Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The morning sun was still rising as Shane stepped out into the garden. A warm, orange glow accompanied the whistling birds and Shane could hear the sound of the lake softly crashing against the deck. 

Ilya was sat on a boulder, staring out into the lake as puffs of smoke disappeared into the air around him. He was rocking sideways lightly, just enough that Shane could notice. He'd noticed Ilya tended to do that when he was feeling anxious. It was something he'd only seen Ilya do once, maybe twice. When he had first confessed his feelings for Ilya after their All Star Game in Florida, Ilya had rocked Shane back and forth on his lap. His own breathing calming with the motion. That moment seemed like ages ago, even if it was only a few months. They'd been through a lot since then. 

It also just, had been a lot. But, they were happier than ever. Or at least, that's how Shane felt. He had never felt this openness before. Like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Like he could finally breathe. Funnily enough, Ilya took his breath away every single day. It was almost mushy how easily Ilya could knock the wind out of Shane. By how he looked, how he talked, how they touched. 

Their moments together were scarce, with the new season just having started. Sure, they texted, called, facetimed and texted some more. But it wasn't enough.

For years, all they had were a few stolen hours every few months. Shane can't remember how he had done it. He had lived for their game days. It was often the only thing that kept him going. Knowing that in a few weeks they'd play against each other and God he couldn't let Ilya win. He'd rather die than let Ilya beat him effortlessly. No fucking way. They were rivals after all. Weren't they? 

And even though they saw much more of each other now than they had back then, it was a million times more difficult. Every goodbye left Shane with an ache in his chest that took about a week to fade away. Ilya handled it better. Or at least that's how it looked to Shane. 

The only thing Shane had noticed is that Ilya had been smoking more. When they'd first met, all the way back in 2008, Ilya smoked every chance he'd get. Shane gave him shit about it for years, and after realising that maybe it didn't always taste so nice for Shane, he had actually made an effort to cut back. And for hockey. Of course for hockey. Duh. 

That's why Shane couldn't help but be a bit alarmed by Ilya's old habits coming back. He had tried to bring it up during dinner yesterday, but then Ilya had looked at him with a brightness and curiosity at what Shane wanted to tell him, that he hadn't had the heart to mention it. Instead, he had complimented Ilya on the dumpling soup he had made and Ilya had looked so proud.

But now, seeing him sitting there, staring out at the lake as he pulled out a new cigarette, Shane forced himself to muster up the courage and walk over to him. 

Ilya's head turned at the sound of footsteps, and Shane was met with a soft smile. He positioned himself between Ilya's legs, and an arm around Shane's shoulder as kissed the crane of his boyfriend's head. 

"Good morning," Shane said, softly tracing the inside of Ilya's wrist with his thumb. 

"Morning, moy lyublyu," Shane's eyes crinkled at the sound of the pet name Ilya had given him. He turned around in Ilya's arms and looked up at him, craning his neck to give him a kiss. 

"Did you sleep okay?" Ilya shrugged at Shane's question, looking out onto the water as he took another drag of his cigarette. "Not so good." 

Ilya had been having trouble sleeping lately, often tossing and cursing in his sleep, waking up in cold sweat and with a look of terror in his eyes. Shane almost always woke up when it happened, and the way Ilya looked at Shane in those moments made Shane's heart drop every time. Ilya would mutter in Russian as he'd frantically looked around him. Shane always reminded him of where he was, that he was safe, and then softly tried to reach out to him to almost pull him back to earth. The only thing that seemed to help in those moments, was when Shane would run his hands through his often sweat-soaked hair and scratch at his head. It almost always lulled Ilya back to sleep, who'd spend the rest of the night clinging onto Shane. In the morning, Ilya never mentioned it, and Shane was always too afraid to ask. 

Shane gave Ilya a soft, sympathetic smile as he reached up to run his hands through Ilya's curls. Ilya immediately relaxed into the touch. Shane felt uncertain about asking further questions and eventually decided against it. One thing at a time. 

Shane took a shaky breath in an attempt to muster up the courage, which instantly caught Ilya's attention. His neck straightened as he stared Shane down in concern. 

"What is it? What happened?" Shane chuckled at his worry and kissed the inside of his hand. 

"Nothing. I just..." Shane's eyes drifted away from Ilya's face in nervosity. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Of course. Tell me." Ilya's eyes softened, his hand rubbing the back of Shane's neck in anticipation. 

"I've noticed that you've been smoking more lately. And you know I'm okay with it," His eyes searched Ilya's, "You know I think you look very hot when you do it," Ilya smirked cockily as he took another drag of his cigarette, winking at Shane as he blew out the smoke. Shane licked his lips at the sight and scrunched his eyes closed, shaking the image away. Focus, Hollander. 

"But recently I have seen you smoke more than ever before. And I know you said you wanted to cut back, so I was just wondering... are you're doing okay? Is there a reason you're smoking more?" Ilya's nostrils flared as he took in a deep breath. "Is it like... an escape?" Shane continued, "Because, you know, you can always talk to me." 

Ilya's jaw set as Shane talked. His eyes closed for a second too long as he exhaled. 

"Sure. No need to worry, Hollander." He took a last puff before he put out the cigarette on the boulder and tried to move off of it. The cigarette fell down the boulder onto the humid grass. Shane took a step back to let Ilya move as he searched his face for a clue of what he was thinking. Ilya had never acted this way, at least not since... you know. 

Ilya jumped off the boulder and stood in front of Shane with a distance in his eyes that Shane had never seen before. It knocked the air out of him. 

"But, I do worry. Are you okay, Ilya?" He reached out to touch his hand. 

"I told you, nothing you need to worry about, moy lyublyu." He pressed a kiss to Shane's forehead and walked off towards the cabin.

Shane swallowed, hard. 

Nothing to worry about? Had he met Shane Hollander? 

Chapter Text

Shane was left paralysed by the interaction. He swayed a bit as he stood at the boulder, reaching out to it to keep his balance.

What the fuck was that about?

It was as if the life drained out of Ilya's eyes, almost like how he looked after one of his nightmares. Shane hadn't wanted to call it that before, but they were in fact nightmares. He couldn't believe that what he had asked him had brought up similar feelings. He had seen the dread in his eyes, mixed with a coldness that just.. wasn't Ilya. Or at least, it wasn't the Ilya he had gotten to know over the last few years.

Shane shook his shoulders, trying to shake off the feeling that had dawned on him. He looked back at the house and saw Ilya moving through the cottage with a bag in one hand, shoes in the other. Shane almost ran towards the house.

"Where are you going? You're leaving?" Shane's voice broke a bit as he spoke, he coughed softly in an attempt to cover up the emotion in his words.

"I am meeting Yuna, remember?" Shane let out a breath of relief. Right. Their meeting.

"I am scared of what she will have planned this time. It is hard to say no to her." Ilya said, as Shane couldn't help but notice the shift in his demeanour, as if he wanted to forget Shane ever asked him anything. 

As Ilya sat down on the floor to put on his shoes, Shane moved to sit at one of the high chairs in the kitchen. He ran his hands through his hair, unsure of whether he should push the conversation. He looked down at his watch and saw it was barely 8 am. He couldn't believe his mother was forcing his boyfriend into early morning sponsorship meetings. Yuna hadn't hesitated one bit after she had found out about their relationship. She didn't even wait a full day before sending Ilya some propositions of brands she thought would be a good fit for Ilya. It had annoyed Shane a little bit, but that's just how his mom took care of, well, people she cared about. It was a clear sign she was accepting Ilya into the family. 

Still, roping Ilya into meetings at 8:30 am seemed a bit excessive. 

"Why are you meeting so early? You haven't even eaten anything." Shane asked. 

"We are having breakfast meeting. She said your father would make pancakes." Shane's jaw dropped. 

"What! And I'm not even invited?" Shane loved that his family was so happy to have Ilya over, but not even inviting him for pancakes? Harsh! 

Ilya started laughing as he saw the betrayal on Shane's face. He stood up, walked over to where Shane was sitting and pushed his back against the marble countertop, closing him in with his arms on either side of Shane as he pushed himself between Shane's legs. His eyes flickered over Shane's face, who felt a blush creep onto his cheeks. Fuck. Why was his body reacting as if this was the first time anything like this ever happened? 

"You jealous, Hollander?" Ilya leaned in, spotting Shane's neck in kisses. He lowered his voice and whispered into Shane's ear. "You sad about not being favourite son anymore?" 

Shane pushed Ilya away by his chest, letting out an exaggerated gasp. "Fuck you!" Ilya giggled at his annoyance. Shane had never been anything other than the star of the family, and for once he wasn't the sole most important thing to his parents. He was jealous, Ilya realised. 

"You will always be my favourite, Hollander. Do not worry." Ilya smiled, reaching up to kiss his forehead.

Do not worry. There it was again.

Shane couldn't get rid of the scowl of his face, and even crossed his arms to make an extra statement.

What? He couldn't be a little bratty?

Ilya loved it, his face brightening at Shane's actions. He almost looked as happy as when Shane had told him about the stylist he hired. Shane had trouble continuing to scowl at the sight of Ilya. 

"Oh solnyshko," Ilya said, tucking some lost strays of hair behind Shane's ear. They immediately sprung back into place. "You are coming with me, of course." He pushed away from between Shane's legs, pulling him off the chair by his hands. "I forgot to tell you. I am sorry. Yuna called yesterday to plan but you were being such a good mal'chik cleaning. I did not want to disturb you." Shane huffed in exasperation and walked off to their bedroom to go put on his clothes. 

He was loving this interaction, and decided to see how far he could go. 

"Moy lyublyuuu," Ilya called after him, following him to the bedroom. "Do not be angry. They had good achieving son for years, but you know Yuna is happy to finally have son that was first MLH draft pick." Shane's eyes widened as he turned to look at Ilya. He did not just say that.

"Rozanov, you asshole!" Ilya threw back his head and laughed as Shane pushed him against the window, hands clenching the front of Ilya's shirt.  

"Da, Hollander, there you are." Shane's nose scrunched in frustration. Ilya looked as if he was on cloud nine. Shane gave him another little push against the window and stepped towards the closet, dropping his clothes in a trail behind him. It physically hurt him to do so, but he knew it would drive Ilya insane. And right now, he deserved to be driven insane, just a little. 

"Fucking hell, Hollander," Ilya almost growled, "What is it with you this morning?" He once again followed closely behind Shane, who made a show of looking for just the right outfit. Ilya's eyes traced over his body, lingering at the faded bruise on Shane's hip. Ilya had left it there after a particularly intense afternoon session. Shane pulled out some clothes after a minute too long, and had to hide his surprise when he looked over at Ilya, whose dick had hardened in his shorts. He looked up at Ilya's face and tried to look as indifferent as possible as he started putting on his clothes. Ilya's jaw clenched at what Shane was doing, his nostrils flaring as his eyes looked down at Shane's naked cock. 

"You being little brat, Hollander?" Ilya breathed, reaching down for Shane's length. Shane didn't know what came over him, but he stepped back, shaking his head as he pulled on his shirt, not breaking eye contact. Ilya's jaw dropped at the move. Shane was always compliant. Always desperate to be touched by Ilya. 

Ilya's cock hardened even more at the action. What the fuck was happening? Why was this so hot? 

"Hollander, what are you doing," Ilya gritted through his teeth. Shane ignored Ilya as he sprayed on some cologne and tried to put some shape into his bed hair. After thirty excruciatingly long seconds, Shane finally looked at Ilya. He ran his eyes over the strain of Ilya's dick against his pants and nodded before speaking.

"Come on, Rozanov. Wouldn't want you to be late, do we?" Ilya didn't know what to do with himself as he watched Shane walk out of the room. 

"What the fuck?" He whispered, running his hands over his face in distress. Who was this man and what had he done to his sweet Hollander? 

Get yourself together, Rozanov. When had he ever let Shane take control like this? He loved his soft, compliant Canadian, but holy shit, why was his act kind of hot? 

Ilya nearly ran into the hallway, grabbing his keys and bag as he noticed what time it was. Shane was right. You didn't wanna be late when meeting Yuna Hollander.

Shane was leaning against wall with his arms crossed. He was kind of liking his bratty behaviour. It was fun to be bold for once. Also, he was kind of angry at how Ilya had dismissed him about the smoking earlier. He'd been shocked at first, but after Ilya brought the MLH draft into play, Shane had decided that if Ilya was going to act the fuck up, he might as well do the same. It seemed easier to resort to this than to panic, and seeing as they wouldn't be able to talk about it more until they'd get back from his parents, this was the game plan for now. 

Shane snapped himself back into his act and grabbed the keys out of Ilya's hands.

"You're in no state to drive," He said, pointedly looking down at Ilya's crotch, one last time, he thought. "Are you, Rozanov?" As he walked past Ilya on his way to the door, he couldn't help but reach out and cup his hand over Ilya's length for just a second. Ilya hissed at the contact, stabilising himself with a hand against the wall. 

Shane opened the front door and walked towards Ilya's car, a classic red Ferrari. He hadn't driven it before. These things seemed like death machines, especially in fucking Canada. 

"Chop, chop!" He yelled back at Ilya, who was still staring after him in the doorway, and a devilish smile crept onto his face. 

Oh, this was going to be fun. 

Chapter Text

The drive towards his parents' house was short, but felt like an eternity to Shane. He wasn't sure how to keep up his act in the confined space of the Ferrari. If he couldn't walk away from Ilya at some point, he knew he'd cave in an instant. With his eyes focused on the road, he could still see Ilya's leg bobbing nervously next to him.

"You nervous, Rozanov?" They hadn't called each other by their last names much since they'd gotten together. It came up occasionally when they were teasing each other, but for now, Shane had decided it helped his little act. Ilya chuckled at the question.

"Nervous? I am never nervous Hollander. I am mostly curious to see how bratty you can be with David and Yuna there." Fuck. He hadn't thought of that. There was no way he could keep this up in front of his parents. Think, Shane. Think. 

“Well, if I were you, I’d start getting nervous because we’re about two minutes away and you’re still rock hard.” Shane said, surprising himself at how easy it had rolled off his tongue. 

Ilya’s hand gripped at his own thigh, forcing it to still as he looked over at Shane. His tongue ran over his teeth as a grin edged onto his face. Shane had to force his eyes back on the road, a blush creeping onto his cheeks at the sight of Ilya’s tongue peeking out. 

“Shane fucking Hollander.” Ilya’s deep voice almost purred. “You should see yourself. Riding my Ferrari in red little shorts, cheeks in same colour.” Aha. There was the Ilya Rozanov he knew. He’d been letting Shane walk him like a fucking dog up until now. It had been fun, and the fun would definitely continue later, but for now Shane was relieved Ilya was taking back his dominance before they arrived at his parents. It was after all, still the role he was most comfortable in.

Shane shuffled nervously in the driver’s seat, tightening his grip on the steering wheel and accidentally pushing onto the gas pedal a bit too hard. The engine sputtered loudly as the car sped forward. The roads were empty, but Shane’s heart almost jumped out of his chest at the noise. Fuck. What was he doing? He was driving a fucking Ferrari? At 140 kilometres per hour?! Shane’s breath got stuck in his throat in panic. 

“Holy shit, Ilya,” Shane whispered, taking his foot off the gas pedal in panic. 

“Calm.” Ilya’s voice cut through the sound of the engine. “You drive amazing. Just let it roll out. No one is here.” Right. Right. The road was empty. He wasn’t driving a death machine. Holy shit. 

“Pull over there.” Ilya pointed at a small exit ahead that led into the forest. Shane was glad to receive the instructions and immediately pulled over, only then having realised they had already missed the road that led to his parents’ house.

Shane put the car in park and felt his chest heaving with heavy breaths, Ilya’s hand already steady on his thigh, as it had been for a minute now, he only just noticed. 

“Holy shit. Why did you let me drive?” Shane’s eyes searched for Ilya’s frantically, who reached over and undid Shane’s buckle belt.

”Shhh, take breath.” Ilya said his hand now gripping the back of Shane’s neck.

“What the fuck. Fuck. What the fuck, Ilya!” Shane continued. Ilya let out a soft chuckle.

“That is what you get from being too bratty and too cocky too soon, moy lyublyu.” Shane’s hand reached out to Ilya’s thigh, and it instantly calmed him. 

“I love it.” Ilya smirked, reaching over to kiss Shane’s mouth, hard. He peppered a few kisses along his flushed cheeks and damp forehead, and heard Shane’s breath return back to normal. They had been fine on the road. Shane had not even been driving a hundred until Ilya had said something. It was only after, when he’d gotten all flushed that he had pumped up the speed. Still, he had had no reason to panic. Ilya always mocked him for driving like he still hadn’t passed his test. 

Shane’s eyes fluttered and closed as his heartbeat stopped pounding in his head. He pushed his head back against the leather headrest and opened his eyes again. He looked over at Ilya, whose hand was still rubbing at the back of his neck, a smile on his face that bordered between soft and smug.

Shane couldn’t help but look down at Ilya’s shorts. The strain of his cock against his shorts had gotten less tight, but he was still semi-hard, Shane could tell. 

Without thinking twice, Shane reached over and pulled Ilya’s cock out. Ilya chuckled at his enthousiasm and ran both of his hands through Shane’s hair, who had already taken Ilya into his mouth.

“Da, Hollander. Just like that.” 

And it was exactly what both of them needed. 

Chapter Text

“Feel better?” Ilya asked, hand on the back of Shane’s neck as he once again, tried to catch his breath.

“Yeah. Sorry about that.” Shane spoke, slightly embarrassed by his micro panic attack. He wiped at his mouth and found some spit on his cheek.

“Do not say sorry. You drive perfect, Shane. Please remember. No need to panic.” Ilya said, as he reached out to wipe at his cheek. Shane nodded as he tried to take in his words. Shane slowly came back to his senses, running his hands over his face in an attempt to get back into focus.

His eyes drifted over to the console, seeing that 8:30 am had already passed. He could just hear the impatient tap of his mother’s foot at their tardiness. Fuuuuck.

This morning was not going well. Okay, no. This morning had been a fucking rollercoaster. He had woken up with a smile on his face, like some kind of love-sick idiot. Then he had felt his heart drop straight to his ass after Ilya had basically ignored him, to eventually down bratty lane to end up in some entrance way to a fucking forest where he ended up sucking his boyfriend’s dick which resulted in him showing up late to the family breakfast meeting. Jesus fucking Christ.

Should he call it that, though? A family breakfast meeting? And also, still, what the fuck about Ilya and his cigarettes? It wasn’t even 9 am and Shane’s emotions had already sprung for the day. Shane turned towards Ilya, who immediately spotted the thunder in Shane’s eyes. His jaw went slack, a stutter almost leaving his lips, not knowing what had just shifted in Shane for him to look at him like that.

“Alright, well no need to panic when it comes to my driving, and apparently no need to worry when it comes to your smoking. Well guess what, Ilya,” Shane’s index finger pushed against Ilya’s chest. “I fucking worry. I’ve worried since I first saw you light a fucking cigarette in fuck-ass Saskatchewan and I worry now. And you’re gonna have to learn how to deal with it, okay? Because,” Shane’s breath caught in his throat, a deep frown appearing on his face in frustration. Fuck! He was finally saying stuff. He couldn’t run out of words now.

“Because I fucking love you and you know that and you can’t just…” Shane’s hands were animated like Ilya had never seen before. The went from on the steering wheel into his hair to wildly motioning in the air.

“You can’t just suddenly decide to be distant and expect me to ignore it. I ignored it for years. I’m not doing it anymore, Rozanov. I can’t do it anymore.” His words ended on almost a harsh note. He’d said Ilya’s last name plenty. God, it was his second favourite word in the world. But he hadn’t said it with such anger and frustration in a long time. Ilya’s jaw clenched for the fucking millionth time today and, fuck, it had already been a day for both of them indeed.

Ilya’s mind blanked out. He didn’t know what to tell Shane. His smoking wasn’t a choice, it was just a feeling he felt, and it felt like he needed to follow it to turn off the shit-ton of thoughts that shouted at him all day.

Ilya knew how badly Shane was dealing with being apart. Shane knew that Ilya knew. Shane, however, did not know how badly Ilya was dealing with it. After years of not being able to be himself, and for then the gates to literal heaven to open…

He didn’t know how to be himself anymore. He didn’t know who he was anymore without Shane. He was fucking angry at the world. He wanted to flaunt Shane around like a fucking Stanley Cup. He wanted to be able to go to restaurants and sit in a booth next to Shane and rub his thigh underneath the table and watch Shane blush at the action. He wanted to be the one to order him a ginger ale without Shane asking. He wanted to post all of Shane’s fucking underwear shoots on his Instagram and publicly declare THAT IS MY MAN. 

So yeah. Ilya was happier than he’d ever been, but he was drowning in the impossibilities of the relationship. And most of all, he just missed Shane. Even when Shane was in front of him, he missed him. Now, just looking at him, Ilya was already missing him. 

Shane watched as Ilya sat in silence, and saw how tears suddenly sprung into his soft blue eyes. 

“Ilya,” Shane’s voice broke as he reached for his cheek. His eyes searched Ilya’s for something, anything. 

“Proshu proshcheniya” Ilya’s hand cupped Shane’s hand, leaning into his touch. 

“Don’t say sorry,” Shane crawled over the console onto Ilya’s lap and pulled him into his chest. “You’re okay.” Shane’s hands found the familiar curls as Ilya’s arms snuck tightly around Shane’s body. He could feel the front of his shirt dampen. 

Shane pulled back from the embrace to look at Ilya, his hands still massaging in his boyfriend’s hair. Ilya’s eyes were red, the veins in his neck prominent as he tried to swallow his emotions. He shook his head as he looked up at Shane, a sad smile on his lips. 

“I miss you,” He eventually said, shrugging, as if that explained it all. And Shane figured it kind of did. 

“I am closer now, but it is not close enough. It is never close enough.” He looked between them, and Shane immediately pulled his man back into an embrace, peppering kisses onto his forehead. “I love you,” He muttered repeatedly, once after each kiss. Ilya’s hand snuck up to Shane’s neck, looking up at him with so much love, Shane’s heart could burst at the sight. 

“I will try to explain.” Ilya said, brows furrowing as he searched for the words. 

“I smoke so I can live with it, missing you,” Ilya said, unsure of whether it made any sense. 

“Do you mean like, a coping mechanism?” Shane asked. 

“Tell me what it means,” Ilya said, inquiring. 

“It’s like a behavior you use to deal with stress, or emotions. It helps you manage uncomfortable feelings, or thoughts.” 

“Yes.” Ilya agreed. “That.” Shane nodded, and it suddenly all made sense. After every meal, every conversation about the future, about the past, every time they had sex, every morning, Ilya lit up a cigarette. Shit. 

“I’m sorry,” Shane whispered. “I had no idea.” He pressed a kiss onto Ilya’s lips. 

“I am good actor.” Ilya grinned. “I acted like I thought you were boring for years.” Shane gasped. “You asshole!” He smacked at his chest, hand resting on the chain around Ilya’s neck. 

“See! You acted like you thought I was asshole. We both act.” The wetness in Ilya’s eyes now glistened with love as Shane stared down at him with heart-eyes and a huge grin on his face. 

“You are an asshole.” 

“And you are kind of boring sometimes. But I love it.” Ilya earnestly said. Boring meant safe. Boring meant reliable. Steady. Boring was the best fucking thing that ever happened to him. “Ya tebya lyublyu,” Ilya said.

Shane kissed him hard, determined to let Ilya know how much he cared for him. How much he loved him. He loved him so much it physically hurt. He had to know. 

“I know,” Ilya breathed against Shane’s lips. “I know.” 

Chapter Text

After what felt like ages, they finally drove up to the Hollander house. Their day was still only starting and it had already felt like it needed to kind of be over, like, right now.

Shane safely parked the car (Ilya had insisted he drove the rest of the way instead of letting Ilya take over) (Shane whined about it) (Ilya secretly loved it).

David Hollander stepped out of the house in an apron that said 'Kiss the cook', arms spread wide in excitement at his two sons pulling up.

"Hey guys!" He yelled from the top of the stairs. "Hurry up! Pancakes are getting cold!" He ran back inside as he seemed to realise he left something on the stove.

Ilya and Shane climbed out of the car, Ilya waiting for Shane in front of the car, his hand reaching out to Shane.

"Ah, yes, pancakes will be good for you, Hollander." Ilya said with a twinkle in his eyes. Shane grumbled something under his breath, apparently not having thought the whole pancake thing through, seeing as he had been more focused on the non-invite.

They walked up the stairs to the house and were met by Yuna.

"Hi, honey," she said as she pressed a kiss to Shane's cheek. Her eyes lit up at the sight of their hands intertwined, and she reached out to give Ilya a kiss on his temple.

"Hi, Ilya," She practically beamed. Ilya was still getting used to the kindness of the Hollander family, but ever since that one day Shane's dad walked in on them making out, Yuna had pressed a kiss against Ilya's temple when she greeted him. It was such a motherly gesture, which Yuna had almost regretted when it had happened the first time, afraid she was pushing Ilya's boundaries. But Ilya had wanted nothing more for years. And especially now, when he had been missing Shane so much it hurt, some extra Yuna and David Hollander love was exactly what he needed. 

Ilya had been the one to propose the breakfast meeting and involving David and Shane. He had been craving to spend some time with his family. But, Shane didn't need to know that. He would probably find a way to blame himself for not initiating enough time with the four of them. He'd mutter something about being selfish and wanting Ilya all to himself. Idiot. 

Shane led Ilya into the house, tugging him behind. In the kitchen, David was indeed throwing away a burnt pancake. Yuna was already sat at the table, sipping her morning coffee. The sun shone through the house, rays of sunshine landing on a picture of Shane when he was about 8 and had just won his first hockey game. David's reading chair was also draped in sunlight, the side table covered with today's newspaper, opened on the unfinished sudoku. It was so insanely domestic. Ilya couldn't contain his smile. 

"What kind of pancakes are those?" Shane spoke, shifting Ilya's attention back to the kitchen. "Wait, are you making fun of my diet? Is that why you made the pancakes skinny?" Indignation coloured his voice. David immediately started laughing. 

"No! They're European! And if the website is correct, these are actually Russian blinchikis!" Ilya's breath got stuck in his throat as he spotted the pile of blinchiki on the countertop. "Did I pronounce that right?" David Hollander, father of Shane Hollander, his longtime rival and fuck buddy turned love of his life, had probably spent about an hour making fucking blinchiki for Ilya. He had looked up the recipe, went out to buy groceries, put on his 'Kiss the chef' apron and had made Ilya this Russian delicacy. 

"Do they look okay?" David pondered, frowning at the pile. "I know it's probably not the same as home, but it's always better to try!" He smiled at Ilya, spatula in his hand. Ilya had to collect himself in order not to cry for the second time today. This family was doing so much for him. They had no idea. Ilya felt goosebumps spread over his arms and squeezed Shane's hand before walking into the kitchen. He cradled David's head in his hands and gave his cheek a quick peck. "Mwah!" 

"Thank you, David. You are too kind." He said, leaving the Hollanders in surprise. 

"What?" Ilya shrugged, "It says to kiss the cook." Laughter filled the room and David patted Ilya on the back with admiration in his eyes. 

"Alright, guys," Yuna began. "Anyone want some coffee?" She asked as she made herself a fresh cup. Ilya raised his hand and nodded as he sat down at the table alongside Shane. He scrunched his nose in excitement at the set up. This was exactly what Ilya needed. He could have never imagined, but God, this was it. 

Yuna brought him a coffee and they all settled to eat. Shane hadn't planned on eating pancakes, but now there was no way he wasn't trying them. It warmed his heart, seeing his family put in effort to make Ilya feel included.

He knew how much Ilya missed Russia, even though he would never admit it. Ilya didn't talk about Russia often, but Shane knew how important it felt to play for his country, he could imagine how important it was for Ilya. Every win was for his mother, to make her proud. Especially the games he played for Russia.

It was difficult, knowing his country would reject him for who he was. After losing his father and breaking contact with his brother, Ilya didn't have a lot to go back for. Maybe to visit Svetlana. Mostly to visit his mother's grave. The reality of the situation suddenly hit Shane, as he watched Ilya stuff his face in blinchiki. If they were to ever come out, Ilya wouldn't be able to go back, and most of all, he would never be able to visit his mother's grave again. He would never be able to lay down flowers for her. He would never be near her again, and feel her presence. He wouldn't have a place to mourn. A sharp pain shot through Shane's head at the thought, which Ilya noticed. 

"What is it, solnyshko? Do not tell me you are counting calories, please." Shane smiled softly at him. He was literally buzzing with excitement, almost dancing as he stuffed another piece in his mouth. 

"Are they good?" Shane decided to change the subject, at least for him. 

"I cannot tell you how good this is, Hollander." He said, staring at the mountain of pancakes. The look on his face was similar to how he would look at Shane before pinning him against some wall. That was ... nice? 

"In years I have not eaten this. Is Russian classic." 

"When was the last time?" Yuna asked. Ilya swallowed another bite and seemed to have to look for the memory. A frown appeared on his face, which then slowly softened into an emotion Shane couldn't decipher. 

"I think I was twelve year old. Not long before my mama died. She made it before every game." Shane's heart almost split in half. He dropped his utensils and reached over to push some curls behind Ilya's ear. "It always helped," Ilya continued. "All the sugar, it was like drugs." He giggled, as if he was twelve again. Shane pressed a kiss onto his cheek, and Ilya smiled at the gesture. It wasn't a sad memory, it was fond. He was glad he remembered it. The sound of the batter hitting the hot pan, the blue apron his mom always wore, they way she would push away the stray hairs that framed her face, and mostly how happy she always seemed when she was making them. 

Ilya had always been very sensitive and observant to people and their behaviour. At age six, he could already perfectly measure his father's moods and act accordingly. He managed to avoid a lot of dreadful situations that way, a skill Alexei never managed to acquire. So even when his mother had been smiling down at him as she flipped the pancakes, Ilya always felt the fight she'd just had with his father, or the weight of the world she carried on her shoulders. Yet, she always tried. And, she never once skipped a game day. 

"Really," Ilya eventually spoke again, hand on his heart. "Thank you." Shane saw his father tear up at his words. He nodded with a fond smile and just stayed there, looking between his son and, well, his other son. 

Breakfast went on peacefully, and Shane felt an inner serenity he hadn't felt in a long time. All because he knew how safe Ilya felt. And honestly, at this point, it was all that mattered to him. 

Chapter Text

After breakfast, Yuna had taken Ilya into her office to actually discuss his sponsorships. Since Shane and Ilya had come out to Yuna and David, Yuna had taken over Ilya's publicity. She had kind of pressed him on it, as Ilya hadn't been doing any commercials at all, really. Meanwhile, Shane's sponsorships had built him his cottage and basically given him enough money for the rest of his life.

Yuna had been relieved since finding out about Shane's relationship. She had been worried for years that Shane would never find someone. At some point, she had accepted that maybe that was what he wanted. But something in her felt that that wasn't actually the case. Seeing Ilya calm some of Shane's nerves in seconds, that day, had told her everything she needed to know. All of her prejudices about Ilya Rozanov flew out the window the moment she saw how he was willing to stand by Shane in one of the most difficult moments in Shane's life. How frail the man had looked, trying to make himself look as small as possible. All she saw that day was a man who loved her son. That's really all that counts.

Yet, she couldn't help but worry about their future, and the possible outcomes of their coming out after their retirement. She didn't give a flying fuck who people loved. It actually blew her mind that people could take issue with who someone else loves. But, it was still the NHL. She could only pray people went easy on her boys. The only thing she could control in this situation is setting them up for life, as much as possible. She knew the NHL paid well but, sponsorships pay more. Since then, she had gotten Ilya booked with Calvin Klein, Ferrari, along with some lifestyle brands. She was working on a Rolex campaign for him as well, but it was kind of hard considering Shane had already been working with them for years. She was trying to get them to do a duo-shoot with Shane and Ilya, but they weren't sure with the whole rivalry.

The campaigns had brought in a lot of money for Ilya, who had since then also gotten a financial advisor, another Yuna idea. Ilya had argued it wasn't necessary, to which Yuna hadn't said anything, except raise an eyebrow. She had been to Ilya's house in Boston. She had seen his insanely stocked garage. Sure, Ilya said they were investments as well, but it's also good to have a nice amount of money on your bank account. Ilya had lost hundreds of thousands of dollars to his brother, and it had left a significant bite out of his salary for years. He had been able to pay off some of his loans since Yuna took over, and it has eased his mind more than he had thought it would. So, his meetings with Yuna were more like a treat than a chore. It always left him feeling secure, both financially and emotionally.

While Ilya and Yuna discussed some promotional possibilities, David and Shane had gone down to David's little hobby cabin in the back of the garden. His dad had been a big fan of trying just about anything. From puzzling to sewing, painting to pottery.

"What have you been working on?" Shane asked, picking up some sort of clay bowl that had been drying on a shelf. Damn, this was actually impressive.

"Lately, a lot of pottery. I got one of those special ovens! I made a new fruit bowl last week." Shane smiled warmly at his father. He was probably one of the chillest guys Shane knew. He still had a lot to learn from him.

"You want to try to make something? We have some time, I think." He asked. Shane shrugged. Why not? 

"Sure. Show me the ropes." David explained some of the basics to Shane, bringing out all the necessities and setting Shane up behind the spinning table. 

"What do you want to make?" Shane frowned. He hadn't thought of it yet. "What are the possibilities?" 

"You can make about anything. Mugs, plates, bowls, trays. You probably won't get it right on the first try though, so don't beat yourself up if it's not perfect," David warned, knowing how his son could be after not perfecting something straight away. 

Shane's mind wandered. He had plenty of bowls and mugs at the cottage. A tray of bowl for fruit could be nice. The thought of the cottage made him fond. He had loved how the cottage was the only place that was really his, before. Now, when he thinks of the cottage, all he can think about is Ilya. 

Shane's mind has even wandered so far that he had thought maybe, someday, they could get married at the cottage. He had blushed the first time he caught himself thinking of it. 

Maybe he could make something for Ilya. But what could he make the man that he didn't already have? Hmmmm. He knew Ilya would be appreciative of anything Shane made him, but it would be nice if he could make it special. 

Then it hit him. 

"What about an ashtray?" Shane asked, and his father almost raised his eyebrow at the question. "For Ilya," Shane clarified. 

"He smokes?" David asked. Ilya had never smoked in front of them, and always made sure he didn't smell of cigarettes. He didn't want to disappoint or disrespect them. 

"Not as much as he used to. Well- No... He's been smoking more recently." Shane frowned at the thought of their conversation from this morning. 

"It's a bit of a coping mechanism." Shane said. An unhealthy one. Shane thought, scolding his own thoughts for being all parent-y about it. But could you blame him for worrying about the man he wanted to marry? If they wanted more years in the league together, and in bed, Ilya's lungs needed full capacity. 

"We all have a coping mechanism," David said, "We can do an ashtray." 

After an hour of shaping, and reshaping, and kneading the clay, Shane was finally happy with the shape of the ashtray. He had made two parts, one bottom part that caught the ashes and cigarette buds, where Ilya could also put his cigarette down into a little crease. Shane knew Ilya liked to smoked weed, from time to time. Only in down season or off-season though. The other part covered the top, closing off the ashtray and making it look like it could just be decorative, once it was glazed. Shane was pretty proud of his creation. Ilya would love it. 

"Good job, son!" David exclaimed, impressed by the patience and determination Shane had had during his attempts. But in reality, thet was just who Shane was. Patient and determined. 

"Now what?" Shane asked, already itching to show Ilya what he had made him. His little peace offering, even though they had already worked through the subject this morning, extensively. He just knew Ilya would appreciate the gesture. 

"Now we put it in the oven and wait. It won't take too long." 

Shane's phone dinged with a message from him, asking if he could come in for a second to discuss one of his upcoming collaborations. 

"Perfect timing. Mom needs me." Shane said. "Thanks dad! That was fun!" Shane called behind him as he headed back upto the house. 

David smiled as he watched him go. It really was like a weight had been lifted from Shane's shoulders since he'd been with Ilya. He had never seen his son this open. 

He had been a bit shocked to hear of Ilya's habit, and even more of Shane almost approving of it. But he couldn't help but think something else was behind the making of the ashtray. Maybe he'd ask later. Now, he just wanted to go up and join his family and maybe throw in a joke or two while Yuna was in her business mood. She always scolded him for it but he knew she secretly loved it. A warm feeling spread in David's chest. 

What a lucky man I am. 

Chapter Text

"I don't think it's a good idea," Shane said, shaking his head. 

He'd joined Yuna and Ilya in her study to discuss an upcoming project, and was suddenly being cornered into a joint Rolex campaign with Ilya. 

"It would bring in a lot of money, Shane. You have to think about your future here."

Ilya had been mostly quiet during Yuna's pitch. She'd talked to him about it first, to try to get a sense of how much of a good idea it seemed to Ilya, and to how he thought Shane might react to the proposal. Ilya was unsure. He didn't think much of it, to be honest. He had never had to think about business opportunities, campaigns or photo shoots. He didn't mind doing them as much as Shane did. Getting to be dolled up a bit, get free food off the set, pose a bit. It all seemed like kind of a good deal to Ilya. It was much less work than hockey, and paid a lot better. 

Shane was more like his Mom, always thinking ten steps ahead. He didn't care much about the shoots and found them to be too long, too crowded. Ilya had thought maybe Shane would like that part about doing a campaign with Ilya. He wouldn't have to be doing it alone. But it seemed like that ended up being the thing he liked the least. 

"I am, Mom. I'd like to play hockey for a few more years, not get fucking outed and shunned from the league." Shane bit out, surprising both his mom and Ilya at the tone. 

"Doing a shoot together hardly outs you, honey. That's not what we are trying to do here. Believe me. When we get to that stage, it will be much classier than Rolex." Yuna said, as if that's what Shane was getting at. 

"God, fuck. That's not what I'm saying here, Mom!" Shane snapped. 

"Uspokoysya, sweetheart," Ilya spoke, reaching out for Shane's hand. Not knowing how to say "Get out," nicely, Ilya said: "Yuna, maybe Shane and I talk about it first?" 

Yuna nodded, and left the room with a soft, affirming hand on Shane's shoulder in passing.

"What is going on in your head, Котик?" Ilya scooted his chair closer to Shane's and cupped his face in his hands, trying to get Shane's tear-brimmed eyes on him. Shane huffed in frustration, wiping at his eyes to prevent any tears from falling. 

"I just - I don't want to bring any more attention to us than there already is. We're only just getting people adjusted to the idea of us not actively wanting to kill each other off the ice. The foundation is still gaining traction. Things are actually going well, on all fronts, for once in my life. I don't want to risk losing everyting already." Shane's eyes finally found Ilya's, and it felt as if Ilya's throat closed completely. He felt every word Shane said. It hit him right in the heart. Fuck. Is that what doing a shoot together would do? Would they lose everything? So soon? 

Shane must have sensed Ilya's panic seeping through, because his eyes started frantically looking around Ilya's face, trying to read his emotions. Shit.

See? It was a horrible idea. They were going to lose everything. He can't lose Ilya. 

A sob escaped Shane's throat at the idea, snapping Ilya back to his senses. No. Ilya would not let that happen. They'd only just gotten what they wanted, what they deserved. There was no way in hell that Ilya would allow anything to happen that might put their relationship in jeopardy. Shane was doom-thinking. Ilya could not let himself get dragged down with him. He had to be the one to keep his calm, for once. 

"Shane," Ilya whispered, putting their foreheads together. "Breathe," Ilya breathed in long and deep, softly tapping Shane's cheek in order to get him to breathe with him. Shane immediately inhaled, a wet groan leaving his lips. 

"We will not lose anything." Ilya's voice cut through the sound of Shane's frantic breathing. "We are Ilya Rozanov and Shane fucking Hollander. The only thing, the only people we lose to is each other, because we are the fucking best." Shane let out a small chuckle through his tears.

"Is simple. If this is what this not-existing shoot does to you, we don't do shoot. Fuck the shoot." Shane's breathing was starting to get back to normal, the overwhelming panic slowly leaving his body. He pressed his face into Ilya's neck, breathing in his scent as Ilya's hand smoothed his hair in the nape of his neck. 

"We don't have to do shit. We are Ilya Rozanov and Shane fucking Hollander. We do whatever the fuck we want. Fuck everyone." Ilya whispered in his ear, who was starting to rile himself up, frustration dripping off of his words. Shane's hands gripped out to Ilya's thighs in an attempt to ground them both.

"I refuse to lose anything. I refuse to lose you," Ilya's accent came out thick and passionately. 

"I refoos to lose you, too," Shane answered, lifting his head to meet Ilya's narrowing eyes. 

"AH, sure, make fun of the Russian guy having emotional conversation in different language." Ilya huffed, shaking his head in disbelief, a glint of relief in his eyes at Shane's teasing. Shane leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. 

"Thank you," He whispered, and leaned back into his chair with a deep sigh, more tension seeping out of his body. Ilya did the same, resting his hand on Shane's knee. Shane closed his eyes for a second and attempted to put all of his thoughts into order.

No shoot. No stress. No losing Ilya. They were going to be okay. 

Chapter Text

They had gone home after the meeting had ended. The day had already dragged on long enough, and Shane just wanted to get home. The disruption of his routine was making his skin itch and the emotional turmoil was only making it worse. 

Ilya had bid David and Yuna goodbye for the both of them, thanking David again for the blinchiki. Shane hugged them both goodbye seeming to have gone non-verbal. It wasn't a usual occurrence, but it hadn't happened in a while.

Ilya drove them both home - under the speed limit - and felt comforted by the silence as Shane's hand kept steady on Ilya's thigh. Shane's eyes had remained watery since the meeting. The passage of the trees and sun peeking through the branches silenced his brain. Ilya lowered the windows and saw Shane's eyes close as the wind softly blew along his face. A sigh left his lungs, his body relaxing into the seat. A small smile snuck onto Ilya's face at the sight. 

By the time they arrived home, it was already close to noon. 

"I think I'm gonna go for a run," Shane said, scratching his head mindlessly with one hand as the other took ahold of the banister. It was the first thing he had said since they'd left Yuna's study. "Do you want to join me?" 

"You think I am capable of running after eating body weight in blinchiki?" Shane snorted at Ilya's words, a smile on his face. At last, Ilya thought.

"You go, I will make you lunch." 

"Didn't you just say you were full? If you don't want to come you can just tell me, Ilya." Ilya walked over to where Shane was standing and put his hands on Shane's waist. 

"I said I will make you lunch, malysh." His hands slipped underneath Shane's shirt, squeezing his hips. "You did not eat a lot this morning, I have to take care of my husband." Shane raised his eybrows, a blush creeping onto his face. 

"Husband?" He rested his hands on the sides of Ilya's neck. 

"It is called manifesting, Hollander." Ilya said smugly, leaning in for a kiss. Shane laughed, moving his face away playfully.

"You go from husband to Hollander. Which is it?" His hands pushed at Ilya's chest, eyes twinkling.

"Ah well, Hushand, Hollander. Sound familiar. My English not so good," Ilya said innocently. 

"Yes you fucking do, you idiot," Shane laughed. This time, when Ilya leaned in for a kiss, he let him. Their lips touched, and Shane immediately melted into Ilya. After a good minute, Ilya pulled back to look at Shane, whose watery eyes had now completely shifted into something different. 

"You go run, I make food, and then I will suck you off." Shane blushed at his words. After all these months, or should he say years, Shane still wasn't used to how casually Ilya could talk about sex. It somehow still made him shiver and blush. 

Ilya gave Shane one last kiss before turning his body around and pushing him up the stairs and smacking his ass for good measure. Shane started running up the stairs with a new found energy, and Ilya couldn't help but feel smug about it. 

Sometimes, he would wake up and wonder what the day would bring. He used to hate days off, because it made him feel empty and useless and often, he didn't even make it out of bed. Ever since he'd started spending his free days with Shane, they had gone from his most-hated days to his favourite. Shane's strict daily routine had rubbed off on him, and often motivated him to do something productive as well. He worked out almost every time they were together and was often more spent after his free days - but that was not just because of the workouts. It was as if being with Shane had opened a door that got rid off the darkness, and finally let in the light. It was as if that door had been shut for all of his life, and he couldn't get it open no matter how hard he tried. Somehow, Shane had opened it without any trouble, and finally, Ilya was able to bask in the light. 

"I love you!" Ilya yelled out without thinking, as Shane reached the top of the stairs. Shane leaned his upper arms on the glass of the upstairs balcony, smiling down at Ilya widely now. 

"I love you too," Ilya's heart swelled at the words, smiling back like a dork. 

"You're a dork, you know," Shane said, unable to walk away. 

"All these mean words, Husband," Ilya said, feigning shock. "Hollander! I meant to say Hollander. English is hard." Shane shook his head in disbelief. His smile somehow went even wider.

"Bye Rozanov!" He shouted behind him as he walked towards the bedroom. 

"Bye Husband!"