Chapter Text
Seeing a dietician had been part of the move to the Ottawa Centaurs. Ilya and Wiebe had said that it was just “part of the process” of transferring, but Shane had a feeling that it had been added in quite quickly before his transfer. Shane knew his relationship with food wasn’t normal, he wouldn’t deny that. But he also felt like it wasn’t, strictly speaking, harming anyone. So what if the thought of eating junk food sent him into a cold sweat? He was over 30! His metabolism had changed, and it was normal for him to want to eat healthier! Shane repeated this to himself as he sat in Tiffany’s office, his leg unable to stop bouncing. The material of the couch felt like sandpaper against his legs, scratching him through his clothes. Shane was trying to focus, but all he could hear was how loud the clock in reception was, and how loud Tiffany’s pen was, and how his heartbeat sounded louder than it ever had in his entire life. Thankfully, Tiffany was part of the Centaurs health team, so Shane didn’t have to deal with going to a new place on top of everything else. Her office was tucked away with the result of their health team- the team doctor, the physiotherapists, the massage therapists. Not so thankfully it meant that Ilya knew exactly when Shane’s appointment was and would wait for him to finish up so they could carpool home. Shane’s plan had been to dissociate for most of the appointment, tell Tiffany what he knew she wanted to hear, and make up something when he got home to Ilya.
That was a chill and normal thing for Shane to want to do. So what if food sometimes tasted like sand? So what if he saw his workouts as a way to “work off” the food he had eaten? Eating healthier would help him live longer, and controlling what he ate was clearly the easiest way to do this. No matter how much of his daily thought process and energy it took up. Or how much he hated himself every time he broke one his rules. Everyone thought like that, right?
--
Wrong. One session with Tiffany had made at least that much clear. Shane had thought that because it was his first session with Tiffany that they would maybe take things easy and work their way up to the hard stuff. Dipping his toes into the water as it were. Instead, Tiffany had asked him to write out all the food rules he had for himself. Shane had expected the activity to take up maybe 5 minutes. Instead, it had taken up almost all of the hour-long session.
“What do you think will happen if you don’t follow one of these rules?” Tiffany’s tone wasn’t condescending on rude. She sounded like she genuinely wanted to know. Shane’s eyes slid to the painting behind her. It looked like it was impressionists, all the dots of painting adding up to the greater sum of a human or a tree. Shane frowned at it, trying to make out the shapes in the picture and think of his response. He didn’t know how to tell Tiffany that if he broke the rules it made him feel like the entire world was closing in on him. Suddenly, somehow, the food he put in his body had become one of the most important things in Shane’s life.
“Mmmm,” Shane mused, trying to indicate that he was thinking about it but couldn’t put it into words. He let his eyes unfocus as he tried to put it into words. “I guess…” he sighed, “it’s kind of like… I know it’s not going to kill me if I eat junk food. But like… if I can eat healthier than I can play hockey for longer. And if I play hockey for longer, I have purpose for longer, I guess.” He wasn’t guessing. Shane knew that was how he thought. He just didn’t voice it to anyone. Ever. Shane almost missed Tiffany’s reply his heart was beating that loudly. It felt like it was trying to punch its way out of his neck.
“And you won’t have a purpose if you don’t have hockey?” Again, Tiffany’s tone wasn’t rude. It was the same as if she were just asking Shane about the weather, or whether he was able to find a park easily enough. Shane felt his bottom lip wobble and bit down on it before he could cry in front of this woman during their first meeting. The tears he was trying to hold back stung at Shane’s eyes, betraying the emotion he was trying so desperately to hide. He shook his head silently. Tiffany blew out a large breath, rustling the brown hair framing her face. Her brown eyes looked at him kindly. Shane knew there was no malice there but the questions she was asking made Shane want to rip his skin off. “Those are some heavy feelings to put on yourself Shane. Sure, you’re a hockey player. But I know there’s a lot more to you under that, and I want us to spend some time examining that and expanding your relationship with food. Is that OK?” Tiffany looked kindly at him, unblinking. The kind yet straightforward analysis threw Shane for a loop. He didn’t event know how to be more than hockey. Shane couldn’t remember the last time he had a hobby, unless you counted over a decade of secret hookups.
Shane tried to ignore how much he was wringing his hands, trying to keep his anxiety inside of his body. “I can… I can try,” Shane’s voice was barely above a whisper. He didn’t know how Tiffany could hear it above his heartbeat. Her face split into a grin, crinkling her eyes and making Shane trust her even more. He wanted to have a normal relationship with food. He wanted to be able to eat ice cream with Ilya and not worry about the consequences. He wanted to eat the normal food that Jackie cooked- like when Hayden offered him steaks all those years ago. Or, offered for Jackie to cook them for him at least.
“Before you go today, we’re going to pick one rule for you to try and work on this week,” Tiffany took a sip from the water bottle next to her, pointedly leaving a silence for him to fill. Shane swallowed around the lump in his throat, attempting to push the panic back down into his stomach.
“We can try one,” Shane frowned at his list, desperate to end the expectant eye contact. He could do this. One rule would not break him.
--
Shane made it as far as the carpark and already felt like it would break him. He promised Tiffany that he would give ice cream a go this week and report back on how it made him feel. In the cold air with his footsteps echoed sharply against the concrete walls of the carpark. Shane had to stop himself from wincing at how loud the footsteps sounded in his ears. His brain felt like someone put all his thoughts into a rolodex and kept spinning it. Ice cream was a big step. Ice cream was a ridiculous step. Why didn’t he try something easier like… like… All of a sudden Shane remembered why he chose ice cream. Because there were too many rules for him to continue functioning this way and this seemed like one he could get Ilya on board with. If there was one things Shane knew about his husband it was his affinity for desert.
The sight of his husband broke Shane’s racing thoughts. Years ago Shane thought his attraction to Ilya would wane, or that maybe he wouldn’t be so floored every time he saw Ilya. He had hoped that they could both get over this and leave their hookups a distant memory of their rookie careers. Over a decade in and Shane had yet to not feel amazed every time he saw Ilya. He was leaning back against their car; his curly hair scooped back into a backwards cap. Shane could see the edge of his jawline twitching as he tapped away on his phone. There were many parts of Ilya that Shane found ridiculously attractive, but his unguarded face when he thought no one was watching made Shane fall more in love each time. Before Shane could alert Ilya to his presence Ilya looked up and smiled at Shane. His whole face softened at the sight of his husband, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. After all this time it was like they had sensors for each other. Like two magnets drawn together, always able to tell whether the other was without even consciously thinking about it.
“Moy vozlyublenniy,” Ilya wrapped Shane into a bone crushing hug. Shane inhaled the scent of his husband, feeling his heart slow down as he burrowed into Ilya’s shoulder. After a few minutes punctuated by the sounds of their breathing Ilya pressed a kiss to Shane’s temple. “Do you want to talk about it?” Ilya murmured. Shane shook his head, blinking back the stinging feeling behind his eyes. “Is OK,” Ilya assured him, never pushing, never taking Shane further out of his comfort zone. “Let’s get home to a small puppy girl, and you can tell me all about some boring yoga history”.
--
It wasn’t until they were on a walk with Anya that Shane felt like he could tell Ilya. Shane relished the sunshine on his face, feeling like how he imagined a plant would feel mid-photosynthesis. Anya’s paws tapping on the sidewalk gave Shane a pleasant noise to concentrate on, focusing on how happy Anya was about their family walk. He didn’t have to look at his husband while they discussed this, it didn’t feel like he was breaching the safety of their home, and Anya would be there with never-ending cuddles if he needed them. It was a safe, neutral space for Shane to talk about this without feeling like he had to mask or overcompensate.
“Tiffany wants me to try eating ice cream this week,” Shane said so quickly it felt like the words were running into each other. He curled his fists at his sides, trying to remind himself that this wouldn’t kill him. Shane focused on the feeling of his fingers pressing into his palms, trying to stay present in the moment. Shane was so scared that he would let himself dissociate and slide away from this moment.
“We can do that,” Ilya’s hand slid down to Shane’s, unfurling it and smoothing the grooves his nails had left. “Do you want to go out for ice cream? Or is easier to eat at home where is safe?” Shane didn’t think there was any physical way he could love Ilya more, but every single day Ilya looked after Shane in ways he never knew he needed. Shane couldn’t understand how Ilya just knew that Shane needed him to ask the question.
Shane took a steadying breath and squeezed Ilya’s hands. “I think I need us to be at home. Otherwise, it’s too scary being in a new place and trying something new. Especially if people recognise us or it’s too loud or-“ Shane could feel himself spiralling but cut himself off as Anya looked back at them, her tongue lolling to the side. She looked so happy, so content. Shane blew out a sigh, focussing on feeling tether to this earth. To the sidewalk. To the family he had with him on this walk. “I think it needs to be at home. But not tonight.”
“No not tonight,” Ilya agreed, squeezing Shane’s hand. “I have very busy and very cool plans for us tonight anyway,” Shane raised an eyebrow at this, “you have to verse me at Mario Kart so I can destroy the hospital children,” Shane barked a laugh. Ilya always knew how to get him to laugh, even when it felt like the walls were closing in on him.
--
Two nights later Ilya had casually dropped into conversation that he had ice cream in the freezer.
“Oh?” Shane replied, trying to keep his voice steady and not let it betray his anxieties. It was ridiculous that the thought of ice cream made his heart jackhammer out of his chest. It was a children’s birthday party treat! In his logical brain Shane knew this. In the panicky brain currently piloting his meat slab ice cream was the enemy and it would somehow kill him immediately.
“Shane,” Ilya’s voice cut through Shane’s panic. His large, warm hands gently pulled Shane’s hands away from his face. Shane hadn’t even realised he’d begun to worry his cuticles between his teeth, pulling strips off as if that would somehow curb his anxiety. The metallic taste of blood bloomed in his mouth as he ripped skin off his thumb. “You do not have to eat the ice cream now. I wanted you to know so if you go looking you will not be surprised and panic,” Ilya’s thumb rubbing circles on the back of Shane’s hands brought some sense back to his body.
“Thank you,” Shane whispered, the tears prickling behind his eyes betraying him, “I don’t get how you’re so patient with me,” Shane frowned. Surely, in the long run it would have been easier for Ilya to marry one of the many beautiful women he knew, rather than dealing with Shane and his seemingly never-ending list of issues. Shane worried in the back of his mind that one day Ilya would wake up and realise that this was too much for him. That he would realise it was easier too marry literally everyone else rather than have to unpack all of Shane’s issues.
“Shane, look at me,” Ilya’s tone was stern, making it clear he wasn’t going to let Shane brush this off. Shane locked eyes with Ilya again, “you’re my husband, and I love you. Is not patience. Is spending my life with my best friend.” Shane couldn’t stop himself from breaking out into a grin. Who would have guessed that underneath it all Ilya Rozanov was such a romantic? “Plus,” Ilya continued giving Shane’s hands a squeeze, “who else lets me suck this dick whenever I want?” Shane felt his blush crawl across his chest. Sufficiently distracted Shane let a laugh rippled through him and crushed Ilya into a bruising kiss.
--
Later that night Shane was cuddled on the couch, Anya’s head in his lap as she snored gently. Ilya had put one of his Fast and the Furious movies on. Honestly, Shane enjoyed them, but he could never split the difference between them. As long as he got to turn his brain off and watch cars do some improbable shit for “family” he was down. He favourites were when they started jumping cars out of trains rather than running a random heist for a safe. Or when they decided to start bringing characters back from the dead.
“Do you want ice cream,” Ilya’s voice called from the kitchen. His tone was steady but Shane knew Ilya had planned this whole thing. Ilya had cooked one of Shane’s safe foods for dinner. He made sure the lights were dimmed, and that they had had a low sensory impact night. Shane never thought someone could see him so thoroughly or understand exactly what he needed. Shane always thought he would have to explain himself, but the way Ilya just understood Shane blew his mind.
“No th-,” Shane’s mouth started answering before his brain could even compute. He took a deep breath, focussing on the velvety feeling of Anya’s ears and whatever explosion was happening on the TV. “Yes, thank you,” Shane gritted out before he could talk himself out of it. Shane buried his fingers in Anya’s fur, watching Vin Diesel make some sort of speech about family while fast cars revved in the background. Soon, Ilya returned with a carton of Ben and Jerries and two spoons.
As if sensing Shane’s question Ilya passed Shane a spoon stating, “is less dishes this way.” Shane stared at his own warped expression in the spoon suddenly feeling like everything was too loud. His hands in Anya’s fur felt too much, too sharp, too painful. He tried to remember the breathing Yuna taught him when his world suddenly started closing in but his brain couldn’t go past the thought of eating ice cream. He knew, logically, everything was fine. But the logical part of his brain had up and left the second Ilya handed him the spoon. There was a monkey driving this meat slab, and Shane wasn’t sure it was a particularly smart monkey.
Ilya’s soft hand on his knee broke Shane out of his thoughts. Shane hadn’t noticed when Ilya had squatted in front of him, his blue eyes piercing through Shane’s express panic train. “Shane,” his tone was soft but firm. “Is just ice cream. It will be fine. And if not, I promise I’ll never make you do anything again”. Shane smiled, determined not to let Ilya down.
“OK,” he whispered, “let’s do this,” Ilya climbed next to Shane, making sure to lean his solid body against Shane’s giving him the physical reassurance he needed. Shane tried desperately to ignore how hard his hands were shaking. He blew out a calming breath before diving in with the same focus he used when executing a new play. Shane tried to take the smallest bite possible before taking another deep breath and taking a large spoonful. Shane brought the spoon to his mouth, focusing on Ilya’s steady, warm body next to him rather than the jack hammer in his chest.
Shane’s eyes involuntarily fluttered shut as he relished in the taste of chocolate ice cream. Shane couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten something that tasted so good except maybe the chocolate cake he had had for his birthday. His entire life was made up of rules that he had put in place for himself. Following the rules made Shane feel like he had control, like if he continued following them everything would be OK. The rules had given him a sense of security in a world that Shane never felt like he fit into. No one ever pointed it out to him, but no one had to. Shane knew most kids didn’t pause TV shows to study facial expressions, so he knew what people were feeling. He knew that other hockey players had interests outside of the sport. Shane knew that other people didn’t get stressed when those around them weren’t following the plan he had made in his head, or get so overwhelmed that it felt like they were going to vibrate out of their skin. There was time after time Shane had in the endless list of the ways he didn’t fit the world, and his control of food helped him make sense of a messy and confusing world.
Before Shane could stop himself, he was going in for another spoonful relishing in the taste of something he’d denied himself for so, so long. “Is nice right?” Shane could hear the laugh in Ilya’s voice without even having to look.
“Mmmm,” Shane agreed. When Shane looked over at Ilya the expression on his face practically made Shane turn to mush. For so long Shane didn’t think he was capable or worthy of such love. They hid everything for so long that it still blew Shane’s mind when they could love each other so freely- even if it was just in the confines of their house. Shane never thought he could experience such happiness, let alone have a husband who would be so willing to unpack Shane’s neuroses with such love and kindness.
--
Twenty minutes later the ice cream was packed away, and Shane’s monkey meat slab had taken back over. He couldn’t stop thinking about how much extra time he would have to spend in the gym to work off what he had eaten. He was so ashamed that he had let himself give in so easily, but then also so mad that he let himself get this bad. When looking at his eating from a distance Shane could easily justify it. He was being healthy, staying in shape, making sure that he could play hockey for as long as possible. The second he looked at that in any detail his whole illusion shattered, and he had to address the elephant sized eating disorder in the room.
Ilya wandered back in from the kitchen and sat next to Shane again. His gentle hands cupped Shane’s face breaking him out of his trance.
“Stop going down wormhole in your head,” Ilya frowned. Shane opened his mouth to respond but before he could even form the thought Ilya was peppering his face with kisses, “don’t argue. You had frowny kitten face. You’re thinking too much.” Shane snapped his mouth shut before he could come up with another argument. He leaned into the warmth of Ilya’s kisses. “What do you need right now?” Ilya murmured.
“A distraction, I think.” Shane chased Ilya’s lips determined to catch them with his own.
“That can be arranged,” Ilya smiled, kissing Shane into oblivion, happy to provide distraction.