Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The rest of December passes by blissfully. Ilya leaving is still difficult for Shane. But Shane uses his new habit of mailing Ilya letters to make up for it. The first, after the dinner party, is tucked into his bag and has the key to the apartment taped to it. The action earns him several orgasms in Shane’s hotel room at All-Stars. That is the highlight of the weekend, outside of getting to play with Ilya again.

“I love the hot places,” Ilya says as they lay in the sunbeams of the open balcony. He had to show Shane how impossible the angles were of their slightly drawn curtains and the window and the bed, but he had agreed in the end. Now they laid like lizards in the heat. 

“Maybe we need a Winter home,” Shane grins, “for any chance we get to run away during the season.” 

Ilya snorts softly, “Okay Mr. Real Estate.”

“It would be nice!” Shane argues. “A place to rest during the winter break in the season. A place where you can actually drive your sports cars without worrying about snow.”

Ilya wobbles his head, “Cannot actually have fun driving down Miami Beach this is only in movies. But California, yes.” 

“And there's lots of beautiful places that are close to nature in California,” Shane nods, “we could have a second cottage.” 

“Beach house,” Ilya counters, “with deck. And stripe umbrellas. And we paint it yellow.”

“You have put some thought into this,” Shane smiles. “Already thinking of paint.” 

“I have boyfriend who is interested in real estate. Thought I would consider these things,” Ilya shrugs. Shane wonders if this is how Ilya feels when Shane started learning Russian. He knows that real estate is boring for most people. But it means a lot that Ilya has taken Shane’s interests into account.

“Your parents told me something,” Ilya says. 

“What's that?” 

“They said...if we fight ever again. Big or small. They said I am still...family,” he says quietly. 

“Of course you are,” Shane says instantly. 

“It is not right,” Ilya says, “it is kind but... they are your parents. If we fight they must hate me even for a little while. Like Marley. Then when it pass, they can like me again.” 

“Ilya,” Shane says, leaning up on his elbow, “the difference is Marleau doesn't love me.”

Ilya looks at him, as if trying to decipher what Shane is saying. So, he continues. 

“Ilya, my parents see you as another son. I swear they would adopt you if it didn’t make our relationship weird.”

Ilya seems to consider this, his hands folded over his stomach, eyes on the ceiling. Shane waits, thinking of what his mom had once told him. It's hard for Ilya to accept kindness. 

“Okay,” he finally says.

“Okay?” 

“Okay,” Ilya confirms. He lets out a breath. “I…I suppose I just did not think of it that way. That your family was not mine to have.” 

“Ilya, my family is your family,” Shane tells him. “You’ve been part of it since that first new year.” He thinks of how every time after Ilya came into his life, how he was missing from dinner tables and events.

Ilya hums and then pulls Shane down onto his chest and kisses the top of his head. Shane lets him, snuggling into his side. 

“Speaking of my family,” he says, “Arisa is coming to Canada to train for World Junior's qualifications.” 

“Your little cousin?” 

He nods against Ilya's aide, “Yeah. She's going to be staying with my parents.”

“That is exciting,” Ilya says. “Are you going to spend time with her?” 

“I’m going to try. Might invite her to a game if she can make it,” Shane says.

“Mmm she will be very busy, but you are her favorite cousin so,” Ilya says. 

“How do you know I'm her favorite cousin?” 

He can hear Ilya's eyeroll as he says, “Sorry, does she have other millionaire professional athlete Canadian cousin?”

“No, but she has other cousins,” Shane says. 

Ilya rolls his eyes, “Yes. But you and her likely share the same passion and drive. You probably understand her world best.”

“Probably. Because of you,” Shane smiles, “she's very proud of my informed commentary when she sends me her videos.” 

“Is good, hard for people outside of the sport to understand it,” Ilya says, something nostalgic in his voice. 

“Do you think...would you want to meet her?”

“As…as your friend or your boyfriend?” Ilya asks. 

“Preferably as my boyfriend,” Shane says. “But only if you’re open to it.” 

“I…I would like to meet your favorite cousin,” Ilya says.

“I'm nervous about it,” he whispers, because he needs to be honest, “and I want to talk to mom about it. I don't...I don't want to cost her the family she just reconnected with.” 

“You think they would not be good about it?” 

“I really don't know. But...she's important to me and I want her to know me. And it's crazy that someone she could look up to is basically her cousin too.”

“Shane, you are Olympic athlete. She already has cousin she can look up to,” Ilya argues. 

“Yeah, but…you’re likely one of the skaters she considers idols. I told you she records routines and practices them. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has some of yours,” Shane says.

“You think so?” 

“Yes,” Shane nods, “and if she hasn't we should show her. I mean. We don't need to tell her.” 

“I wish I had videos of my mama's skating,” Ilya whispers. 

Shane looks up and then moves to lay on Ilya's chest so he can look at him. 

“You've searched,” he says. Ilya nods. 

“Maybe... maybe if we work on it together? I could...probe or ask people that it's safer you don't contact? I could say I want the tape for Arisa.”

“You would do that for me?” Ilya asks. 

“Of course. It’s your mom, Ilya. That’s important,” Shane says.

“I would like to...I had no picture of her with me when I left. Sveta has looked for one in Alexei's apartment but he has none,” he says, his voice tight and choked, “I would like to see her again.”

“Then let me help you with that,” Shane says, interlacing their fingers. “She deserves a space in our home.”

Ilya runs his fingers softly over Shane's hair and smiles so softly it breaks Shane's heart. 

“She would have loved you,” he whispers, “like I love you.”

Something settles in Shane at the words. It has been about a month since Shane has heard ‘I love you’ from Ilya. Hearing it again feels more like a win than his two Stanley Cup and Olympic wins. 

“I love you too. And I wish I could have met her.”

Ilya leans in and kisses him, so soft it's like his lips are made of clouds.

“ Я люблю тебя, мой дом. ” 

Shane's stomach flips at hearing it again,“ Je t'aime, mon cœur. ”

The rest of the day, when not dedicated to hockey, is spent similarly. Reaffirming their love for each other and enjoying one another’s company. 

It makes it hard to go home. But, his parents and cousin are there to welcome him back home. Arisa practically tackles him in a hug. 

“Hi!” She greets.

He laughs as he lifts her and then sets her back down, “Did you grow?” 

“No,” she laughs, “I am all done growing up.” 

Shane knows even if she has reached her full height, she is far from done growing up. 

“She is becoming an expert in hockey,” his moms says, “she asked lots of questions while we watched the All-Stars game.”

“Oh? Thinking of changing sports?” Shane jokes. 

“No, not at all. Skating is my life,” Arisa says. “But it was fun to learn more about your sport. You and Ilya Rozanov play well together,” she compliments. “If you see him again, please tell him he’s a very graceful skater.”

“Actually,” he says, looking up at his mom who smiles softly and nods, “I um. I would love for you to meet him.” 

“Oh? Really? Why?” 

“Well um, his mother was a pairs figure skater before he was born. And he skates himself,” he says.

Shane sees the intrigue cross Arisa’s expression. “Really?” She asks. 

“Yes, really,” Shane confirms. 

“That is so cool. Yes, I want to meet him!”

“Good I... I'm really looking forward to introducing you,” he smiles, “so how do you like Canada so far?”

“I like it so far! Though not what I expected,” Arisa says. 

“What were you expecting?” Shane asks, curious. 

“I…am not entirely certain myself. People are very polite though,” she responds.

Shane can't help but laugh, “Yes, that is what we're famous for.” 

“Will you come watch me at practice?” 

“Of course I will,” he smiles, “I'm really glad to see you again.”

“I’m glad to see you too! You are my favorite cousin,” Arisa grins. “Do you think your friend will come and watch me practice?” 

“If he has the time,” Shane says,

“I want to come watch your games,” she smiles, bouncing on her heels, “whenever I have time. The training schedule is very busy.” 

He nods, “Are you having fun?” 

“So much!” 

“Good,” he smiles, “alright, I think I smell lunch.”

“Yes! We were making lunch while we waited. It is pasta, which I do think I will have to be careful about, but it smells delicious,” Arisa says.

He thinks of his own diet, which Ilya frowns at, and all that he has told him about the way he was instructed to restrict himself before his training was taken over by Allison Wiebe. 

“Pasta is not going to make a difference in the amazing skater that you are,” he says, mostly to her but a little to himself.

“Maybe. But if I am not careful, then I will not have the ideal body for a figure skater and it will affect my skating,” Arisa says. And yes, this sounds familiar. For the first time, Shane finds himself hesitant.

Maybe right before lunch isn't the best time to get into it, but ... maybe he'll talk to Ilya and he'll know what he should say. 

“Well, we'll worry about that after we have some great freaking pasta hmm?”

“Yeah!” Arisa agrees. They sit down for lunch. To Shane’s relief, Arisa does eat a full plate. But she does not go for seconds. And entirely forgoes the garlic bread. If Ilya were here, he’d be on his second helping.

Of course, Ilya is about three times her size but he can't help but want to make sure she doesn't worry about eating what she likes. She's using his room, with soft green sheets bought specifically for her. They look nice against the blue walls and she seems to be very grateful to be allowed to stay in his old bedroom.

“You have so many trophies,” she says. 

“I’ve gotten more over the years. But yeah, these are from my junior hockey league,” he says.

“ Oba says you have a beautiful house in the woods,” she says, “can I see it some time?” 

“Of course,” he grins, “I'd love for you to. And you, I have a practice rink you can use.”

“You do?” Arisa asks, looking amazed. Shane chuckles. 

“Yes, it’s how Ilya and I keep on top of our skills. And Ilya uses it to practice skating in general.”

She tilts her head, “Oh! So you are very close friends, he spends time with you outside hockey?” 

Shane digs his hands into his pockets and nods, “Yeah.”

“That is super cool! I wish I had time to spend with my fellow trainees,” Arisa sighs. Shane can’t help but think that figure skating sounds rather lonely. Though Ilya, the social butterfly that he is, claims it was good.

That night he calls Ilya and they talk about it all, about how it's strange to see someone who shares similarities to both of them and yet comes from an upbringing he knows so little about. 

“I just... feel really protective of her,” he tells Ilya, “and it's hypocritical, isn't it? You know how strict my diet is. I understand why she's doing it. But... and she sounds kind of lonely.”

“I think it is different when you see it in someone else,” Ilya says. “She is young, far from home, and more prone to unhealthy ideas. You…you are an adult and have loved ones looking after you regularly.” 

“And the lonely part?” Shane quietly asks. 

“I will not lie and say figure skating cannot be lonely. What is important is if she starts developing community with her competitors. And others who have been in the ice skating world,” Ilya says.

“Will you come and meet her? I know we don't have any home games against you for a while but —” 

“I will make it happen,” Ilya says easily.

“But —” 

“I will not wait for two months to meet your cousin who needs skating mentor,” he says, “I will go meet her next week.”

“Thank you. It means a lot,” Shane says. 

“Well, I have recently been taught that your family is mine. Meeting and mentoring my new cousin is time worth spent,” Ilya says.

Shane feels a deep sense of calm whenever he talks to Ilya now. It's addicting and he craves it desperately when they're too busy to talk. As a result he stays up with him for hours, sometimes watching the same dumb thing on TV just to feel like they're together.

It’s incredibly domestic. Something that Shane could have never accurately perceived for himself before Ilya. Maybe because he had never been exactly interested in the girls he’d dated before. Just going through the motions. With Ilya, it is as easy as breathing. And they’ve started to find ways to make the distance less agonizing.

They decide that they'll spend their two stolen days in the cottage together with Arisa. After she meets Ilya, if...when Shane tells her about them, she can decide if she wants to stay there or go with Shane's parents. His mom assures him that Arisa is not going to mind, but Shane doesn't think he'll ever stop being nervous about coming out to people.

Meanwhile, after he shares the main part of the plan, Arisa is excited about the whole prospect. She has a lot of questions. About the cottage and about Ilya.

“How long have you been friends?” 

“Uh, since we were about your age actually,” he smiles. 

“That's very cool, “ she grins, “I wish I had friends like that. But skating is very busy.”

“Do you talk with any of the people you skate with? Or any of the other skaters in competition?” Shane asks, remembering what Ilya said. 

“Not…really? I tried a couple of times, but they never seemed interested,” Arisa says.

Shane doesn't get that and he hopes that facing the road will cover up his frown. Arisa is sweet and fun and funny and much more socially able than Shane has ever been. Why would people not gravitate towards that? They arrive at the Cottage about a half hour before his parents are due to arrive with Ilya, who they offered to pick up from the airport. He gives her a house tour and loves the way she just gets excited about every part of the place.

As he expected, he gets the most reaction from the private rink. Arisa looks like she wants to immediately jump onto the polyglide and try it out. However, similar to Ilya, she has also expressed deep interest in swimming in the lake. 

“Maybe when it’s not still technically winter?” Shane suggests. 

“Cold water is good for the circulatory system,” Arisa argues. 

“It’s also good for hypothermia.”

“You grew up in this weather, yes?” 

Shane laughs, “You just sound like Ilya.” 

“Who sounds like me?” They both jump and find Ilya standing at the doorway while his parents mill around the back moving some food into the kitchen. He looks beautiful, he always looks so beautiful, and Shane wants nothing more than to run and lift him as far off the ground as he can and kiss him breathless.

“Arisa here,” Shane answers the question instead. “Wants to swim in the cold lake.”

“I still do not know why you make big deal. We both grew up in cold weather,” Ilya says, echoing Arisa’s sentiment. It makes Shane chuckle. 

“Okay, okay. Well, Ilya, this is Arisa. Arisa, this is Ilya,” Shane introduces.

“It is good to meet you, Arisa,” Ilya says. His smile is so gentle, not at all like he looks when he grins at the cameras or when he teases his friends. Arisa tucks her hands in front of her and bows her head a little bit, reflexively, “It is nice to meet you, Mr. Rozanov.”

“Please, you may call me Ilya.” 

Arisa’s eyes are a little wide and she nods her head, “Shane has told me about you. I’m excited to get to know you.”

“Me too,” he says. He put his hands in his pocket in a gesture that is more Shane's than anything, which makes Shane smile at the way they sometimes behave like each other, 

“Shane has told me so much about his favorite cousin, with the flawless double-axel.”

Shane sees Arisa flush just slightly. But she nods. “I’m very lucky to have a supportive cousin in Shane.” It’s a little unexpected at how restrained Arisa is being. He had half expected her to drag Ilya off, asking him a multitude of questions.

Ilya smiles and then he turns the full force of that to Shane, his eyes are so obviously trying to speak to him. Probably that he wants to have Shane in his arms right now just as much, maybe that is why his hands are in his pockets. 

“Yuna Hollander has bought enough food for both teams,” he says, waving his hand between them, “it smells delicious and was torturing me whole ride here. Let's go eat, yes?

“Yes,” Arisa nods. They make their way inside. Lunch, which does smell delicious, is set up on the table.

“Thank you, oba , ojisan” she says.

“You're very welcome sweetheart,” his mom smiles. She seems so delighted by Arisa all the time, Shane can understand the feeling. His dad serves everyone the beef pieces and lets everyone be particular about their side dishes. All except Ilya, because Ilya always eats a mountain of everything, so his dad just fills up his ridiculous plate and sets it in front of Ilya who claps like a toddler.

As they eat, Shane notes that Ilya is subtly watching Arisa. When she seems to hesitate at reaching for more, he says gently, “If you are to show off your jumps, you will need energy.”

She gives a quick little smile and takes another spoonful of casserole. Shane taps his foot against Ilya and Ilya winks back at him. 

“Ilya, is Johnston hurt?” 

“I think this is insider information, Yuna Hollander,” Ilya squints with a smile, “you are trying to give Metros advantage.” 

“I'm making an observation,” she says, raising her hands in innocence, “besides I don't need to give the Metros an advantage if your defenseman has a torn ligament.”

“Ligament is not torn. But he is healing a strain,” Ilya finally says. “He will be good in time for next game.”

His mom hums, “Well. That's good to hear. I hate to see players play hurt and I hate to have an unfair advantage.” 

“Yuna is very honorable comes to hockey,” Ilya mock whispers at Arisa.

It finally makes Arisa giggle. “

“ Oba is the most honorable,” she agrees. “She was very fair when teaching me about hockey.” 

“Yuna Hollander, you did not talk up your children?” Ilya teases.

She grins as she cuts at her food, “The Admirals are doing very well, Ilya.” 

“The Admi— you betray your sons for Scott Hunter?” 

“I just have a feeling it's his year,” she says, with a look that is only a little bit sorry. Shane has already had this conversation with her, but he knew that Ilya would be so much more offended. 

“His yea- you break my heart,” he says dramatically, “you think 10,000 year old mummy, Scott Hunter is going to beat us both?”

This earns laughs from around the table. “No, no I am serious. Old man seems to be struggling when he is outside New York.” 

“Ilya, trust her. She’s a witch about these things,” David says.

“Yes, I know all about her witchy hockey powers,” Ilya points his fork, “is why I am upset she has no faith in me.” 

“She has all the faith in you,” Dad says, “as do I. She just sees the sparkle around people sometimes.” 

“And Scott Hunter has sparkle,” he deadpans. 

“He does,” Yuna shrugs, “but don't worry, darling, you'll catch up to Shane and get your second cup soon.”

“Now not only do you put Scott Hunter above me, you then must remind me how Shane is ahead in Stanley cups?” Ilya dramatically cries. “Is this how you treat your favorite son?”

“Shut up,” Shane huffs with a laugh, “mom doesn't have favorites.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Ilya says with an eyeroll. Shane looks over at Arisa and notices how quiet she's been, her eyes are so...curious. Like she's trying to figure out what she's looking at.

Yuna also seems to pick this up. She explains, “Shane probably told you he’s been friends with Ilya since they were 17, yes?” 

“Yes,” Arisa nods. 

“Well, since they’ve been friends, Ilya’s been part of the family,” she says.

“That is... that is very nice,” she says with a little smile, “to be family with friends.” Ilya looks over at him and Shane wants to reach out and take his hand. He really doesn't know when the right time to come out to your kid cousin is. It'll be the first time that isn't somewhat of an accident to tell someone about their relationship.

He thinks maybe now is a good time. His parents are here, just in case Arisa decides she does not want to stay. Shane arches his brows, looking at Arisa, and Ilya gives a small nod. Taking a deep breath, Shane nods back. 

“Um…Arisa. Ilya…Ilya isn’t just my friend. Yes, he’s my first best friend. But…he’s also my boyfriend,” he shares.

She jumps up but her face goes all bright and happy like it does when she talks about skating, “Your boyfriend?” 

Shane nods and reaches for Ilya's hand instinctively, “Yeah.” 

“You didn't tell me! I would not be so formal before,” she half-squeals, “I am sorry, Ilya!”

Ilya shakes his head and smiles. “Is okay. Russia is very similar in rules,” he tells her. 

Arisa nods, her eyes bright and her energy back in full force. 

“How long have you two been together?” Ilya and Shane look at each other. Because that is a difficult thing to place.

“A long time,” his dad actually answers. Shane smiles up at Arisa who seems thrilled by this information.

Shane still needs to ask, “You don't um... mind, then?” 

She blinks at him in shock, “Oh no! No, I am so happy you have a boyfriend, you are very handsome, cousin!”

Ilya grins, “

“ Спасибо, Arisa.” 

“You’re welcome!” Arisa brightly replies. 

“Though, Shane is prettiest in the league,” Ilya says, cupping Shane’s jaw.

Shane feels so light and bright and happy with his family, extended beyond what he ever thought possible. His boyfriend and his cousin grinning and teasing, his parents looking happy and proud. It almost feels like it's too much to hold inside his body.

Lunch passes by smoothly, filled with happy chatter. They say bye to his parents. And then Arisa is immediately launching question after question at Ilya.

Shane even leaves them to themselves on the rink for a bit, wanting them to be able to connect as skaters without splitting Arisa's attention. After all, Ilya would have to leave soon.

He does pop in to watch them. While figure skating will never be his sport, he enjoys watching it. Especially when Ilya starts to show off and does a quad jump for Arisa. 

“You have to teach me that!” Arisa demands.

Afterwards, while Arisa is getting freshened up and Ilya is sitting sweaty and gross on the kitchen counter, he finally gets pulled in for a kiss.

Shane happily goes with it, wrapping his arms around Ilya. 

“How was it?” He asks. 

“Was good. She is destined for Olympics,” he grins. “As long as her coach improves in keeping her lines consistent.”

“You're not happy with her coach,” he says, because it's obvious on Ilya's face. 

“No. Old fashioned coach. Thinks if girls weigh nothing they will fly. More worried about calorie control than making sure they have the muscles they need. She will not be able to do more than doubles if she barely has thighs.”

“I’m sure you would know better,” Shane says. 

“Is what I learned under Allison Wiebe,” he shrugs. 

“It sounds like you’d be a good coach. You’re already a great captain,” Shane points out.

“I would be great coach,” he says, “but I have no time. Maybe...” 

“Maybe what?” 

“Maybe she does need new coach. Allison Wiebe. Or Rory. Or both.”

“Do you think she’ll connect with either of them?” Shane asks. 

“Maybe,” Ilya says, “Though….it would have to be up to Arisa to choose new coach.” 

“Are you going to talk with her about it?”

“We just met,” he says before taking a big gulp of Gatorade. 

“So? She already likes you and I could see the stars in her eyes when you jumped.”

“Yes, but there is difference between showing off for her and talking to her about big career decision,” Ilya points out. 

“Well…but you’re her cousin,” Shane reminds.

“Brand new tall scary cousin,” he grins, “I will mention it.” 

“Good,” Shane smiles. 

“You are so happy,” Ilya says, leaning in for another kiss, “I want to keep you like this always.”

Shane kisses him again. Because he is happy. His boyfriend is here with his cousin and everyone gets along. 

“I am happy. Are you happy?” 

“I am very happy,” Ilya promises. 

“Ah, you two…it’s so sweet,” Arisa says as she comes into the room.

Shane blushes and ducks his head while Ilya smiles proudly, “Yes, we are so sweet.”

“This might sound weird, but you two remind me of a couple from a show I’ve been watching,” Arisa says.

Ilya laughs and Shane blushes harder. 

“You must show me these imposters later,” Ilya says, pressing an annoying smooch to Shane's cheek before heading to their room for a shower. 

“Arisa,” Shane says after a moment, “Ilya and I...it's a secret.”

“Oh?” Arisa frowns. “Why?” 

“Because…the NHL isn’t very friendly to people like Ilya and I. It’s used more as an insult than anything,” Shane says.

She tilts her head, “People like...you mean gay people?” 

Shane feels his eyes go wide. She's almost as blunt as Rose. 

“No way,” she says, “like it's the 1800s?”

“Yeah, well…marriage is legal here. But that doesn’t mean everyone is accepting,” Shane says.

She stands there, hands at her sides, frowning lightly and then she all but runs to him and hugs him with all of her strength.

Shane blinks and hugs her back. He's curious what is going on. 

“It is not fair,” Arisa says into his chest. “People being mean about something that is not their business anyway. Especially since what you and Ilya have seems nice.”

“It is nice,” he says softly, “I'm really glad you don't mind.” She pulls back and frowns again, 

“No one should mind. It's stupid to mind.” 

Shane nods, “Yeah, well people generally are.”

Arisa nods. “Yeah…they are. Even back home there are some very judgmental people. And they censor things that don’t need to be.”

She sighs and steps back, “Of course I will keep your secret. But I am sorry it needs to be.”

“Thank you, Arisa,” Shane says. 

“Of course. Also, if you two get married, I want to come to the wedding,” she tells him

Shane considers laughing or denying it or saying they haven't ever thought about it but none of that will be true. 

“Of course,” he says instead, “you'll have to be there.”

“You probably already have a best man or lady, so I will be the flower girl,” Arisa decides.

Shane lets himself picture that for a second and ... and he wants it so much. 

“It wouldn't be for a long time,” is all he says.

“Well, I still expect to be there,” Arisa says, determined. 

“To be where?” Ilya says as he comes back out into the kitchen. He is immediately tackled into a hug like Shane got. 

“Our eventual wedding,” Shane explains. 

“Oh…Arisa will be our flower girl, yes?”

“Exactly,” she smiles. Shane thinks if they keep talking about their wedding like a matter of fact he might pass out, “Let's watch a movie, hmm?” 

“Fast and the Furious.” 

“No,” Shane says, “we literally just saw that last time we had a movie night.” 

“This was months ago!”

“Yes, I know, but I’d still like to watch something else,” Shane says. 

“Shane, I love you, but I am really not interested in another documentary,” Ilya says. 

“I…could introduce you two to anime,” Arisa offers.

Ilya looks skeptical, squinting at Arisa, “You will make me read subtitles.” 

“You read the subtitles anyway, Ilya,” Shane reminds him. 

“Fine,” Ilya sighs dramatically, “only because you are both so adorable I will read subtitles on cartoon.”

Arisa puts on a show. And it is about figure skating. Ilya becomes instantly engrossed in it. Shane finds himself much more interested in the relationship between the main character and his coach.

“Cannot tell if Russian accent is good or bad in Japanese,” Ilya says as he watches, “but he is pretty and has cute dog so is okay.”

“Yes, the dog is so adorable. I wish I had one like him,” Arisa sighs. Shane immediately notices the look on Ilya’s face. Like he’s taking mental note of this. He hopes his boyfriend doesn’t buy his cousin a dog.

After a couple of episodes, Arisa tells them that she is going to call her family and that she'll be back in a little while. Shane tells her that he'll call her back for dinner. Once they're alone, Shane tucks himself into Ilya's side. 

“I hate that you have to go tomorrow,” he sighs, “but I love that you're here.” 

“Maybe we should do this more,” Ilya says, “just, run off in between games. We can afford it.” 

“It will get exhausting,” Shane frowns, “and we'll miss practices.”

“This is true. And I know how stressed you get when you miss practice,” Ilya says. He presses a kiss to Shane’s hairline. “Still, I would like to spend more time with you in person.”

“Ilya... it doesn't... I think it will just upset us both, to try to solve a problem that doesn't have a solution,” he says. It feels sour because it isn't true. There are solutions, a few. It's just that Shane isn't willing, not yet. He wants them to just hold on, they have so much hockey left to play.

“I say this because I do not want it to be a fight again…but there has not been a solution yet because we have not problem solved together,” Ilya points out.

Shane nods silently because he knows. He also knows that he's the one that has been avoiding it because the solutions he has are awful, cruel, selfish things. 

“When we have more than a few hours together,” he finds himself saying, “I promise.”

“Okay,” Ilya gives a solid nod. “When we have time. And all ideas on the table. Even the ‘bad’ ones.”

Shane feels like Ilya can see right through him. Somehow, impossibly, he loves Shane anyway.

“Okay. Even the bad ones,” Shane agrees. Ilya kisses him again. Then he says quietly. “I suppose you are not up for some…quality time while your cousin is here.”

Shane wobbles his head, “She's seventeen and not an idiot. We can close our door and be... you know. Quiet.” 

Ilya raises an eyebrow, “Oh? You can be quiet? This is news to me.”

Shane feels his cheeks heat up. “Fuck you. I can absolutely stay quiet.” 

“Perhaps we should test this out yes?” Ilya smirks.

“Later though,” Shane says, “bedtime. After dinner.” 

“You are turning into Russian caveman Shane Hollander,” Ilya teases.

“No, as you’ve said, I’ve just become efficient with my language,” Shane grins.

They sit curled up, not watching anything, not even talking much. They have such few moments like this during the season, Shane wants to live in them. Eventually the sun sets and Ilya says that he'll get dinner ready while Shane goes to get Arisa. It's... it's perfect. His boyfriend, his family, all perfect. And Shane knows that he'll give up anything, everything, to keep this, but he just wishes he didn't have to choose.

Dinner is just as lively as lunch. Arisa and Ilya end up talking more about figure skating, Shane just enjoying watching them talk.

He thinks he understands how his dad feels. Sometimes Shane has felt bad because he and his mom just barrel through meals talking nonstop about hockey, and dad understands of course but it isn't his the way it is theirs. Watching Ilya and Arisa, he finds that it doesn't feel bad sitting at his father's place, he just feels full of fondness - full of love.

Especially since during the meal, Ilya’s foot will purposefully brush with his under the table. A touchstone to remind him that Ilya has not forgotten him.

Eventually Arisa says she wants to go film a bit for her channel before she goes to bed. “I won't mention you yet,” she tells Ilya, “I will say we met at your game when I go.”

“Okay,” Ilya nods. “You are coming to the games?” 

“I want to!” Arisa says. “I will be cheering for Shane, of course.”

“Ah!” he holds his heart dramatically, “The women in this family, they break my heart!

“Sorry, Ilya,” Arisa smiles apologetically. “But I met Shane first.” 

“Well, at least you support one of the best players. And not Scott Hunter,” Ilya says.

They said goodnight and then did that dance of cleaning up the kitchen while touching each other much more than strictly necessary. Shane tried to not think of the clock ticking down their time together.

He doesn’t know how Ilya seems to stay so calm. The way the time passing doesn’t seem to affect him as badly. How he manages to stay in the moment.

When everything is where is should be, Ilya presses himself against Shane's back. He kisses the back of his neck, the spot that drives him crazy under his ear. “Some day,” he whispers, “this will be every day. You and me. Home. Family. Dishes. Going to our bed. Some day.”

“That…that sounds amazing. Perfect,” Shane whispers back. He wants it. All of it. And he feels so greedy for that.

He leans back against Ilya and closes his eyes as he feels those arms wrap around his middle. “We will have it,” Ilya promises, “and until then we can taste it, yes? Days like this.”

“Yeah. Yes, I’d like that,” Shane says. He tries not to think about how much they will have to survive on days here and there.

He turns in Ilya's arms and presses their foreheads together, “I'll come to you also. Whenever there's time to breathe between practices, games. We will make time.”

“We will make time,” Ilya agrees. He presses a kiss to Shane’s lips again. “And we have upcoming game.”

“And we have tonight,” Shane whispers back, “let's go to our bed.” Ilya hums and kisses him softly before pulling him out of the kitchen and down the hall to their room. He does follow through with his test about how quiet Shane can be. But Shane does ultimately fail toward the end, because Ilya knows him so well and knows how to make him cry out. Ilya manages to get a hand over his mouth while he chuckles, peppering kisses all over his face as Shane comes down from it all.

“You cheated,” Shane mumbles. 

“No, I just know you and your body very well,” he tells him.

Then the bastard slaps his ass and tells him they need to shower before Shane starts complaining about being gross and falling asleep all sweaty. He has to admit it is very nice to tuck himself into bed with Ilya feeling warm and fresh and deliciously exhausted.

They sleep well, but that means the morning comes earlier than Shane wants. He’s half asleep when Ilya wakes him to say goodbye.

He clings, he knows he does. He knows he should be mature and not dramatic, but he is half asleep and his heart is slipping away from him. He wants to say don't go, be here when I come home. But he can't. 

“I love you,” he says instead, “so much.”

“I love you too,” Ilya says, kissing him again. “I will be home again soon,” he promises.

Ilya tells him to stay in bed, that watching him walk out the door won't make it better — he should know. So Shane stays in bed and tries not to strain his hearing to listen for the airport pick up car or the door locking. Instead he curls up around Ilya's pillow and reminds himself that it's just a few weeks this time.

When Shane gets up properly, he makes breakfast for himself and Arisa. She also seems bummed that Ilya has left. But she does have his number now. And she mentions how she plans to call him for some skating advice.

He texts his parents to ask at what time he should bring Arisa back to them. There is already a text waiting from Ilya. It's a picture of Shane sleeping before Ilya woke him to say goodbye. The text says a taste of forever.

Shane takes a selfie of himself in front of the windows, which shows off the lake. Home is waiting for you, he responds back. Then he spends the rest of the day with his cousin. And counting down the days until he sees Ilya again.

◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈◆◈

Ilya springs out of his couch when he hears the car in the drive. He wants to jump out and run down to get Shane but the Uber driver does not need to know whose house this is, that it's theirs. So he waits, almost jumping on his heels until Shane opens the door. He feels how wide his own smile is, sees it mirrored in Shane's. Like magnets, they slam against each other.

Ilya immediately kisses Shane, walking him back to the couch. “Welcome home,” he murmurs against Shane’s lips.

“Missed you so fucking much,” Shane says between kisses, “and fuck Boston traffic by the way.” Ilya laughs as he pulls him down into the couch in the nest of pillows and the throw blanket he'd been waiting for him in.

“Well, you are here now,” Ilya says. “And we have the entire next two days.” 

“Two days isn’t enough,” Shane mumbles.

“Is more than one,” Ilya smiles, “besides I must comfort you after we beat you tonight.” 

Shane shakes his head, “Oh I'm sorry.” 

“Sorry?” 

“Yes, about how confused you are. We are going to crush you tonight,” Shane says, with that pretty glint of determination in his eyes.

“Oh, you think so? You are on Boston ice, Hollander. We will not give you an inch,” Ilya tells him. “We will win.” 

“Do you want to wager?”

“Yes,” he says instantly, “how much?” 

“We both have money, Ilya, that isn't fun,” Shane says. 

“What then?” He should expect it to be something evil from the glint in Shane's eyes, “Mmm after I win and after we celebrate... we go on a Duck Boat Tour.”

Ilya stares at him in slight horror. When he first moved to Boston, he’d had an interest in them. If only because David suggested them. And then he saw the actual vehicle. 

“Well, it is a good thing you will not win. And when I win…we will go see the jellyfish,” Ilya says.

Shane smiles and then bonks their heads together, “Deal.”

“Deal,” Ilya agrees, “now we will formalize agreement in bed, yes?

This makes Shane laugh, “Oh? Is that how we make it a binding agreement?” 

“Yes, absolutely,” Ilya says. “Okay then. Let’s do it,” Shane says.

Ilya rides the high of having Shane with him right into the ice that night. He makes big promises to the team that he will then pretend not to keep because he needs to win. He always needs to win against Shane on the ice, but he really really wants to stand in front of those strange beautiful brainless creatures and look at Shane under those colored lights. He wants that so bad he can taste it, to stand close together in the darkness of the jellyfish room and be close together in public.

The game itself is just as thrilling as any game against Shane. Ilya cannot help the grin when he scores a third goal in the game, basically solidifying their win. He is so excited for his date.

His phone starts buzzing on the shelf and he grabs it, ready to tell Shane that it's them two and some jellyfish tomorrow morning. But it isn't a text, it's a phone call from a number with no name and a +7 in the front. He frowns down at it. Sveta is in New York right now, supervising a car shipment for her clients. Who the fuck could possibly be calling him from Russia?

If he waits another second the call is going to fall. Would he call back? Would they? He feels his stomach tense up as he answers the call. 

“Hello?” 

There is silence for so long that he checks that the call is still connected. He frowns and considers just hanging up. 

“Are you Ilya Rozanov?” He walks away from the team toward the back office and closes the door. 

“Who is this?” 

“You don't speak Russian anymore?” He can't recognize the woman's voice. She sounds like a young woman, but not one he thinks he's ever met before. Maybe an old hookup? 

“Who are you?” 

“My name is Ksenia Rozanova. Do you know me?”

“You're Lyosha’s wife. How did you get my number?” 

“From Sveta's phone. I... I need to talk to you about something.” 

“Is everything okay?” His heart is practically trying to leap out of his chest. He is worried something has happened to his niece.

“I'm calling because your brother knows nothing about you, and you should learn this from your family. Your father has died.” 

He feels the breath leave him completely, somehow he was standing and now he's crouched on the floor. He knew this was coming, eventually, but the shock of Ksenia knowing anything about Ilya at all and then calling to tell him this? He feels the room spinning. 

Finally, he finds enough breath to ask, “When?” 

“This morning. I'm very sorry to say this, Ilya.” 

He thinks she does sound sorry. She also sounds frightened. Is she frightened of him? She shouldn't know he exists at all. 

“How do you know me? How do you know my name?” 

“I know more than your name, I know everything,” she says. It makes his blood run cold. 

“Are you trying to threaten me?”

“No. No, I can only thank you. You gave my daughter the life your brother should have given her.”

“How…how did you find out?” Ilya manages to make himself ask. 

“Sveta. The gifts. Her pictures on Instagram. A lot of them have you. And…you and my Emiliya look very much alike,” she says.

“Yes,” he says, and a small smile still manages to come to him, “yes, I know. Lyosha...?” 

“No. No he does not know. It is not hard to keep it from him; he hardly knows his daughter's birthday. He is coked out of his mind even now,” she tells him.

Ilya clicks his tongue with disgust. Of course he is. Their father is dead, he is a husband and a father and yet, he neglects all of it. 

“Is there anything you two need?” he asks. 

The answer is hesitant, “I…you have already provided so much. It…I feel like it would be unreasonable to ask for more.”

“No,” he says, “no you can ask for anything. You took care of my father while he died and I stayed here, hidden, like a coward. You put yourself between my niece and my brother and keep her safe. You, I will give anything you ask.”

“I do not think you are a coward. There is nothing wrong in getting your safety and freedom. And you are the one who got Grigori into a facility to get him the care he needed. You have shown my little Emiliya more love than her father has given her,” she tells him. “You are a good man, Ilyushka.”

“Tell me what I can do,” he practically begs. 

“Your father just died.” 

“I know. I know, so let me help what is left of my family,” he whispers. 

“Your father just died,” she says again but her voice is trembling, “and even though he was...mostly gone - he kept your brother in place. Now... now I think it will only get worse. He has been getting money from dangerous men. They threatened us outside the school and I... I think I need to get away.”

Ilya straightens up a little more. He doesn’t like the thought that his mind goes down. He has to bite his lip to keep from cursing. Had to focus on keeping his sister-in-law and niece safe. 

“Of course. Yes, I can…I can see if there is a way to get you safely away from them.”

“You would help me take your brother's daughter away from him?” 

He nods though she can't see it, “Yes. I trust her mother.”

He can practically hear her sob of relief, even though it sounds like she does her best to cover it. 

“Thank you. Thank you,” she whispers. 

“You do not need to thank me for something that should not have been a problem,” Ilya quietly says.

There is a sound and he can hear her gasp. When she speaks again it is a whisper with a clear shake of fear. 

“He is back,” she says under her breath, “I will reach you through Sveta. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” he responds. The phone call ends and Ilya stares at his phone for a long moment. A gentle hand lands on his shoulder, surprising him out of his thoughts. It’s Marley, looking concerned. 

“Everything okay, brother? That sounded…intense.”

He looks at him and feels small, even though Marley has like one inch on him. 

“My father is dead,” he says flatly. Marley looks shocked and then sad and then he pulls Ilya into a hug so tight he feels the breath squeezed out of him. He hugs him back, clings to him like a little child.

It’s strange, he thinks. To grieve a man who hated him while he was there and would have hated him now. He has not spoken to his father since he was 15…and now he never would have the chance again. Not that he thought he’d ever want to, but the choice being taken away still causes a surprising ache.

Marley holds him without a word and at some point when Ilya pulls away and turns to wipe at his tears he can hear Marley stepping out to dismiss the team, to tell them that Ilya would tell them what was wrong when he felt like it and to clear out. He should be the captain, he should go out there and face his team, but he can't right now.

“Take all the time you need, Roz,” Marley reassures him. “You…you want me to see if I could grab Hollander?”

Ilya looks at him with wide eyes. He... he really shouldn't. They're at work. Shane probably has to still do press. Meet with his coaches. But he is a weak, broken child right now, so he nods.

“Alright, I’ll be right back,” Marley promises. Which, it means a lot that he’s doing this. Especially when he knows Marley still doesn’t like Shane. He sits there for…he does not know how long. But eventually, there is Shane, looking concerned.

He closes the door behind him and he's frowning. Annoyed and mad probably, because Ilya is breaking the rules. Because he is weak and needy and selfish. 

“Ilya? What's wrong?” 

He turns away from him, wanting desperately for Shane not to see his tears, “Marley did not tell you?” 

“He said you needed me,” Shane whispers and Ilya can hear him turning the blinds closed and locking the door. 

“I'm sorry,” Ilya whispers, “I can see you later at home.” 

“Hey,” he whispers, sitting on the bench behind him and pulling at his chin until Ilya is forced to face him, “baby, what's wrong?” He whimpers at how sweet Shane is to him, so sweet and Ilya doesn't deserve him. 

“He's dead,” he finally says.

“Who’s dead?” Shane asks quietly. 

Ilya sniffs, “My father. He died this morning.” 

“I’m sorry, Ilya,” Shane whispers, kissing Ilya’s forehead.

“Is stupid,” Ilya sniffs, “he hated me and I hated him. I should not care.” 

“It's not stupid,” Shane says, brushing at his cheeks with his thumbs, “it's not stupid to feel whatever it is you're feeling right now. If you're...sad. Or angry. Or both. Or neither. None of it is stupid.”

“I do not know how I feel. It is…I have not spoken to him since I was 15…and yet he is still my father,” Ilya says.

Shane nods and Ilya leans into him and it feels so comforting and so frightening here in this place. 

“What do you need,” Shane says softly, “what can I do?” 

“I want to go home,” he whispers back. He knows that Shane will take him home, will wrap him up in his arms and hold him. But what Ilya means is he wants to go home in a way that he never can. He wants to go home to a place that never existed, to a time he can never touch.

“Okay,” Shane quietly says, kissing his temple. “We’ll go home. Let me just help you with your stuff.”

He hadn't realized he was still half dressed. Shane helped him out and into some sweats from his area. If Shane got caught back here it would be...it would be bad, but somehow Shane seemed relaxed as he moved. Maybe his body was tense or his face gave something away because Shane came close and laid a hand on his arm. 

“Marleau is watching the door,” he explains.

Ilya nods, a little more relieved. 

“Thank you. For coming. I know how much you hate breaking rules.” He attempts a smile, but thinks it might still be weak.

Shane tugs Ilya's sweatshirt softly, adjusting it, “It doesn't matter. You needed me.”

“I am breaking NHL rules by not wearing suit out of here,” Ilya says. 

“Yes well, you just received very bad news. The NHL will just have to deal with it,” Shane says.

Marley comes in and tells him that he's spoken to coach and the management and that a car will be waiting for him at the back. Ilya turns and looks at Shane and nods. 

“I'll meet you there,” Shane whispers.

Ilya nods and watches him leave. In turn, he stands and hugs Marley. Quietly thanks him for the help. 

“Anytime, kid,” the man promises. “Let’s get you out of here.”

He thinks Marley will put him in the car and leave, but he gets in after him and handles talking to the driver whenever that needs to happen. Eventually they're at his house and Marley waits until Ilya has eyes on Shane again before he gives him one more hug and leaves.

Shane climbs onto the couch next to Ilya. Pulls him into his arms. Ilya does not resist, practically laying his head in Shane’s lap. 

“How’d you find out?” Shane asks after a moment. 

“My sister-in-law called,” Ilya says.

“What?” 

“I don't know. She ... she knew. Who I was. She got my number out of Sveta's phone. Has been keeping my secret,” he whispers, “oh. I need to call Sveta. I need to pay for the funeral. The tomb.” 

“Let me call her,” Shane says, “let me help.”

“Is my responsibility,” Ilya shakes his head. 

“And I’ll let you take the responsibility. Just…let me call Sveta and tell her what’s going on.”

“Okay,” he says. He feels the energy seeping out of his body. He feels everything moving far away. But Shane is here. Shane is close and here and taking care of him.

He hears Shane make the call. Ilya does not pay much attention to the conversation. Instead, he focuses on the way Shane’s free hand runs through his hair. Comforting and grounding.

“Sveta is coming,” Shane whispers after he hangs up, “she'll be here tomorrow.” 

Tomorrow. He was supposed to take Shane to the aquarium tomorrow. They were going to see the jellyfish and go to dinner and try to have as much of a date as they could before Shane left the next day. God, Shane was going to leave the day after tomorrow.

They don’t really talk. Ilya just takes in Shane’s presence. Making the most of the time he does have with Shane, despite the way he feels like everything is coming down around him.

“Why don't we take a bath, hmm?” Shane is still speaking softly as if Ilya might break apart. He nods, he doesn't want to think and Shane isn't making him. He trails after Shane like a puppy, waits until he says the water is right and gets in with him. 

“Can I wash your hair?” He nods again.

He closes his eyes, relaxing back into Shane’s care. Gently, Shane washes Ilya’s hair and rinses it.

Shane kisses his neck. There's no intention behind it, but Ilya melts into him even further. He wants to lose himself in Shane. He wants to pretend they can have forever now.

“I’m going to keep washing you. If that’s okay,” Shane quietly tells him. Ilya nods, giving him consent.

Shane touches him so carefully, like he's precious and fragile. He scrubs gently at his skin and then rinses the soap away, bit by bit. Every so often he kisses Ilya's head or his shoulder.

Ilya hasn’t felt this cared for in a long time. Maybe not since Shane washed his hair that first time. And even then this is different. Giving full control to Shane and being treated like something important.

Shane helps him out of the tub when it starts to cool, wraps him in a big towel and takes him out to the room. Ilya sits on the bed and Shane kneels in front of him. 

“What can I do?” Stay. Please stay. Please don't go so soon and leave me alone. 

“You already are taking care of me,” he says instead, “I'm okay.”

Shane searches his face for a long moment. Then he stands and holds Ilya for a long moment. 

“Do you want dinner?” He asks softly.

“Not hungry,” he says, “I have to arrange funeral.” 

“It's three in the morning in Moscow,” Shane says, “Sveta is going to help you deal with all that in the morning.”

Ilya takes this in and then after a moment nods. “For now, I think it would be good to have something light. I’ll make it.”

Ilya gets up after Shane leaves the room and puts some pants on. He looks at himself in the mirror and stares so long he stops seeing himself. He had been trying to find anything of his father in him, but his father didn't live in his face. He lived in the angry violent parts of him, his selfishness, his possessiveness.

And perhaps that is for the best. Because Ilya knows how to control those things. To not let them dictate his life.

He hates to mourn a man who he had to run away from, a man who drove his mother to her death, a man who would have him killed if he knew him. But he feels it anyway, this grief. Shane comes back a few minutes later and stands behind him in the mirror. 

“Mom and dad will be here tomorrow too,” he says, “mom insisted they get a hotel in case you want to be alone. But they want to be close if you need them.”

“They did not need—” Ilya starts. Shane kisses the back of his neck to stop him. 

“I know, but they want to. Because they love you,” Shane says.

Ilya nods, maybe too quickly, but he doesn't want to cry again.

“I made some snacks, you can pick at whatever you want. Yeah?” He lets Shane continue to drive him around the house. He picks at the plate of sandwiches and nuts and chips and cookies. He doesn't eat a lot but he tries it all because Shane made it for him.

One of the shows that they usually watch together is up on the screen. But Ilya is hardly paying attention. He’s still in his head, thinking about everything that still needs to be done. There's a commercial and Shane mutes the TV, his hand soft on Ilya's thigh. 

“Do you want to talk?”

Ilya shrugs. “I do not know what there is to talk about. I am officially an orphan now.”

“You can talk about whatever ... anything you want.” 

“I don't know what to say,” he huffs, “I do not want to talk, I do not want to think.”

“That’s okay too. If you want, I can talk,” Shane says. Ilya nods. He likes Shane’s voice. Thinks it’s soothing. Shane obliges, starting to talk about Arisa and how she’s doing with her training.

He doesn't realize he's fallen asleep until he wakes and finds that he is tucked in against Shane on the couch and the house is deeply dark. He has no idea what time it is, but the space is too small for them. He wakes Shane gently. 

“Bed,” he whispers. Shane nods and they move quietly to the bedroom. Shane wraps himself around Ilya just as he had been before. It is four in the morning. Their necks will bother them later from sleeping on the couch as long as they did. He doesn't care. Shane runs his fingertips in gentle lazy patterns over Ilya's skin and he falls back to sleep.

The following morning he wakes up, still feeling adrift. Thankfully, he is still in Shane’s arms. Shane himself is awake and just watching him.

He's just about to ask what time it is when he hears noises of metal from outside. He startles and sits up. 

“Hey, it's okay it's just dad,” Shane says softly, “they got in like twenty minutes ago he's making breakfast.”

“They?” Ilya asks. “Yes, mom, dad and Sveta. Marley said he had a date with Jane, but that he would stop by later to check in again,” Shane says.

Ilya is confused. Shane had said they were coming but... it still doesn't make sense. He pulls his sweats over his boxers and goes out to the kitchen to find the house...busy.

David is indeed making breakfast. Yuna is combing through some books and on a website. Sveta is on the phone with someone. It is David who notices him first and beacons him over. A little overwhelmed, Ilya moves over to him.

David wraps an arm around him and squeezes him in and like with Marley, Ilya feels small and safe. 

“Alright, your house your rules,” he says motioning at his cooking, “chocolate chip or blueberry pancakes?”

Ilya looks up at him, not having expected that question. 

“Um, chocolate chips,” he tells him. 

“Good choice,” David hums. He pours a few cups of chocolate chips into the batter and starts making up the pancakes. 

Yuna has looked up from her work. Her eyes are about as soulful as Shane’s can get. 

“Ilya, honey. Come here.”

She grabs his face and kisses his forehead and then hugs him. It's a lot but it also makes him feel warm and loved and he lets himself have it. When Sveta comes up, phone still pressed to her ear, she takes his hand and squeezes it.

Maybe…maybe this is what family is supposed to be. Warm and supportive. Will show up when you need it the most. He looks at Sveta, cool and confident. But her eyes show her empathy and concern. His eyes flick to the phone. 

“Ksenia,” she mouths.

They all sit together at breakfast and Sveta lays out the choices he gets to make. There are not many and they are too much all at once. A mass? No. A wake at home or at a parlor? A parlor, he doesn't want a casket where his niece lives. Does he want him buried beside his mother? No. Never. Bury him beside his own parents.

Eventually, everything is decided. All selections are told to Ksenia, who is apparently going to help oversee things on the Russian side. For a moment, Ilya wonders where his brother is.

“Ilya, sweetheart,” Yuna says as she pours everyone more coffee, “I know that you cannot go there for any ceremonies and you probably don't want to. But is there anything we can do for you here?”

Ilya looks at her. He doesn’t have any idea. Feels complicated about honoring his father in any way.

“No. No it is fine,” he says, “I just...want to have it be over.” Yuna nods and Ilya takes a deep breath. “There is something I will need help with,” he says.

“What is it?” Yuna asks, seeming eager to help. “My sister-in-law and her daughter. I am hoping to help them get here. Out of Russia,” he says.

“Your brother —” 

“He is my father's son,” Ilya says, “and I am my mother's. I have to protect them from him.”

“Is…is it that bad?” Yuna asks. 

“Yes. It is that bad,” Sveta confirms. 

“Apparently he has gotten involved with…unsafe individuals,” Ilya says. “And…Alexei is likely to get aggressive.”

David nods, “I will do the necessary research on how to get them here as quickly as possible.”

“Okay…but I will be the one to take the steps,” Ilya says. 

“Of course. But we do want to make it easier for you,” David says. “For now, let’s have some breakfast.”

Marley and Jane arrive not long after breakfast, Jane having cancelled their plans as soon as Marley told her what had happened. Ilya felt...so much. There were so many people here for him and he didn't know what to do with it. Shane pulls him close and away from everyone. 

“I can send them away,” Shane whispers, “they'll understand.”

“I just…I have not had these many people here for me,” Ilya says. “It is a lot.” 

“The Wiebes also offered to come, but Allison may have recognized that would be a lot. She would like to talk to you though,” Shane says.

Ilya nods, he feels useless. He wants to climb into the bed and stay there. “Hey, I owe you a visit to the jellyfish. Why don't you take some time to yourself, get dressed?”

“Shane, there is so much to do and—” 

“And a lot of the big decisions have been made. My dad’s doing research. I want to do something for you, even if it means taking a break to recharge,” Shane says.

“Everyone is here—” 

“To help,” Shane says, “not to be like...entertained. Let them help, let them take care of things and let me take care of you.”

Ilya, as has been the theme for the past 24 hours, doesn’t know how to feel. Part of him thinks he should stay. Do something. Be a good host. But…everything is done and everyone is doing something. And…and it would be nice to not think of anything. If just for a minute. 

“Let me get dressed,” Ilya says.

They're parking at the aquarium garage when he realizes. 

“Shane,” he says, feeling stupid, “people will see us.”

Shane scratches at his nose and nods, “Yeah.” 

“But —” 

“Mom and Tessa are putting out a statement, people will know you're... it won't be suspicious that you're out with a friend trying to get some peace. The aquarium on a Tuesday is peaceful.”

Ilya nods. He does not know how he will repay any of these people. But he is grateful for another thing he does not need to worry about. To maybe just enjoy the aquarium with his boyfriend.

The aquarium on a Tuesday morning is full of very little children. There are mothers with strollers and carriers pointing at fish their babies can only maybe focus their babies eyes on. There are gaggles of kindergarteners holding on to a rope to keep them in a neat adorable waddling line. There is a little boy twirling in front of a sea turtle

Ilya cannot help the small smile that comes to his lips at the sight. It’s all very sweet. 

“Shall we?” Shane asks, tilting his head.

The room with the jellyfish is dark and cool and it is, just as Shane promised, peaceful. Even the little children seem to look at the floating animals with silent awe rather than the squealing and laughing in other areas.

Ilya takes a seat on the bench and simply watches them. There is something serene about these creatures, despite the fact that Ilya knows they cause pain.

Shane is sitting next to him, not on his lap but also not a meter away. Their thighs brush sometimes when Shane flips a page in the information booklet he's reading. Ilya taps his shoe with his own even though the little children and their parents could see it, Shane taps him back without hesitation.

It does not fix things. It does not ultimately change how things have gone. Ilya’s father is still dead and his sister-in-law and niece are in danger. However, there is something in him that settles. Maybe a borrowed serenity. Feeling less alone in it all. To be able to be here with his boyfriend even still and be intimate in the ways they can.

They spend an hour walking around, have a visit to the penguins, and take a picture with one very excited second grader. 

“I want to go home,” Ilya finally says, “I'm ready.”

“Are you sure?” Shane asks. Ilya nods and gives Shane a slight smile. 

“Yes, I am sure. I feel…better.”

Home is still full, but it isn't chaotic. There is food, again. There seems to be sections of people doing things. Marley and Yuna are in the kitchen, Sveta and David are across one another with laptops on the dining table. Jane is seemingly doing something with an ancient calculator.

Jane is the one to notice them first. “Hey you two? How was the date?”

Shane looks to Ilya, waiting for his answer. “It…it was peaceful,” Ilya says, “Good.” 

“Fantastic!” She grins. 

“What are you doing with that ancient machine? Where did you get ancient machine?”

“It's useful to look away from screens sometimes,” she says, “and David found that one of the ways to smooth a transition to Canada is to have just the right amount of money. Not too much, not too little, so we're figuring out what we need to do for Ksenia to show just that.”

“I could just give her the money,” Ilya says. 

“And that’s a very sweet thought. But also, Ksenia needs to be able to be independent,” Jane points out.

“And she needs to show that to the Canadian government,” David shares from the kitchen, “but your money will help make her case. Don't worry about that.”

“Okay…” Ilya says. “Is there anything that I can do?” 

“Either call Allison Wiebe and assure her you are okay. Oooor…Emiliya has been asking to talk to you,” Sveta tells him.

“Oh! I... yes. I can do both,” he nods. Of course, he calls Allison first because that part is not terrifying. She picks up on the second ring. 

“Ilushka,” she says instantly, “what can I do?” 

“Mmm, remind me how much he didn't care when I died,” he jokes.

“Do you think that would actually help?” She asks. 

“Maybe it would help me feel less bad that he died and I was not there,” Ilya says. 

“Ilushka, you weren’t there because it wouldn’t have been safe. And yet you still made sure he was cared for,” Allison says.

“Yes,” he says. 

“And you have taken care of all of them over the years, sweetheart, through Svetlana. You rescued your aunt's business. Bailed your godfather out of jail. You have been their guardian angel and they...they probably would not have done the same.”

Ilya nods, even though he knows Allison cannot see it. 

“I…I still feel like I should have been there. That is how you care for people.” 

“Honey, there are many ways we can care for people,” Allison says.

“Yeah,” he looks around at the people in his house and then thinks of Allison miles away and thinks that yeah she is right, “Allison Wiebe you are amazing.”

“Thank you, Ilushka. I do my best,” she says, and he can practically imagine her warm smile. 

“You’ll get through this and then you come down and visit.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Ilya gives a slight laugh.

Once he hangs up, Shane hands him a cup of something warm. Tea, it seems. It's the kind of thing you give someone who isn't feeling well. 

“Are you up for talking to your niece now?”

Ilya takes a drink, savoring its flavor and warmth. He thinks for a second. 

“I…I think I should. Or I will keep putting it off,” he tells Shane.

He, Shane, and Sveta go into the bedroom and Sveta makes the call. He's more nervous about this than anything he can remember in years.

Ksenia seems to answer, as Sveta greets her. Sveta tells her that Ilya is back home and that he wants to speak with Emiliya. A smile crosses her face and she hands the phone over to Ilya. 

“Ilyushka, hello again,” Ksenia greets, in Russian. 

“Hello. How are you doing?” He asks. 

“I have been better. But…hopeful. And thank you for taking the time to talk to Emiliya. After I told her about you…she was excited,” she tells him.

“Is that safe? I mean, she is only six. Will she not tell him?” 

Ksneia shakes her head before he finishes, “He only speaks to her to tell her to get out of his way.”

Ilya frowns at that. He doesn’t think any child deserves that to be the main interaction with their parent. For all of his flaws, sometimes Ilya received some positive attention from his father. He shudders to think that Alexei is worse. He lets out a sound that he thinks communicates how he thinks. 

Because Ksenia gives a slight wry huff of a laugh and says, “Yes. And Emiliya is pretty quiet around him anyway. So it is good.”

“Who did you tell her I was?” 

“Her uncle Ilyushka of course,” she smiles. 

“What about aunt Liliya?” 

“In heaven where she's always been,” she shrugs.

Ilya nods. That makes sense. Maybe one day, when she’s older, he can better explain. But for now, this works. 

“Okay…” Ksenia calls for Emiliya. She hops into the screen and Ilya briefly loses his breath. Because she does look so much like he had. 

“Emilochka, this is your Uncle Ilyushka. Ilyushka, this is Emilochka,” Ksenia introduces.

Despite everything Ksenia has told him and everything she hasn't had to say about their life, Emiliya has a smile brighter than anything. “Hello Uncle Ilyushka!”

“Hello Emilochka, how are you?” he greets. 

“I’m good! I’m very happy to meet you! Auntie Sveta and Mama have said that some of the presents they said were from Auntie Lilya were actually from you,” she says.

“Yes, I am sorry I could not say they were from me,” he says and he wonders if she will ask why but she just shakes her head. 

“It's okay! Sometimes secrets are for the best,” she nods wisely. She must have heard this too many times from her mother. 

“Mama says grandfather has gone to heaven,” she says, though she doesn't sound very sad, he wonders if his father knew his only grandchild at all. He nods. He doesn't want to say that he isn't sure he'd be going there. 

“That is where auntie and babushka are,” she continues, “and mama says it is sad when people go there young but it is not so sad when people go there old even if we miss them.” 

“Your mama is very smart,” he says. She's so bright and happy and talkative and beautiful. How could his brother spend time away from her at all? How can he not be folded over in adoration every day? 

“Emilochka, your uncle lives in Canada,” Ksenia says just off camera, “do you know what language they speak in Canada?” 

She nods quickly, “Yes! They speak English except some of them speak French!” 

“That's right my sweetheart, do you want to show your uncle how you speak English?” 

She nods again and then wiggles in her seat and speaks slowly, “Hello my name is Emiliya and I am from Moscow.” 

“That is very good,” Ilya answers in English, feeling like his heart might burst.

She giggles back. “One day I hope my English is as good as yours, Uncle Ilyushka.” Curious she follows up with, “What do you do in Canada? As a job? Are…are you a police officer like daddy and dedushka?” 

“No, no. I am a professional hockey player. I play for a team in the United States,” Ilya says.

Her eyes go very big, “Skating with the sticks?” 

He laughs at the description, “Yes.” 

“I want to skate, but father said it forbidden. Mama took me one time and he got very loud,” she frowns. 

“It's okay my princess, soon when we go on our top secret journey you will skate. I promise,” Ksenia says as she comes on the camera and pulls her daughter into her lap, “your uncle will teach you. Right?”

“Yes, of course,” Ilya instantly agrees. He loves the idea of passing on his love of skating to his niece.

“In Canada if you want to skate, then you get to skate.” 

Emiliya grins widely, “I want to be good skater like Auntie Lilya.”

Ilya smiles and fights so hard to keep his tears from spilling over, “Do you know your Babushka was a skater too?” 

She nods, “Yes!”

That heals something in him. How his mother’s memory as a skater continues to live on. 

“She taught me how to skate, so I will teach you to skate,” Ilya promises. “You know, you get your blonde curls from her?”

“Like yours!” 

He nods and blinks quickly to keep the tears back, “Yes, little sunbeam, we got that from her, both of us.”

She grins so wide that she practically brightens the screen. Her eyes regard everything curiously. “Um…I recognize Auntie Sveta, but who is the other man?” 

“Oh…that is my best friend, Uncle Shane. I also call him Holzy or Holz which is like diminutive,” Ilya says. 

Emiliya nods, “So, when I meet him he will be Uncle Holzy?”

He smiles so wide it hurts, “Yes, I think he would like that very much. He only speaks English and French, so you must be patient with him while he learns Russian.”

She nods once and then waves really big, “Hello Uncle Holzy!”

Shane practically startles and sniffs. He wipes at his eyes. Ilya gestures Shane to sit next to him. 

“Hello Emiliya,” he greets. He sees Emiliya wrinkle her nose at the formality and he has to laugh. Can imagine that her brain is thrown off at someone now considered an Uncle calling her by her government name. 

“Emilioshka, what would you like Uncle Holzy to call you in English?”

She looks to her mom who shrugs comically at her. 

“Uncle Holzy you must give me a little name in English,” she declares.

Shane looks wide eyed at him, which makes Ilya laugh. “Just come up with a nickname that fits her. Maybe based on her name.” 

“Okay…um….would you prefer Emi or Mili or Miliya?” Shane asks her.

The little girl turns back to her mother and they both whisper at each other, foreheads pressed together. Then she turns back with a decisive nod, “Emi is good, Uncle Holzy.”

“Okay, well then, hello Emi,” Shane greets again. 

“Why is little name Holzy?” She asks. 

“It’s a hockey thing. Based on my last name. Like how your uncle is Roz or Rozy to his team,” Shane explains.

“I do not like. Ilyushka is more...,” she turns to her mother again,“ Как сказать 'милый'? ” 

“Cute,” Ksenia says. 

“Yes, this, Ilyushka is more cute,” she says firmly.

Shane laughs and nods his head. “It does sound cuter. Sadly hockey doesn’t care about cuteness.” 

Emiliya gasps like she’s heard something awful.

“Shush you will make her not like hockey,” Sveta says, “it can be as cute as you want it to be my darling.”

“Then I want hockey to be super cute,” Emiliya demands. “Uncle Ilyushka, please tell your teammates to use Russian diminutives. They are superior.”

Ilya laughs out, he can't help it, all his sadness and grief has been poured over with sunshine and hope and purpose. He will bring his niece and her mama here, they will be part of this ever growing family. They will be safe.

“You have a very nice laugh, Uncle Ilyushka. It is very warm,” Emiliya tells him. “It is much nicer than daddy’s.” 

“You are right, Emi,” Shane agrees in Russian. It startles Emiliya out of her initial dip in her mood and she grins. “Your uncle’s laugh is a good one.”

She giggles, “Very good Uncle Holzy, I can see you practice very much.” 

Shane blushes, “I will get better when you are here to teach me.”

“Yes,” she agrees, nodding her head once. Her little face is determined. “I will learn skate and you will learn proper Russian.” 

“Proper Russian?” Shane asks. 

“Properly pronounced,” Ilya explains. “No accent. Russia is very strict about this.”

Ksenia takes a look at her watch and kisses the top of Emiliya's head, “We must say goodbye now.” 

Emi frowns but nods quietly, “Goodbye Uncle Ilyushka, and Uncle Holzy, and Auntie Sveta!”

They all say their goodbyes and with some sadness, the phone call is ended. 

“She is lovely,” Ilya says. It does not fully encapsulate the feelings he has. Though he wonders if this is how a parent feels the first time they meet their child.

He finds himself wrapped up in a double hug, both Shane and Sveta holding him tightly if a little awkwardly.

“You will be so good for her,” Sveta tells him. “She has already so much of herself with you.”

Outside everyone is sitting around with drinks and chatting quietly. Yuna stands and pulls him into her arms, “How was it?” 

“So good,” he nods, “like I can breathe now.” 

She kisses the top of his head, “I know this is a strange and dark moment, darling boy. That is when you most need to know how loved you are.”

“Thank you, Yuna,” Ilya says. “I do know. Now at the very least.” 

Looking around the room at everyone who is gathered here. The phone calls that he had, “Thank you everyone. For being…for being family.”

Marley comes up to him and puts a hand on each of his shoulders, looking at him seriously, 

“Rozy, brother... that was so gay.” Ilya's shocked laugh turns into a giggle which turns into a laughing fit so hard he actually has to hold his sides and cling to Marley to stay on his feet. He feels like a lunatic, but he can hear everyone around him snorting and chuckling and Yuna's disapproving little tut even though she's also smiling.

“Fuck you, this is biphobia,” he retorts back with a grin. “I am being erased by this insult.”

Marley kisses his forehead big and dramatic and then squeezes him, “You always fucking have us okay?”

Ilya smiles and nods. “Yes, I am starting to realize this.” 

“As I told you in primary school, I will be with you until the day you die, Ilya Rozanov,” Sveta says.

“Alright, enough emotions, time to eat,” Jane says with a clap, “and then I think we should clear out and let Ilya get some rest.”

“Yes, that would probably be best,” Yuna acknowledges. 

“David, you have cooked again?” Ilya asks. 

“Yes, I made some of your favorite pasta,” he says.

Ilya is not going to cry until everyone leaves, but he wishes desperately that if he ever is a father, that he will be like David and not like Alexei or his own father.

“Thank you, David,” he says. 

“No problem, bud,” the man says easily. “Take the garlic bread to the table?”

The meal is delicious and he finds that Shane sitting beside him has served himself a perfectly normal amount of pasta alongside the chicken. Shane looks up at him and smiles softly, reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze. They all eat and speak about everything but death and sadness. Marley takes care of the dishes while Yuna tells him about everything that is finished and taken care of. 

“And the Raiders have agreed to two weeks of leave,” she says finally, “even if you don't think you need all of it - take it. Please. If nothing else it will set a precedent for other players.”

Ilya nods. He knows that his fellow teammates are just as bad about taking the time that they need. And Ilya is a captain that leads by example. So, yes, he will take Yuna's suggestion and take the full two weeks for himself. Though, he does not know how he will spend them. Especially since he does not think Shane will have the same break.

He gets more hugs as everyone leaves and kisses and hand squeezes and by the time that Shane closes the door behind everyone and lets out a breath he realizes that he is not the only one overwhelmed. In all of this, he has forgotten how nervous Shane had been at their dinner in his apartment, how new it still is to be open in front of others. And Shane has done this all day, with all he has, so that Ilya could feel loved.

Ilya comes over, setting his hands on Shane's hips and pulling him closer. He presses kisses to Shane's hairline and neck. 

“Thank you for this. For today,” he tells him. “You are fantastic,” he praises. Because he does not know if Shane is still doubtful of his own abilities of being a 'good enough' boyfriend for Ilya.

Shane closes his eyes and leans into Ilya's touch, “I just wanted to take care of you.” 

“You did,” he says as he brushes his lips over Shane's cheek, “you did so good, you showed me family I did not realize I had when I felt like I had lost mine again.”

He feels Shane practically shudder under the praise, the tension releasing from his shoulders. 

“Good. Good. Because I want you to always feel at home, Ilya,” Shane tells him. 

“When I am with you, I do,” Ilya kisses his forehead.

Shane opens his eyes and kisses him gently. It is still early, but Ilya is so tired, he just wants to curl up with Shane for as long as he can. 

“When do you have to go tomorrow?” 

Shane frowns, “Ilya, I'm not going anywhere tomorrow.” 

“You have a game in Toronto tomorrow night,” Ilya frowns. 

“And I'm skipping it.” 

“Theriault is going to —” 

“Theriault can eat my ass,” Shane says and seems to startle himself into a chuckle. 

“No,” Ilya pouts, “only I eat your ass, Hollander.”

Shane's head thumps against Ilya's shoulder. His laughter sounds about as hysterical as Ilya's had been earlier. 

“Please explain to me what is so funny, Shane Hollander, “ Ilya demands. 

“I just...I never thought I would say something like that,” Shane says, and his smile is so bright. It is almost like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

Ilya tucks his fingers under Shane's chin and kisses him softly, “You don't need to skip your game for me.” 

“I want to, Ilya. I know it... I know it doesn't sound like me but I want to. I want to be with you now, I don't want you here by yourself or...or even taken care of by anyone else. I want to be the one who is here for you. At least for the few days that I can.”

Ilya smiles softly. He cannot help but kiss Shane. Deep down, Shane's declaration feels like something his younger self would romanticize. Like a prince from a fairy tale story. Once again, he feels that deep part of himself sigh and reinforce that this is the man he's going to marry. 

“Okay,” he agrees. “But...I will not be reason you completely throw away games. If anything...if anything I will come to your home games,” Ilya tells him.

“You will?” 

“Yes. You skip Toronto but who do you play next?” 

“Vegas at home,” Shane says. 

“Ugh, disgusting, I will be there,” Ilya smiles, “I will sit next to Jackie Pike, we will have wine in plastic cup.”

“I know we had been joking about it at dinner, but I’m wondering if you don’t secretly want to be a WAG,” Shane teases. “Though, if you joined I think the name would have to change.”

Ilya blinks, “You mean... join as me?” 

“It's...fun to think about right? We're allowed.” 

Ilya nods, “Yes. I would be wonderful WAG, would organize charity drive and make cool jackets.”

The comment seems to strike Shane for a moment. Like he has an idea forming. This time Ilya thinks he will wait until Shane is ready to share. 

“I can see it now,” Shane responds instead.

“I am tired,” he confesses, “I want to have very slow sex with you Shane Hollander.” 

“We can do that,” Shane smiles, somehow blushing even though Ilya just asked for the least risqué thing possible.

They make their way to the bedroom and Ilya makes good on his request. Wringing every noise he can out of Shane and showing his deep appreciation for his partner.

Shane, in turn, finds a way to give Ilya orgasms that are strong and gentle, comforting and delicious. After his second he runs his hand through Shane's hair while his cheek rests against Ilya's thighs. 

“Ты так красив, моя любовь,” he breathes out.

Shane takes Ilya's other hand and presses a kiss to it.

“Thank you, mon cœur,” he whispers back, “tu es magnifique.”

“Come here,” he whispers, “I know we are sweaty but I just want to sleep, please.” 

Shane nods, “Okay.” 

“You won't be too uncomfortable?” 

He smiles, “I'll rinse off after you fall asleep.”

Ilya huffs and kisses Shane's forehead. 

“Of course you will,” he says. It's part of Shane's idiosyncrasies. Once upon a time, he never imagined himself with someone as particular as Shane. But now, he just finds it all endearing.

And Shane, he lets Ilya's chaos into his well manicured life, welcomes him and adjusts for him. 

“No one could love me as well as you,” Ilya whispers against his shoulder as he curls into him, “no one, Shane. Please don't doubt it.”

“I'm starting not to,” Shane whispers back. He gives a warm smile.

Because he loves Shane more than anything in the world and his parents are still in town, the next day they go on the damn Duck Boat. Ilya has to admit as tacky and embarrassing as the contraption is, they have fun, it is distracting.

Shane spends the entire time grinning. Happy to have this moment. He spends most of the ride pointing things out to Ilya, as if Ilya is not a resident of Boston. However, he goes along with it, happy to see his town through his boyfriend's eyes.

They drive Shane's parents to the airport and then meet Sveta for lunch. They are, Ilya notices, incredibly unconcerned about people seeing them. It is as if the blanket of Ilya's mourning protects them.

Ilya finds he enjoys the feeling more and more. Wants the easy way of these outings to stay. It is eventually what drives him to pack a bag when Shane’s time to go back to Montreal comes. He is going to go support his boyfriend.

“Are you seriously going to sit next to Jackie?” 

“I can sit somewhere else,” Ilya offers as they take their seats in first class. Today it's full of business people so they have privacy they wouldn't otherwise. 

“No I... I mean it's just people are going to talk about it,” Shane says. 

“They will,” Ilya agrees, “so I can sit somewhere else. With the Vegas fans for example.”

“No…no. I…I want you to be able to sit with friends. I want…I want to able to know where to find you. I just…I just don’t want this to bite us in the ass, you know,” Shane says. Ilya shrugs. 

“So…you tell them I am your best friend and my father has died. Is good excuse.”

“Okay,” Shane nods, “right I mean. It worked in Boston.” 

It had. There had been shots of them around town and all the speculation and tweets had talked about Shane hanging out with his friend in his time of need. A lot of the nastier speculation talked about Ilya not returning to Russia for a family member's funeral. Too much of a snob to go home, too good for his own family. They mostly ignored these comments. Dismissed it as assholes who don’t understand that there might be legitimate reasons why Ilya wouldn’t go. In fact, many of Ilya’s fans argued that these same assholes would bitch about Ilya missing games for ‘some stupid personal shit.’ That made it easier.

They head to the apartment and Shane only changes out of his travel clothes and grabs his gear before he's heading out the door to get screamed at by Theriault. 

Ilya pulls him back and kisses him long and hard before he slaps his ass, “Worth it?” 

“So worth it,” Shane grins, “see you tonight.”

“See you tonight, Капитан,” Ilya smirks.