Work Text:
"Next."
Shane shuffles forward in the line as JJ goes up to the border security checkpoint with his passport. They're in Boston at the end of a week long road trip. Everyone is subdued, quieter than they usually are on the way home.
Montreal versus Boston last night, triple overtime. Almost sixty extra minutes on the ice and Shane can feel every second in his body. His feet are sore, his back is sore, his hips ache, his eyes burn. It's hard games like these that makes Shane wish he could fall asleep on planes.
God, he'd give anything to sleep for the next whole fucking year.
Even triple overtime is enough to exhaust the self-proclaimed Stamina King of Boston, Ilya Rozanov.
Now that Shane and Ilya are officially boyfriends, they take every match against each other even more seriously. These are the games they both count down to, the day between weeks that they know they'll get to touch each other again.
They talk everyday on the phone, either calls or texts or video calls or all three, but these few stolen days mean the most.
So, it's a bit disappointing that they missed out that extra hour together. Not even that, both men were so exhausted from the never ending game. Sex that usually went several rounds didn't even get started.
A lazy blowjob each, some wondering hands, and then both Shane and Ilya passed out on top of the comforter. Maybe they could have had the morning together, but both men overslept their alarms and Shane ended up rushing to the airport to meet the team.
"Next."
Shane steps forward in line again, his eyes closed against the bright airport lights. It's not his turn; he's still several people back and the customs always takes longer than normal security.
"Long night with Lily?" Hayden asks beside him.
"Hmm," Shane mumbles incoherently. He doesn't have the energy to argue with Hayden about Boston-Lily-but-not-Lily today. "I just overslept."
"Not at the hotel you didn't. Your bed never even got touched, man," Hayden says suggestively. He knows about Ilya, has for months by now, so he's just stirring the fucking pot. Hayden bumps his shoulder against Shane's and fuck, Shane wishes he was still in fucking bed.
"Shut up," is all Shane can muster.
Shane is thankful every fucking day that Hayden figured out their relationship on his own, even if he only thought of it as a joke. The secret became too much to explain and with no casual way to approach the topic. Hey man, you know how we've been friends for eight years? Well I've been fucking men all that time. No, not men. Just one man over and over and over again. Oh, and that man is Ilya fucking Rozanov.
The purple bruise Hayden sports this morning courtesy of Rozanov doesn't help their strenuous friendship though.
"What? He boarded me first, I just returned it with my stick!" Ilya says as he bends down at the face off.
"Fuck you," Shane mutters, all too aware of the ref two feet from them.
"What, now he is sensitive? He has two thousand kids, I think he can take stick to the face."
"You know, most men would be ecstatic about getting laid all night," Hayden comments. "I know I'm glad to get home to Jackie. Her mom has the kids for the weekend."
Shane scoffs softly. "You played the same game I did, Hayd. I was too exhausted last night for sex."
"Oh? So you and Lily cuddled? That's sweet."
Even half asleep, Shane can recognize Hayden's chirping voice. "Shut the fuck up."
"Next."
It's finally Shane's turn. He unshoulders his duffel bag as he approaches, rummaging through the bag for his passport as he approaches the border security agent.
"Good morning," Shane says, ever the polite Canadian.
"Good morning, sir. Passport please," the agent holds his hand out for the correct papers.
"Yes, sorry, it's usually in this pocket?"
Shane keeps his duffel bag organized. Hayden and Ilya both tease him about it, but there is a very important order to things: extra hoodie, empty sports bottle to refill, a change of clothes, and book(s) in the main compartment, headphones and charger in side pocket, granola bars in other side pocket, and all his important papers — passport, Canadian ID, Montreal Metros ID — zipped up in the inside pocket.
Except, there's no passport in the inside pocket. It's completely empty.
"I am so sorry," Shane says to the agent. "Just let me…"
Shane privately cringes as he sets his duffel on the ground — it's fine, he needs to wash it when he gets home anyways — to search it thoroughly. Shane freezes when he sees the sweatshirt shoved inside.
Shane always folds his clothes. His travel sweatshirt is always uniform — folded twice and rolled four times — not just tossed in to get wrinkled. It also is a blue Metro one, the second one he received when his first team sweatshirt ripped at the shoulders two years ago.
The fabric in Shane's hand is black. Wrong.
There's no book inside the bag. No change of clothes. No water bottle.
Shane catches the corner of a damning box at the bottom of the duffel. Cigarettes.
This is Ilya's fucking bag.
Shit. Shit. This is not fucking happening.
"Don't go," Ilya murmurs into the soft skin of Shane's left pec. Shane swears Ilya has an obsession with boobs and it translates directly to Shane's chest.
"It's a team flight, Ilya." Shane kisses the top of the Russian's head. "I would stay if I could."
The morning is rushed, Shane hurrying as much as he dares as he refolds his clothes from last night to fit his bag. His suitcase is at the hotel — a quick text sent to Hayden to please please grab it because there's no way Shane can make it to the hotel to grab it before the flight fixes that issue — but he has his plane duffel with him.
"Ilya, where's my bottle?"
"I have it, calm down." Ilya grabs the water bottle off the drying rack. "Will you eat before going?"
Shane checks the clock. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I can't."
Shane can't help feeling frustrated the same way Ilya can't help the look of disappointment on his face.
Mornings are their sacred time. Sex, maybe a blowjob, before hot tea together in the living room, talking hockey or summer plans. Shane loves waking up and having Ilya beside him, loves being able to have any amount of domestic time with his boyfriend.
Oversleeping took this time away from them and they both feel cheated. They might have felt cheated anyways.
"Maybe if you let me score a goal before the second overtime, we would have woken up," Shane teases with a chaste kiss.
Ilya snorts and shakes his head. "Then be in dog house for not playing hard? No, thank you. You should skate faster if you want to make goals."
"Fuck you."
"Hmm, is no fun without you." Ilya kisses Shane, a deeper one this time. A goodbye. "I will be in Montreal in three weeks."
Three weeks. Technically, twenty-four days. It feels like forever and Shane says so.
"I know, but we will video chat, yes?" Ilya kisses him again and pushes Shane backwards.
"Mm. Ilya," Shane says against his lips. His back hits the wall of the entry way. "Ilya, I have to go."
Ilya, the motherfucker, slips his cold hands under Shane's shirt. "Or we could fuck and you get new ticket?"
Shane allows one more kiss before pushing Ilya away. "I will see you in three weeks." He grabs his duffel which he had dropped on the floor. Ilya's floors are clean, Shane knows, but he still has to remind himself that it's okay.
"Three weeks."
"I love you," Shane whispers as he turns the doorknob.
"Ya tebya lyublyu."
Fuck. Ilya must have left his own bag beside the door last night, the same brand and color as Shane's. His bag would still be on the floor in Ilya Rozanov's apartment twenty-five minutes away from this airport. Fuck.
Shane's hand touches a leather booklet and he pulls it up. A passport book, black with Cyrillic across the front. Ilya's fucking passport.
"Sir? We need to keep the line moving." The agent is getting impatient and Shane understands — it's a busy airport day — but Shane can't just hand her this Russian passport.
Fuck, is it a crime in America to be in possession of someone's passport? Is that identity fraud? Fuck, he should know more American laws.
"I am so sorry, I just need a minute." Shane looks up at the line. Hayden is already watching him. "Hayd, can you help me? Let Nick go through security."
Shane, with Hayden following, picks up his bag and walks to the wall beside the security line.
"Dude, what's the problem?"
"I have Ilya's fucking bag." He's never been so thankful that Hayden knows about Ilya. At least Shane doesn't have to deal with this circus of a shit show alone. "I have his goddamn Russian passport."
Hayden's eyes go wide. "Oh shit." He checks his watch and swears again.
Shane already knows there's no time to go all the way back for his bag. He calculates it in his head: five minutes to get an Uber, twenty-five to the house, twenty-five back, extra time for traffic and stoplights, there's a school zone halfway so add five extra minutes for that because now its school rush time-
"Shane, we have to tell coach."
Shane purses his lips. Telling Theriault is the last thing he wants to do, but he knows there's no way around it. The Montreal Metro's captain isn't getting on the plane today, not with the wrong passport and no clothes and no bag and no ID.
"Fuck, okay. He's already through security, right? You go, tell him I can't fly-"
"Woah, you want me to tell coach his star player has Ilya Rozanov's passport?"
"No, fuck! Just…" Shane hesitates. This is so stupid, the whole thing. "Tell him I lost my passport at the bar last night."
"You didn't go to the bar last night."
"I know, but-"
"Shane, Theriault knows you didn't go to any bar last night. Everyone knows you got laid."
Shane's cheeks flare hot. He knows sex is a very normal adult thing, but it still makes him uncomfortable to know his teammates talk about his sex life behind his back. "Then fucking tell him I left it at some girl's house, I don't know."
It's not the worst plan. Honestly, the team might chirp him a bit and coach might get a little pissy, but overall people would find it hilarious that Shane Hollander left his passport at some puck bunny's house. They would laugh that sex was so good it even made Hollander forget his senses.
But it made Shane feel worse.
To claim that Ilya is not only a girl, but a random hookup? It feels like betrayal. There's a line in the lying that Shane has to draw, and he wants to draw it at this.
He wish he could.
Hayden sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. "This is a fucking mess."
"I know," Shane whispers. He throws his head back against the wall and takes a deep breath. "Just… Go through customs and tell coach to talk to me through the security fence. I'll tell him myself."
If they were paying any amount of attention to their surroundings, Shane and Hayden would have heard the change in the security crowd. People gasped, too many people took their phones out, Metro players grumbled and sneered.
Truthfully, Shane is too busy trying not to full-out panic in the middle of an airport to notice anyone else until he hears his own name being shouted.
"Hollander!"
Shane frowns and looks back at the entrance of the airport. Fuck whatever he thought he would see; this was the last thing he expected.
Ilya is there, Shane's passport in one hand and his duffel bag in the other. He has the same arrogant smirk on his face that he does on the ice. "I think you are missing something."
"Woah, is that Rozanov?" Shane's last teammate still in line asks. "What the fuck?"
Ilya doesn't give anyone else attention, just walks that sassy prowl to Shane. "You are stuck in Boston, so sad. Boston does not want you here."
"Rozanov." Shane sets his jaw to keep from smiling. He hopes his teammates and fans will think he's pissed. "What the fuck?"
"Great prank!" Ilya laughs and tosses the passport to Shane, who catches it instinctively. Ilya throws his boyfriend a wink. "I switch bags, you panic in airport. But I come give it to you because Boston cannot handle your boring anymore. Please leave, you make Boston snooze."
"Fucking asshole," Shane groans and throws Ilya's whole bag into his chest. "Almost getting me benched because I'm stuck in the wrong country isn't a prank."
Ilya grabs his bag and pulls the strap over his shoulder. "Oh no, is serious. Hollander does not know what prank is." He looks over at Hayden still beside Shane. "Pike has twenty kids. One of them could take your line. No one would even notice."
"Fuck you, Rozanov," Hayden says with an eye roll and it's only because Shane is his best friend that he can see Hayd fighting a smile. "Leave my family hockey team out of this."
"Oh, but your wife text me last night. She tell me I am best hockey player and she wants to meet me."
This is at least partially true, Shane knows. Jackie did actually text Ilya, and Jackie did ask to see Ilya. 'See Ilya' as in Ilya babysits the kids with Shane the next time he's in town.
The way Ilya is able to twist the truth into a chirp will always amaze Shane. He doesn't get caught for lying because he actually isn't, just making the truth sound bad.
"Hollander, Pike!" Theriault voice booms through the airport security area. "I hope you aren't trying to fight Rozanov. Through security, now! Rozanov! Do I need to call your coach?"
Ilya waves at Theriault. Fucking waves, the asshole. "No, I am good. Thank you!" He turns back to Shane and hands him his duffel bag, still hanging from Ilya's hand. "Have good flight, solnechnyy," he says soft enough for only Shane and Hayden to hear.
"See you in three weeks," Shane mutters and grabs his bag, adding attitude for the benefit of all the onlookers watching them.
Shane and Hayden rushes to the front of the security line. Their plane is boarding soon and Theriault is already threatening bag skates if they don't hurry up.
Shane hands his passport to the boarder security agent, who looks everything over before shooing him beyond the fence. Shane hurries through security: left shoe, right shoe, belt off, x-ray, wait for bag. As he gets his shoes back, he lift his left foot, pulls off his sock to reveal a clean sock that did not touch the dirty airport floor, and puts his shoe back on. He does the same with his right foot and shoves both dirty socks into the dirty clothes department on his duffel.
He immediately puts his hand under the hand sanitizer dispenser provided.
"You done?" Hayden asks as he grabs his own bag and Shane's belt. Hayden knows Shane's airport nuances and never makes him feel bad about it. Shane really got lucky finding such a good best friend.
"Yes- I need to fill my water bottle."
"Shane, bud, lets get to the gate first and make sure we're not loading yet."
Shane frowns, but Hayden's right. They run through the airport, coach having already left. A22, A23, A24, A25…
"A26!" Hayden gasps as he stops beside some of their teammates. "We made it."
Shane groans unhappily, rubbing at his sore hip. After the hard game yesterday, he wants at least another day before any exercise. That doesn't mean running across half Boston's airport
JJ bumps his fist against Shane's shoulder. "What is this about Rozanov? He here in airport?"
"Yeah, uh, Boston pranked me," Shane tries to explain the lie Ilya had thankfully made for him. "Switched my bag with his."
"Fucking assholes!" JJ shakes his head and crosses his arms. "And Rozanov grew conscious?"
"No, uh, I think his coach found out?" Fuck, Shane is bad at lying. Hopefully, JJ and Hayden can spread the story around for him so all he has to do is nod along after this. "So he came to give me my passport back."
"Pricks, all of them," Hayden says as he nods along.
Shane looks at the gate, the screen reading Boarding in: 5 minutes shining brightly on the television above the airport staff. "Sorry, I'm going to fill my water bottle before we leave."
Shane makes his way to the wall where there's a filtered water station and opens his duffel to reach his refillable bottle. Inside, a piece of paper lays on top with Ilya's messy script 'I love you idiot'.
Damn the way Shane's eyes burn as he touches the simple piece of paper. If only his teammates knew how sweet and thoughtful the man they're currently berating is, Shane thinks all their heads would explode and pigs would fly and unicorns will be discovered in Vancouver.
As he places his bottle under the water dispenser, Shane pulls his phone out and goes to Ilya's message thread.
Lily
7:34am
Lily: Shane you have wrong bag
Lily: Shane
Lily: Fuck answer your phone
Lily: !!!!!!
Lily: I am coming to airport. Do not freak out
8:17am
Lily: Hope I gave them good story
Lily: I love you
Shane smiles widely as he types:
Shane: I fucking love you too. Thank you so much.