Chapter Text
Shane took a deep breath, his head between his knees and his hands sweaty on his neck. It’s just a hockey game, like any other, you’ve been fine so far. But so far, Shane Hollander hadn’t played against the Metros. He hadn’t seen his former teammates since– since the end of last season. Since before he and Ilya got married. Since everyone thought he had tripped on purpose…
“Shane?” A voice called, but everything sounded fuzzy and far away. “Shane, buddy, you okay?” Someone planted a firm hand on Shane’s shoulder, and he jolted up, now staring at Coach Wiebe.
“Sorry, sorry I just…” Shane trailed off, not knowing what to say. He had never been this nervous for a hockey game ever. Not even during playoffs. This was just a regular-season game, and Shane was on the edge of a panic attack.
“You don’t have to be sorry, Shane. I understand, the whole team understands how hard this must be for you.” Coach Wiebe was unlike any coach Shane had ever had, and he was the polar opposite of his former coach. Brandon Wiebe was kind, he cared about his players, and he believed in his team’s potential. And above all else, for Shane, was that Wiebe was entirely accepting of him and Ilya.
Shane sat up fully, nodding through shaky breaths. He found himself spinning his wedding ring to calm himself. He had been doing that a lot lately, in the days leading up to this game.
“Hey, a bunch of broadcasters are looking for you both. They really want to interview Hollander.” Luca Haas peered his head around the wall separating the doorway from the rest of the locker room. Shane felt his chest tightening again.
“Fuck em’. You don’t owe those reporters anything. I’m sure Rozanov can give them an earful if he wants.” Wiebe turned to Haas, who nodded awkwardly and disappeared.
Ilya had told Shane that Luca Haas was a Rozanov superfan, but what he didn’t mention was that he was also a massive fan of Shane’s. The poor kid almost had a heart attack when he learned Shane was joining the Centaurs. But Luca was sweet, and Shane saw a lot of himself in the young player.
“Shane, take your time. I know that as soon as we get out on the ice, you’ll show those Metros jerks. You were the only reason they were good anyway.” Coach Wiebe waved a hand in the air and left the locker room. Shane knew Coach Wiebe was just trying to make him feel better, but the Metros were still doing great, even if it was still early in the season. Hayden and JJ were still excellent players.
Speaking of Hayden, he had texted Shane that morning about the game they were about to play against each other. Shane had admitted to Hayden that he was nervous for the game, nervous about facing his former teammates who had treated him so poorly as soon as they found out about Ilya. Hayden had promised he would try to make sure that nobody gave Shane a hard time.
After another couple of minutes of breathing exercises, Shane finally felt ready to go join his team for warmups, but before he could get his gear on, the familiar voice of his husband boomed down the hall outside.
“Fucking assholes,” Ilya shouted, following that up with a string of Russian obscenities. “All they want is gossip, it is like they do not care about hockey anymore!”
“I know, man.” Zane Boodram replied. “Nobody cares about the damn game we’re about to win!” Both men entered the locker room, and Shane watched Ilya’s face soften as soon as their eyes met.
“Moy lyubov, you will not believe these reporters. Wiebe sends us out to talk to them, and all they care about is “drama between Hollander and the Metros.” I could not finish that interview.” Ilya quickly crossed the locker room and rested his head on Shane’s shoulder.
Shane stiffened for a moment, still on edge from all of the anxiety coursing through his veins. He was also not used to being able to show affection to Ilya in front of other people, especially not other hockey players. But the Centaurs were different, and in the short time Shane had gotten to know his new teammates, the more he felt like this was where he truly belonged. “Shane, you okay?” Ilya finally asked, sensing something was wrong.
“I’m gonna get back to warmups.” Boodram nodded, giving Shane and Ilya the room to themselves.
“I’m just anxious, I guess.” Shane swallowed and decided he needed to sit back down for a minute. “I didn’t exactly leave Montreal on good terms.” Ilya frowned and sat down next to Shane and took his hand, lacing their fingers together.
“Is okay, we will beat them and show them you are better off here, and they are all better off retiring before it is too late,” Ilya stated plainly. “They are no good without you anyway.”
Shane let out a chuckle. “Coach Wiebe said the same thing. Hayden and JJ are still good players, though. They’ve won all their games so far.”
“Just luck, you’ll see. We’ll destroy them, and they will go home crying.” Ilya kissed Shane’s head. “Come on, warmups are almost over.”
–
“I can’t imagine what Shane Hollander is thinking right now, facing off against his old team, who he carried to two cups.”
“Rumor has it the split between Hollander and the Metros was not pretty. A lot of players upset about the Metros’ final game last season. A lot of fans upset too.”
“A lot of people upset about his relationship with Ilya Rozanov as well. It cannot be easy for those two, being the first married queer couple in the NHL superstar roster, especially given their past rivalry.”
“It does seem Hollander has found his groove with the Centaurs, though, they’ve been on fire for the start of the season.”
“Let’s see if they can keep up their winning streak tonight, folks.”
The home crowd erupted in cheers as the Centaurs skated across the ice, and Shane couldn’t believe that Ilya had told them they used to play to an almost empty stadium. He was all the more proud of his new team and of his husband for catapulting the Centaurs back to stardom. Shane didn’t want to let them down tonight.
Shane looked up to the fans in the stadium as the Metros were announced, and he was surprised to see so many fans wearing his old Metros jersey. It was nice to know some people still loved him back in Montreal. Shane didn’t have time to get lost in his own thoughts for much longer before JJ and Hayden came skating up beside him.
“Good luck, Ca- Hollander!” JJ clapped him on the back. All of the anxiety roaring in his ears seemed to lessen for a second when JJ almost called him captain in that tone he always used when talking to Shane.
“You’re gonna need it, buddy!” Hayden chimed in, his tone light and playful.
“I think you guys are gonna need the luck here,” Shane grinned, feeling a little like himself again. “We’re gonna win the cup this year.” He stated matter-of-factly. Shane was never good at trash talk, especially not against his two best friends. He was so grateful they stopped to banter with him, and he was still smiling as they skated away. From the corner of his vision, Shane could see Ilya watching him intently.
Shane skated back to his bench, and soon the buzzer for the first period sounded. The game was instantly explosive, both teams had something to prove here. For the Metros, it was that they didn’t need Shane Hollander to be great, and for the Centaurs, it was proving them wrong.
Shane was partly grateful that he didn’t play the same line as Ilya because he was hypnotic to watch on the ice. The power behind his stick and his swiftness on the ice were unmatched, and his puck handling was out of this world. Shane felt lucky to be married to the best player in the league.
But even so, Ilya was still up against one of the best teams out there, and Shane watched the puck break away from the Centaur’s control and sail right towards the Metros. Shane held his breath as he watched Hayden line up a beautiful shot–
“Ha!” Luca Haas exclaimed from beside him. Hayes had an even more beautiful save. Then suddenly it was time for Shane to show off. “Let’s get em’, Hollander.”
With his new teammates by his side, facing off against his former ones, Shane felt like he needed to score the first goal of the game. He had to. He was now in a face-off against someone he didn’t recognize, a new player? Someone traded from another team? It didn’t matter to Shane, he was gonna win the face-off.
“Having fun playing pretend in fairy land?” The other man sneered. Shane clenched his jaw. He had almost expected this, but from someone he used to know. Someone on the team who would have taken last season’s loss personally. Not this random man, he had never met. Before Shane could think of anything to say, the puck dropped, and the Montreal player snatched the puck away.
Fuck, don’t let them get to you, Shane! He scolded himself and took off after the puck. Sure, Ilya may be a fast skater, but Shane was faster, and this new guy was no match for his speed. After a scuffle and much-needed support from Haas and LaPointe, Shane and the Centaurs were back in control. Just as Shane needed.
The crowd roared as he sailed down the ice towards Montreal’s net. He took a quick glance in the direction of the bench, catching Ilya’s glinting eyes and massive grin before nodding back to his linemates. He was still getting used to playing on a line with younger players who weren’t exactly at his skill level, but for what they didn’t have in that department, they made up for in sheer determination and a familial connection.
It only took a few brief moments of eye contact, and both of his wings knew exactly what to do. Just as they had practiced hundreds of times, just as they had taught kids during the summer. Nobody could match Shane’s speed and accuracy, and with a satisfying whack, the puck sailed cleanly over Drapeau’s shoulder before he could react.
“Shane Hollander with the first score of the game, assisted by Luca Haas! What a shot!”
Shane felt pride swell in his chest as he skated up to Luca, bumping him playfully. “Keep it up!” He always wanted to encourage the younger players, and Haas was shaping up to be an incredible player. The new Montreal player from the face-off was standing near, huffing and sending daggered stares at Shane.
“Moy muzh!” Ilya cheered as Shane skated past. Ilya hopped onto the ice to take Shane’s place, rubbing the top of his helmet with his large gloves affectionately as they passed each other. The positive energy in the air was palpable, and Shane almost forgot why he was so anxious about this match in the first place.
Once Ilya was out on the ice, the energy of the crowd changed. It was their captain’s turn again, and they all knew that even though the two of them were on the same team, Rozanov could never let Shane show him up too much. Ilya wanted a first-period goal of his own. Ilya caught the eye of whoever it was Shane had faced off against, and the man looked like he was fuming.
“Ruining your hot rookie season?” Ilya grinned, back to his usual taunting antics that always got under the other team’s skin. The other player didn’t respond. Ilya kept skating past him, trying to get a glimpse of the name on his jersey. Hicks, not a friendly one. Ilya took a mental note. Hayden stuck his tongue out at Ilya as they approached each other for the face-off.
“Rozzy,” Hayden grinned. Although it was tough for both of them to accept each other as part of Shane’s life, Ilya had grown quite fond of Hayden Pike. He was quite fond of his kids, anyway. He liked that they called him Uncle Ilya. He hoped Hayden had begun to feel the same way toward him.
“Pikey,” Ilya replied. Hayden rolled his eyes. He did not like being called Pikey– okay, he tolerated being called Pikey. “Who is that new guy?” Ilya asked, but the ref cut in, blowing his whistle to silence them and start the face-off.
It was a tough skirmish, but Ilya won, turning heel and skating off quickly to Boodram. Hicks- the Montreal rookie who was still playing- took off after Ilya, ignoring whatever plan or formation Hayden had for him by the look on the captain’s face.
Ilya enjoyed the attention. He was reminded of himself as a rookie, always thinking he knew the best plays to make. At least Ilya was sure now that he knew the best plays, and he knew exactly how to handle a hot-headed rookie.
He had been surprised by the amount he’d learned from teaching kids to play hockey. Professionals were just really, really large kids, he’d discovered. Hicks was just a very large kid who thought he was better than everyone. Maybe, Ilya thought, he must be jealous of me, I am the best at hockey.
The timer for the first period ticked down, and Ilya was hyper aware that there was only a minute left, hyper aware that he needed to score because he couldn’t let Shane Hollander have all the glory. Ilya was the captain and star player, he couldn’t let Shane upstage him, even if he was his incredibly hot and incredibly skilled husband.
Ilya found himself in shooting range, and he silently signaled to Boodram and Barret to get ready, but before Ilya could pass or take any shot, Hicks slammed into him at full force.
“Yebat!” Ilya cursed as his body hit the boards. He quickly shook off the hit and skated back after the puck, but then the buzzer sounded to end the first period. Ilya stood there for a second, staring down Hicks, who was glaring right back. Shane and Boodram skated up behind Ilya.
“You alright?” Shane asked, looking Ilya up and down.
“Man really had it out for you.” Boodram skated in front of Ilya, placing himself as a visual barrier between Hicks and Ilya, who he knew would love to say something dumb.
And as if on cue, Ilya opened his mouth. “What, you jealous I am best player?” Ilya poked his head around Boodram.
“Rozanov,” a ref warned from behind the group. “Locker room, periods over.”
“As if I’d be jealous of you. You couldn’t find any woman who’d wanna fuck you, so you had to settle for that sorry excuse for a hockey player.” Hicks spat in return, jabbing a finger in Shane’s direction.
“Whoa!” The ref was now skating closer, and Boodram stepped out of the way, not wanting any part. Shane looked at Ilya and saw nothing but rage in his eyes.
“There seems to be something going on the ice still, looks like Rozanov and Hicks don’t want to go back to their locker rooms quite yet.”
“Jackson Hicks, the newest Metros player, has had a fiery start to his rookie season, and it seems like he wants to tangle with the best of them already.”
“Hicks said in an interview that when he got drafted, he used to be a big fan of Hollander. Keyword, used to. He seems to be in the camp of fans that couldn’t get over the end of last season.”
“What the fuck did you say to me?” Ilya spat, already stripping his gloves off and throwing them down onto the ice.
Shane thought he and Ilya would be used to this by now. The taunts, insults, slurs. Shane had to get off Twitter and Instagram permanently because of how bad it was when their relationship was exposed. Ilya, on the other hand, had gotten in trouble with the league when he threatened various people on Twitter whenever they insulted Shane. Harris was now in charge of Ilya’s social media accounts, to say the least.
“You’ll both get penalties if you don’t get off the ice right now!” The ref demanded, stepping in between Ilya and Hicks. Shane skated over, scooping up Ilya’s discarded gloves to hand back to him. Ilya seemed to calm down for a second, not wanting to hurt his team’s game just because some nobody rookie decided to insult his Husband.
“Ilya, please.” Shane offered the gloves back to him. “He’s not worth it.”
“Yeah, prance back off to faggot land.” And with that last comment from Hicks, it was too late. Before Shane or the ref could even react to the insult, Ilya was on top of Hicks, fists raised. The crowd still sitting in the stands fell silent as the sickening crack of bones echoed across the ice. Ilya pulled back his hand, ready to keep pummeling the rookie’s face in. His own knuckles were bruised and bloodied, and he was sure one of Hicks’ teeth had cut his hand, but Ilya needed to make sure this kid learned his lesson more than just what a broken nose would teach him.
The poor ref didn’t have the strength to pull Ilya off, especially not now, when all Ilya could see was red and how Hicks’ face wasn’t broken enough. Ilya wasn’t nearly as young as this kid was, but he was by far bigger, stronger, and more seasoned in every aspect of hockey and physical fitness, so he barely noticed the rookie trying to fight back against the onslaught of fists.
It wasn’t until Shane had to tackle Ilya off Hicks that he finally noticed the blood splattered on the ice. A medic was already moving towards Hicks. Ilya assumed they called Boodram back in because suddenly he was being hauled away by Shane and someone much bigger than him.
“That was a nasty fight between Hicks and Rozanov. I can only imagine what was said to set Rozanov off like that.”
“Rozanov’s known for his bark, not his bite. Looks like Hicks is standing up now, and they’ve moved Rozanov off the ice.”
“He’ll be lucky if they let him back in the game after pulling something like that.”
“Ilya, what the actual fuck?” Shane shouted at him as they entered the locker room. Coach Wiebe was waiting for them, looking like he had aged ten years in a few minutes. Ilya was dully aware of his hands throbbing and of his teammates' concerned looks. All he could see was the anger, the disappointment in Shane’s eyes.
“I think I cut my hand…” was all he could mutter out. He had come down from his rage-induced high and was now getting struck with the realization of how massively he fucked up.
“You do realize you’re benched. For the rest of this game. Fuck, maybe even for longer. This is a shit show, Ilya!” Shane didn’t seem to hear him, or if he did, he didn’t care.
“Hey, Shane, calm down. I will talk to Rozanov.” Wiebe put his hands on Shane’s shoulders. “I don’t know what the hell happened out there, but you seem pretty rattled, so go sit down, drink some water.” It wasn’t until Wiebe touched him that he realized he was shaking and that he could feel the sting of tears starting to form in his eyes.
So much for a good first game against the Metros.
Shane didn’t say anything else, he just nodded and turned to find a quiet bench back in the changing room. He could feel the panic build up in his chest again, and all of the awful things he had been feeling since before the start of the game came crashing back down. He had tried so hard for so long to make sure that something like this never happened. He never wanted his personal life to affect his ability to play hockey. He had been so desperate to keep his life with Ilya separate from his life on the ice. It had all changed so fast. Every part of his life had shifted in such a dramatic way that the realization of that fact knocked the wind out of him.
Shane felt like he was going to be sick. First, it was getting to be with Ilya, actually be with him, and that was a change for the better. One he welcomed with open arms. Next, it was coming out to his team. But then it was his relationship with Ilya being exposed to new people, to more people, too fast for Shane’s liking, but it wasn’t awful. Then the video. The stupid fucking video. Shane didnt’t want to blame Hayden for exposing his relationship to the world. Shane had wanted to come out, but he wanted it to be on his terms. That was the plan, that was always the plan he and Ilya were going to run with.
Shane’s carefully thought-out plan had been flipped on its head, and then he got functionally kicked out of the Metros. The only family on the ice Shane had ever known, and they had turned on him in the blink of an eye. Shane still woke up with nightmares from how his former teammates had treated him after they learned that he was dating Ilya Rozanov, as if it was the worst thing on the planet. His job had been threatened, and he had no choice but to leave for another team if he wanted to continue his hockey career.
I can’t breathe, I’m going to die here in this changing room. Everyone will know that I couldn’t play a single game against the Metros without losing it. Everyone will know I’m a fraud, and they’ll kick me off the team, and Ilya will-
“Shane- oh…” Luca had entered the changing room, presumably looking for Shane, when he found him sitting on the floor with his head between his legs as sobs wracked through his body. “Um, second period is starting soon.” Shane’s crying stopped as Luca’s voice pulled him back down to reality. He lifted his head up and dragged his hands over his face, trying to clear the tears.
“Sorry,” Shane croaked, his voice hoarse. “I, uh, I’ll be out in a second.” Instead of walking away as Shane expected, Luca sat timidly beside Shane on the concrete floor.
“Um, they’re sending Roz home. Wiebe talked to the refs, and they all agreed that Hicks instigated a fight and his words were unacceptable, but they still haven't decided if Roz can come back next game.” Luca explained. Shane just nodded and swallowed, trying to pull himself together. “Roz got ‘em pretty good. Busted his own hand punching the guy.”
Shane knew Luca was trying to be helpful, but hearing about the fight sent his head back into his hands. “Shit, sorry.” Luca stood up. “I’m gonna get back out there. Um, I just want to let you know that we all… we all love you and Rozanov. Anyone like Hicks deserves to get their face beaten in.” Luca left the changing room, and Shane was alone again. He couldn’t stand being alone now. He didn’t want to keep spiraling all by himself.
Take back control, go win this game. Shane drew in a couple more deep breaths before standing to join the rest of his team. When he walked back out to the main area, eyes red and puffy, he saw Ilya still in the locker room. He looked ashamed, and there were now bandages wrapped around both of his fists. He had taken all of his gear off, and Shane felt a pain shoot through his heart at the sight of his husband looking so pathetic. Ilya wouldn’t meet his gaze as Shane approached.
“We need to talk when I get home,” Shane said softly, trying not to let his sadness and anger affect his tone. “I’ll see you soon.” Ilya nodded, keeping his eyes down at his injured hands. Shane had never seen Ilya so… unlike himself. He was the captain of the Centaurs, usually giving fiery speeches and laughing with his teammates in the locker room, no matter what the score was. Now he was sitting here, kicked out of the game for bashing another player’s face in. As much as Ilya talked and got under other players' skins, he rarely ever fought anyone. Whenever anyone insulted or taunted him back, it never seemed to affect him. The man sitting in front of Shane was so far from who Ilya Rozanov was on the ice.
“Alright!” Boodram clapped, stepping into his role of alternate captain now that Ilya had been ejected from the game. “I know we’re all a little shaken right now, but that’s just the game. You fuck around and find out with that one, believe me!” He started his speech, trying to raise everyone’s spirits. Shane saw Ilya’s lips twitch up a bit. “It’s only been one period, and we’re still up, let’s keep it that way. We can’t let those Montreal bastards win this game.” Boodram waved his arms for everyone to come closer, and he embraced as many of them as he could with his large wingspan.
Boodram’s speech had Shane feeling a little better. This was something he could do. This was something he could control. He could feel his gear on his back, the helmet on his head, and the stick in his hands. It was time to win the game.
“Off to an interesting start for the second period. Both Ilya Rozanov and Jackson Hicks have been benched for the rest of the game.”
“We don’t know what Hicks said to make Rozanov fly off the rails, but it must have been bad enough for him to get ejected as well.”
“With both teams down a player, who knows how this game will shake out?”
Shane was substituted into Ilya’s spot on the first line, and he spotted Hayden skating towards him for the face-off. “Shane, oh my god. You will not believe the talking to I am going to give Hicks after this game.” Hayden spoke quickly before the ref shushed him. Shane was glad someone was still on his side on the Metros.
The kindness was soon over as the puck dropped and Hayden skated away with it.
—
“And there you have it, folks, the Centaurs clutched in overtime, 2 to 1!”
“This win must feel fantastic for the Centaurs and especially for Shane Hollander. Even with Rozanov out of the game, the Centaurs still played excellently.”
“That’s Shane Hollander for you. Despite a team change, he is still arguably one of the best players in the league.”
“Fuck yeah, Hollander!” Boodram clapped him on the back after he finally scored another goal. Only two goals for the whole game was a bit embarrassing, Montreal put up a great defense. But the Centaurs' defense was even better. A low-scoring win is still a win, especially against the Metros.
Shane could feel his skin buzzing and his blood pounding the way it always did when he won a game. You did this, you won the game. He could hear Ilya’s thick accent in his head, praising him. Even just thinking of Ilya made his heart skip a beat.
Hayden looked miserable, having lost a game to a team that many still considered to be a bad hockey team, embraced Shane at the line-up anyway. He whispered that he would text him about Hicks later.
When the Centaurs returned to the locker room, Ilya was gone. Coach Wiebe mentioned he went home once the second period had started. “Fantastic job, guys! I’m extremely proud of you all. Celebrate, go home, get some rest. Our trip starts tomorrow, so make sure you’re well rested! We’re going to the West Coast, and we’re gonna be fighting that time difference as well.” Wiebe glanced at Shane, nodding his head slightly, signalling that he wanted to speak to him privately.
The rest of the players started stripping their gear off, talking happily amongst themselves. Shane shed his own gear quickly before heading to Wiebe’s small office. “You wanted to talk to me?” Shane closed the door behind him.
“Yeah,” Wiebe took a deep breath. “I’m sorry about Hicks. What he said was unacceptable, and that never should have happened. The league is taking this seriously. They are, however, also taking Ilya’s response seriously. I think I can talk them into letting him play again after our road trip, but I don’t think they’re gonna let Ilya come along with us this next week.” Shane nodded slowly, feeling like he was back with the Metros, not being able to see Ilya for weeks on end.
But this would just be one week, Shane had to remind himself. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll talk to Ilya tonight.” He didn’t really know what else to say. “Um, is that kid okay?”
“Ilya busted his nose and knocked a couple of teeth out, but Hicks will be fine.” Wiebe’s gaze softened, and Shane felt sorry that his coach had to deal with all of this. “Rozanov got his knuckles busted open by the teeth, but the medics bandaged him up so he’ll be fine as well. Get home safe, Shane. Take care of your husband, I know he regrets what he did.”
Shane didn’t think he’d ever get used to people referring to Ilya as his husband. It sent shivers down his spine, and his breath caught in his throat, but once he reminded himself that they didn’t have to hide anymore, it made him beam. Ilya Rozanov was his husband. His husband, who was grounded from playing for a week because he acted like a dumb kid.
“Thanks, I’m sorry you had to deal with him.”
“Part of the job. I’m still lucky to have you and Rozanov on the team, even if that comes with extra… I don’t wanna say hardships, but extra… situations, we’ll put it like that.” Wiebe grinned, and Shane appreciated that everyone was trying to make him feel better.
Shane walked back through the locker room and out to the hall, and headed for the players’ exit. His bag felt heavy over his shoulder, and now that he was alone again, the anxiety came curling back into his chest.
He just wanted to get back home to Ilya.