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Ilya was as close to buying cigarettes as he could remember being since Shane had proposed.

He supposed he should have expected the urge to creep in on a day like today, but he hadn’t. He thought that finally getting to do what he planned on doing today would bring nothing but excitement, but nerves had kept him awake, made him jittery as he made his way out of the house. 

On the drive to practice, he replayed his conversation with Shane from the previous week.

“So about telling your team,” Shane said, and Ilya could hear the slight strain in his voice even through the phone, “if you really think they’d be cool with it, I think you should tell them soon.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Shane said, his voice slightly stronger. “I don’t know how my team will take it, honestly. I want to believe in them, but I’m not expecting an engagement party.”

Ilya snorted, but didn’t otherwise interrupt.

“And it would be nice, I think, to have people in our corner when we do come out.”

“You are sure?” Ilya said, unable to hide doubt in his own voice. “I do not want to tell them if you do not want it, if you think you have to tell me I can.”

“I’m sure,” Shane said. “I want to meet your team, I want to… I want to be with you in a room full of hockey players and not have to hold myself back from you.”

Ilya wished so badly that Shane was next to him so he could kiss him senseless.

So they’d decided that Ilya would tell his team he was seeing someone, seeing a man he wanted them all to meet, and a day or two later he would have them all over to his house to do just that. He would have his team, including Harris, in his home at the same time as Shane, and he would tell them he loved him, maybe even tell them they were getting married this summer.

It felt surreal, all of it, like a dream.

But Ilya still felt like buying cigarettes.

He didn’t, in the end, settling for sitting in his car for five minutes after he’d arrived at the arena, looking at the sleep-rumpled selfie Shane had sent him yesterday. It was the kind of photo that Ilya would usually put off deleting for at least a week before finally bringing himself to do it, but since agreeing to be less careful, to coming out soon , he has been keeping every photo Shane had sent him. All neatly organized in his ‘boring’ folder.

Just as he was about to put his phone away, a message arrived from Shane.

Let me know how it goes, I love you

It was all Ilya needed to get out of his car.

The practice went well, even with Ilya being as distracted as he was. He felt good, better than when he’d arrived, both from the physical exertion and the reminder of how good he felt with this team. 

He hoped he wasn’t about to blow that.

“Hey, everyone,” Ilya said, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

He froze, but only for a moment, because he’d caught the eyes of Troy Berret, who looked almost like a different person from the Troy who’d first joined their team, who the team had not once even glanced at weirdly since coming out and being with Harris. Ilya knew his own situation was different, but he hoped things would turn out the same for him.

“Dinner on Friday after practice at mine,” he said. “Just the team.” He paused for a second, pointing at Troy. “And Harris.”

Troy blushed but nodded.

“Any specific reason, cap?” Wyatt asked.

“Yes,” Ilya said, the lump back in his throat, but he wanted to tell them, wanted them to be at least somewhat prepared for what he was about to reveal to them. “I, uhm, there is someone I want you all to meet.”

The reaction was about what he expected, the deep ohhhh ’s and whistles, but Bood’s voice reached Ilya most clearly.

“Ilya Rozanov, have you been keeping a woman from us?”

Before Ilya could say anything, Dykstra beat him to it.

“Was she married or something?”

Wyatt snorted at that.

“Like Ilya would do that.”

Everyone nodded, easily agreeing with Wyatt’s assessment, and Dykstra rolled his eyes, making it clear he hadn’t been serious.

Ilya decided it was as good an opening as any.

“No, he is not married.”

Yet, he thought, aware of the ring pressed against his chest.

He felt everyone’s eyes on him, the one word clicking in their heads, and Ilya suddenly couldn’t stop more words from spilling from his mouth.

“I have been with someone for… a long time now, and it has been a secret. But soon, it will not be a secret anymore, so I want you all to meet him.”

“So all those women before…”

“I am bisexual,” Ilya said, as easily as he could even though the words still felt strange said out loud. “That was not fake, but it has been only this one person for a long time.”

Bood nodded and grinned.

“Can’t wait to meet him,” he said, and the rest of the guys echoed the statement, all smiles and light shoulder slaps. 

Someone, Troy most likely, started clapping and cheering, and soon the room was booming with noise that slowly faded out as everyone continued taking off their gear and heading toward the showers.

“Must be a hell of a guy,” Wyatt said, and Ilya could not hold back his grin even if he wanted to.

“He is. The best.”

Harris was still in his office when Troy finished up his shower, and he lit up at the sight of him even before Troy produced a coffee from behind his back. It was sadly not the usual extravagant drinks Troy brings him from proper coffee shops, but it was still coffee.

“Hi,” Harris said.

“Hi,” Troy replied, kissing the greeting into Harris’ cheek.

“I’m almost done if you want to wait.”

“Yeah, sure.”

They spent a few moments in silence, and then Troy said, “We’re invited to Ilya’s this Friday. The team, that is. But he specifically said you’re invited, too.”

“Any reason?”

“He wants us to meet his boyfriend.”

Harris froze, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he turned towards Troy properly. Surely he had imagined Troy saying the Ottawa team captain invited them to dinner to meet his boyfriend whose existence Harris had not even an inkling of.

“Ilya is-”

“Bisexual. And has a boyfriend.”

Holy shit. “Wow.”

“Are you surprised?” Troy asked.

Harris can’t say he’s ever gotten a queer vibe from Ilya, but then again he has never really thought about the Centaurs’ captain’s sexuality all that much. Maybe Ilya’s history, as well as being surrounded by hockey players who were mostly straight and married to women had made Harris assume things, and he didn’t like that idea. 

“Maybe more than I should be,” Harris said, but he felt a smile spreading across his face. “But I’m also very glad to hear there’s another queer guy on the team, not going to lie. And it’s Ilya! I feel like he never shares stuff like that.”

Troy just hummed in response, a small smile on his face, but he seemed… strangely unsurprised.

“Did he just tell you this now?”

“Yeah,” Troy said, and then added, “But he came out to me before. In New York.”

“You’ve known about this since December?” 

“I wasn’t going to out him,” Troy said. “And I didn’t know for sure if he was seeing someone, and he didn’t really share details.”

Harris nodded. Of course Troy wouldn’t have outed anyone, and Harris wouldn’t have wanted him to. It did explain why Troy looked a lot more chill about the whole thing. 

“Do you know who it is?” Harris couldn’t resist asking.

Troy hesitated, and Harris knew immediately that Troy did have a theory. But instead of sharing, he only said, “I don’t know for sure, but I guess we will find out on Friday.”

Harris gasped suddenly, a thought occurring to him. “Maybe we could have a double date!”

Troy simply smiled, amusement Harris didn’t quite understand lighting up his eyes, and said, “Sure, we can ask them.”

Something occurred to Harris as he and Troy were walking out of his office fifteen minutes later, and he stopped so abruptly that Troy almost tripped over his own feet because of the tight grip Harris had on his hand.

“Holy shit, do you think that’s why he signed with Ottawa? Because of this mystery man?”

Troy frowned, and said, “He did say he’s been with him for a long time, so maybe?”

“I’ll buy the man a fruit basket if that’s the case.”

Troy smiled.

“Assorted apples?”

“Don’t say that’s something you would turn away.”

Troy kissed him then, in that sweet way that made Harris’ toes curl. But as they continued walking, Harris couldn’t help but think about Ilya. Ilya’s reputation for being an asshole was disproven very quickly among the team and staff in Ottawa, and Harris saw Ilya interact with kids, saw the work he and Shane Hollander did with their hockey camps, saw what a great captain he was, to everyone but especially Troy. The first day Ilya met Harris he had asked if he had a boyfriend with all the casualness in the world.

Still, Ilya had been a mystery; social and talkative and good with people, but whenever Harris thought about what he actually knew about Ilya, he’d found gaps he didn’t have with the other players. Where he went on his days off, what he did in the summers, who he hung out with outside of the team, why he signed with Ottawa when any team in the NHL would have been happy to have him, money allowing.

Ilya Rozanov moving to Ottawa to be with a man he loved might not fit into the image most of the NHL had of him, but Harris found that it fit a lot easier with the one he had.

Ilya was nervous.

The house was as spotless as it had ever been, and the catering he ordered was ready to be served. The enormous amount of food in his kitchen made him almost panicky, because what if the whole team left as soon as he introduced Shane and he was left with this mountain of food. He wanted to call Shane, and was about when the doorbell rang.

Fuck.

Absurdly, Ilya checked his hair in the hallway mirror before opening the door, finding Harris and Troy on his porch, each carrying a crate of what Ilya assumed was cider.

“I know we’re early, but we brought cider,” Harris said with an easy smile that actually managed to soothe some of Ilya’s nerves.

“Yes, okay,” he said, letting them inside.

Troy gave Ilya a reassuring smile and squeezed his shoulder before following Harris further inside. That too made Ilya breathe a little easier. Especially because if anyone were to guess who Ilya is introducing the team to tonight, it would be Troy. And if Troy was like this knowing there was a possibility Shane was Ilya’s secret boyfriend, then maybe this could go well.

Soon Ilya’s home was full, the whole team somehow fitting into his living room, some occupying the couch while others piled onto the floor. Everyone seemed at ease and in a good mood, chatting like this was any other get-together, but Ilya couldn’t focus on any of the ongoing conversations.

The doorbell rang once more, and Ilya could see his teammates looking around, trying to figure out if someone was still missing as he made his way to the door.

Something inside him unraveled at the sight of Shane at his door. It felt like he forgot just how beautiful Shane was each time he saw him, especially when he smiled at Ilya like he was smiling now. He smiled at the button-up Shane was wearing, the one Ilya had gotten for him their first Christmas together.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Shane said, opening his arms after a quick glance behind Ilya.

Ilya fell into him, curling himself around Shane.

“You ready?” Shane asked, the words almost a caress against Ilya’s neck.

“Now, yes. Are you?”

“I don’t know,” Shane said honestly, and Ilya held him tighter. “But I want to do this.”

“I love you,” Ilya said in Russian.

“I love you, too.”

Shane sneaked in a kiss behind Ilya’s ear before letting him go, and they walked into the living room together, Shane trailing behind Ilya. Everyone’s eyes were on them, clearly surprised at the sight of someone decidedly not on the team joining them, but politely waving and shouting greetings at him all the same. No one looked surprised enough to have figured out why Shane was here.

Except when Ilya looked at Troy, he was met with a wide, knowing smile.

“So, Hollander, are you also here to meet Ilya’s secret boyfriend?” Bood asked.

Ilya looked at Shane, almost grabbing his hand when he saw the slight shaking of it as Shane tucked his hair behind his ear. Shane looked back, and gave Ilya a small smile, a barely perceptible nod.

“There would be no meeting my boyfriend without Shane here.”

It took a second, but Ilya saw the exact moment his words clicked in his teammates’ minds.

“Shane Hollander is your secret boyfriend?” Bood asked.

“Yes,” Shane said, and then unexpectedly, wonderfully, reached over and tangled his fingers with Ilya’s, squeezing once.

Ilya wanted to turn to him, wanted to only look at Shane in this moment, but he couldn’t look away from his team. Everyone but Troy looked surprised, but no one was leaving, no one seemed angry or disgusted, but Ilya wasn’t sure what would happen once the shock wore off, if they would all be smiling the way Troy was.

Bood was the first to recover, grumply pulling out his wallet and handing a note to Wyatt, who grinned like he’d won the lottery.

“I told you, a goalie notices everything,” Wyatt said and then turned to the rest of the room. “I believe there’s more of you who owe me.”

“What is happening?” Shane whispered, suddenly closer than before.

Ilya could guess what was happening, but his mouth did not seem connected to his brain right now as he watched a couple more guys hand Wyatt cash, the tension fading away. When Wyatt finally looked at Ilya, his smile turned slightly sheepish.

“The money will go toward the camp, don’t worry,” he said with a wink, and then, more seriously, “I’m happy for you guys, and I got your back.”

“We all do,” Troy said, looking at the rest of the team as if daring them to contradict him.

No one did, no one even looked like they wanted to, and Ilya felt embarrassingly close to tears.

“I know this can be a lot to process, if anyone wants to leave or needs time, I-”

“Don’t get us wrong, it is a shock,” Bood said, “but we’re not gonna leave you hanging while we get over it. Same goes for you, Hollander.”

Ilya was definitely going to cry.

He turned toward Shane, taking in his slacked jaw and wide eyes, and tugged him closer. Their eyes met, and despite the lingering fear and shock in Shane’s, he closed the gap between them, pressing his lips to Ilya’s.

It was a chaste enough kiss as far as their kisses go, but he heard his teammates cheering and whistling at them, heard Troy yelling that they should get a room, and suddenly he was smiling too much to properly kiss Shane. His heart expanded in his chest when he saw Shane smiling back at him in the way he usually avoided where anyone could see.

“Alright, make out with your boyfriend later, I’m starving,” Dykstra shouted.

Shane helped Ilya with setting up the food buffet style in the kitchen, and made sure everyone had a plate and utensils while Ilya was on drink duty. It occurred to Ilya then that they were hosting, properly hosting a party for his teammates, and he almost spilled the drinks he was bringing over to the guys already seated on his carpet.

He couldn’t stop looking at Shane, couldn’t get over the fact that he was allowed to look at him as much as he wanted to. His heart felt full when he realized everyone on the team was making an effort to talk to Shane, and that despite the tension still present in the set of Shane’s shoulders, he was smiling.

“Harris has a theory,” Troy said, leaning against the fridge as Ilya pulled out a couple more beers.

“Troy,” Harris whined, but he was smiling as he buried his face into Troy’s shoulder.

“What theory?” Ilya asked, closing the fridge.

“About why you signed for Ottawa.”

Ilya glanced over at the door, just barely catching the sight of Shane in the living room, before looking at the couple properly.

“He is probably right.”

“So it was because of Shane?” Harris asked, almost giddy, and god, it felt so weird and good to hear Shane’s name right then, to not have to bite his tongue from spilling his heart’s truths out in the open.

“Other reasons, too, but mostly, yes.”

“Ilya Rozanov, a secret romantic,” Troy said with a grin. “Who would have guessed?”

“Shut up,” Ilya said, though he was unable to keep his own grin at bay. 

He led Troy and Harris out into the living room to join the rest of the team, and he almost walked right past Shane, the ingrained habit of not sitting too close when people were around making his feet move before he skidded to a halt. His heart did a strange flip in his chest when he realized there was a space left open for him right next to Shane.

He couldn’t stop smiling as he sat down, his thigh pressed against Shane’s, and embarrassingly, he felt tears returning to his eyes when Shane slowly, almost hesitantly, placed a hand on his knee. Ilya stared at it for a moment, then looked around at his teammates talking and eating and having fun, and he almost wanted to pinch himself.

“So, how long has this been going on?” Bood asked from his spot opposite Ilya.

Ilya looked over at Shane, who shrugged and said, “Depends on what you mean, but we’ve been serious about each other for years.”

Bood let out a low whistle, but nodded, then froze again.

“Years as in…”

“Before I came to Ottawa,” Ilya said, and he thought he could see his teammates connecting the dots, realizing just as Harris and Troy had that the great mystery of Ilya’s move to Ottawa was finally unraveled.

“Who else knows?”

“Not many people,” Shane said. “My parents, Hayden Pike, my friend Rose…”

“Yes, the super famous movie star who is just casually your friend.”

“And Ilya’s friend, Svetlana.”

“And Ryan Price,” Ilya added, grinning at the way Wyatt’s eyes shot up toward him.

Shane blushed and looked down at his lap. Ilya barely resisted kissing his cheek.

“Price knows? How the fuck did that happen?” Wyatt asked.

“He walked in on us kissing at camp,” Shane mumbled.

“Twice,” Ilya added.

Wyatt burst out laughing, nearly rolling down onto the floor with the force of it.

“God, I can just imagine the distress on his face, holy shit. I have to call him later.”

“Tell him to say hi to Fabian,” Ilya said.

“Will do,” Wyatt said with a wink.

“But you plan on coming out? To everyone I mean?” Troy asked. “You said it wouldn’t be a secret soon.”

“Yes,” Ilya said, his hand moving to cover Shane’s. “We will tell some people before the summer, but then we will announce it publicly.”

This seemed to surprise more of the guys, but most of them nodded along.

“Crowell will lose his shit,” Troy said. “Worse than with me and Hunter.”

“Maybe he’ll die of shock and we can all be rid of him,” Dykstra said, seemingly only half joking. “He’ll probably try to pull some shit, but I sincerely doubt anyone came up with a rule about players dating.”

Troy snorted. “Yeah, no chance.”

“Well, whatever he tries, we got your back,” Bood said, looking around at the team, who all once again nodded in agreement. “Maybe you can tell coach Wiebe closer to when you plan on announcing it.”

“What about your team, Hollander?” Dykstra asked, and Ilya felt Shane tense beside him.

Ilya squeezed his hand, knowing better than the other guys here how little could be expected of Shane’s team in this matter.

“Hayden knows about Ilya, and the guys know I’m gay,” Shane said, then huffed out a frustrated breath. “Some pretend not to know. And I’m not sure how they’ll react to me being with Ilya.”

In that moment Ilya wanted to chase everyone out of his house and just hold Shane close, make the worry and fear leave his face. But he only squeezed his hand tighter, and someone changed the subject, steering the conversation away from Shane and Ilya, and Ilya was grateful.

Even more so when they all spared him the whistles and teasing as he pressed a quick kiss to Shane’s temple.

When Ilya started taking some of the empty plates, Wyatt joined him in bringing them to the kitchen. With a final glance to make sure Shane was good on his own, Ilya closed the kitchen door behind him, the chatter and music someone had put on becoming more muted

He and Wyatt cleaned up in comfortable almost silence for a bit, but Ilya couldn’t hold back his question for long.

“You knew?”

“Nah,” Wyatt said. “Or well, not for sure, and not before you mentioned this dinner.”

Ilya leaned against the counter, raising his eyebrows at Wyatt.

“I mean, I figured you had good reason to keep this a secret, which could be a lot of things, true. Hollander definitely wasn’t the first person that popped into my head.” Wyatt laughed. “But I also wondered why you hadn’t come out earlier. I figured with the camp and everything with Barret, it wouldn’t have been something you felt you couldn’t share, though that could have just been because you didn’t want to come out, which again, fair enough.

“But it got me thinking that maybe there was more to it, that you thought coming out would reveal more than you wanted to reveal.”

“That is when you thought of Shane?” Ilya asked.

Wyatt nodded, confirming once more what Ilya and Shane had suspected for a long time, that the connection was easy enough to make once someone thought there was a chance of it existing.

“Once the possibility was there, I realized it made sense. The charity, the camps, even you moving to Ottawa for no reason any NHL journalist or fan could come up with.” He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then continued. “I watched that documentary they did on you two yesterday.”

“And that convinced you?” Ilya said, mostly joking, but he had a feeling he knew exactly which part of that documentary had stuck out to Wyatt. The only part that revealed anything if someone was looking for it.

“I was prepared to be wrong, but then it got to the part where Hollander got hurt during that game with Boston,” Wyatt said carefully, as if knowing exactly how tightly fear gripped Ilya’s heart at the memory of Shane’s body laid out on the ice. “You looked so freaked out, not leaving his side until they carried him off the ice. And I know you’re a good guy, but that level of concern was beyond anything I’d seen someone show even for a teammate of a decade.”

Shane and Ilya were always careful, good at hiding, but sometimes Ilya thought there was no way he was successfully hiding his feelings. They seemed so big, so much a part of him, that he thought all it took was someone looking with just the barest suspicion, and they’d see how fully his heart was Shane’s. That day on the ice was one of the moments Ilya knew he hadn’t been careful and he’d never cared, never regretted it.

“You really love him, huh?” 

Ilya looked up at Wyatt, not realizing he’d been staring at the floor. The understanding and gentleness in Wyatt’s gaze made it hard to keep eye contact and his words made it hard to keep his cheeks from heating up.

“I do,” Ilya said. “He is the love of my life.”

“Best put on a ring on his finger soon then,” Wyatt joked. “If that’s something you’d want, I never really asked.”

Ilya hesitated for a second and then tugged at the chain around his neck, bringing it out from beneath his shirt.

“He beat me to it,” he said, a stupid grin spreading across his face as Wyatt took in the ring hanging off Ilya’s chain.

The shock lasted only a couple seconds before Wyatt let out a booming laugh and pulled Ilya into a hug.

“Congrats, Rozanov,” Wyatt said. “Hollander is a lucky guy.”

After a short while, Shane went out to the back porch, needing some air. He had been a nervous wreck driving here, but he trusted Ilya’s assessment of his teammates, and really, if they were going to go public, it seemed like a good trial run. 

He wasn’t sure that was accurate now, because he knew there was no way everyone would accept their relationship the way these guys have. He had prepared for the worst-case scenario and had given little thought to what he thought was the best-case scenario, so he was completely unprepared for the reality that unfolded in front of him.

People being surprised, shocked, but accepting. Not giving more than a glance to Shane’s hand on Ilya’s knee, making an effort to talk to him even though they were still processing this new information about their captain, about Shane. 

It was more than he had dared to hope for, especially from a group of hockey players.

Sure, Hayden knew, but it was different with the Centaurs, because as much as Shane loved his best friend, these people seemed to know a version of Ilya that was closer to the one Shane knew, the real one.

It also made something sad and angry flare up in his chest, because he knew without a doubt he would never have that from his own team. He had foolishly hoped for it, he could acknowledge that now, but seeing the Centaurs welcome him with open arms tonight, Shane knew with a heavy certainty Ilya would not experience the same with the Voyageurs. Definitely not at first, and probably not ever.

For the first time in his career, Shane had the serious thought of not wanting to play for Montreal anymore.

The door to the porch opened and closed behind him, and Shane turned to see Harris smiling at him.

“Mind if I join you?”

“No, not at all,” Shane said.

They stood in silence for a little bit, but Shane could tell Harris had something on the tip of his tongue.

Finally, he said, “I’ve never seen Ilya this happy.”

Shane looked at Harris, surprised at the words, and the eye contact seemed to give Harris the push he needed to elaborate.

“He’s always trying to keep the team’s spirits up, he lights up like a Christmas tree around kids and dogs, but he also always seems to keep people at a distance. Which, y’know, is fair and I wouldn’t want to pry, but it’s clear now that he’s held himself back

“He’s had a wall up around the team, and I’m now noticing just how much he was hiding behind it.”

Shane’s heart felt heavy, and it must have shown on his face because Harris quickly added, “No, no, I don’t mean that he was, like, miserable or that this relationship made him miserable, I just-”

“I know,” Shane said, recognizing an anxious ramble when he heard the start of one. “But hiding did make him miserable. It always made us both unhappy, but it felt like a necessary sacrifice we had to make to be together.”

“What made you decide to stop hiding, then?” Harris asked. “Not that you have to tell me, of course.”

Shane thought about opening those messages from Ilya, the ones he’d sent to Shane when he thought he was going to die. He thought about the dread and fear that had consumed him, the time he spent sobbing into his pillow after the call with Ilya that night, thought about the anger he felt at the world because how fucking unfair was it that he almost lost the love of his life and the world wouldn’t ever know the extent of his grief.

He thought about how, in those moments, he realized nothing mattered to him more than Ilya, and he could handle the world burning around them as long as they were together.

“We had a plan, to wait until one or both of us retired before going public in any way, and then you all almost died.” Harris sucked in a breath. “Suddenly, all the perfectly valid reasons we had for hiding seemed trivial, and ten years seemed too long to wait. I would have, if that’s what he wanted, but we both wanted more.”

“You deserve more,” Harris said, the conviction in his voice startling Shane slightly. “Both of you.”

“Thank you,” Shane whispered, and then found himself being hugged by the Centaurs’ social media manager and not hating it at all.

“Harris, you have your own short hockey player.” 

Shane pulled away to find Ilya leaning against the doorframe, that crooked smile Shane loved so much spread across his face. Harris may not have seen Ilya this happy before, but Shane had. At the cabin, in the mornings when they had the whole day together ahead of them, when Yuna showed him Shane’s baby pictures that never made it to the media.

He hoped that list would only continue to grow.

Harris laughed, a loud and booming sound, and made his way inside. Ilya shut the door behind him, once more muffling the sounds of the party going on inside.

He was beautiful in the low light of the porch, looking at Shane like nothing else existed and he didn’t miss any of it.

Shane wasn’t sure who moved first, but in the space of a single breath they were pressed together, Ilya’s warm hand cupping the back of Shane’s neck as he drew him in for a kiss.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Ilya said. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Shane said, resting his head on Ilya’s shoulder, heart squeezing at the easy way Ilya wrapped his arms around him. “I knew this would be a lot, but it’s different than what I expected.”

“Is better,” Ilya said. “Even I am surprised.”

They stayed like that for a couple moments and Shane decided he would not bring up his worries about the Voyageurs tonight. He has spent so much time worrying about other people, their opinions and reactions, that he thinks he’s earned a night of celebrating, a night of being at a party with Ilya without pretending he was anything but the man Shane loved.

It was getting late and most of the guys had left, some even giving Shane a hug as they did. Ilya’s heart seemed to grow ten sizes with each one, and now it was just Wyatt, Bood, Troy, Harris and strangely Luca Haas left in Ilya’s living room, the music turned down to background noise.

Shane sat next to Ilya, fully leaning into his side, sinking further into the couch until his head was resting on Ilya’s shoulder. Ilya barely resisted kissing his forehead, unsure of himself in these public displays, but he still reached down to squeeze Shane’s knee, earning a small smile.

“How the hell no one figured you out before is beyond me,” Bood said, and Ilya found him looking at him and Shane, a teasing but warm smile on his face.

“We are very good at hiding,” Ilya said. “Lots of practice.”

“How much practice are we talking?” Troy asked.

Ilya locked eyes with Shane, an amused look passing between them, because they both knew that apart from the existence of their relationship, the timeline of it was something no one would expect.

“Do you have any guesses?” Ilya asked.

Troy thought about it for a moment, but then shook his head. 

“I mean I would say the charity, but you’ve already said it was before then, and I don’t remember any big public changes in your rivalry before then.”

“I think it was after Hunter came out,” Bood said.

“I’d say earlier during that season,” Wyatt added.

Harris simply shrugged, and Haas still looked a bit lost, though more relaxed than before. Ilya extended his leg to nudge Luca’s knee.

“What do you think?”

Haas looked between Shane and Ilya, seemingly thinking about it a lot harder than Ilya would have assumed, and said, “Well, I can’t really think of a moment when things might have changed, so maybe they were always this way.”

Bood let out a chuckle, and said, “You really think they’ve been sneaking around since what, their rookie year?”

Redness dusted over Luca’s cheeks immediately, but before he could say anything, before Ilya could say anything, Shane said, “The kid is right.”

“What?!”

Ilya doubled over laughing at the chorus of shock, the open mouths and wide eyes all around them, at Luca’s stunned and still flushed face, and when he saw Shane laughing just as hard, he gave into his earlier urge to kiss his forehead.

“We were… something, right from the start, on and off, but Bood is also kind of right,” Ilya said. “The summer after Hunter came out we decided to give this a proper shot after Hollander admitted he was madly in love with me.”

There was a sharp pinch at his side, and he laughed at Shane’s adorable frown.

“You said you loved me first, idiot.”

“And you said it back,” Ilya said, aiming for teasing but landing closer to fondness, because in moments like these, he almost couldn’t believe Shane had said those words, has echoed each of Ilya’s ‘I love you’s since then without hesitation.

Suddenly Troy giggled, pulling Ilya’s attention away from Shane.

“What?”

“Just imagining how Scott Hunter would react to finding out he had a role in your love life.”

Shane let out an embarrassed noise, and suddenly the room was full of laughter, easy and light, and Ilya wished he could bottle up this feeling and always keep it close.

Shane came out to his team a few weeks later, after a winning game and with plans on driving to Ottawa as soon as he was out of the arena. Disbelief and disgust still clung to him as he made his way to his car, only Hayden trailing behind him.

He should have known, he had known, but the rejection still stung. Hayden was talking about how they’d come around, Shane just needed to give them time, but Shane was so over giving up his own happiness to the clutches of time and other people’s comfort.

He had a wonderful day with Ilya, especially with Anya now around, and that’s what he clung to as he returned to the arena for practice and was summoned to the coach’s office before he’d even taken his coat off.

“I want you to be honest with me,” Coach Theriault said, barely contained anger clear in his posture and his voice.

Shane didn’t even sit down, just stood in the middle of the office as his mind reeled. He knew what the next question would be, he could almost hear it before it was spoken, but the world seemed to tip either way when it was asked.

“Are you involved with Ilya Rozanov?”

Shock faded quickly, panic setting in right after, and then hurt and anger like he’s never felt before.

His team did this, he was certain. One or more or all of them went to the coach, went behind Shane’s back and broke his trust. He hadn’t expected much from them, had expected less than Ilya always tried to convince him he deserved, but this was a low he hadn’t thought possible.

“Yes.”

His voice came out calmer and icier than he had thought it would, but he didn’t backtrack. He watched as Theriault blew out an angry breath, tightened his fists at his side.

“And it’s serious?”

“Yes.”

He thought maybe his voice would start shaking now, but it still came out steady. Shane may have spent years keeping Ilya a secret, keeping his own heart a secret, but he was done. 

“Go home.”

“What?”

“Go home, Hollander,” Theriault said, almost shouting now. “You’re benched until this is dealt with. Commissioner’s orders.”

The pit in Shane’s stomach seemed to widen.

The coach went to fucking Crowell.

“Why, exactly?” he asked around the lump in his throat.

“What do you mean why? As if you’re not involved with a rival captain, for fuck’s sake Hollander, what did you think was going to happen? If I’d known, I would have benched you all the earlier.”

Shane felt like he wasn’t in his body, like this was just a very vivid dream. Except he knew it wasn’t. This was real and it was happening, and now he was being sent home, all his contribution to this team deemed irrelevant. By his coach, by the commissioner, and by his team

“Then there would be no banners hanging in your fucking arena right now,” Shane spit out, some small part of him gleeful at the shock on his coach’s face as he stormed out of the office.

He was fuming, panicking, and all he wanted was to be back with Ilya. Crowell knew, and he was definitely going to try and pull something, was maybe already putting something in motion while Shane felt like clawing out of his skin. Shane wanted, needed, to be where he felt safest.

Laughter broke through the storm in his mind. Laughter coming from the locker room. Laughter that died down instantly when Shane appeared at the door.

He looked at each of their faces, identical expressions on each one apart from Hayden’s and J.J.’s, and while he was burning with the need to hit something, someone, he knew it didn’t actually matter who had gone to the coach.

It didn’t matter if they debated it for a while or if they hadn’t even waited for Shane to leave the arena after telling them. It didn’t matter if it was one person or multiple, because Shane knew no one would have acted without support from at least some of the team. It didn’t matter because at that moment Shane knew it could have been any one of them, Hayden and J.J. the only exceptions.

“Shane, you okay?” Hayden asked, genuine concern and curiosity on his face.

“No, because I’m fucking benched,” Shane said, and only Hayden and J.J. seemed surprised at that. “Because someone on this team decided their discomfort with who I love was more important than me and my trust. Because the coach just asked me about Rozanov.”

“Shit,” Hayden said. “Fuck.”

J.J. looked murderous, and that, that is all Shane wanted. For his team to be on his side even when they didn’t understand, to stand up for him even when they were angry at him.

“Just so we’re clear, we won all three of those Cups with me being in love with Ilya. And I for one have never let my personal feelings get in the way of this team,” Shane said. “So I hope you can all live with yourselves and your choices.”

Shane turned and started walking, away from this team, this arena. He didn’t even hear Hayden following him until his friend gripped his shoulder.

Shane just barely bit back the harsh words on the tip of his tongue because Hayden didn’t deserve them. For all his dislike of Ilya, he had kept their secret, had been in Shane’s corner since day one.

“I’d ask if you’re alright but that’s probably a stupid question,” Hayden said, clearly at a loss.

A humorless laugh escaped Shane, a hollow sound. He looked over Hayden’s shoulder and saw J.J. lingering halfway between them and the locker room, but whatever he saw on Shane’s face made him come closer.

“Do you want us to figure out who it was?” J.J. asked, and when Shane only looked at him, added, “Look, am I thrilled about this whole thing? No. And you still owe me a conversation, just us. But nothing justifies breaking your trust like this.”

Shane still had no words, so he simply pulled his friend into a hug. A short, slightly awkward hug, but it seemed to be the right response.

“I don’t care who did it,” Shane said after pulling away. “You two are the only ones out here now and that tells me all I need to know.”

Hayden gave him a sad smile and asked, “Are you sure you’re in a state to drive?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Shane said, though the words didn’t sound convincing.

Despite that and the skeptical looks both Hayden and J.J. threw his way even after he reassured them he would check in when he was home, they let him go, reluctantly returning to the locker room. It was only once Shane got to his car that he had to admit he wasn’t really in a state to drive. Especially not all the way to Ottawa.

Just as he took his phone out and unlocked it, Ilya’s name lit up the screen.

“Hi,” Shane said, small and quiet.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Ilya replied, and even just those two words soothed some of the storm inside Shane’s heart. “I just got out of my coach’s office.”

Oh.

Crowell worked fast, Shane had to give him that.

“He said Crowell is benching us, but he couldn’t tell me more, so–”

“It’s my fault,” Shane said without thinking, heart tightening and eyes stinging with how heavily he felt those words. “Someone on my team went to our coach, and he went to Crowell.”

“It’s not your fault,” Ilya said with unshakable conviction. “This is Crowell’s fault, and the players on your team who went to your coach.”

Shane hummed but couldn’t find any other words to reply. God, he wanted Ilya to hold him.

“Are you okay?” Shane asked.

“Yes. I’m angry, and this is bullshit, but I am okay. But I am also worried about you.”

There was a moment of silence, Shane trying to find words, Ilya waiting to hear them, but in the end, Shane didn’t need to speak his mind for Ilya to know what he needed.

“Shane,” Ilya said softly. “I can be on my way to Montreal within the hour, if you want me there.”

“I always want you with me,” Shane said, feeling a few tears escape down his cheeks. “Are you su–”

“I’m sure,” Ilya said. “Go home, call your parents, and I will be there soon.”

“I love you so much,” Shane said in Russian, his voice quiet and heavy with tears he was barely holding at bay.

“I love you, too. I will see you soon.”

Shane got back to his apartment in a blur, and ate two Snickers bars before calling his parents. Yuna was furious, and Shane was half-convinced she was going to drive to Montreal and find whoever went to the coach herself, only calming down slightly when he told her Ilya was coming. He occupied himself for an hour at the pet store, getting toys and necessities for Anya, though he was sure Ilya had packed his car full of all the things he got her.

The email from Crowell asking, or rather, demanding, his and Ilya’s presence at a meeting with him the day after tomorrow arrived just as he got back home, and he was still staring at the screen when Ilya used his key to let himself inside.

Shane all but crashed into him, holding him and kissing him, letting himself feel all the good that came from this man, from loving him and being with him. 

He was terrified of what would happen, what this meant for their careers, where he would play next season, if any team would have him, though he could come up with one, as foolish as it might be to even dare hope for that future. But as Ilya led him to his trophy room, Shane knew that no matter what, he would fight for them, for Ilya, everything else be damned.

Ilya wasn’t quite convinced the previous week hadn’t been a dream. 

The day before his and Shane’s meeting with Crowell, they’d called Farah to update her on the situation and tell her what they wanted to do. She reassured them there was nothing the league could concretely do, though the rules haven’t always stopped them, but that she was on their side whatever they chose to do.

The meeting was horrible, Crowell’s threats quickly going from vague and veiled to outright, and Ilya could remember the exact tension in his body as he waited for Shane to respond to the choice Crowell had laid out before them. And he could still remember the warmth and love that overflowed his heart when Shane had stood up and said, “I choose him. We are getting married, and we are coming out. This meeting is over.”

The next morning, they’d called Farah again, and she’d also been impressed by Yuna’s forethought to record the meeting. She also hadn’t been particularly shocked when they told her they wanted to come out the same day. The rumors were bound to spread, and the longer Crowell thought he could sweep this under the rug, the longer he had to play his games in the dark, the more confident he’d feel. And neither Shane nor Ilya wanted anyone else to find out without them being the ones to say it.

“Can I have a word alone with Shane first?” she’d asked as the conversation was drawing to a close.

“Whatever it is, Ilya can stay,” Shane had said, confused, but Ilya had a sneaking suspicion what Farah wanted to talk about.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re sure, given that you’re a free agent once this season ends,” she’d said, an almost apologetic glance thrown Ilya’s way. “The reality is that there are teams who would happily sign you as things are now, but may not feel the same once your relationship with Ilya is made public.”

Ilya had thought about that too, but hadn’t yet been able to say it, because what if Shane decided to wait, what if that waiting turned into not wanting to rock the boat with a new team, what if he decided all this wasn’t worth it?

“I’m done hiding,” Shane had said, and Ilya hadn’t been able to look away from him. “Whatever team wants to sign me, I want them to know they’re signing Ilya’s husband.”

Ilya had been dangerously close to crying on call with their agent.

Farah had drafted a statement for them to post, and Ilya had been the one to drag out the actual posting of it and the photos, both because picking out photos took time but also because he wanted to be sure Shane was sure. Shane had freaked out a bit, but ultimately, he was the one to tap the screen that final time, their secret out in the world.

Many calls and comments and requests for interviews later, Ilya found himself driving to his first practice back. The team greeted him with cheers, and coach Wiebe had allowed for a slight delay in starting practice, but then there was work to be done. Because of course, tonight they were playing against Montreal.

That evening, Ilya noticed Troy’s tape first, the bright rainbow they last used for Pride week. And when he looked around the locker room as they were getting ready for the game, he noticed there was a mix of rainbow and blue, pink and purple tape on everyone’s sticks. He swallowed his tears just barely, but it turned out to be a lost cause.

“And finally, Ottawa’s captain, Ilya Rozanov!”

The announcer’s voice faded as Ilya stepped onto the ice to a deafening roar of the crowd. They’d gotten more popular as a team this year, but this was so much more than that, louder than any crowd he’d had in Boston. He took in the pride flags, the signs full of supportive words and slogans, the people wearing his jersey with Shane’s last name written under his in a kind of haze, realizing somewhat belatedly that his eyes were full of tears. 

The crowd was just as loud when Shane’s name was announced, and he looked so taken aback, then so wonderfully happy and shy that Ilya barely held back from kissing him right then and there. He noticed J.J. and Hayden sticking closer to Shane while they could, the sour looks on the faces of the other Voyageurs. 

Ilya couldn’t wait to beat them.