Triserratops



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    “Can I ask you something?”

    There’s a flash of what looks like fear that crosses Ilya's face before he sits back, his posture slightly closed off as his arms cross in front of his chest. “Depends on what it is,” he says, eyes somewhat steely.

    She gets why people are intimidated by him on the ice.

    “Why Ottawa?” She knows it’s something everyone has been asking, but she feels like it’s a legitimate thing to ask. “I mean, I get maybe you’re not happy in Boston, but you could have gone anywhere.”

    “Not anywhere,” he says with an almost pout.

    “But almost anywhere.”

    He lets out a long breath of air through his nose. “I know it does not make sense, but it should not have to make sense to anyone but me.”

    Kate tilts her head to the side, appraising him from across the table. “That’s not an answer.”

    Ilya shrugs, but he holds her gaze steadily. “Maybe one day you will understand. But for now, know I am where I am supposed to be.”

    And who is she to argue with that?

    __

    Or, everyone asks 'why Ottawa?' Ilya's neighbor, Kate, just happens to figure it out first.

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    17 Feb 2026

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    “Hey,” Ilya’s voice, deep and rough, resonates through Shane all the way down to the bottoms of his feet.

    He turns his head toward the sound, but doesn’t open his eyes, instead opting just to keep the blissed-out look on his face as he waits to hear what Ilya’s going to say. 

    Shane imagines it’ll be something like, ‘You are perfect. Such a good boy.’

    Or maybe in Russian, ‘I love you so much.’

    But much more likely, ‘I give you ten minutes, and then I blow you in the shower.’

    Fingers brush against his cheek, and Shane leans into the touch, lost in the feeling of being loved and wanted so wholly. And then, “Would you still love me if I was a worm?” 

    His eyes open, and he wonders if his dopamine-addled brain has just misheard. “I’m sorry. What?”

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    17 Feb 2026

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    He holds out the cigarettes and lighter in one hand and the vodka glass in the other, and Ilya looks at him, surprise evident in his hazel eyes even in the dim light.

    “What?” Shane grins. “Didn’t think I knew about your secret stash?”

    Ilya’s smile back almost reaches his eyes, and he takes Shane’s offerings without a word.

    Flint strikes and with a flick of flame, a different type of smoke starts to fill the air, floating slowly up into the trees.

    Normally, Shane would wait inside until Ilya finished his cigarette, but today, he sits and leans his head on Ilya’s shoulder, willing to make the concession.

    “I hate this day,” Ilya says, his face once again stony, while he lets out a long puff of smoke into the cooling air around them.

    “I know,” Shane says, his fingers tracing along the soft fabric of Ilya’s sweats. “I hate it for you.”

    It’s the same every year on the anniversary of his mother’s death. A long day spent with few words and deep sighs bleeds into nightfall. They sit and look out over the water, ghosts flickering across Ilya’s eyes like the firelight around them.
    ___

    Or Ilya hates this day. Shane hates it for him. They sit together anyway.

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    17 Feb 2026

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    They lie in silence for a few moments, the only sound being the steady and slow beating of Shane’s heart on the monitor. He’s perfectly content to just bask in Ilya’s presence and form until the doctor comes back, but eventually, he can feel Ilya staring at him. So he opens his eyes and sees an expectant look on his husband’s face. 

    “What?” Shane questions.

    “Are we going to talk about it?”

    Shane’s brows draw down in confusion. “Talk about what?”

    A mischievous grin splits Ilya’s face. “That I am your emergency contact.”

    “Oh, my god,” Shane groans. “You are not going to make this a thing. It’s not a big deal.”

    __

    Or, hockey injuries are temporary. But having Ilya Rozanov as your emergency contact is forever.

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    17 Feb 2026

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    “Where is my baby?” Ilya asks as soon as he opens the door to the Pikes’ SUV when it pulls into the parking lot of Christ Church Cathedral. 

    “Lovely to see you too, Rozanov,” Hayden says as he opens his car door. 

    “Hi, Hayden,” Shane says from behind Ilya. “Lovely to see you. Please ignore my husband.”

    Ilya can’t even be bothered to snark back at either of them, because today is his big day. 

    Well, mostly. It’s sort of Amber’s day, too, he guesses, and kind of Shane’s as well if one were to look at it from a very specific angle, but mostly it’s Ilya’s. 

    And as Amber gives him a cheesy grin when she sees him (a new development as of the last couple of weeks), Ilya knows even his boring husband and his boring husband’s loser best friend can’t ruin this perfect day.

    Because today, Ilya’s becoming a godfather.

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    17 Feb 2026