Chapter Text
The captain’s voice echoed through the cabin. As the plane approached LAX, Ilya rolled his head to loosen out his shoulders and stretched, letting out an exaggerated groan. Then he flicked Bood’s ear — who was sitting in the comfy chair next to him — just because.
“Quit it dude, seriously? Don’t you take a minute off?”
Ilya shrugged. “Nope.”
Bood sighed. “Whatever, man. I just want to hit the ground so I can check my phone. You know, Cassie’s getting an ultrasound today.”
“Wait, really?” Wyatt Hayes piped up from one row over with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
This got Luca Haas to turn around in his chair, confused. “But he did tell us? He has told us this many times in the past week.”
“Yeah, I know, dude." Haazy leaned over to ruffle Luca's hair. "I’m teasing him. We all know about Cassie, and her ultrasound, and how uptight Bood is right now. Just trying to lighten the mood.”
Ilya let a small smile past his lips. It made his heart hurt a little, seeing the way his team interacted. They teased each other, but not in a cruel way like the Bears had sometimes gotten. They honestly looked out for each other. It was almost all he could ask for. Almost.
Bood turned off airplane mode long before the wheels of the jet hit the tarmac. (Not that Ilya cared, but a voice that sounded suspiciously like Shane pointed this out in his head.) Ilya watched him idly out of the corner of his eye until Bood suddenly went very still.
“Bood? Is Cassie ok? Is the baby?” At Ilya’s voice, the teammates in the neighboring rows turned toward them.
“Uh, yeah, no…. It’s not the baby. I, uh, Cassie hasn’t texted me yet.”
“Oooooookaaaaaay. So you are being weird because…?”
“Um, I think you should see this.” Bood passed Ilya the phone, but wouldn’t look him in the eye.
“Wait. Before you look.” Bood’s full attention was on him now, the eye contact intense. “I just want you to know that we love you man, ok? And we support you, 100%.”
Ilya’s heart stated to race. There were probably many things that could have prompted that declaration, but only one came to mind. He slowly lowered his eyes to the phone in front of him.
On the screen was a Reddit post, something in r/MLH from user right_to_know. There wasn’t any text on the post, just a video. Ilya clicked play.
“Hi Brad!” Hayden Pike’s cheerful voice filled the cabin. “Thanks so much for supporting the Metros! We’re lucky to have you as one of our fans! Happy birthday!”
Ilya looked up at Bood, eyebrows raised. Bood nodded. “Keep watching.”
The video looped back to the beginning, but without the audio and zoomed in on the dark window behind Hayden. And then Ilya saw it. And he thought he might vomit.
In the glass’s reflection, blurry but still identifiable, were Ilya and Shane. They weren’t sitting quietly, discussing hockey or their foundation or whatever the public thought they talked about. They were making out. Or, really, Ilya thought to himself, it looked like they were mauling each other. Which, who can blame him when Shane Hollander is sitting in front of you, Ilya thought somewhat hysterically.
Ilya raised his eyes again. Took in his teammates, who had now all clustered around him. Focused on Bood. “How did you find this?” He asked hoarsely.
“I’m so sorry, man. It’s all over the internet. Must have been posted while we were in the air. I am so sorry.”
And then Bood leaned forward and pulled Ilya into a hug. Not a bro-y, back slapping hug, but a real one. It was awkward with the distance and the chair arms between them, but genuine. And then suddenly, like Bood’s hug had given them all permission, there were hands on his back and bodies around his chair. The whole team seemed to be clustered around him, holding on to him, telling him “I’m so sorry dude” “Hey, you know we love you, right?” “This doesn’t change anything” “You’re our captain, Roz, always will be.”
Ilya didn’t speak. If he did, he might start crying, which he very much did not want to do. Instead he hugged Bood back, nodded at the floor, and hoped it was enough. Enough to convey how much this meant to him. How much they meant to him. The world was crashing down around him, but at least he had this. He hoped Shane was getting the same support.
Oh, God, Shane. Shane needed him. Shane, who had been more afraid of being outed than him. Shane, who hated attention and being known and whose worst fear was that they would get outed.
Outed. They got outed. The word echoed in his head for a moment.
No time for that. The thought of Shane had reminded him of The Plan. The one he and Shane and Yuna had come up with if this ever happened. If they ever got outed.
Outed. The echo again.
Ilya shook his head. He had to focus. He looked back up at Bood, at his teammates, and said, with as much emphasis as he could muster, “Thank you.” It was paltry, no where close to what he wanted to say to them, but he was in no state to wax poetically in English at the moment.
“Of course, man.” That was Hazy. “We got your back.” Luca nodded vehemently beside him.
“What do you need right now?” Bood asked. “How can we help?”
The plane suddenly shuddered. Somehow in all of this, Ilya had forgotten that they were inbound to LAX. A flight attendant’s voice came over the loudspeaker and ordered them all back to their seats.
Hands squeezed Ilya’s shoulders and arms in farewell as he buckled his seat belt. Bood leaned over once he had done so as well. “I mean it man, whatever you need. We’re here for you. Just let us know.”
“I need to get to Vancouver.”
Bood’s head tilted. In another moment Ilya would have teased him for looking like a dog. “Uhh. Ok. Vancouver it is. We should probably talk to coach though, right?”
Fuck. Coach. Fuck, his position on the team. Oh fuck fuck fuck. No. Not the time. He can freak out later, when both he and Shane are safe. That’s the most important thing right now. Safety.
If Bood saw the war that had just happened inside Ilya, he didn’t comment. Ilya nodded. “Yes, coach. I will need to talk to him as soon as we land. Before we get off plane, even.”
“Yeah, ok, dude.” Bood easily agreed. “Hey, Carmichael!” Bood shouted across the cabin. “Let Coach know Roz needs to talk to him before we get off, ok?” Charmichael yelled back an affirmative.
Ilya took a deep breath, nodded to himself. The Plan. He can do the plan. The plane shuddered again, and Ilya’s ears popped. Reality kept reminding him he was still present, lest he get too caught up in his head.
Suddenly he could see the ground rushing toward them out the window, feel that low swooping in his gut, and BOOM. The plane gave one last jerk as it touched down.
They hadn’t finished taxiing before Ilya was up out of his seat, Bood close behind him. Coach usually sat in the seats closest to the front “So he didn’t have to see the hooligans he coached” he said. Ilya wished he sat closer to the rest of them in that moment.
Finally they made it to the front, Ilya skiddering to a stop in front of Weibe and Harris. “Whoaah, you good there, Roz?” Weibe looked up at him.
“No.” Ilya didn’t have the bandwidth to lie at the moment.
“Uh, coach?” Harris was looking at something on his phone and tentatively trying to get his attention. “I think you should see this…”
“Yes. Is why I’m here. Is video of me kissing Shane Hollander.”
“You kissing Shane Hollander?”
“Yes.”
Weibe stared at him for a moment with his eyebrows raised, then looked to Harris for confirmation. Harris nodded.
Weibe blinked a few times, then slowly nodded, processing. “Ok, but don’t worry, Ilya. We support you; this doesn’t change anything. You’ll still be on the ice tomorrow.”
“No, is not that.” Ilya flapped his hand dismissively. “I cannot play in game tomorrow. I need to get to Vancouver as….” He looked at Bood. “What is phrase?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Yes, as soon as possible.”
“I… uh. Why do you need to get to Vancouver?”
Ilya closed his eyes. He did not have time for this. He needed to be doing The Plan, and instead he was having to explain The Plan to very slow Canadians when he was stressed and frazzled and could barely remember his English. Suddenly Harris, of all people, became his guardian angel.
“Oh, fuck. You need to cross the border, don’t you? In case they pull your passport. Shit, fuck, ok.” Harris pulled out his laptop and frantically started typing. Ilya extended his hand toward Harris in a “what he said” gesture, relieved. His hand came back down to his thigh with a smack. Weibe still looked confused as hell.
“Ok, soonest flight to Vancouver is in 45 minutes. I’m booking it for you now. I’m guessing you can handle getting back home once you get to YVR?”
“Yes, yes. Thank you Harris.”
“Of course.” He raised his head for a moment, looking directly at Ilya. “We look out for our own.” Ilya looked down, suddenly overwhelmed. He didn’t know if Harris meant that they were both Centaurs or queer or whatever but there had been too much kindness directed at him in the last 20 minutes.
“Um, I still don’t know why my captain is flying to Vancouver instead of playing with us?” Weibe suddenly reminded everyone he was still there.
“Just trust us, ok? I can explain it to you once we have the tickets.” Thank god Harris was handling this now. Ilya wasn’t certain he would get the same confidence if he said that right now.
Weibe looked between the three of them, then nodded to himself. “Ok. Let me know when it’s done. Ilya, know that this doesn’t change anything and we support you.”
“You already said-"
“And I’ll say it again. As many times as it’s needed until it sticks. Harris, Bood, you got this?” Bood and Harris both nodded. “Ok, explain it to me when you can. I’m going to supervise the rest of the team.” He stood up and headed to the back of the cabin where the rest of the team where collecting their gear.
Ilya slid into the seat he had vacated. “Thank you Harris, for everything.” He knew he had already said it, but he didn’t think he’d ever be able to say it enough.
“Thank me when you’re in Vancouver.” Ilya’s phone pinged. “I just airdropped your ticket to you. Good luck.”
Ilya nodded (it seemed like his head would fall off with all the nodding he’d been doing) and shouldered his duffel. He clasped Bood’s arm, gave them both a final look, and headed for the forward door, knowing that the moment he stepped through he would be heading straight for the lion’s den.
Ilya pulled the baseball hat lower over his face, his shoulders hunched. No one had outright pointed at him yet, which was a plus, but there were definitely some whispers. A few phones had been pulled out, pictures of him probably already on twitter. Fucking Los Angeles. For a city that didn’t care much about hockey, they sure loved gossip. And “outed MLH star leaves team to race across LAX” was definitely good gossip.
His gate came into view. Fuck, finally. Ilya jogged the remaining yards and settled into a seat near the jet bridge. Harris hadn’t gotten him first class — there hadn’t been time — so he’d be boarding with everyone else. Great. Normally he loved attention, but not for this. Not this, when he didn’t even know if Shane was ok. God, Shane. Ilya closed his eyes again and leaned over his hands. He pulled out his phone and swiped past the hundreds of notifications he wasn’t interested in reading. Now that he was at the gate — Phase 1 complete — he could actually take a minute to breathe, call Shane. See what color the dumpster fire of their lives was.
“Ilya?” Shane picked up on the first ring.
“Moy lyubov. Are you okay?”
“Am I ok!? Fuck, are you ok? You’re in America right now.” Of course Shane was mostly worried about him. Ilya closed his eyes and smiled.
“Yes, I am ok. I am sitting at the gate for a flight to Vancouver. Boards in 5 minutes. Your mama is a smart woman, having us plan this out ahead of time.”
“Okay, okay. Good. God, ok.” Ilya heard Shane trying to calm himself. “When does it land?”
“5:45. I’ll text you the flight information.”
“Text it to Mom, too. She’ll want to know.” A pause. “God, Ilya.” Shane’s voice broke.
“I know, solnyshko, I know.”
And then they just sat there. On opposite ends of the continent, connected by an invisible telephone line and newfound grief. Ilya could hear Shane’s breathing, and knew Shane could hear his. In that moment things suddenly didn’t seem as overwhelming. He had Shane, and Shane had him, and they could do this.
Ilya was startled by the announcement that boarding was starting. He hadn’t even realized he’d shut his eyes until he opened them to look at the gate attendant behind the desk.
“I have to go, solnyshko. I’ll call you as soon as I land. Ya tebya lyublyu.”
“Ya tebya lyublyu, Ilya.” It took more willpower to hit the end call button than Ilya was expecting. But he would see Shane soon. He would, Ilya promised himself. He rose to join the boarding lane and Phase 2 of The Plan.
The Plan had been Yuna’s brainchild, really. She was always thinking through contingencies, worst-case scenarios. One day, a few months after Ilya had been welcomed into the Hollander family, Yuna asked them what would happen if they were outed while Ilya was in the states. Once Shane had calmed down from his resulting panic attack (only a minor one, but inevitable when outing was mentioned), they had to think through the possibilities.
Possibility #1: Russia pulls his passport.
Possibility #2: Russia pulls his passport while he is in the US.
Consequence: Ilya cannot return to Canada.
Possible consequence: Due to his lack of US work visa or residency status, Ilya is deported.
Possible consequence upon arrival in Russia: XXXXXXXX [Shane hadn’t let them talk about that.]
So, The Plan. If they were ever outed while Ilya was in the US, Ilya was to get his ass back to Canada ASAP. Doesn’t matter if there’s a game, doesn’t matter where he is. He books a flight to the closest Canadian city (Vancouver for the west coast) and gets on the plane. Immediately.
Ilya had reached the front of the line. The gate attendant took his Russian passport and Canadian work visa with a smile. Ilya could only wince in return and hold his breath as she scanned the shiny first page of his passport.
A beep. Then the light turned green. Ilya closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief.
“Enjoy your trip, sir.” The attendant smiled pleasantly. For the first time in an hour, Ilya felt a real smile cross his face. “Thank you.”
Ilya walked toward the jet bridge. He was going to Canada. He was going to Canada, and to Shane, and people who loved him, and he was going to be okay. Shane was going to be okay. They had each other, and that would be enough. God, he hoped that would be enough.