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Shane has always been a pretty restrained person, even on ice. It was a decision he had made years ago, because he had a lot more to lose; an asian, closeted hockey player had more to lose by being labeled as aggressive than any other white player. So, he based his personality around it.
What he didn’t realize in time was that it started affecting his life outside the ice, too. And worst of all, his relationships with the people who supposedly knew him.
He had been so focused on being correct in every situation that he didn’t realize how much he was truly masking—thanks to his psychiatrist for that term, which was giving Shane a lot of crises lately—his true personality.
The only person he had ever felt himself with was Ilya. He did not bite back his insults, his true opinions, or his needs. He didn’t feel the need to hide around him, the anxiety bubbling under his skin in the way Shane detests.
He was the only person he had felt comfortable with from the get-go, his walls dropping from the second Ilya had stared at him hungrily.
He was Shane’s person, the love of his life; Shane had not known life without Ilya since he was seventeen, and God, he didn’t want to. That man was his.
With every part of him, Ilya had bewitched Shane; the chirping, the aggressive way he played, skating circles around everyone else but Shane, the incandescent way he seemed to glow with the reflection of the ice beneath their skates; everything about him made him weak, and at the same time, it made him stronger.
Maybe that’s why, when everything settled between them, Shane started to settle too; his personality becoming more true to himself, more snippy, more petty. And most importantly, more protective of what was his.
1
The first time he snapped, Ilya had stared at him with such awe that it made Shane want to cry. It had been a long time coming, actually; since Hayden had found out about them, he had been resistant to the idea, a bunch of invasive questions about Ilya always at the tip of his tongue.
It hadn’t bothered Shane at that moment, thinking that the questions were out of curiosity and care for him, but when they started to turn more pointedly towards Ilya, Shane had started to lose his patience.
Hayden hadn’t even met Ilya in person yet, outside of the ice, where everyone, even Shane, had a persona. No one paraded themselves in hockey gear and acted exactly how they would with their loved ones, fucking duh, obvious.
Or maybe, not so fucking obvious, because Hayden either was a bit slow on the uptake, or he truly thought Ilya was the spawn of Satan. Which, rude? He didn’t even know him, not really, just some glimpses from chirps across the years.
Shane had been nervous about this dinner for the longest time, and he wasn’t even worried about Ilya, not really; he knew him, knew that jokes covered his bravado, but that they were never pointed to hurt, just to cover enough to distract people, to make everyone laugh and look away.
They had cooked together, a spring salad with a mix of quinoa, steamed veggies, and raw salmon. Ilya had insisted on a vinaigrette, pushing Shane a bit out of his comfort zone, and it was good. What wasn’t good was Hayden's expression every time he stared at Ilya, who wasn’t even focused on him.
“Can you stop?” He cracked, his voice flat. He settled his glass on the table, the thunk resounding into the silent room. He was glaring at Hayden, full-on ice in his gaze.
“Moya zhizn', it’s okay—”
Shane was shaking his head before Ilya had even finished his sentence.
“It’s fucking not.” Shane snapped, his tone softening a bit as he looked back at Ilya, trying to convey that this was not against him. God, Ilya had made jokes throughout the dinner, but they were jokes, and tame as fuck for Ilya, if Shane was being honest. “What, Hayden?”
Hayden was staring at him as if he had grown another head, or as if he was speaking in tongues. It was pissing Shane off, to be honest. He knew how he came across normally, a socially awkward—autistic, his psych diagnosed—prodigy that seemed to be out of his depth when it came to many things in life.
He had been nicknamed the Golden Boy of Hockey many times because he seemed as clean-cut as he could get while playing a heavily violent sport. He seemed, but he wasn’t. He truly fucking wasn’t.
“Shane, we are sorry—” Jackie started, her voice apologetic. “We—”
“Jackie.”
Her mouth snapped shut, a guilty look in her green eyes. God.
“Jackie, you don’t have to apologize. In fact, you haven’t done anything wrong.” He paused, a deep sigh escaping him. “It’s your husband who has to apologize. He has been staring daggers at Ilya the entire time.”
Hayden harrumphed, as if to debate the point Shane was making, but shut the hell up when both Jackie and Shane sent him a death glare.
“I’m sorry, Shane, it’s just… It seems like a big joke, you know?”
“What?” His voice was dripping in incredulity, a tone so high he had never reached outside the bedroom. “What the fuck do you mean a joke?”
“I just mean—You guys hate each other! You have hated each other forever! Like Crosby and Ovechkin!” Hayden was getting into it now, full-on ranting. “And come on, Shane, you could do so much better—”
“Shut the fuck up, Hayden Pike.”
Shane sneaked a look towards Ilya, whose eyes were betraying him by glistening in the warm light of the living room. Shane felt his usual restraint bend and snap.
“Shane, come on! You know it’s true—”
Jackie was staring at her husband with horror, and Shane felt a bit better about that, because at the very least, he wasn’t alone in that. Better than Ilya? Who? Where? How?
As if Shane had not spent an entire decade trying to find someone who could get his head off Ilya Rozanov. As if Shane hadn’t tried to.
“You want to know something, Hayden? I tried to find someone better, when I didn’t know if what we had was real; if what I was feeling was mutual; and newsflash, I couldn’t!” Ilya let out a wounded sound at the words, and Shane sent him a tight smile, holding back tears. “I met Ilya before I even knew myself, and I grew with him as a person; we did that together.”
He sniffed, using the cuff of his hoodie to try to stop the snot from falling. God, this was a fucking mess. “And for so many years, even though I tried not to, all I wanted was to be by his side. During our accomplishments, I wanted him by my side; I wanted to be by his side when he won, even if that meant that I lost. It was always him.”
Hayden was staring at him with shock covering his eyes, and Shane scoffed at his expression. He had not listened when Shane had said this before, when they were huddled in the Pikes’ living room, way before Ilya came back from Boston.
“He’s the love of my life, Hayden.” He declared, his voice clear and strong. “I want to marry him. I want him to be the father of my children. He’s it for me, and I will not take your disrespect. You either accept my decision… Or I will decide for you.”
Jackie took a quick intake of breath, her brows high on her forehead.
“Shane, you don’t have to do that.” Ilya broke through the Pike’s shock, and Shane turned around to stare at Ilya. “I don’t want you to lose a friendship for me. Please.”
“It’s not because of you, baby. It’s because of his actions.” Shane responded softly. “I’ve let this go for way too long. You don’t have to prove yourself worthy of my love; you’ve had it for way too long for that. If he can’t accept that, it means he can’t accept a part of me.”
He finished his sentence with a glare towards Hayden, who was staring at him with guilt all over his face. Good. Just because he was Shane’s friend didn’t mean he got to be a fucking asshole to Ilya.
“I’m sorry, Roz—Ilya.” Hayden finally said, his words meek. “And sorry to you too, Shane. I didn’t mean it like that… But that doesn’t mean it didn’t come across that way. I’m happy if you are happy, Shane. I’ll try to be better.”
Jackie nodded in approval at her husband’s apology, “I’m sorry too. I know you said I didn’t say anything, but that’s exactly it: I didn’t say anything when I could’ve helped. I’m sorry for this, Ilya.”
Ilya nodded, a grateful smile on his beautiful face, making him shine even brighter under the lights. God, Shane was so fucking lucky to have him.
“Thank you, guys. Now, Ilya and I made banana rice pudding, which is a dessert I can eat for once. Let’s plate it up.”
2
Look, Shane loves his mom. He would go to the ends of the earth just to make her happy, carry the entire world on his shoulders to make her life easier, and do whatever it took to be able to have her by his side for the longest. But that was exactly the problem, according to his therapist.
He always did what his mother asked, no matter the reason behind it, because he wanted her to be happy; for her to be proud of him.
So, Shane realized, they never fought. Shane never voiced his opinions on sponsors, just following his mother’s expertise. He just… went with the flow of her control.
Until–
“Are you sure about Ilya?”
They had been silent for almost an hour, both huddled behind their laptops as they went through some contracts they had to polish. It had been a comfortable silence until now.
“What?” He asked incredulously, his voice high on the back of his throat. “Of course I am!”
“Well, honey, I’m just saying—”
Shane closed his laptop with such force that the screen gave out a skreek.
“What are you saying, mom?”
“Shane, I was just asking.” She responded, sighing. “I just wanted to know if you’ve thought this through. His reputation—”
Ah. That was it. Ilya’s reputation.
“Mom.” He cut her off. “Where is this coming from? Does dad also think this?”
His mother shrugged, looking at him with shrewd eyes. “I mean…”
Shane shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. Fuck, this was like Hayden’s dinner, but worse, because Shane could feel the tears in the back of his throat.
“Can you ask dad to come here? I need to talk to you both about this.” He pleaded, his voice shrill even to his ears, and he winced. “Please.”
Yuna nodded and disappeared into the second floor of the house, just to reappear with his dad in tow. Shane tried to gather himself, tried his best to push the tears back and take a deep breath. He could hear Ilya’s voice in his head, begging him to match his breathing.
Breathe, moya zhizn'.
“Okay.” He nodded to himself, steeling his body against the question his mother had thrown towards him. “Mom said you guys were worried about Ilya’s reputation.”
David stared at Yuna in shock, and Yuna just shrugged again. “Well, I wanted to know what Shane knew.”
“We weren’t exclusive. For years.” He confessed, hushed in the way his voice always got when it was about Ilya. “We weren’t ready, I think. I… I didn’t want to admit I was gay. Ilya has always been… proud to be bisexual. But I didn’t even know I was gay until I had it spelled for me.”
He laughed, rolling his eyes as he remembered the moment he came out to Ilya. It had been a big step for them, really, even though Ilya had stared at him like he couldn’t believe it took him that long to figure it out.
“Ilya has not been with anyone else since we were honest with each other.” He smiled, a fond look clouding his eyes. “I don’t even think about it, because Ilya is mine as well as I am his.”
It was a bit embarrassing to say this to his parents, but it was his mom who started all of this, so fuck it. She had opened Pandora’s Box with her invasive questions.
“Also, don’t believe everything the media says. Most of the time, when there are pictures of him and a girl, it’s his best friend from Russia.”
He had been jealous of Svetlana until he met her. She had shown him pictures of tween Ilya; smiling at the camera with braces, his curls even cuter than now, his eyes shining in a way that Shane only got to see sometimes, and his heart had melted at the sight.
“If you trust him, then we will too.” His dad vowed to him, a serious expression on his face. “You know him the best, after all.”
“Mom?”
“Sorry, honey. I guess I got too ahead of myself. You know how I am when something crosses my mind. It won’t leave me alone until I ask.”
Shane knew that, but fuck. He never wanted anyone to question Ilya, not when everything with them was going so well, and when they knew that he was moving to the bumfuck Ottawa Centaurs for him.
3
He was fucking exhausted. All of his senses were overstimulated to the max, and all he could think about was Ilya. Ilya, who apparently was waiting for him outside the rink. If they hadn’t been outed, Shane would panic about it, but seeing as their darkest secret was out in the open, all he could feel was pure relief.
He needed Ilya to ground him back into his body. He needed him draped over his body like a weighted blanket. He needed to leave this fucking locker room and say goodbye to this hellhole he had given his entire career to. What a fucking waste.
“So, Hollander.” Comeau snarled at him. “Is it true, then?”
There was a hush in the locker room, all awaiting his words, and Shane felt the anger he had been tamping down flare to the surface.
“And what if it is, Comeau? Huh?”
J.J and Hayden winced at his tone, as the others turned around in shock to stare at him. God, he didn’t give a fuck anymore.
“Are you Rozanov’s whore now? You will catch something, Hollander. He’s a walking STD. Pathetic.” Drapeau joined in, his tone mocking Shane as if he had any leg to stand on.
“What did you just say?” Shane got into Drapeau’s face, his muscular frame swarming the goalie’s body. “Say that again, and I will smash your nose in, Drapeau. Try. Me.”
He was snarling into his face, spit flying everywhere. Hayden and J.J came to try to separate them, but Shane didn’t let them. “I will end your fucking career if you ever speak about him.”
“All for a fuck, huh, Hollander?” Drapeau’s voice shook through the half-baked chirp, and Shane spat on his face. Drapeau stared at him with fear in his eyes, and Shane thought he was about to piss himself. Good.
“He’s my fiancé, actually,” Ilya responded from the doorway, his frame filling it as he cocked his hip against it. “You don’t get to call him that. I know he’s hot, but please, he’s taken. You had your chance… and wasted it.”
Shane shook his head, his shoulders dropping the tension once Ilya came into the room. God. He was a fucking asshole, and the love of his life.
“Drapeau, what is pathetic is the way you seem to let every goal pass through your legs like a cheap slut. Aren’t you embarrassed?”
Hayden gasped at Shane’s words, and he could see the way they cut into Drapeau as the man’s shoulders sank. Shane smiled coldly at him.
“I’m not ashamed of loving my fiancé.” Shane shrugged, his confidence coming back tenfold as Ilya’s presence settled into his bones. “Of having played with you two… Well, that’s another thing.”
Ilya stared at him proudly, a smug smile on his lips, but he didn’t move from the doorway, letting him have his piece, but ready for any inconvenience.
“How can we trust you when now we know you’ve been fucking,” Drapeau spat the word with disgust, “the enemy?”
Shane laughed at the question, not even moved by their vitriol. This was what he had been choosing before Ilya? Fuck it.
“I gave you guys three fucking Cups, and many years of my career, while fucking the enemy. In fact, I met Ilya before any of you. We were drafted together, so each award we both got, it was despite each other. We fought the best while in love with each other.”
“What?” J.J’s voice broke Shane from the Satanic Duo that was Comeau and Drapeau, and he turned to look at him. “All these years?”
“Yeah. Since the summer before rookie season.” Ilya confirmed. Shane blushed at the awe in his fiancé’s voice. God. They were getting married. “So whatever idea you had about Shane letting me win… It’s a bunch of shit.”
“A bunch of bullshit.” Shane corrected with a dopey smile, and fuck it. He wanted to leave. Wanted to get away from this doomed team and not come back. He grabbed everything from his locker and pushed it into his duffel bag. “See you in the playoffs, I guess. Good luck without me!”
Ilya let out a cackle as he guided him out of the room, standing behind him like a bodyguard protecting the most treasured person in the world. It felt good to be loved like this. It felt meant to be.
“Go fuck yourself, Hollander!”
“Oh, Comeau, but that’s my job!” Ilya chirped back, as he let the metal door close with a loud thunk as the Metros’ screams started to pick up.
“Let’s go home, baby.” Shane muttered, shaking his head.
“Only if you spit in my face like you did back there. That was hot.”
Shane couldn’t contain the giggles as he smacked Ilya’s shoulder, shaking his head a very resolute yes. His fiancé pumped his fist in victory, and Shane felt at peace.
4
Since Shane’s move to Ottawa and their consequent outing, the journalists acted like crows who had gotten a taste of meat. They were relentless, but Shane never gave them an inch. He was very well-trained. Too well-trained, Ilya said as he pushed him to do the media after their victory against the Admirals.
“Shane, how does the team feel after such a victory? Rozanov’s hat-trick and your two assists, does it motivate the team to have such teammates to hold the team together?”
“Well, this win was a team effort, not just Ilya and me. Wyatt stopped many of the goals the Admirals tried to sneak through, and Luca and Troy really carried us through.”
The journalist’s lips pinched, not getting the response he wanted. Something to write a scandalous article, surely along the lines of The Rozanov-Hollander Team, and how the others feel. There had been many in the last year, and would be more before this one ended. Fucking vultures.
“Shane, what do you say to the rumors that Ilya Rozanov is cheating on you with Svetlana Vetrova?”
Shane’s head snapped to the journalist, if he could call him that, and raised an eyebrow with the judgiest look he could give someone. According to Rose, it was a fucking good one.
“Svetlana Vetrova? As in Ilya’s best woman in our wedding? As in his best friend from childhood?” His questions got increasingly more sarcastic with each one. “That one?”
The journalist stuttered and finally nodded, trying to get the answer to the fucking abhorrent question he had asked.
“They pay you to ask this stuff,” He stared into the plaque he wore on his shirt, his surname in big blocky letters, “Mr. Rowe?”
“Uh… Yes?”
“A waste of money.” Shane declared, his voice betraying the disgust he was feeling towards him. “Svetlana is my husband’s best friend, has been his best friend since they were teens. Something many of us have, but because he is bisexual, he always gets the rumours, huh?”
He knew that playing the sexuality card was mean, it got the media talking and sent them into a frenzy most of the time, but fuck it. He was not letting them do this to Ilya again.
“It’s crazy how you always accuse the bisexual one of cheating, with no more proof than some pictures at a farmer’s market together, which, by the way, Ilya went to so he could buy my favorite fresh produce. But what you all see is a married guy with a woman, gasp! There are people in his life!”
He rolled his eyes, well into this rant, and threw his media-trained persona into the bin for today.
“You know what I think? You all want us to get a messy divorce, for us to give you content to gobble on, and for us to stop working so well as a fucking team. Maybe give one of your teams a chance for the Cup. But let me tell you, Ilya Rozanov-Hollander has more loyalty in his pinky than any of you in your entire bodies. Good fucking night.”
He got up, ignoring the calls from PR, trying to salvage the situation and the starving journalists. Fuck them. All he wanted right now was to celebrate with his husband and ride him into their bed until they both passed out.
And what Shane Hollander-Rozanov wanted, he got.
5
shay @hellyeahmetros
am i the only one who thinks rozanov corrupted shane?
💬 6.6K 🔄 18.6K ❤️ 152K
Replying to @hellyeahmetros
trent @metrosboom
i think this too but everyone thinks theyre cute… ew
💬 1K 🔄 1.3K ❤️ 12K
Replying to @hellyeahmetros
MEL @ROWDYHOLZZY
what the fuck r u talking about
💬 24K 🔄 60K ❤️ 881K
Replying to @hellyeahmetros
Ilya Rozanov-Hollander ✓ @ilyarozanov
😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 @shanehollander
💬 81K 🔄 1M ❤️ 1,8M
Replying to @ilyarozanov
Shane Hollander-Rozanov ✓ @shanehollander
??? What am I, a child?
💬 105K 🔄 1,8M ❤️ 3M
Shane Hollander-Rozanov ✓ @shanehollander
It’s come to my attention that some of my fans think my husband “corrupted” me, and while the concern is somewhat considered, it couldn’t be further from the truth. In fact, when we started seeing each other, we were teens, so if that was what you guys thought, it would be more of a mutual corruption.
💬 181K 🔄 2M ❤️ 4M
Replying to @shanehollander
Shane Hollander-Rozanov ✓ @shanehollander
My husband has always been known for being a bit wild, and even though he’s reckless, he has always been the best decision I’ve ever made. So please, for the love of God, stop trying to badmouth him. Thank you. Good night.
💬 105K 🔄 1,8M ❤️ 3M
Replying to @shanehollander
Ilya Rozanov-Hollander ✓ @ilyarozanov
i didn’t mind this rumor tho 😼😼😼
💬 162K 🔄 1,8M ❤️ 1,8M
Replying to @shanehollander
Ilya Rozanov-Hollander ✓ @ilyarozanov
i take pride in being ur first everything 😼😼😼😼
💬 200K 🔄 2M ❤️ 4,2M
+1
Ilya was having a good day. Even though galas weren’t his cup of tea—as Shane said—anymore, he truly enjoyed them when they were for a good cause. Their charity was truly one of the best decisions they had ever made, a half-assed plan (not that Shane ever half-assed plans, but, it was truly made in a fucking rush, in the middle of the night) in those days at their cottage turned into various hockey camps across Canada to help children reach their goals without having to bankrupt their parents.
So standing here now, Shane by his side in a mouth-watering suit as they greeted everyone, was a fucking dream. Sometimes, Ilya had to pinch himself to prove himself that it was his reality. That he is married to Shane Hollander. That they are in talks of adopting a kid. That this is the rest of his life.
Fuck, he’s so fucking lucky.
“Ilya.” Svetlana came behind him, a stern look on his face. Ilya’s muscles instantly locked, tensing for a fight but not seeing the why. “Your brother is here.”
What?
“Andrei?” His mind was working at hyperspeed, trying to understand why in the fuck his fuckass of a brother would be here out of all places. “What? Are you sure?”
Sveta only nodded towards the door, where the stocky frame of his brother was standing like a sore thumb. God, he looked so out of place here, with Ilya’s family mingling around. His teammates seemed to sense Ilya’s mood, and they all looked in the direction where Ilya was focused.
Shane, though, started walking towards Andrei with a determined look on his handsome face. Oh fuck. Ilya knew that look. It was the look Shane got when he was about to verbally tear someone to shreds.
Normally, it turned Ilya on like nothing else, but right now, it only made him run after Shane, desperate to get between them.
“Shane, wait–”
Before he could reach them, though, he heard Shane’s almost-perfect russian as he spat into his brother’s face.
“How dare you?”
Ilya shuddered; his mother tongue always sounded like sin coming from Shane, but now, defending him from his brother, it was making Ilya shake with want.
“You have no right to be here.” Shane snarled into Andrei’s face, pushing his hands to his chest to try to push him out of the door. “Go fuck yourself.”
Holy shit. Shane had told his brother to go fuck himself. Before Andrei could react, Ilya reached them and put his body in between, sheltering Shane from any blow or insult.
He could take them, but he didn’t want Shane to ever, in his life, have to.
“What are you doing here?” He asked in russian, knowing that Shane understood him perfectly and would follow the conversation without any trouble. “What are you doing out of Russia, Andrei? Out of money? Is that it?”
Andrei tried to push Ilya, tried to seem intimidating, but Ilya was older now. He was no longer scared of him, and he was not letting him through. Not even if there wasn’t Shane behind him, his fucking treasure in life.
“Still playing house with this… this Hollander guy?” Andrei poked, as if his question was anything more than a noisy mosquito flying around. “Father would be disappointed in you, Ilya.”
Ilya shrugged. It had been many years since his father died, and through therapy and his relationship with the Hollanders, he had finally understood that it was not his fault. That his father was an awful man who raised him to be his golden egg, and despised him for it. And that Andrei, try as he might to cover it, was just envious because he was useless. Talentless, too. He never succeeded in anything in life.
He was just… there. Life happened to him, and he never left any mark on anyone around him, whatsoever.
“And mother would be disappointed in you, Andrei. I guess we all have to live through things.” He knew he cut deep when Andrei growled pathetically, trying to free himself from Ilya’s grip, and couldn’t. “You are pathetic, brother.”
His hair was peppered with grey, a lackluster grey at that; it didn’t look expensive, like David’s or his psychiatrist’s. It just looked unkempt, his hair greasy from the flight, most likely. His suit hung around his body like a trash bag, making him look even worse. Ilya laughed in his face.
“You look cheap. Like the men our father used to make fun of… Very unkempt, greasy, and lazy.” Ilya smirked, the flash of his teeth making Andrei struggle harder against him. “Where’s the big brother that wanted all of my money? Huh? I guess that’s why you are here, aren’t you? Spent it all on drugs and forgot to take care of yourself?”
“I will kill him.” Andrei snarled, drops of his spit falling on Ilya’s face. “I will kill your little boytoy if you don’t give me money, Ilya. I fucking will. Father would want me to do it, you are disgracing his legacy by flaunting your relationship with a—”
Andrei didn’t get to finish his sentence, as Ilya’s fist connected with his jaw before he could even get to the end, snapping his head back from the force of it. He punched Andrei’s nose into his skull, the fury in his bones too feral to understand; all he needed was to knock him out and get Shane, his Shane, out of the danger zone.
Before he could punch him again, Shane grabbed his hand, wrapping it with a handkerchief. He had always made fun of Shane for always having a handkerchief at hand, but with the soft way he was taking care of Ilya’s bloody hand, he couldn’t help but snort. His husband always got the last laugh, in the end.
As security came towards them, Ilya feared for a millisecond that they were going to arrest him. He had punched someone, after all. But before he could even panic, Shane was explaining the situation.
“This man just threatened me and my husband for money. Please escort him out of the premises. Our friend already called the police.” Shane nodded towards Svetlana, who had her phone to her ear as he kept talking to them. “Thank you.”
Shane turned and wrapped himself around Ilya, his entire body shaking with contained rage. “You protected me, baby. Nothing happened. We are good, I promise. We are safe.”
The soft whispers of reassurance made Ilya melt into the hug, wrapping his arms around Shane’s tiny waist to try and ground himself. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“We are safe, baby. He’s gone. He won’t come back. I will make sure of it.”
Ilya nodded, his head dropping into Shane’s neck. Fuck. He wanted to go home and cuddle. He needed to be with his husband and to just let it all out, together.
“Can we go home?”
“Yes, Ilya. We can do whatever you need. I promise.” Shane pressed a kiss against Ilya’s forehead, a move so practiced it made Ilya sigh in contentment. “Let’s go home, my love.”