Chapter Text
It had taken two months since the beginning of Shane's first season playing for Ottawa for both him and Ilya to be blessed with a streak of five whole days without games. There were some optional skating sessions that Shane should have attended in the middle of it, but Wiebe hadn’t batted an eye at Shane’s little getaway to Boston – he knew he would probably train harder than he would at home, with his very competitive boyfriend around. Luckily, because Shane really didn’t want to have to open his heart to his Coach and tell him he was starting to feel untethered, weighted by the longing for Ilya’s arm and an all-consuming worry that something was not right with the man he loved.
It was an itch, something he had noticed only because he had grown to know Ilya so well and had been around him for a decade – the way Ilya’s eyes seemed just a little bit less bright during their videocalls, or how his laugh felt just too forced to be real. Shane had made the mistake of spending the whole flight to New York using the in-flight Wi-Fi to research. The words from dozens of articles and papers were floating around in his mind, for the whole game (a loss for Ottawa but not a devastating one, with a 2-1 score and a brilliant saving percentage for Wyatt) and the three-hour drive to Boston.
But as soon as Shane had finally parked the car in Ilya’s private driveway, and Ilya had opened his arms to welcome Shane – who didn’t hesitate to melt in his chest – and then promptly carried him, bridal style, to the bedroom, Shane had decided to wait to tackle the elephant in the room. Just for a while, as he was busy enjoying mind-shattering orgasms after two months of having only his own hands to take care of things.
Right now, Shane was watching Ilya getting out of one of his flashiest cars (which meant it was still an extreme vehicle, considering Ilya’s taste), both of their hockey equipment kits in his hands, as they entered the private ice rink together. It was a place Ilya had haunted regularly since the first years of his career, just an hour outside of Boston: every time he wanted to try new tricks, work on his moves without the press overing around, or if he just needed some alone time on the ice.
No one welcomed them, just a keypad and a code inputted by Ilya.
They changed quickly, and Shane was the first on the ice, taking a few quick laps around the rink. He was excited for the opportunity to play with Ilya, as teammates instead of adversaries, as they had done in Tampa – even if this was just a training session, without anyone to battle against, it would give Shane enough nourishment to fuel him for the months to come. It was a feeling that excited Shane almost as much as sex, which was definitely saying a lot.
“Are you ready for me, Hollander?” Ilya’s eyes were twinkling, his smile sincere, and that sight alone did so much to calm Shane’s rising worries. “Let’s see who can make more goals in less time.”
“You know I’m quicker”, Shane spat, hands tight around the stick. “But if you want to lose so bad, who am I to stop it?”
It started with shooting pucks at the net, then they moved to face offs (something hard to do without a third person to do the drop, but Ilya had still taken the opportunity to pretend to kiss him to steal the puck right from under his hands). At some point, when the two hours of allotted time were almost up, Shane turned around to see Ilya do a jump and a spin, landing just barely on his two feet, to Shane's horror – “I train with figure skaters, sometimes!” was Ilya’s innocent answer, laughing even in the face of Shane’s blatant worry.
“Don’t ever try doing that again, or you will give me a heart attack. You clearly don’t know how to land.” Shane muttered as he left the ice and put on skate guards. “Now come, or we won’t have time to shower.”
“Oh oh, now Mr. ‘I did figure skating for six months’ wants to give lessons to me?” Ilya followed him quickly, looking at Shane with clear lust. “Showers. What if we did a replay of that Toronto shower, mh? Would you like?”
A shiver ran through Shane’s back, and he didn’t hesitate to nod, dragging Ilya to the locker room, for a shower that definitely took too long. But relaxed with post coitus bliss on the passenger’s seat, Shane didn’t mind it too much.
“I got salmon and boring hamster’s food for you” Ilya murmured, glancing briefly at Shane. “But there is also place that does very good pizza on the way…”
Shane thought back to a few weeks ago, to the barbecue at Bood’s that the team had thrown him as a welcome party. Wyatt had piled food on his plate, ribs and baked potatoes, and Shane hadn’t wanted to complain in front of his goalie’s earnest smile, so he just started eating, obediently. And that night, surrounded by the warmth of his new teammates, Shane had found himself not caring, for once, about eating a balanced meal.
It wasn’t a ‘fix’ (especially because he wasn’t sure there was anything to fix), and the next day his launch was full of vegetables and grains, but it made Shane realize that he would not combust if every once in a while, he would cheat on his meal plan.
“Yeah, we could do pizza” As soon as Shane said it, he glanced at Ilya, who seemed to be on the brink of having an aneurysm. “But light cheese on mine, please.”
At that, Ilya just laughed, shaking his hands, and then they were back to the comfortable silence of a few moments earlier.
In the quiet, broken only by the low sound of the radio, Shane found his mind going far, far away, as it happened often these days. In the middle of his concerns for Ilya’s brittle mental health, one of the most gnawing thoughts had been that Shane really, really, couldn’t allow Ilya to be sent back to Russia.
He had spent so many night lately worrying about the possibility of getting outed, and that Boston could decide to terminate Ilya’s contract for some bullshit like ‘unwanted attention’ (it didn’t matter that he could still hear Yuna’s voice telling him that if they tried some shit like that, she would personally submerge them in ‘unwanted attention’), and then no more working visa, no more reasons to stay in the US.
That’s how, earlier this month, Shane had found himself ending a call with Ilya and going straight to Canada government’s website, scrolling through all the resources available on how to get a citizenship. This time, though, he found himself reading through a different section, one he had avoided until now: how to get a citizenship through marriage.
Even if he and Ilya had been together for almost ten years by now, their actual ‘relationship’ felt so new to Shane, like it was still too early to even think about the concept of becoming husbands. And yet… he had read the whole page, with every single subsection, and then went back to Google to research some more.
“You are thinking too loudly, moya lyubov” Ilya said it with a smile in his voice, his free hand brushing Shane’s thigh. “What is it, mh?
Shane hesitated, unsure whether to stay silent or utter the truth. And then he accepted that Ilya would probably not let the matter go so easily, and that he couldn’t outright lie to him. He had never really been able to. “I was thinking… your citizenship, right?”
“Da, can’t wait to become boring Canadian” Ilya stopped at a red light, and turned to look at Shane.
“I- found a way. To let you obtain it quicker…” Shane bit down on his lips, moving his gaze away. Ilya started driving again, waiting for him to say more. “If I married you, you would be able to start the citizenship process basically right after. No need to wait another year, or for you to move permanently to Canada.”
A moment of silence, then Ilya started laughing. “Oh, Shane! I expected better marriage proposal from you. No romantic candles, no rose petals… disappointing.”
“This was not a marriage proposal!” Shane said briskly, and it took him a moment to see behind the sardonic laugh, to notice the real happiness in Ilya’s eyes, the way his chest seemed to have filled with warmth. “It was just telling you an option, nothing more.”
“Okay, okay, but it’s idea I like” Ilya’s tone was a bit mocking. Still, Shane decided to let it go, and focus instead on his words… so Ilya really liked the possibility of becoming husbands? Was he actually ready for marriage?
“We will think about it” Shane murmured, hoping the argument could be considered closed for now - he really didn’t want to have this conversation in the car. Overall, it was a big step. Even if Shane knew, already, that there wouldn’t be anyone for him other than Ilya, and that he was so desperate to tie their lives together – matter of citizenship notwithstanding.
The next three days passed in a blur, mostly in the bedroom or on the couch, kissing and talking, alone with each other’s company – not including, obviously, the numerous video calls with his parents, who were taking care of Anya while Shane was in Boston. Ilya still had to meet her in person, but he was already smitten, so much so that Shane asked himself if he should have been jealous.
There was also a call with Scott to discuss about the hockey camps, after breaching the idea to him during their New York getaway in August, and potential players they could contact to volunteer as trainers.
Overall, they just took the time to bash into that warm familiarity, that cosy hominess, that had been so hard to let go of when summer ended. Shane really didn’t know how he was supposed to go back to Ottawa and away from Ilya… the Christmas break was just so far away.
And then, one morning after breakfast, Ilya came out of the room dressed in tight black jeans and a Boston hoodie, kissed Shane softly, and left the house too fast, muttering about some errands to run, “Will be back soon, don’t miss me too much.”
Shane barely had the time to register what had just happened, but he was so used to Ilya’s shenanigans that he just shook his head and focused on cleaning the kitchen, before sitting down on the couch to read one of the hockey books he had brought with him, glasses on the bridge of his nose. As a treat for Ilya, when he came back.
As promised, Ilya was quick, and it took only around one hour before Shane heard the sound of the door unlocking. Ilya opened it just slightly, enough that his voice could be carried inside. “Close your eyes, moya lyubov. I have surprise!”
Shane did as instructed, waiting patiently until Ilya came inside and walked in front of him. Then he heard a soft “Open”, and when Shane opened his eyes, for a few seconds, he couldn’t do anything but look at Ilya with his mouth agape, the book falling to the ground, forgotten.
Ilya, who was kneeling in front of him, with a small red box in his hands. His eyes were so full of love, that Shane couldn’t help but let the tears fall from his eyes.
“Oh, what you wouldn’t do for a new citizenship” Shane said with a smile, even though his voice sounded broken, to mitigate the tense atmosphere. But when he focused on Ilya’s expression, he noticed he looked… stressed. Was he really worrying that Shane wouldn’t want to marry him?
“I’m- not okay, I think” He confessed, his eyes focused on Shane. “I will be, I will do everything to be better. You need to know it before...”
“And I will be by your side every step of the way, if you will let me.” Shane leaned over to Ilya, caressing his cheek softly. “But now finish what you started, or I will have to hijack your proposal.”
Ilya laughed, visibly relaxed, before opening the box. “Shane Hollander, will you marry me?”
“Only if you marry me in return” As soon as Shane had said the words, the ring was put on his right hand, and Ilya’s lips were on his. And in that moment, Shane realised that life, truly, couldn’t get better than this.
Even if the future looming on the horizon was intricate and full of obstacles, even if both of them would have so many personal hardships to face, at least they could be comforted by the fact that through everything, they would be together.