Keairane



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    Shane’s eyes snap open. Wait a second.

    “Ilya,” Shane says, propping himself up on his elbows. “Ilya, wake up.”

    Ilya makes a pained noise, eyes still shut. “I shut curtains already.”

    “It’s not that. Ilya, hey. Don’t go back to sleep.” Ilya tries to bury back into Shane’s chest, but adrenaline knifes through Shane’s hangover long enough for him to peel Ilya off and roll him into his back. Ilya blinks blearily up at him, starfished in the sheets. Beautiful and naked and missing his mother’s cross.

     

    OR: When Ilya’s cross goes missing after the Centaurs celebrate their first Stanley Cup win, Shane is determined to get it back. And so are the Centaurs. And the rest of Ottawa.

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    26 Feb 2026

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    "It was nothing, Ilya. Don't worry about it."

    "Ah," Ilya said, and something like understanding crossed his face. "Was about us, then."

    Shane pressed his forehead to Ilya's neck. Of course Shane couldn't just slip this by, of course he would be figured out. He wrapped Ilya up in a hug and moved his hand up and down his back, in a way that he hoped said it doesn't matter.

    "He just–after he checked me, I called him a dick, and then he said I'd need my big scary Russian husband to protect me. And then he called you a name, and…"

    Shane didn't know how to finish that sentence, so he let it trail off. And it felt so unfair. And I got more angry than I had any reason to. And I hate that I can't go one game without my sex life being brought up in some way. And it's happened a million other times, so why should I have cared on this one specific occasion?

    Over the course of the first half of his fifth season on the Centaurs, Shane considers retirement, homophobia, his public life, family, and his legacy. He also gets a tooth knocked out, visits the beach, and is repeatedly pissed off by how hot his husband is.

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    01 Feb 2026

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    Shane picks up on the third ring.

    “What?”

    Ilya closes his eyes, humiliation twisting his gut. Still, though, it’s nice to hear his voice. His shoulders sag a little. “Hollander?”

    “I don’t–” Shane sighs, long and heavy. “Why are you calling?”

    Why is he calling? Ilya couldn’t answer. Not in any way that makes sense, anyway.

    Voice wobbling, Ilya says, “I am sorry.” He inhales, breath hitching horribly. “Was mistake.”

    On the other line, Shane goes quiet. Then, shuffling around, he says, “What’s going on, Rozanov?”

    Or: Ilya calls Shane in the middle of the night, and against his better judgment, Shane comes to find him.

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    28 Jan 2026

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    “So,” Ilya says, dragging the word out. He’s swiping at non-existent crumbs on the counter, avoiding his eyes. “You have dinner at parents on Christmas, yes?” 

    “Yeah.” 

    Ilya nods. “I can house-sit while you are away. Make place pretty, if you have decorations. Make it less boring.” 

    Shane’s eyebrows fly up. “What? You don’t want to come with?” 

    Finally, Ilya looks up at him. Hesitantly, he asks, “You want me to come with?” 

    Frowning, Shane says, “I– yeah. Yeah, of course. You think I invited you here just so you could spend Christmas alone?” 

    Looking away, Ilya shrugs. “I am intruder here, Hollander. You have family. I do not. Makes situation… difficult, maybe. You forget the world thinks we are rivals.” 

    “Not difficult,” Shane says immediately. “You want to come, you’re coming.” 

    Or: Ilya's in Montreal alone during the week leading up to the Winter Classic. Shane doesn't let him spend Christmas alone.

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    25 Jan 2026

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    Evgenia Alexeyevna Rozanova is nine years old when her grandfather dies, and she meets Shane Hollander. This is the first time she speaks to him. It is not the last.

    Or: Zhenya Rozanova grows up. She has some help along the way.

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    18 Jan 2026