Chapter Text
February 2017 - Boston TG Garden
Ilya was stretching on the ice before the game when Shane skated to a stop in front of him. Heart racing, he did his best to keep a neutral expression. Meeting his gaze, Ilya smirked. “Hello beautiful, ready to lose tonight?” He kept his voice low, the Russian words meant only for Shane. Shane rolled his eyes, scoffing. Also keeping his voice low, he replied, “Fuck you. You’re gonna eat those words later tonight.”
Ilya gave him a wink and smiled a slow grin. “It was never in question if I’d fuck you darling, just when and how. I can’t wait to see you on your knees, rewarding me for my win. If you ask nicely, I may even let you come before you do.”
Shane blushed and looked away, clearly trying to hide his arousal from Ilya. Impossible task, that. He loved to see his baby all flustered and annoyed at him. They had been sexting before the game, and the stakes were high. They had a rare full thirty-six hours before Shane left Boston for a home game stretch at Montreal. And Ilya planned to make use of every single hour they had with each other.
“Kitten, look at me.” Using that voice that always made Shane listen, Ilya waited patiently for him to do as he asked. Blush deepening, Shane met his eyes. “I know you’re hard. I wonder if that naughty brain of yours will keep you that way for the entire game?”
“Fuck off, Rozanov.” Fiddling with his chain, he watched Shane skate back towards Pike, chuckling to himself. He couldn’t wait for tonight. It had been a hard few weeks, having to bury his father and Shane not being able to be there. He had missed him desperately.
But he was finally done with it all. He washed his hands of Alexei, buried his father, took anything that meant something to him before visiting his mother’s grave for the last time. And it would be the last time. He had scaled back his visits these past few years on purpose. He and Shane were careful, but he knew that when his father died that it would be the last time he could risk going back to Russia. It was a bittersweet thing, saying goodbye to his homeland. But Shane was his future and he refused to risk that any longer.
Standing up, he skated back to his bench to ready his team for a fight. He was determined to win; he had a bet to collect.
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They faced off for the puck, staring each other down, playfully hitting each other’s sticks in quick succession before the puck dropped. Shane won, sprinting away.
He saw Shane sprint forward towards the goal, looking back smugly at him. Their back and forth had only just begun, the fun had been starting to ramp up. Ilya had felt a flash of heat at that smug look. Confidence always looked sexy on his kitten and hockey always brought out that side of his Shane. His sweetheart was the best, his only real competition on the ice. Had been since they were kids. Speeding up, Ilya made to steal the puck when he saw the perfect storm.
Time slowed as Ilya watched the train wreck. Shane was still looking at him and out of nowhere, Marlow came up on his right blindside and checked him, hard but clean. Shane hadn’t seen it coming at all, didn’t brace for it. And he went down. Hard.
Ilya froze. It was a sight that he had never seen before, never really thought was an option. Shane was unmoving, having crumpled like a puppet’s strings suddenly cut. Chaos erupted around him, whistles blown, the crowd screaming, players yelling, but Ilya hardly noticed. Hesitantly, Ilya skated closer.
“Hollander?” Shane stayed unmoving. Absently, he heard the referees calling for medics and saw Pike had launched himself at Marlow, gloves dropped, helmet thrown. “Shane?” Why wasn’t he moving? Dropping his gloves and stick, he kneeled. Gently, stabilizing Shane’s neck, he rolled Shane to his back. “My beloved, open your eyes.” Gently, so gently, he rubbed his thumb along Shane’s cheek, right over those freckles. “Open your eyes now, or I will not be responsible for what I do.” His voice was harsh, shaking in a way he had never heard out of his own mouth. The world was spinning, but he could only focus on Shane. Medics started to flood around them, trying to pull Ilya away. He shook them off, knowing they were speaking to him, but unable to process what they were saying. He leaned down to Shane’s ear. “Shane, open those pretty eyes now and let me know you are okay.” Finally, Shane began to move. His brow furrowed, nose wrinkled.
“Ilya, five more minutes.” Ilya exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized that he had been holding, relief flooding him. His hands shook as he continued to stroke his beloved’s face. "No love, you need to open your eyes, tell me you’re okay. Do this for me, please.” Shane hummed, eyes still closed. Medics surrounded them now, backboard and cervical spine collar in hand. One sat close to Ilya. “Keep his head steady Rozanov, I need to get him stabilized for transfer. Has he opened his eyes or spoken to you?” Ilya shook his head, jaw clenched, keeping his hands steady on Shane’s cheeks. “He has not opened eyes. But did speak few words. Said my name but nothing else. Is he okay? What can I do?”
“Talking is a good sign, but we won’t know until the doctors check him out. Hold him steady and try to get him to stay awake, I am going to put the collar on.” Nothing could make Ilya move anyway, but at least he could be useful. God, please let Shane be okay.
“Hollander, you took a hard hit on the ice. We need to get you to the hospital. I’m going to place a cervical collar on you as a precaution until we can get you checked out. I need you to open your eyes for us. Can you tell me your name?”
Eyebrows furrowing, Shane batted the medic’s hands away. “Ilya, make this man go away, I want to sleep.” Snorting, Ilya shook his head at his grumpy man. The medic glanced at him, surprise and confusion obvious on his face.
“Impossible love, you need to wake up. You got hit on the ice and went down hard. You have been unconscious. Open your eyes now, I need to know that you are okay. Come, show me those beautiful doe eyes.” Finally, Shane’s eyes fluttered. Ilya smiled shakily at his love, tears welling. “There they are. Keep them open for me beautiful.” The medic quickly shined a light in his eyes, making him flinch.
“Keep your eyes open, Hollander. What did he say? Is he speaking Russian? Do you know if that is normal for him?”
“He said for me to make you go away and that he wanted to sleep. He does speak Russian most times when we are together. I told him to keep eyes open and that he was hit.” The medic eyed him with a bemused expression before clearly deciding to focus on the more important matters at hand. “I need you to try to get him to answer me in English.”
Nodding, Ilya complied. “Shane, I need you to speak English and answer the medics. Tell him your full name and where you are.” Shane opened eyes and groaned, keeping them partially closed to protect them from the bright lights. “Ilya, I don’t understand what you’re saying. Where are we? You said I was hit?” Worry stabbed his heart at Shane’s answer. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself. He had to stay calm right now; he could not panic. “Yes, we are playing hockey in Boston right now, beloved. You got hit hard and passed out. You need to answer the medics questions, in English, so they can check you out.”
“Rozanov, we need to move him to the backboard, hold his head steady. English, Hollander. Can you speak English for me? You’re at Boston’s TD Garden. Tell us your full name.” Ilya did as he was told and Shane was soon on the backboard.
“Shane Hollander. My name is Shane Hollander.” On the count of three, he watched the medics lift the backboard up to walk Shane off the rink to the ambulance, Shane grimacing at the movement.
“Tell me where you are.”
“Boston. Playing hockey.”
Silently, Ilya followed them, so glad that Shane was finally speaking English and following what the medics were asking. Seeing that Ilya was following them, the medic redirected him. “Rozanov, you need to go back to your bench. Only family can follow to the hospital. We’ve got it from here. Shane, your coach is calling your parents to let them know what’s going on. I need you to stay awake…” The conversation trailed off as the medics moved Shane off the ice.
Panic flooded him, quickly followed by anger. Before he could say anything, he was pulled back by someone. It was one of the referees. “Rozanov, what the fuck do you think you are doing? Get back to your bench. All players are to go to their bench until Hollander has been taken off the ice.”
Turning, he faced the official. Something must have shown on his face because the other man backed up a bit. “I will not. I am going with him.”
Pausing, the ref looked at him again, with trepidation this time. “Rozanov, I know you are worried about him but only family can go to the hospital with him. We have a game to finish, let the medics do their job. Go back to your bench before I call a major penalty.” Ilya pushed past him, following the medics off the ice. “Fuck you, give me a match penalty for all I care. I’m going.”
Catching up to the medics as they loaded him into the ambulance, he overheard Shane speaking in Russian again, seeing him getting increasingly agitated with every ignored question. “Ilya, where are you? Where am I going? Ilya?!” Catching up, he caught Shane’s hand in his, trying to calm him. “Baby, I am right here. They are taking you to the hospital, I am going to follow. Try and stay calm, stay awake and reply to English with English. Can you do that for me?” Shane hummed, eyes closed, calmed by his presence.
Looking to the medic he had been talking to earlier he asked, “Where are you taking him? He is asking.”
“Massachusetts General Hospital. But only family can come with him, Rozanov.” Now knowing where he would meet him, he ignored their assertion and turned back to Shane.
“Baby, I am going to change and grab our things. They are going to take you to Massachusetts General and get you looked over. I will be there shortly. Make sure to answer all their questions. I love you so much.” Kissing Shane’s forehead, he moved to pull away. Shane grabbed his hand before he could go, stopping Ilya. “I love you too. I’m okay, don’t worry.” Tears started to escape his eyes. He wiped them away quickly. “Impossible for me to not worry. Just stay okay.”
Turning away from the staring medics, he pulled his skates off and rushed to his locker room. Shedding his gear, he changed into sweats and grabbed an extra pair and shoved his feet into his tennis shoes as quickly as he could. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quick enough. Coach LeClaire burst into the locker room followed quickly by Marlow.
“Rozanov! Where the fuck do you think you’re going?! I know that was a hard thing to see but we have a game to finish! Hollander's family will be contacted and will be with him soon.” Zipping his bag, he grabbed his phone and texted the family group chat.
Ilya: he was awake and talking to me before they took him. going to Massachusetts general and will call with update
Mama Hollander: call me when you get to the hospital. we love you both
Papa Hollander: drive safe, don't crash. awake and talking are good signs
Marlow, looking guilty, tried to speak to him. “Ilya, man, I didn’t mean for that to happen. He must have not seen me coming at all. What did the medics say? How was he?”
Locking his phone, he pocketed it and answered Marlow, not looking at him. Ilya knew he hadn't meant to hurt Shane. He really didn't want to punch one of his best friends and he would if he had to look at him right now. “He was awake and talking before they took him away. I’m going. I need to be with him.” Keeping his head down, Ilya tried to move past them, but Coach LeClaire grabbed his arm.
“Listen, only family can go with him now. We have a job to do, and that job is here, winning this game. I know that was hard to see, and that you guys have known each other a long time. But you cannot go.” Looking at his arm where his coach was stopping him, Ilya went absolutely still. For the first time since this asinine conversation started, he met the other man’s gaze, his Coach of near a decade. The unwavering, cold look in his eye made LeClaire drop his arm and back up. Marlow stilled, going pale and slowly put himself between Ilya and their coach. He backed them both up slowly away from Ilya. Closing his eyes and taking deep breaths, Ilya got himself back under control. He really needed to leave before he did something he would regret. Ilya knew the only way they are going to let him leave is if he tells them the truth. Fuck! Shane is going to be furious. He hoped he would forgive him for this.
Steeling himself, Ilya pulled his chain out from under his sweatshirt and showed them what sat there. What had sat there for almost three years. Next to his mother’s cross was a diamond-encrusted gold ring. Shane had an identical one on his own chain Ilya had gifted him on their first Christmas.
“I am so tired of fucking hearing that today. He is my husband. We have been married since 2014. He is the only fucking person in my life that makes it worth getting up in the morning. And he is hurt and scared at the hospital without me. Now get the fuck out of my way before I make you.” Walking past their stricken expressions, Ilya left without looking back.
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After driving way too fast and parking in a physician spot, Ilya rushed into the Massachusetts Emergency Department. He was escorted back to Shane’s room after he told the front desk who he was. Thankfully, Shane had already added him to his visitation list.
Arriving to Shane’s room, Ilya briefly had a moment of panic when he saw Shane was not present. Thankfully the nurse told him that Shane was stable and was still finishing the imaging that needed to be completed. The nurse, Darcy, updated him on everything that had happened while Ilya was trying to get to him. They had already triaged him and gotten him pain and nausea medication. He had thrown up once in the ambulance on the way over and had been asking for Ilya. He was still speaking partially in English and partially in Russian. Ilya confirmed that Shane did speak Russian in his day-to-day life and told them what occurred at the rink.
Waiting for Shane to return, he sat in the chair provided and looked at his at his phone. Ignoring all his missed calls and texts, he called Yuna.
“You're on speaker, David is here with me. Ilya, what happened, how is he?” Resting his head in his left hand, he closed his eyes and fought hard to keep his calm.
“He got hit during game. Passed out for couple minutes. Woke up confused, speaking Russian, but was able to answer questions and stay awake. They took him to Massachusetts General. They wouldn’t let me go with him, so I followed by car. He is having tests done right now. Said he threw up once on way here. Gave pain and nausea meds. He-” Voice breaking, he coughed before continuing. “He keeps asking for me. I couldn’t let him come here by himself. Yuna, I fucked up. I got angry and told Marlow and my coach we are married. He is going to be angry. So angry with me.” He couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. Sniffling, he continued. “ Don’t know if he will forgive me for this. I couldn’t help it, he was so still, my beloved wouldn’t wake up. I couldn’t keep pretending, I just couldn’t.” Covering his mouth, he stifled his sobs that he couldn’t hold back any longer.
“Ilya, it's okay, he won’t be mad. He would have done the same if it had been you, I know it. It’s good he is awake and talking, David and I will be there as soon as we can. Shhhh, breathe, he’s gonna be okay. I’ll take care of anything that the league throws at us. Farah and I got it covered. I will call her right now and get her to do damage control. I’m gonna hand you to David, I’ll be right back.”
Trying to calm himself, he heard David come on the call. “Ilya, son, I need you to breathe with me. Shane is where he needs to be and so are you. Come on, you got this, in two, three, four, out, two, three, four. In two, three, four...”
Breathing with David, Ilya was able to wrestle some composure back. “Good. Keep on breathing, Shane is going to be okay. Whatever happens we are both here for you.” Getting up to blow his nose, he wiped his eyes and sat back down.
Clearing his throat, Ilya said, “Thank you. Sorry I am so mess. English is hard now.” Rubbing his head, he felt the beginnings of a headache forming from all the stress and crying. Fuck, he wanted Shane. How fucking long does it take for fucking imaging. “Do not apologize. We are family and family does not apologize for things like this. Are you okay now if I get off the phone? We need to pack and buy flights. We should be there tomorrow morning at the latest.” He loved his in-laws so much. He would always be thankful for his mama bringing Shane and his family to him. Gripping his cross, he gave it a kiss before continuing.
“Yes, I call if things change.”
“Please do. We love you both so much, we will be there soon.”
“Love you too. Tell Yuna I said love you and thank you.”
“Of course. Deep breaths Ilya, we are gonna get through this.”
Hanging up, Ilya pressed his hands to his eyes, trying to push away the rerun of Shane being hit and falling. Being so still. Fuck, he needed to see him. Leg bouncing, he fiddled with his ring. He unclasped his chain, took his ring off, and latched it back. Sliding his ring onto his right hand, he settled at the feeling of the familiar weight back where it belongs.
The door opened to Shane being wheeled into the room. Shane’s eyes lit up at the sight of him. He was only in a hospital gown, and his right arm had been placed in a sling. His chain, with his matching ring, glittered under the fluorescent lights. “Illllllyaaaaaaa. My love I have misssssssed you. I wanna kiss, give me kiss.” Darcy laughed as she locked his stretcher. Shane made grabbing motions towards him with his good hand, clearly wanting Ilya to come close. Smiling, Ilya grasped his left hand and gave it a kiss. For the first time since all this happened, Ilya felt like he could actually breathe.
“Better, much better. I kept asking and they wouldn’t let me see you. I’m so glad you’re here now.” Shane sighed, squeezing Ilya’s hand, all right in his world.
“My love, they gave you the good drugs, didn’t they? Sweetheart, you scared me. So, so badly. How are you feeling? Did they tell you anything yet? Your parents should be here late tonight, they said they are catching the last flight to Boston from Ottawa.” Smoothing Shane’s hair back, Ilya got misty eyed again when he saw the beginnings of the bruises over his freckles and across his eyes. They would cover Shane’s face tomorrow. God, even hurt he was so beautiful. It was almost painful, how beautiful his husband was.
Shane hummed, pulling Ilya into the stretcher with him. “I feel fine, my shoulder hurts, head hurts, but only little in a faraway kind of way.” He giggled at that. “That’s good that they will be here, I miss them. We will all get to spend time together like Christmas, it will be great! I’m sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean to. Now give me a real kiss, I want a kiss.” Shane puckered his lips, eyes closed. Fuck he was beautiful. There was no way he could resist. Carefully, Ilya cupped Shane’s cheek and kissed him. It was a gentle, sweet kiss, reassuring both Ilya and Shane was everything was actually okay. Pulling back, he caressed his thumb over Shane’s lips before turning to Darcy, asking if there were any updates.
“Well, his right collarbone is broken but it is a clean break. His imaging of his head and spine is clean as far as bleeds or breaks. Just a nasty concussion. He will be out for the rest of the season but should be fully healed in three to four months. Sling must stay on for four to six weeks with no weight bearing or lifting on that arm. Depending on how the healing progresses he can start physical therapy after that. All in all, your husband is very lucky and should make a full recovery.” Tension melted out of Ilya’s frame. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I’ll let his parents know.” Out for the season but full recovery. Everything else they can deal with, as long as Shane is gonna be okay. “Of course. While you’re here, let me do another neurological assessment. Shane keeps going in and out of English.”
Sure enough, his high, concussed husband was all over the place. Ilya had to translate a few times since Shane kept slipping back into Russian unconsciously every time he looked at Ilya. He was on concussion protocol, so no tv or phones, but had been cleared from needing the cervical spine collar. Darcy slipped out of the room after finishing her assessment and fixing the sling on Shane’s right shoulder. Dimming the lights, Ilya crawled onto the stretcher on his husband’s left side and let him doze on his shoulder. Texting the family group chat, he let them know all the updates and told them to forward their flight info.
Now that his world wasn’t crumbling around him, he checked the score of the game to see if it had finished and if he needed to brace himself for visitors. 3-1 Boston, last period should be ending soon. He briefly looked at twitter to see what they were saying about them, but quickly had to turn it off. Videos of Shane going down were on almost every post of his feed with the question of why Ilya left with him made him nauseous. He knew the fallout would be major but Ilya did not care. The only thing he cared about was Shane and his well-being.
Looking over and seeing Shane sleeping, Ilya locked his phone and closed his eyes. He knew the shit storm would come later, when people would start asking questions they had been dodging for a decade. But for now, he decided to bask in the fact that in this moment, everything was okay.