bunch of puck bunnies who are like uh-uh, absolutely not, no way Hollander was at that paint and sip, it’s just for clout, meanwhile these ladies who respect him enough not to take his picture or spill his gf’s name have gotten closer to him than they ever will

Ivy Mae🌿💖🎨🌈 @ivymaeclark: oh you just know Hollander brought some good wines
     ↪️Daisy Allen🌼 @daisyallen1: seriously, someone please drop the selection (so I can daydream about it, I doubt I could afford any)

Olivia R @besttykescoachever: He made sure they were safe. He made sure they were safe. HE MADE SURE THEY WERE SAFE.
     ↪️Remy @remyromcom: I’m too new to hockey to have really had a favorite player before this, obviously I knew who Hollander was, but he’s now my favorite just for that
     ↪️Gemma💎 @cursedtolikethecentuars: I live within walking distance and I was just going to walk home but he said no, it’s cold and dark, let me get you a ride
          ↪️↪️Marisol @tiredgradstudent: I’d fold so fast

Captain Victoria Jolicoeur @VictoriaJolicoeur: So this is why she was ignoring my texts? Betrayal
     ↪️Alison Belanger🏒🥅 @alibel: You’re the one who kept checking her phone instead of talking to the person right in front of you
          ↪️↪️Genevieve Ouellet @goullet: Well she wasn’t answering me
          ↪️↪️Smithy @megansmith9: 👀🌈?

Katelyn Le @hollanover: 👏Guys.👏 Quick question: Would she be a good fake girlfriend if they weren’t seen doing boyfriend and girlfriend things?
     ↪️Katelyn Le @hollanover: Also they’re friends. They already knew each other, and I’m pretty sure you don’t ask someone you don’t like/trust to be your beard. So yeah it makes sense for them to do things together and get along well.
     ↪️Katelyn Le @hollanover: Like I don’t know how else to say it at this point
          ↪️↪️24+35 @Shaydenisreal: You’re so right about her being his beard, poor Hayden having to see his boyfriend go out with her 😢
               ↪️↪️↪️Katelyn Le @hollanover: …What
               ↪️↪️↪️Katelyn Le @hollanover: Actually, no. Blocked.

Chapter End Notes

I couldn't help but do a quick little Shayden comment, but don't worry, our Hollanover blocked her so we won't see her again.

Is it realistic to think that nobody's revealed Jessica's name yet, especially since we know her old classmates (and probably her current ones too) are online? No, but it's my sandbox and she's already going through enough.

Quick note about the timeline in case it confuses you as much as me: Boston won the Cup last season and the Metros are going to win it this season. (And now that I say this I realize I should probably at least mention those two Cups Shane wins between now and Tuna Melt 💀 oops. Wow the situationship from hell goes on forever. I love that I just like completely forgot about the actual hockey 😭)

Chapter 21: Chapter 21

Chapter Notes

Just a short chapter this time because I felt this scene should be on its own

Brief TW, this does go a little into Jessica's memory of being kicked out

Josh is 11 in this chapter, which would be 6th grade (and if I've said anything in previous chapters that contradicts either part of that...no I didn't)

Jessica: Hey
Jessica: Are Mom and Dad going out for their anniversary?

Josh: Yeah why

Jessica: Can we talk then?

Josh: Sure

- - - - - -

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Josh says flatly. She has him on speaker, since the apartment is empty, and it distorts his voice. Or maybe his voice has just changed that much since she last saw him and she hasn’t noticed until now.

“How are you?” she tries.

“Fine.”

“Are you watching the game?” It’s game two of the playoffs for the Metros, hence Shane not being here. She keeps going back and forth between being glad nobody else is going to hear this conversation and wishing she had support at the ready in case it goes bad.

“No,” he says. “I’m talking to you.”

“Right. Um…”

See, this -- this is why she’s an artist. She can just… let her thoughts and feelings and everything else explode onto canvas. Add a title and maybe a few sentences, and it’s released into the world for people to either understand or not. Words are too fucking complicated.

“Hello?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry.” She takes a breath and hopes Josh can’t hear over the phone how shaky it is. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to leave.”

He scoffs. “You left early. You didn’t even bring Stan.”

She glances at the stegosaurus on her bed. “Mom and Dad made me, Josh. I didn’t have a choice.”

“What do you mean?” he asks slowly. For the first time since he hung up on her, he doesn’t sound like he’s just waiting for the call to end.

“They kicked me out.”

She’d had a bag half-packed for the occasional random overnight, and she’d done nothing more than shove a few handfuls of clothes in before her parents slammed the door behind her. The lock clicked while she was still on the front steps. She’d driven mindlessly, without a conscious direction in mind besides away, until she couldn’t see, and it was only when she pulled over that she realized she was crying. Even when they slowed enough to get back on the road, the tears never really stopped. She probably shouldn’t have been driving, honestly. She doesn’t remember the rest of the trip to Montreal, or how she’d known Shane’s address. She barely remembers anything before waking up in his guest room.

She does remember the feeling. Numb. Frozen, both physically cold and just -- trapped, unable to move, to escape. In shock, maybe. The grief didn’t set in until later, when she could think again -- the first bout of crying was phantom tears, there but for no reason she could pinpoint -- and the anger not until a while after that.

She can hear his hesitation through the phone, trying to figure out how to say it. Finally, he asks in a small voice, “Why?”

She holds her elbows, nails digging into her skin. Her grip trembles.

“Because I like girls.”

There. It’s out. And no matter how this goes, there’s no taking it back.

“Oh,” he says.

Jessica’s heart drops. Fuck. Fuck. The edges of her vision go blurry and she can’t tell if it’s tears or panic or--

“Well that’s stupid,” he huffs.

A sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob escapes her before she can stop it. She presses her hand to her mouth belatedly; it’s still shaking, but not in a way that feels like she’s liable to fall apart.

“You’re… okay with it?” she asks, just to make sure.

“Yeah? My friend’s older brother has a boyfriend. And I read a book with a pansexual character! And one of my teachers is called Teacher instead of Ms. or Mr.” Then he sobers. “That’s why you can’t come back? Because Mom and Dad won’t let you?” He scoffs and says with finality, “That’s fucking stupid.”

She should probably tell him not to swear or something, but it’s not like he’s wrong.

Instead she laughs. “I think so too. I love you, Josh.”

“Love you, Jess.”

Chapter End Notes

There has been a lot of horrible news recently (especially in this godforsaken country) so I hope everybody's taking care of themselves, however that looks for you (and if it looks suspiciously like the song He Asked For It by Ella Red, then I can't really blame you). If I had more money, I'd be renting a rage room, but as I am a broke college student, I have to make do with listening to music with a lot of screaming. It may sound slightly like I'm joking, but please do take care of yourselves.

The end of this fic is in sight, but very distantly, just a speck on the horizon. I know where in canon it's ending, but I keep adding more and more scenes before that, so I really have no sense of how long it'll take to get there. (I really did try to be a plotter for this fic, but the pantser in me said "ha, you thought!" and now here we are.)