Chapter Text
The day after Shane’s Dad walks in on them at the cottage
Ilya slipped quietly out of bed, leaving Shane still sleeping soundly under the covers. He pulled on some joggers, grabbed his lighter and pack of cigarettes, and headed outside. He knew Shane didn’t like it when he smoked, and he had mostly stopped. But this had been a big week, and today was going to be another big day, so Ilya wanted a fucking smoke.
He sat on one of the steps leading down from the cottage and watched the sun come up. He’d been enjoying the sunrises and sunsets here at the cottage. The beauty, the quiet…it was the closest he'd felt to his mother in a long time if he was honest. And he had so many things he wanted to share with her still. Shane loved him. He’d met Shane’s parents, and they didn’t hate him. He was going to get to spend his life with Shane. Before, he hadn’t allowed himself to imagine he could have that. He thought he could have little pieces, maybe. He thought he might marry for convenience and still see Shane for however long Shane wanted to see him, but he figured one day Shane would cut it off. He’d get tired of Ilya and the restrictions on their relationship, only being able to have each other in secret, and only occasionally. Instead, Shane loved him enough to figure out a way for them to be together. So yes, he wished more than anything he could tell his mother about Shane, and how lucky he was to have him. Ilya knew that she would love Shane, too. That she would want him to be happy. As the daylight reached him, he murmured in Russian his gratitude, his love, his grief, and he hoped maybe somewhere, somehow, his mother was listening.
That afternoon, he and Shane were in the kitchen, getting ready for Yuna and David to come for dinner as promised. Shane wasn’t as nervous as Ilya expected; he supposed his parents' reactions yesterday were enough to ease some of his initial anxiety. Ilya wasn’t nervous exactly, but he was starting to feel the pressure of presenting himself in a way that would endear Shane’s parents to him. It was important to him that they liked him. He planned to be part of Shane’s life going forward, and that meant a part of theirs, too. He was worried they may never fully warm up to him. That he would always be the cocky Boston captain in their eyes. He certainly had no experience being part of a loving family.
Shane was at the counter making fresh whipped cream to go with the strawberry shortcake they’d made for dessert. Ilya had loved every moment of them baking together, even though Shane was being a little too particular with making everything perfect. Ilya mostly stayed out of the way and watched. Shane being bossy only made Ilya happier if he was being honest, and also more likely to tease him.
“Taste this,” said Shane, holding out a spoon with whipped cream on it. “Is it sweet enough?”
Ilya bent forward and enveloped the spoon with his mouth, slowly pulling back, trailing his tongue along it.
“Stop that,” said Shane, laughing, and Ilya smiled.
“Delicious.” Ilya smacked his lips.
“Thank god. Everything’s ready to go." Shane leaned back against the counter.
“Good, we have some time before your parents get here.” Ilya raised his eyebrows suggestively.
“Absolutely not. They’ll be here in half an hour. I’m not taking any chances this time,” said Shane, clearly still thinking about what his Dad witnessed, or at least almost witnessed, yesterday. Ilya thought it could have been worse, considering.
“Fine.” Ilya decided to be good and not cause his boyfriend any undue stress today.
Twenty minutes later, there was an “on our way” text, and ten minutes after that, there was a knock at the front door. Shane went to let his parents in. Ilya stood awkwardly in the kitchen, unsure what he should do. He wasn’t used to feeling awkward.
“Hi, honey,” he heard Yuna say to Shane before giving him a quick hug.
“It smells good in here,” said David, “what did you boys make?”
“Strawberry shortcake and whipped cream,” said Shane.
“Shane did most of the work,” said Ilya, smiling at his boyfriend.
“Ilya cut all the strawberries.” It was cute that he wanted to make sure they knew Ilya helped.
“Should we get this chicken on the grill?” asked David.
Shane led his Dad out to the back porch to get the grill started. Ilya was once again standing awkwardly in the kitchen, unsure what to do with himself. Except this time, Yuna Hollander was there as well. She took a large bowl of salad out of a bag, along with some other containers, and set them on the counter of the island. Once she had everything settled, she turned to Ilya, looking like she wasn’t sure what to do or say either.
“How are you two doing today? I know yesterday was a lot for both of you,” she said finally.
“Good, I think. It’s a relief, probably more for Shane. You know, to not have to hide anything from you anymore. It’s my fault he had to,” he said. What Shane said the other day still lingered in his head. He probably would have already told his parents he was gay if not for Ilya.
“No, it’s no one’s fault. We understand that this has been…complicated. For both of you." She smiled, but it was a sad smile, reflecting Ilya's own feelings. “I wish it could be easier.”
“Yes, I wish that too,” said Ilya. He wanted nothing more than for him and Shane to just be able to live their lives the way they wanted.
“One day,” she said. “And we’ll support you both however we can.”
And then Yuna walked over to him and put her arm around his shoulders, and Ilya almost sobbed right then and there.
“Thank you. I…it means a lot to me. That you and Mr. Hollander don’t…” he trailed off. Don’t hate him, don’t blame him for ruining Shane’s life? He wasn’t sure what he was going to say.
“Shane loves you. It’s obvious you love him. David and I are so happy you have each other." Then she turned and fully wrapped her arms around him, and this time, he couldn’t stop a tear from escaping.
When she pulled back, Ilya hurriedly wiped the tear away and smiled. Yuna patted him once on the back and then headed out the glass door to check on David and Shane. Ilya took a moment to compose himself, reveling in how full his heart felt, before he followed.
—————
Summer- One year later
Ilya had finished up his last season with Boston. He signed with Ottawa and was in the process of purchasing a house there. But first, he and Shane were going to spend a few weeks at the cottage. Ilya couldn’t wait...he’d been mentally counting down the days all year. The cottage was their safe place. They could be together and alone, no hiding, no worrying about anything. His flight out was tomorrow morning, and he was mostly packed and ready, trying to while away the time until he could leave.
His phone rang, “Jane” appearing on his screen.
“Hi,” he said as soon as he picked up, happy to hear from Shane.
“Hey, are you packed?”
“Yep. Wish I could fly out now." Ilya had been watching the clock, the minutes lazily drifting by, never quick enough.
“Me too, but I had to go to Hayden’s thing today. I won’t see him all summer,” said Shane. Ilya knew it was only fair, despite wanting to hold it against Hayden anyway.
“That’s okay. We’ll make up for it tomorrow,” he said, voice low enough to convey how ready he was.
“I can’t wait." Then, “I almost forgot. My mom wants some pictures of us to keep at their cottage. She has a couple from last summer, but she also asked if you have any others of yourself from when you were a kid. You know, like in your hockey gear. They already have pictures of me from junior league and every other team I played on.”
Ilya’s heart melted a little. Yuna wanted pictures of him to put up with Shane’s. There hadn’t even been pictures of him as a child in his own father’s home.
“That’s very nice of her,” said Ilya, trying to keep his voice even.
“She said you can scan them and email them to her, and she’ll pick some to get printed. If that’s okay with you. I know it’s kind of silly, but it’ll make her happy.”
Ilya didn’t think it was silly at all. He thought it was one of the nicest things anyone had ever asked of him.
After they hung up, Ilya dug out the box of photos he had stashed in his closet. He only looked through these occasionally, when he was feeling up to it. Most of the pictures were of him or him with his mother.
He flipped through them, pulling out a few of himself at various ages, wearing hockey gear, making silly faces. He figured he’d send Yuna a handful and let her pick which ones she wanted. At the last moment, he grabbed one of him with his mother. She was sitting in a rocking chair, Ilya in her lap. He was probably about five years old, and he was gazing up at her, a wide grin on his face. She was looking down at him, adoration and warmth clear on her face. Ilya would give anything to feel that again. He was wearing a hockey camp shirt in the photo, and he told himself that’s why he included it.
He used an app on his phone to take high-quality scans of each photo and then emailed them to Yuna with a quick note saying Shane had told him to pass them along.
The next morning, Shane picked Ilya up from the airport, and they headed to the cottage. They spent a blissful day catching up by way of sex, blowjobs, and stupidly sweet cuddling. Later that afternoon, they headed to Yuna and David’s cottage for dinner.
When Ilya walked in, the first thing he noticed was new framed photos mixed in with the ones of Shane and his parents. First was a picture of the two of them that Yuna took last summer. They were sitting together on the bench in front of the fire pit at Shane’s cottage, Ilya’s arm around Shane’s shoulders, Shane’s head resting on his chest. Then he noticed one of the pictures he sent Yuna yesterday, of himself at about 14 years old, wearing hockey gear and sticking his tongue out at the camera. And then, a couple of frames down, was the photo of himself sitting in his mother’s lap in the rocking chair. Ilya’s eyes burned, and he knew he was standing there unmoving like an idiot.
Yuna stepped up beside him, her hand coming up to rest on his back.
“Thank you for sending those. I had them printed in town today. Now it’s perfect,” she said, and Ilya couldn’t stop the tears from falling.
“Thank you." He didn't know what else to say, and he was having a hard time keeping his face neutral.
“Your mother was beautiful. She’d be so proud of you. The Irina Foundation is going to do amazing things,” said Yuna. She reached up and wiped a tear from his cheek, letting her hand linger for a moment. Then she walked into the kitchen, where David and Shane were, giving him a minute to collect himself.
Ilya pressed a hand to his chest, trying to settle whatever was bubbling up inside him. He had never felt so loved.
—————
Winter- Ilya’s first season in Ottawa
Yuna was at home doing laundry when her phone rang. She was surprised to see Shane’s name pop up.
She answered, hoping nothing was wrong.
“Hi, Mom,” said Shane. “Are you busy today?”
“No, I’m at home, what’s going on?”
“Ilya’s sick." She could hear the worry in his voice now. “I think he has the flu.”
“Oh no, poor thing,” she said, already going into Mom mode, thinking about what he might need.
“I was wondering if maybe you could stop by and check on him? I won’t be back in Montreal until Monday." She knew his team was traveling this week.
“Of course. I’ll bring him some soup and meds, anything he needs,” she said, already making a list in her head.
“Thanks. I’m just worried about him. He doesn’t like to ask for help. He’s probably fine, but he sounded really bad on the phone earlier."
“Don’t worry about a thing, I’ll take care of him,” she said.
“Thanks, Mom. I have to go, but I really appreciate this. Love you."
“Love you too, stay safe,” she said, and they hung up.
Yuna got to work. She made chicken noodle soup, stopped by the bakery to get some fresh bread, and then went to the pharmacy to pick up Gatorade, flu medicine, cough drops, and a few other odds and ends. She texted Ilya to let him know she was coming by, hoping he was awake. She knew the code to his front door if need be, though.
She didn’t hear back from him by the time she arrived at his house. She knocked and waited a few minutes, but when she didn’t get a response, she decided it was best if she let herself in, worried that he might be too sick to get up. She stepped inside, closing the door behind her.
“Ilya?” she called out. No response. She set everything down in his kitchen and then headed to the living room. No sign of him there. She went upstairs, figuring he must be in bed. She stopped at his door and knocked a few times. Eventually, she heard a groan and a soft “Who is it?”
“Ilya? It’s Yuna. I’m coming in, okay?” She heard another groan. She slowly pushed the door open. She could just barely see the top of his head, curly hair damp with sweat.
“Hi sweetie,” she said quietly, stepping up to the bed and laying a hand on Ilya’s forehead. He was burning up. “I heard you weren’t feeling well.”
“You didn't have to come,” he said, voice raspy.
“Of course I did. You’re sick."
“Don’t want to get you sick, too."
“I’ll be just fine. I brought you soup, Gatorade, and medicine,” she said. “Do you feel up to eating, or do you just want some meds for now?”
“Maybe just medicine?” Yuna figured the fever was zapping his energy right now. She went back downstairs, grabbed the medicine and a bottle of Gatorade, and headed back up.
“Okay, take two of these for now, and drink some of this." She popped two of the pills out of the foil packet and unscrewed the cap on the Gatorade.
Ilya pushed the covers down enough to lean up and take the pills and bottle from Yuna. He swallowed them down and took a few extra sips of the Gatorade before setting it on the bedside table.
Yuna smoothed a hand over his head again. “Can I get you anything else?”
“No no, this is already too much. Thank you,” he said, lying back against the pillows again.
“You let me know if you need anything, okay? Try to get some rest."
She went back downstairs, put the soup away, and then pulled her phone out to text Shane.
He took some meds, drank some Gatorade, and now he’s resting.
A few minutes later, a text from Shane popped up.
Thank you so much, I was really worried.
Yuna went into Ilya’s living room and settled in to watch TV. She wasn’t going to leave until Ilya was awake and had eaten something. It didn’t matter how old they were, moms always took care of their kids when they were sick, and Ilya was basically a son to her now.
A few hours later, Yuna heard a door open upstairs, followed by clunky footsteps on the stairs. She stood up as Ilya stepped into the living room, and it was clear by the look of shock on his face that he didn’t expect her to still be there.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, walking over to him to lay a hand on his forehead again. Much cooler now.
“I um…a little better, I think,” he said, though his voice still sounded raspy. “You did not have to stay. I will be okay.”
“I don’t mind. Why don’t you sit down and let me fix you something to eat? I brought chicken noodle soup and bread. Does that sound good?”
He was still looking at her like he couldn’t believe she was here. “Yes, that would be good, thank you,” he said, sitting down.
Yuna went to the kitchen and heated a bowl of soup. She cut a small piece of the baguette she’d picked up from the bakery and let it warm up in the toaster oven for a couple of minutes. When both were ready, she brought them to Ilya in the living room. He accepted them gratefully.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“Just water, thank you."
After she brought him a glass of ice water, she sat back down on the other end of the sofa, figuring she’d stick around a little longer in case he needed anything else.
“I’m sorry you had to come all the way over here,” he said.
“Oh, Ilya, don’t apologize. I was happy to do it. That’s what parents do when their kids are sick,” she said, giving him a small smile.
She could see the emotions running across his face, his eyes a little watery. Yuna knew his home life hadn’t been full of warmth and comfort. She hoped one day he wouldn’t be so surprised by the bare minimum. She and David would keep showing up for him, letting him know he was loved.
—————
Spring- Ilya’s first season in Ottawa
Ilya was at the Hollander’s house for dinner, watching Montreal play the New York Admirals on TV. Sometimes, when Ilya had an evening off, Yuna and David invited him over for dinner. It was the best part of his week.
They’d had meatballs and spaghetti for dinner, and now Ilya was eating a giant slice of carrot cake on the couch, watching his boyfriend kick Scott Hunter’s ass, figuratively speaking.
“Oh, good save,” Yuna said, as Miitka blocked a shot from Hunter.
Ilya pulled out his phone to respond to a text from one of his teammates when he heard both Yuna and David gasp. He looked up just in time to see Shane go down. Ilya jumped up, feeling his heart sink. Not again.
“No, no, no,” he pleaded, wishing everyone on the ice would get out of the way so he could see Shane’s face. He sank to his knees, trying to get a hold of himself.
“He’s okay, he’s alright,” said Yuna, relief in her voice. Ilya could see now what she meant. Shane was moving. He struggled to his knees and held a hand up, letting everyone know he was okay.
Ilya exhaled loudly, feeling dizzy. He couldn’t stop thinking about the last time Shane took a hit and ended up in the hospital. Ilya had spent a sleepless night trying to find any updates on his condition, worrying without anyone to talk to because no one knew about their relationship.
Shane was up and skating back to his bench. Ilya was still on the floor in front of the couch. Yuna came over and rubbed his back, and he felt the tension he’d been holding start to slowly dissipate.
“He’s okay."
“I know. I just…it reminded me of last time." A wave of nausea pulsed through him at the thought.
“That must have been hard for you. I remember you visited him in the hospital,” she said.
“Yes. I stayed up all night, trying to find out anything about his condition. I was very worried."
“And you stayed on the ice, I remember that too. We wondered why at the time,” she said, smiling now.
“I almost gave us away,” said Ilya with a shaky laugh.
“It was sweet, now that we know. You boys really had a tough time, keeping that all to yourselves, hm?” Yuna said. Ilya thought that was an understatement.
“Yes. It was not easy. It’s still not. But it is worth it." He meant it.
“Well, you never have to go through any of it alone again. We’re here,” she said, and David was nodding as well.
Ilya turned and hugged her, grateful to be with family.
—————
Christmas- Later that year
Ilya and Shane were at Shane’s parents' house for Christmas dinner. Shane was in the kitchen with Yuna, helping her finish up everything, while Ilya and David set the table.
“Everything smells so good,” said Ilya. He was starving.
“Yuna’s been cooking all day. I helped, but Yuna loves cooking for the holidays. I do a lot more of the day-to-day cooking,” said David. Ilya knew that was true, having had many delicious dinners made by him.
Soon, Yuna and Shane were bringing dishes of food to the table. Ilya’s eyes immediately landed on a plate of golden brown oval-shaped buns. They looked like…but surely not. Stuffed buns were common everywhere, in some form or another.
When Yuna stepped back into the room, he pointed at the plate and asked her what they were.
“Oh, right! I was hoping you might know them. Pirozhki?” she said, testing the word. “I read that they were a common Russian food, maybe a comfort food?”
“Yes. Very common. I love them,” said Ilya, his heart feeling like it was going to explode, it was so full. No one had ever done something so kind for him.
“I hope it’s okay. I know you don’t get to go back home anymore, and I thought maybe…if it’s silly, you don’t have to eat them,” she said. Ilya wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Yuna Hollander sound so unsure about anything since the day he met her.
He wrapped his arms around her, trying to convey his gratitude. To let her know that this thoughtful gesture meant the world to him.
“They’re perfect,” he said, tears in his eyes. “Thank you.”
“Of course. I hope they taste good, but if not, maybe you can help me next time,” she said.
Shane was watching them, a sweet smile on his face. Ilya smiled back. He loved Shane with his whole heart, and being with him was everything to Ilya. He never thought he’d even have that much love in his life, and now he had a family, too. He felt like the luckiest person in the world.
—————
A few months later- Spring
Ilya was at home, trying to enjoy a day off, but it was not an easy day. Shane was traveling for a week of away games, and today happened to be Irina Rozanova’s birthday. It was a hard day for him every year, but he’d been thinking about her a lot lately. He’d been having dreams about her that started at the cottage. She was lying in Shane’s hammock, and he so desperately wanted Shane to come out and meet her. The dream always ended before it could happen. He wished so much that she could see him now, enjoy this new life with him.
Ilya thought about taking his Porsche out, just to drive around and listen to loud music and help numb the sadness filling him up. He didn’t want to ask any of his teammates to hang out. That might involve talking about his feelings, and he wasn’t close with any of them like that. If he were home, in Moscow, he could visit his mother’s grave. He would clean it, leave flowers, and just sit with her. He knew when he chose Shane, he was also choosing to give up that part of his life. He knew his mother wasn’t really there anyway. If anything, he felt her with him, all the time. That was enough for him. But it didn’t make today any easier.
Ilya had a thought. He pulled out his phone and opened his text thread with Yuna. Yuna, who would drop everything to help Ilya. Who loved him like her own son. Who had accepted him almost immediately and made sure he never forgot where he stood with her. Maybe he didn’t have to be alone today after all.
Ilya: Hi. Are you busy today?
Yuna: Not at all. What’s going on? Everything okay?
Ilya paused for a minute. He was starting to get cold feet. Maybe he could just make something up and tell her never mind, that he figured it out. No. No, he should do this. Yuna wouldn’t mind.
Ilya: All good. Today is my mother’s birthday.
Yuna: Oh, Ilya, are you doing okay? Do you want me to come over?
He smiled. He shouldn’t have doubted this idea.
Ilya: I was wondering if you might like to go to lunch? Anyone would probably think we are just doing Foundation planning.
Yuna: I would love to
Ilya’s heart swelled. He missed his mother so much, and she could never be replaced. To have another one now, to be loved like this, was a gift he didn’t think he deserved, but he would try.