Chapter Text
Shane tripped as he was coming through the front door Monday afternoon, laden down with grocery bags and his backpack.
Sighing, he looked down at what had almost sent him sprawling and found scattered across the floor a dirty pair of New Balances that could only belong to his ten-year-old son.
“Luka Ren Hollander-Rozanov!” He called out, moving the pair over to sit under the low bench in their foyer. Where they were supposed to go. “What did I say about shoes?”
There was the slap of bare feet against hardwood and then his ten-year-old came skidding into the front foyer. He was a gangly bundle of energy and he was one hundred percent Ilya through and through, with a mop of tousled golden-brown curls, bright blue eyes and a crooked grin (that could sometimes become a scowl to rival Ilya’s own). The only difference was the freckles scattered across his pale cheeks. (Ilya had been delighted when he discovered that the egg donor they had chosen had freckles, and he had been absolutely over the moon when Luka was two years old and the freckles had appeared like constellations across their son’s delicate skin.)
“Sorry, Dad!” Ilya’s mini-me exclaimed, coming to a stop in front of him with a sheepish expression. In his arms there was a bundle of purring orange fluff—otherwise known as their cat, Lev.
(Ilya had thought he was being hilarious when he did that, naming their fat orange cat “Lion” in Russian.)
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said, dropping a kiss to Luka’s curls and gently scratching between Lev’s ears. His troubles were rewarded with a loud purr. “Just please try to put them under the bench.”
Luka nodded, still looking sheepish, and followed after him further into the house. As they walked, Shane asked where Ilya was (“He went out for a run like fifteen minutes ago”) and then how school was, listening closely as his son chattered away about something that had happened at lunch and his boring English assignments. When they made it to the kitchen, Luka deposited Lev onto one of the stools at the counter with a kiss on the head and then came around to help Shane unload the groceries, now talking about rocks for some reason.
“—and, I mean, it’s just a dumb, boring rock, you know?” Luka was saying as he put away a carton of eggs in the fridge. Shane bit back a smile at how similar his son sounded to Ilya.
“But, overall, you had a good day, though?” He said when there was a lull in the conversation and Luka grinned over at him brightly. Relief coursed through him the same way it always did whenever the kids were happy at school.
Shane had never done poorly in school, that just wasn’t like him; however, he had struggled in other areas. Namely the social ones. He’d often felt like the odd one out, even at eight years old, and hockey had been one of the few things where he felt as though he belonged without having to change anything about himself. So, he’d been anxious from the first moment both children had stepped foot in a school, constantly afraid that they would come home one day crying and feeling the same way that he had for so long.
There had been hard days over the years, of course. Hana had struggled a little more than Luka at times, but Shane had expected that. He had spoken with his parents about what they did for him when he was in school, and while they had given him strategies, they had also been honest.
“Sometimes, honey, the best thing you can do is just be there for them,” Yuna had said one afternoon at their cottage, an understanding look in her eyes and a sad smile on her face as she held his hand. “It won’t be perfect, but no parent ever is. What matters is that you understand, and you support them.”
She had pulled him close after that, pressing a kiss to his hair and rocking him slightly as he teared up. “It’s going to be okay, honey. Just trust yourself.”
After that, he and Ilya had both promised each other to always support their children however they could. Sometimes, that was Shane sitting down and talking through their math homework with them until it made sense, or Ilya driving them back and forth between school, practices, and friends’ homes in the same day just to make sure that Hana and Luka had a chance to do as much as they wanted and be as social as they wanted to be.
All that was to say that Shane was relieved to see Luka smiling as he continued to put away groceries and tell him some story that involved his best friend, Jacob.
“Which, oh yeah,” his son said sometime later, putting the last of the groceries away and leaning against the counter, “Jacob was wondering if he could come with us to the game on Thursday?”
Jacob often accompanied them to Hana’s hockey games, though Shane suspected that that was mostly due to the fact that he and Ilya were so focused on what was happening on the ice that the two boys could easily disappear and goof off together in the stands. Regardless of the reasons though, Shane liked Jacob and he and Ilya even considered him one of their own kids sometimes. It made sense given how much time he had spent over at their house since he and Luka had first met on the playground in kindergarten.
“Of course, sweetheart,” he said and Luka beamed, pushing himself up onto the counter.
They stayed in the kitchen for a while, Luka asking about how work had been and Shane giving a half-truth and saying that it was fine. Truthfully, he was exhausted and had a bit of a headache, but it wasn’t so bad that he couldn’t push through until nighttime.
After he had officially retired from hockey—which had not been a completely painless transition despite what the media said, there were still some days where the loss of it still sent a fresh pang of grief through him—Shane had needed something else to focus his intense attention on. That something had ended up being becoming a full-time coach along with Ilya at their now year-round academy in Ottawa. It gave him the opportunity to be back near the ice, and he normally worked with the older players while Ilya coached the younger ones.
Naturally, Hana and Luka both attended the camps and participated as much as they possibly could, but Ilya had also been insistent on allowing them to have normal school experiences unlike himself and Shane. As a result, they attended a private school near the academy and then practiced in the afternoons with their teams.
Luka hadn’t been feeling great the last few days though, so Shane had essentially benched him over the weekend. Clearly, he was feeling better, given his animated retellings of the school day. For a moment, Shane wondered if Ilya had also taken him to get ice cream when he picked him up earlier, and then he decided to let it slide for once.
Normally, Hana would also ride home with Shane after practice was over, but her friend, Sarah, had invited her over to study together and have dinner that night. When Shane had mentioned it to his husband, the other had immediately offered to go pick her up later, saying something about wanting to catch up with Helen, Sarah’s mom, and get some new pasta recipe from her. He had just had to shake his head at his ridiculous husband.
As if summoned by Shane’s thoughts of him, the front door opened a few minutes later and there was the sound of sharp nails skittering on the hardwood floor followed by Ilya’s deep voice calling out, “Honey, I am home!”
Luka rolled his eyes but still let out a laugh at his ridiculous Papa, who appeared around the corner, not wearing nearly enough layers for how cold it was outside. It was mid-January in Ottawa; why did the man barely have anything on for fuck’s sake?
Trailing behind him was Chihiro, a sweet Shiba Inu Labrador mix who absolutely adored Ilya. They had lost Anya a few years ago, and Ilya had not taken her death well. It was the lowest that Shane had seen his husband in a long time and the other had had to start seeing Galina again more frequently. When the kids had started asking what was wrong with their Papa though, Shane had decided that they needed to find a solution. Like a gift sent from God, Harris had called him two days later, cautiously optimistic and hopeful because another stray had appeared on his and Troy’s doorstep.
“She’s really sweet, Shane, honestly, she reminds me of…well, she reminds me of Anya,” the other man had said over the phone that night and that was all that Shane needed to hear before he was forcing Ilya out of bed the next morning and driving over to the Drover family farm. There had been no going back the moment that Chihiro and Ilya met, the blonde man falling in love the same way he always did: hard.
Hana had named her, of course. Spirited Away had been somewhat of a cult classic in their house at the time, and while Chihiro was one hundred percent Ilya’s dog, he supposed Hana was a close second. Shane and Luka had always been more of cat people anyway.
“Are you trying to catch a cold?” Shane asked, kissing Ilya in greeting and then returning to his task of pulling out ingredients for dinner that night. His head throbbed, but it felt slightly better as Ilya gave him another kiss.
“What do you mean?” his husband asked, reaching out to tousle Luka’s hair and grinning when the younger boy swatted playfully at him.
“It’s below negative out there.” Shane gave him a look and then frowned, pushing his husband away when the other tried to wrap sweaty arms around him. How he could be sweaty when he’d been out in the cold was a mystery that was far beyond him to be able to answer. “Ew, God, no. You’re sweaty. How are you even sweaty?”
“I am Russian, we are not bothered by a little cold,” Ilya said smugly, managing to catch him and pull him into a hug against his will. Shane eventually slipped out and pushed the other in the direction of their bedroom—and more importantly, their en-suite. “Is good for you!”
“You won’t be saying that when you’re out sick next week, Rozanov!” Shane yelled after him as he walked away, Chihiro trailing at his heels like always. He was pretty sure she would even have gotten in the shower with him if Shane hadn’t vetoed the idea long ago. They didn’t need their shower clogging up from dog hair.
“It’s Hollander-Rozanov!”
Shane shared a look with Luka where he was still perched on the counter and his son broke out into a series of giggles that made Lev raise his head from where he was still curled up on the stool. There was a distinctly unimpressed look on their little lion’s face.
——————
Later that night, they were in the middle of watching Rose’s latest movie—some new indie project that she had actually been excited about for once—when Ilya’s phone rang.
“Da, zaychik?” His husband answered, already smiling. “Is it already time for me to bring you home before you turn into pumpkin?”
Shane laughed lightly from where he was seated beside the other man. Luka was further down the sofa, Lev curled up in his lap as he scrolled on his phone. God, that cat slept more than any other creature Shane had ever met.
On the other end of the line, Hana must have replied with something equally snarky, because a moment later Ilya let out a deep laugh, his smile clear as day in his voice as he responded. His fingers played absently with the hair at the nape of Shane’s neck.
A few minutes later, after Ilya had promised to be there in twenty, he ended the call and sighed.
“Time to go pick up our small Shane,” his husband said, pushing himself up off the sofa with a groan that did nothing to hide the affection in his voice or the smile on his face—which only grew wider when Shane swatted him on the leg for that comment.
“Drive safe,” he said, his glare softening as Ilya leaned down to kiss him. “Tell Helen and Liam thank you for having her over for dinner.”
Ilya nodded, not unlike a soldier being given orders, and then he left the family room. At the sound of his receding footsteps, Chihiro immediately popped up from where she had been asleep in her dog bed and raced after him. In the foyer, Shane could hear Ilya murmuring quietly in Russian to her as he put on his jacket and shoes. A moment later, he heard a further rustle of fabric followed by the impatient stamping of Chihiro’s paws and he smiled to himself as he realized that Ilya must have dressed her in her special sweater and booties.
The things that they did for love.
The credits were rolling by the time Hana, Ilya and Chihiro came tumbling in through the door, a shivering, chattering tangle of puffers being unzipped, mumbled Russian swears, and yips.
“Everything alright?” Shane called out, looking over the back of the sofa concernedly. Beside him, Luka had fallen asleep, his head on Shane’s leg and Lev asleep on his chest. The sight was adorable, but he had just been about to wake him up and make him go to bed nonetheless. It was late for a school night after all.
“It is colder than Crowell’s fu—!”
“Ilya,” Shane cut him off, knowing exactly where that was going.
His husband came into view, his nose pink and his curls sticking out haphazardly from under the Centaurs toque that he had shoved on on his way out the door. Behind him, Hana looked just as cold, her normally tan skin paler than usual and her nose bright red.
“Hey, Dad,” she said brightly, dropping a kiss to the top of his head as she passed by the sofa, her cold nose making him flinch slightly as it brushed against his skin. Beside him, Luka started to stir, making soft confused grunts as he blinked blearily at the screencap for the next recommended movie on Netflix.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said and because he loved her, he pressed a kiss to her cheek when she offered even though she was freezing cold. “How was it?”
“Great!” Hana smiled tiredly, but it seemed genuine. “Sarah says hi, by the way. Also Papa, like, interrogated poor Helen over her pasta recipe. She seemed really stressed out by the time we left.”
“What?” Ilya asked defensively from the kitchen. Chihiro yipped a second later as if to echo this sentiment. “I want to make sure that recipe is perfect if I want to impress Yuna at next family dinner.”
Shane started to say something about how his husband really didn’t need to impress Yuna, not when he was the favorite son and they all knew it, but Hana beat him to it.
“I am Ilya Rozanov and I make perfect pasta because I am Russian and Russians do everything perfect,” she teased, deepening her voice in a surprisingly passable imitation of her father’s accent.
“It’s—.”
“Hollander-Rozanov, we know, Papa!” She called back and Luka sleepily echoed her, making Shane smile despite himself. Absently, he played with the ring on his finger, twisting it round and round as he watched their kids fondly.
When Ilya and Chihiro came into the family room a few minutes later, Shane swore that they were wearing matching expressions of disapproval.
“I do not understand where this slander is coming from,” his husband said in Russian, crossing his arms over his chest. The happy glint in his blue eyes belied the frown on his face though. “I drove through ice and snow and terrible storms to come pick up my darling princess only to—”
Hana started giggling and shook her head. “The roads were literally the clearest they’ve been all winter—.”
Ilya continued on as if she had said nothing. “—be mocked for my efforts to secure my spot as the favorite son.”
Shane highly suspected that that was a title that Ilya was never going to lose, but he didn’t want to stroke his ego any further, so he stayed quiet. Meanwhile, Hana threw her arms around Ilya’s shoulders and hugged him tightly with all the strength of a fifteen-year-old hockey-obsessed teenager.
“And to think that it’s my own daughter who would betray me like this—,” Ilya managed to say before Hana started laughing again and slapped a hand over his mouth, saying sorry in all three languages that she knew. When her hand fell away a moment later, Ilya was smiling widely and he pressed a kiss to the top of her dark hair. “Is okay, I forgive you. This time.”
He would always forgive her, no matter what. They all knew that.
Sighing, Shane decided to be the responsible one and pushed himself up from the sofa, announcing that it was time for them to sleep. Luka, who had already started to fall back asleep, blinked up at him blearily; Lev simply ignored them all, the only sign of any semblance of acknowledgement a lazy flick of his bushy tail.
It took some maneuvering to get everyone upstairs, with Luka wanting to stay on the sofa and Hana having more that she wanted to tell them about, but eventually they managed it. Once both kids had been tucked in—or at least safely deposited in their rooms—Shane made it to his and Ilya’s room with a sigh. His head was hurting significantly less than it had been earlier in the day, but there was still a faint throb in the back of his skull that wouldn’t go away no matter what. Hopefully sleep would help.
As they got ready for bed a few minutes later though, Ilya started laughing and shook his head. When Shane asked what was so funny, instead of answering him the other man simply pulled him into a deep kiss, snaking one hand up under Shane’s sleep shirt and the other past the waistband of his flannel pajama pants.
When he pulled back to catch his breath, Ilya laughed again and murmured, “It’s sexy when you are all responsible and a good parent.”
Shane could feel his smile where it pressed against the crook of his neck. A tired smile tugged at the corners of his own lips.
“Oh, yeah?” he asked, like this was new information and wasn’t something that Ilya had said nearly every other day for the past fifteen years.
His husband just kissed him again in response and they fell into bed together, headaches be damned. At least he had already brushed his teeth.
————
————
The week passed in the usual routine: early morning runs before anyone else in the house was awake, chaotic car rides that alternated between arguments over whose turn it was to play music and Shane ultimately putting on his favorite hockey podcast, running drills with kids and skating the rink just to pretend he was back on it for real even just for a moment, dinners at home and groans about who was supposed to do dishes that time, and late nights with Ilya. (For being almost fifty, neither of them had slowed down when it came to sex; Shane hoped that remained the case.)
Thursday appeared bright and early on his doorstep though and the day started off well. He ran an easy five miles and Ilya was awake in the kitchen by the time he got back, the blender running as he made Shane’s preferred post-run smoothie.
“Thanks,” he called out as he passed by the kitchen and headed to their en-suite. Unlike his husband, he despised doing anything else before he had showered after a workout. It was part of the routine and he hated deviating from routine; plus, the tacky sensation of sweat and the mess of it made him want to crawl out of his skin sometimes.
When he made it back downstairs exactly thirty minutes later, his smoothie was waiting on the counter and Ilya was seated on one of the stools, eating a bagel with his usual unholy combination of cream cheese and nutella. At his feet, Chihiro waited patiently for the piece that always inevitably fell into her waiting mouth.
“I already packed Hana and Luka’s lunches,” Ilya said, looking up from his iPad for a moment before returning to whatever news article he was reading. A glance over his shoulder told Shane that it was from some Russian site; probably politics then.
“Thank you.” He pressed a soft kiss to the other’s lips and pretended to not melt at the taste of chocolate. Ilya hummed.
“Yuna and David will join us tonight, da?” he asked once they had separated, slipping his hand down to squeeze Shane’s ass before letting him go completely.
“Yeah, we were thinking we could go out afterward to that new restaurant that Bood’s been telling us about.” It was some new upscale French-Caribbean fusion place that the other man had been raving about since it opened; Shane had checked the menu and they had a few options that he felt comfortable eating.
“They have rice? As other option just in case Hana becomes like food tyrant?” Ilya asked drily, referring to Hana’s occasionally picky eating habits that chose to surface at what felt like the most random times.
Shane grimaced but nodded anyway, because he understood. He was the same way after all. “Yeah, I checked. There are a few things that she’ll eat, just in case.”
Ilya nodded, satisfied, and then the peace between them was shattered by the chaos brought on by two kids getting ready for school in the morning. Hana came running down the stairs, Luka following close behind her, both of them still fixing their uniforms—or in Luka’s case, still tugging on his uniform.
“Good morning,” Shane said, a little dismayed at the chaos the same way that he had been for years now.
“Morning, Dad,” Hana responded distractedly as she grabbed her own smoothie from the counter—the exact same as Shane’s and in the exact same cup that it had been served in since she was four years old. God bless Ilya Rozanov and his attention to detail sometimes. “Dobroye utro, Papa.”
Ilya graciously accepted the hasty kiss that she pressed to his cheek as she raced by him, probably to check on her gear bag and make sure she had everything for her game that night.
At the counter, Luka slid into the seat next to his papa and began to devour the egg sandwich that Ilya must have made for him while Shane was in the shower. It was gone in four bites, something else that horrified Shane even as he made a concerted effort to bury his rising dismay. It always took him forever to eat, mainly because he liked to cut everything up into small bites before doing so; then again, Luka was just Ilya made miniature, so he supposed it would make sense that he could put food away like it was nothing.
“Did you even breathe?” Ilya asked teasingly as their son polished off his sandwich, before finishing his coffee and standing up from his spot at the counter. As he passed by Luka though, he pressed a kiss to the top of his head and tousled his golden-brown curls. Luka swatted him away.
“I just styled my hair, Papa,” he complained, before chugging his juice and sliding off the stool. At his feet, Lev wound around his ankles, also hopeful for a handful of crumbs. “Aw, sorry, mon trésor, not today.”
Lev meowed plaintively and then turned to eye Shane consideringly. He shrugged slightly and green eyes flicked away, unimpressed. It reminded him a bit of Ilya when they were younger and he would pretend to be annoyed, except he didn’t think Lev was pretending.
“Bye, Papa! Love you!” Both kids chorused a few minutes later as they bundled up in the foyer and raced out the front door. Ilya was leaning against the wall nearby, Chihiro at his feet, and both of them watched fondly as Shane carefully tied his shoes, lacing them up the same way that he had done his skates for so many years.
“See you later,” he said as he stood up from the bench, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and leaning in to give his husband a kiss. Ilya smiled into it and hummed.
“Do not let Luka play bad country music again,” was his parting comment and Shane huffed out a laugh as he closed the front door behind himself.
————
————
It was already dark outside when they pulled up to the sportsplex later that evening. Luka and Jacob were in the back seat of the Mercedes, talking about some new game that they were both currently obsessed with; meanwhile, Ilya was humming along to the Russian pop playlist that he had put on and Shane was trying to finish reading some paperwork that he hadn’t gotten to before leaving the Academy earlier. Hana had ridden with another one of her teammates.
Realizing that he wasn’t going to finish the paperwork, Shane sighed and carefully slid it back into the folder in his backpack. He would just have to read it later when they got home from the game.
Despite it already being dark out, Shane immediately spotted his parents as soon as he got out of the Mercedes. They stood waiting for them all at the entrance, lit up from behind by the fluorescent lights and both of them bundled up but smiling despite the harsh cold of Ottawa in January.
“Hi, honey,” Yuna said once they were near, reaching out to pull Shane into a hug and rubbing her hands up and down his arms as if to warm him up even though she had probably been in the cold longer than him. David just patted him on the back with a soft smile.
His mom did the same to Ilya a moment later, doting on the six-foot-three man as though he were a small child. The blush on Ilya’s cheeks was definitely not from the cold, even as he smiled widely and joked along with his mother-in-law.
“Maybe we should go in before Shane freezes,” Ilya said a few minutes later though after Yuna had sufficiently doted on him. His tone was teasing, but Shane didn’t miss the way his husband had begun to herd their small group through the doors and he shot him a grateful look.
Once they were inside, Yuna and David both focused on Luka and Jacob, showering them with enough attention that it had both boys beaming by the time they made it to their seats.
Like most things when it came to his and Ilya’s relationship, the Hollanders had been supportive from the first time Shane and Ilya had announced their plan to have children. Yuna had, in typical Yuna fashion, been the one to find the best surrogacy agency, ask all the right questions, help them plan, and just about everything else in-between. David, in his own way, had been a god-send too in the way he could reel Yuna in when it all became a little too much and Shane had needed some space.
When they had brought Hana home and Yuna and David had been waiting at the house though, he was pretty sure he had never seen his parents look as happy as they did in that moment. And then they brought Luka home five years later and, somehow, they had proved him wrong.
Quite frankly, Yuna and David Hollander loved to spoil their grandchildren and no one would ever be able to stop them.
“Are you feeling better, honey?” Yuna was asking Luka, pulling him to sit down in the seat beside her. As he answered, she absently fixed his hair and he went along with it; she was the only one allowed to do that without being complained at. “Did you eat that soup I sent over?”
“Yes,” Shane answered before his son could, settling down into the seat on the other side of his mom. “Thank you again for making that.”
Yuna had made Zosui over the weekend when she heard that Luka wasn’t feeling well and she had brought over to the house enough of it and the toppings to feed a small army, along with enough medicine to stock an entire pharmacy. Then she had spent several hours doting on her grandson, who had soaked it all up the same way that Ilya did. Hana had received similar treatment when she got home later that same afternoon.
(“Just what the doctor ordered!” Yuna had exclaimed when she had sat down on the sofa that afternoon, pulling Luka and Hana both into a tight hug and making them giggle.)
Yuna doted on Luka for a few more minutes until he squirmed away and said something about him and Jacob wanting a snack. Before they could run away, David handed them some money and Shane called out after them with a reminder to not fill up on junk food since they were going out for dinner after the game.
“They ate before we left the house too,” he told his mom, shaking his head and looking down at the rink where the teams were warming up. He spotted Hana after a moment, her jersey number 57 and the name Hollander-Rozanov catching his eye, and when she turned around he waved. Ilya and his parents did the same, with Ilya sending her a proud thumbs up that made Hana smile so widely that Shane could see it all the way across the ice.
“They both have strong metabolisms,” his husband said in response to Shane’s statement, watching their daughter for another moment before looking over at him. He patted his knee with a large hand. “Is important for good hockey players.”
He couldn’t really argue with that. Ilya had an insane metabolism, and it seemed as though Luka had inherited it too.
“He’s right, you know,” Yuna said. “It’s important, especially at that age.”
Shane sighed in defeat when he realized this wasn’t a fight he was going to win. Fine. He would just have to continue to find ways to incorporate more healthy snacks into their house and hide Ilya’s chemically processed shit before their kids got their hands on it.
“So, how is Hana feeling?” Yuna asked, switching gears and focusing all of her attention on where her granddaughter was warming up on the ice.
“She seemed confident in the car this morning.” She really had. She had known the other team well, and had felt strong and capable. When Shane had asked what she thought the challenges might be, she had had clear answers and players too in mind. He had been so incredibly proud.
Yuna nodded. “Good. Has she been working on her backhand?”
Beside him, Ilya snorted and Shane rolled his eyes, knowing that his husband was going to make some comment about Hana inheriting some boring hockey player’s weak backhand. Sure enough, it came a moment later, Ilya’s eyes twinkling as he leaned forward.
“She is our small Shane, you know? Perfect, dark hair, freckles, weak backhand, but,” he patted Shane on the knee and he gave his husband a look. The fucker had the audacity to wink at him, “is no problem. She will have best backhand in the world by time she is drafted. I will make sure of it.”
Yuna and David both laughed, the traitors.
“Yeah, well, at least I can handle a stick better,” Shane said, frowning and watching the ice. The game was going to start soon.
Ilya squeezed his knee. There was a smirk in his voice when he said in Russian, “Yes, you certainly can. You are definitely a professional at handling my stick.”
He couldn’t help it, he swatted the other man. “My parents are right beside us, pervert.”
Thank god Luka was still off buying junk food and hadn’t been close by to hear that. His precious child would have been scarred by his father.
Ilya let out a loud, deep laugh and leaned over to kiss him hard. Shane smiled despite himself.
————
The second period had just started and the game was going well. Hana was playing beautifully, flying across the ice faster than anyone else and handling the puck with a grace that made Shane proud. Beside him, Yuna was practically glowing with pride too and Ilya kept making comments about how their daughter was the next player of a generation. As he watched Hana win another face-off, Shane couldn’t disagree.
Maybe he was just biased as a parent, but their kids were really fucking good at hockey.
Which was exciting, yes. The pure joy that Shane had felt the first time he watched Hana, and then Luka, skate was unmatched. Their small hands in his as he skated backward, eyes open and trusting, and their laughter even when they fell only to get right back up—all of it had been something that Shane had never dared to imagine that he could have before he finally asked Ilya to marry him. What came with the excitement though was also a constant anxious tension every time one of his kids was on the ice and playing a game. He had played hockey for most of his life, he knew how easily something could go wrong. So, with every game came this nagging voice in the back of his head that whispered what if and made him wonder if this would be the game where the other shoe dropped. He didn’t know how his parents did it for so many decades.
They were half-way through the period when that goddamn, anvil-weighted shoe finally dropped.
Hana was near the boards, trying to make a pass to Kaila, one of the other forwards, when a girl on the other team checked her. Dirty. Hard.
She hit the boards and crumpled to the ice, not moving, and Shane suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. Beside him, Ilya had gone completely still, his hand freezing where it had been rubbing soothingly at Shane’s thigh.
An announcer’s voice rang in his ears. “Ooh, looks like number 57—Hana Hollander-Rozanov—is down. No one likes to see a hit like that, especially with such a young player—”
A moment later, his husband started yelling. “Fucking dirty check! That was a fucking dirty check!”
The anger in his voice was undeniable, but so was the panic.
This wasn’t the first time that either of their kids had been hurt before. It was just the first time one of them had gone down and not gotten back up a moment later to shoot them a thumbs up and keep playing. Shane felt like he couldn’t fucking breathe.
Ilya was yelling in Russian now, anger making his English slip away like it always did, and he had shot up out of his seat. On the ice, Hana was still down, the refs having cleared a circle around her and the medics coming out onto the rink.
Shane felt like he couldn’t breathe, so he did the one thing he knew how to do whenever his panic became too much—he shut down. He neatly compartmentalized it all into boxes, tucking them away for later, and shutting down any response just so he could get a grip on himself. Pull it together, Hollander. Get your head in the fucking game.
Ilya’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Shane, we need to go.”
His husband looked on the verge of coming undone, his blue eyes wide and panicked and his golden skin flushed with anger. His curls were a riotous mess; he’d obviously been pushing his fingers through them.
Shane felt himself nod and then he looked over at his parents. Between them sat Luka, who looked scared in a way Shane had rarely seen.
“Go, honey,” Yuna said before he could even say anything. “We’ll take care of the boys.”
His mom looked just as scared as Ilya.
“It’ll be okay,” he promised, the words sounding forced even to himself, before pressing a kiss to Luka’s curls and following his husband.
They made it to the edge of the rink right as the medics were carrying the spinal board off.
“— your parents are right here, honey,” one of the medics was saying kindly as they stepped off the ice, glancing up at the two of them for a moment before looking back down at where Hana was strapped in. “It’s gonna be okay.”
“I want my parents,” Hana mumbled, her eyes blinking open for a moment as she tried to look around and then falling shut again. “Please.”
There were already bruises forming under her eyes, dark purple and red staining her tan skin and covering her freckles. Shane felt sick.
Beside him, Ilya made a wounded noise at the sight and immediately stepped forward as close as the medics would let him. He looked gutted. “Is okay, malyshka. We are here, Papa and Daddy have you.”
Hana mumbled something that Shane didn’t quite catch, but then she was looking for him next. Her hand grasped at air, searching for him.
“I’m here, mon amour,” he said, the words feeling like they were choking him as they clawed their way out of his throat.
“We need to get her to the hospital,” one of the medics said not unkindly even though her expression was stern. “You’re welcome to ride in the ambulance, but we need to move.”
Shane looked over at his husband and nodded. His emotions felt like they were far away from him at that moment.
“You go with her,” he said, watching as Ilya rubbed anxiously at the cross on his necklace. “I’ll meet you there.”
He didn’t trust his husband to drive at that moment, and it was important that they all arrived safely.
It said a lot about the situation that Ilya barely even put up a fight about it.
————
The nurse at the desk was helpful, if not a little loud and a little too talkative for Shane to handle emotionally at that moment.
“—and I just have to say, Mr. Hollander, I was always a big fan. You’re the best thing that’s ever come out of Ottawa.”
He wasn’t sure if he would go that far, but sure. Honestly, he didn’t care. The words were barely registering at the moment anyway.
“Thank you,” he somehow managed to force out, the smile on his face the same one he had pasted on in front of the media for years even when everything in his body was screaming at him to hide and shut down. “Have a good night.”
She practically beamed at him.
As he took the elevator up, he stared at his reflection in the doors. His expression was completely flat and his shoulders were tight. He looked one second away from breaking. He felt like it too.
All he could think about was the moment Hana hit the boards. It played in his head in an endless loop, over and over and over again until it made him feel insane as he analyzed it the same way he would with game footage. There were a million other ways it could have gone, how it could have played out. And yet none of them were how it had actually happened, and in every single scenario he was helpless to prevent it. Because she was on the ice and he wasn’t.
By the time the elevator doors slid open and he stepped out into the quiet ward, he felt as though he was beginning to crack, like the neat tidy boxes that had always worked before were falling apart. The lights were too bright, the sound of his shoes on the linoleum flooring made his head hurt, his coat felt too hot, the clatter of wheels down the hall was too off-tempo. Everything felt wrong.
The room he was looking for—the one that Ilya had texted him the number of when he got to the hospital—was at the end of the hall. Standing outside of it, he took a breath; it still wasn’t enough.
Inside, the room was dimly lit and Ilya was seated in a chair beside the bed, his fingers gently brushing at the wisps of Hana’s dark hair that had escaped her game-day braid. They lingered, feather-light, over the bruises under her eyes. At the sound of the door opening, he looked up and caught Shane’s gaze.
Murmuring softly in Russian, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to Hana’s forehead. She mumbled something back, but he shushed her softly, telling her that her dad was there. At that, Hana blinked slowly, dark eyes taking a moment to focus on where Shane had come to stand on the other side of the bed.
“Hey, Daddy,” his daughter said softly, voice strained in a way that made Shane feel even more adrift than he already did. She rarely called him that anymore.
He tried to respond, tried to do anything…and he just fucking couldn’t.
What the fuck is wrong with you, Hollander?
Staring at where her hand clutched at his, he felt as though everything suddenly dropped out from under him and it was just too much. Struggling to take a breath, he carefully laid her hand down and then robotically left the room. White noise filled his ears, stuffing them full of cotton as he blindly went out into the hall. Out there was even worse though, the lights, the noise, the eyes that were undoubtedly watching from down the hall. There was nowhere to hide.
It was embarrassing frankly that he felt this way. He was nearly fifty years old for fuck’s sake, why did he feel like a child again? Shane hated it when these…episodes happened. It made him feel helpless, out of control, unable to just be normal for once. His daughter was in a fucking hospital bed and he was out here, having a meltdown because he didn’t know how to just—
Strong arms gently wrapped around him and then there was a low voice murmuring in his ear. The scent of Ilya’s cologne washed over him, and it was the only smell in the entire building that didn’t make Shane want to throw up.
“Is okay,” his husband murmured, choosing English rather than Russian for Shane’s sake he knew. It was already hard enough to focus as it was. “It’s okay, moya lyubov. She is okay.”
Tears welled in Shane’s eyes and he buried his face in the crook of Ilya’s neck to hide them. Above him, he heard the other man take a stuttering breath too and he realized that Ilya must have been crying as well. Against his cheek, he felt the cold metal of Ilya’s necklace bite against his skin.
They stood there for a while, Ilya’s arms tightening slightly around him, adding enough pressure to help ground Shane as he tried to finally just breathe. The first full breath he eventually managed to take felt like the first one he’d ever taken in his life.
It was still hard to talk, but at least he could breathe again. Ilya shifted, and he tightened his fingers in the other’s coat, not ready to let go quite yet. His head was pounding and he felt shaky.
“I need to go check on Hana, moya dusha,” Ilya eventually whispered against his hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
Shane suddenly felt awful all over again, but his husband stopped him before he could spiral further.
“It is okay,” Ilya said, pulling back slightly and using a finger under Shane’s chin to gently make him look up. Shane focused on a spot slightly to the left of him; making eye-contact was too hard at that moment. “She was mostly asleep when I left.”
Swallowing hard, Shane nodded and blinked back some of the stubborn tears that remained.
“She is okay, Shane.” Ilya brushed at his tears, fingers a gentle weight on his face. “She has concussion, yes, but…could have been worse.”
The words took him back to another day, another hospital room where the man holding him had been too far away, fuzzy around the corners, so heartbreakingly beautiful, and not Shane’s.
“Could have been worse,” he murmured back, his voice painfully clawing its way out of his throat.
It could have been so much worse, yes, but he still felt so sick at the sight of her in that bed, at the sight of her crumpled on the ice and not moving. What if it had been worse? What if she hadn’t woken up? What if—?
“Shane.”
Ilya’s voice cut through the noise in his head and as husband wrapped him up in another tight hug, he nodded robotically, his breath hitching before evening out.
“She is okay, we are okay, you are okay,” Ilya said, whispering the words against his hair like a mantra. Then, he pulled back and looked at him, blue eyes heartbreakingly earnest. “Now, we will go back in there and hold her hand and give her anything she wants.”
Shane gave him a weak smile, his mask falling slightly, and then Ilya was gently guiding him back into the hospital room.
Hana was asleep in the bed, her nose scrunched slightly in pain. Shane wished he could reach out and take it away for her, that he could fix the problem. But, he couldn’t. All he could do was sit there in the chair that Ilya pulled up beside his own, holding Hana’s hand and watching the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath the thin, scratchy hospital blanket.
When Yuna and David arrived after having taken Jacob home, Ilya went out to meet them. Before he left, he smoothed his thumb across Shane’s cheeks and the dried tear tracks that he was sure had carved their way around his freckles.
“Ya tebya lyublyu,” he said softly, leaning over to press a kiss to Shane’s lips. It was soft and warm, and it felt like the oxygen that Shane felt like he couldn’t find earlier no matter how hard he tried. “It will be okay. I promise.”
He nodded wordlessly, knowing that he should say it back, that he should make the same promise and let Ilya know that he believed him, that he trusted him. The words wouldn’t leave him though. Ilya understood anyway.
The door clicked softly shut behind his husband a few moments later as he stepped out to go find their family. And in the quiet stillness of the hospital room, Shane leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Hana’s hand. The blanket was too scratchy against his skin and Hana’s fingers twitched slightly as he exhaled shakily. She mumbled something, voice pitched in pain, and he pressed a kiss to her soft skin.
It’s going to be okay, he thought, and he knew that it was true.
————
————
“Oh my god, Papa, for the last time—!”
Shane smiled slightly where he stood in the kitchen, pouring out a smoothie for Hana into her special cup. Normally, he would have made it fresh to order, but he didn’t want the noise to make her head hurt. So, he and Ilya had started prepping the smoothies when she wasn’t downstairs.
“Is important I make sure you are okay!” he heard Ilya exclaim in response to their daughter’s groaning. “Can I not tuck you in now, solnyshko?”
Hana groaned again, but Shane heard the affection in her voice. “That’s not fair.”
Ilya sounded smug as he responded and Shane knew he had won. “Was not meant to be fair.”
When he walked into the family room a few minutes later to deliver the promised smoothie, he found Ilya carefully tucking their daughter in where she was laid out on the sofa. On her stomach was Lev, curled up and asleep like usual; at her feet was Chihiro, curled up and watching her with steady eyes. Further down the sofa, Luka was curled up with Ilya’s iPad, but his eyes were focused solely on his sister and papa.
He had had the same scared look on his face since Thursday night and Shane wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to forget how small and afraid his son had looked in the stands that night. It was a relief though to see that some of the fear had lessened today. He would need to spend some extra time with him later that night when he was tucking him in.
“Is Papa playing dirty?” Shane asked, dropping a kiss to the top of Luka’s head and then bending over to help Hana drink some of the smoothie.
She sighed as she took a few sips and then carefully leaned back against the pillows. “He’s playing super dirty.”
Ilya waved his hand dismissively. “Is lie and, like you say, slander. I have never played dirty in my life.”
Shane and Hana gave him identical unimpressed looks and he merely grinned back at them, hands absently smoothing down the blanket and then scratching between Chihiro’s ears. On the other end of the sofa, Luka snorted out a laugh and finally looked down at the iPad.
Hana had been home for a couple of days now, having come home Friday morning after they had watched her for the night. Now, it was Sunday afternoon and Shane could tell that she was simultaneously loving and hating all of the extra attention.
And, well, he and Ilya had perhaps been hovering more than usual. Ilya had been watching her like a hawk, noticing any time her hand drifted toward her head or any time her nose scrunched slightly. All of Friday, he had hovered outside of her bedroom door, checking every ten minutes to see if she was alright, until Shane had eventually pulled him away. He couldn’t say that he had been much better though, honestly. His anxiety had had him by the throat for days now, and it was only slightly starting to let up at the sight of her grinning over at Ilya tiredly.
“Papa, you literally cheated at Monopoly last week.”
Shane had to agree and Ilya protested this, exclaiming in Russian that he couldn’t believe his daughter and husband would betray him like that.
“Luka agrees!”
The ten-year-old looked up at that and his expression was guilty enough that he didn’t even need to say anything. Ilya groaned dramatically and flopped onto the sofa beside their son, pulling him into his arms and tickling him until Luka started laughing, bright and loud in a way that Shane hadn’t heard in a few days now. His and Ilya’s wide grins were matching.
The sight made Shane’s heart melt and he smiled softly at the two of them.
When Hana winced at the sharp noise though, he had to break it up even though he hated to. Then, he focused on his daughter, hovering and asking what’s wrong, where does it hurt, do you want some more smoothie, what do you need—until Hana groaned loud enough to make Lev flick his tail.
“Oh my god, Dad!"