Chapter Text
“Your cab is definitely here,” Shane mumbled, the intended nonchalance not coming through at all. He was silently praying that Ilya wouldn’t leave. That he could somehow manipulate time to warp for just the two of them and keep them here a little longer.
Luckily for him, Ilya leaned in with a slight smirk pulling at his lips.
This kiss felt different. Honestly, the whole night did. The tenderness that flooded Shane’s senses, the constant check ins that it seemed like Ilya felt compelled to do, and the sex itself - caring and still somewhat rough for his first time, although Shane knew that he could’ve taken more. But this kiss. This one was full of unspoken thoughts, words that felt impossible to say out loud. Words that Shane knew wouldn’t make sense after only one time sleeping together, but still felt right. Words that he couldn’t stop from sneaking into his head every time he looked at Ilya.
Shane had spent all night trying to think logically about how the evening was going. He tried convincing himself that it was Ilya’s way of making his first time with a man enjoyable, that it was just sex and nothing more than being polite. But logic went out the window every time it tried to creep in. The thought that Ilya was actually this warm, this concerned about him, intoxicated every neuron in Shane’s brain. He wasn’t sure if he should believe it, but he couldn’t stop himself from at least trying to.
This kiss felt like more proof of something that shouldn’t be possible.
When Ilya pulled away, Shane was left with a lingering tingle where his lips had been. He took a second to come back to himself before opening his eyes, not being able to stop himself from smiling. Ilya kept his eyes halfway closed as he gently pulled his coat back from Shane’s arms. Shane felt the loss immediately, the beginning of the warmth from the evening fading away.
“Bye,” Ilya's voice pulled Shane even more to his senses as he watched him turn and walk out into the Montreal night. He wanted to say bye too, but the words caught in his throat, stuck between the glow of the night and the slow growing feeling of being alone again.
Shane took a deep breath, crossed his arms over his chest to try and close the gap that was opening there, and allowed his eyes to close again for a moment. He chose to try and focus on how perfect the night had been. Every soft kiss, every careful but certain touch, every word spoken that was full of something which felt scarily close to being more than just an easy nighttime call. The evening had felt like Ilya and Shane were on a different plane of existence, just the two of them. It felt like they were discovering something no one else could even comprehend.
And then his eyes opened. And he was alone. In his stairwell. Without Ilya.
That reality felt impossible after the experiences he’d just had. He was sure that this was a normal feeling after sex, and tried to remind himself that he’d had the world at his fingertips the whole night, that asking for anything more would be selfish.
Every thought that popped in his head was contradicted by the next, fighting back and forth between the absolute lingering bliss and the impending loneliness.
Shane took a breath and grabbed the railing before pulling himself to his feet. He straightened out his sweatshirt and wondered if he pulled it up to his face, would it smell like Ilya? Secretly, he was hoping that his whole bedroom would share that smell. The thought brought another smile to his face. He started climbing up the stairs to head back to the apartment, almost as if he needed to race there before Ilya’s smell evaporated from the sheets they had just been in.
And then his prayer from before the kiss was answered in the form of a soft knock.
Shane had barely made it up five steps. He paused for a second, wondering if he had hit the metal railing somehow, leaving behind a knock-like reverberation echoing in the stairwell. He shook his head slightly, as if shaking out the thought that it could be anything else. He continued up the steps more slowly.
Then there was a second knock, and a buzz in his sweatshirt pocket.
There was no mistaking either of those sounds. He practically snapped his wrist yanking his phone out of his pocket.
LILY: the car is not here, and is cold. can i keep waiting inside?
He looked towards the bottom of the stairs at the door. Shane felt absolutely frozen in place.
Move, fucking move, he thought.
It felt like an eternity, but he snapped out of it and sped down the stairs. In any other scenario, he’d be scolding himself for moving so carelessly, reminding his brain that he could’ve broken an ankle and missed half the season. Right now, however, it didn’t seem fast enough.
He grabbed the door handle, took a sharp breath in, and bit back a smile. He looked up towards the ceiling as if he were looking through it, privately thanking whatever god was up there that he got even another second with Ilya tonight.
Shane yanked the handle, maybe a little too hard, and looked out as Ilya turned around to face him. Ilya was holding his arms close to his chest, trying to keep in his heat. He smiled at Shane and nodded towards the inside stairwell. Shane pulled the door open more, allowing Ilya enough room to move inside. Shane wondered how it was possible to see someone again after only a moment apart, and still be caught off guard by their beauty. Ilya’s cold bitten nose and cheeks only made his eyes stand out more, and Shane felt almost dizzy standing on his feet. Ilya shimmied past him towards the stairs, and he leaned against the door after closing it.
Ilya sat down on a step and looked up at Shane, rubbing his arms to warm them up. “Fuck, Montreal cold is different than Boston cold.”
Shane couldn’t help but smirk a little. “Or maybe you’re a big baby.”
Ilya chuckled, shook his head, and looked up at Shane. “You think I am a baby? You should see your face when my team beats you. Bright red, is almost embarrassing.” Ilya smiled and dropped his arms, evidently warm enough again. He stood up and walked towards Shane, their eyes never losing contact. He leaned in and kissed Shane again, just as tender as it had been minutes before.
Shane let himself get lost in it. The kiss wasn’t overly sexual. Instead, it leaned towards something that he would normally categorize as romantic. But he couldn’t bring himself to put Rozanov anywhere near that word just yet.
Ilya pulled away far too soon, moving back towards the stairs. He held Shane’s hand in his and pulled him to sit on the step with him.
Shane moved and sat down before he had time to question it. “So,” he started. “Should I be concerned that there’s a missing cab driver somewhere? You know, if you wanted to come back in, you could’ve just asked.”
Ilya turned to look at him, leaning back against the railing where Shane had sat before he left. He paused, and Shane read it as Rozanov wondering if he should say the thing that came to his mind. Ilya did.
“Would you have minded if I did?”
Shane didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. It was a question that probably needed a real answer, not just the usual banter they carried between them. He found himself screaming in his head, of course not. I would’ve wanted you to stay the night. And the night after that. And maybe even the one after that. Tonight has been one of the best nights of my life, and I don’t want it to end.
Instead, he simply and quietly said, “no, I wouldn’t have minded.”
It seemed like his response was enough for Ilya, who allowed a smile as he watched Shane. Shane smiled in return, and they let the peaceful quiet between them swallow them up for a moment. Shane looked down at their feet two steps below them, as Ilya moved his own foot to gently tap Shane’s.
Shane silently started to wonder about the things that seemed so big between them. The rivalry, which was constantly fed to become even stronger and angrier by the MLH, other players, the fans, and the media. The feeling that he wasn’t entirely sure where he fell on the spectrum of liking men, although it maybe and reluctantly felt a little clearer after tonight. His parents, especially his mom, who might actually murder him if they found out who he was fucking.
The fact that it didn’t just feel like fucking. Not tonight at least.
All of these things that felt so heavy, so intense between them, quieted down just enough when he was around Ilya. The noise in his head dimmed to a dull and almost unnoticeable rumble. And that had to mean something, right?
Shane wasn’t sure how long he’d been spiraling, though realistically he was sure it was only a couple of seconds. He cursed himself for wasting any time on this precious clock of Rozanov coming back inside. He knew it would probably only be a few minutes until the clock ran out, and the cab did actually arrive.
“You know,” Ilya said softly, pulling Shane out of his head. “Tonight was nice, not just because I made you come hands free.”
Shane rolled his eyes but smiled. “Are you gonna hold that over me forever?”
“Hopefully forever,” Ilya replied, almost in a way that made forever seem possible. Shane reveled in that thought, but he pushed it down just a little. “Unless I can magically get you off without even touching you next time. Then I will hold that over you.”
Shane snorted at that thought. “Yeah,” he allowed himself to admit. “Tonight was fun.” He looked down at his hands in his lap. “Is it always fun? Like that?”
Ilya took in his question and thought for a moment. “Yes,” he acknowledged. “That is usually the whole point. But some times are more fun than others. More special or more… connected, I guess.” Shane looked back up, and, as if he were receiving a message in his brain sent by Ilya, he interpreted his answer to mean that tonight was one of those nights that felt more special and connected.
The clock was ticking on their time left to be together for the night. Shane pictured the cab only a few streets away, and he felt a sudden rush of bravery fill his veins.
“I hope every time feels like it did tonight.”
He could see Ilya’s eyes searching his face, and he braced for a sarcastic reply. Ilya just smiled and nodded instead. “Me too.”
Shane didn’t realize he was smiling until it had already been seen by Ilya. The quiet in the stairwell crept back in, warmly wrapping around Shane and Ilya.
“So what is your favorite food?” Ilya asked, jolting Shane with the oddness of the question in this moment. He couldn’t believe that this was what Ilya wanted to talk about right now with the clock running out.
“What? My favorite food?”
Ilya shrugged with the nonchalance Shane was so used to seeing on him. “I am stuck here, might as well learn more about you. We have certainly known each other long enough. I think I deserve to know what your favorite food is, no?”
Shane’s jaw was slightly dropped, and he quickly shut it when he realized it was hanging open. He cleared his throat. “I uh,” he mumbled. “I really like salmon. And grilled vegetables.”
Ilya squinted almost imperceptibly. “Are those really your favorite foods?”
Shane suddenly felt warmer, almost compelled to answer the question again. “I guess so. It’s a lot of what I eat with my diet.” He tipped his head back and rested it on the wall behind him. “I’m always on my diet, but I guess when I’m not, I do really like burgers and shakes.”
This must’ve been the answer Ilya was looking for, because he nodded almost victoriously. “Those are better. They actually have flavor.”
“Alright, asshole,” Shane grumbled, biting back a laugh. “What are your favorite foods?”
Ilya sighed dramatically. He reached up and grabbed his chest over his heart. “Hollander, I thought you would never ask.” Shane let out the laugh that he was trying to keep in as Ilya continued. “I am sucker for ice cream. Any kind. Especially if it has cookies in it.” Ilya paused for a moment and cocked his head slightly. “You know, Sochi has a great ice cream place. You will have to end your diet and try it out.”
Shane smiled and shook his head. “I doubt that’ll happen, but thanks for the tip.” The smile lingered a moment before slowly dropping as Shane decided to be bold again. “I think I’m actually a bit more anxious about the Olympics than I mentioned earlier.” He could see Ilya taking in his words as he looked back towards his hands. “I mean, of course I’m unbelievably excited and proud. How could I not be?” He glanced back up and saw Rozanov’s face was one of intent listening. “But, to be going alone. And the pressure of performing on that kind of stage. It’s maybe just… a lot.”
Ilya took in this admission and nodded slightly. “I am nervous too. Maybe for same reasons, maybe for other reasons.” Shane seemed to catch something in his eyes that made him think it actually had nothing to do with the Olympics, but Ilya continued. “I am trying to remember that it is just hockey. Is what we do every day. Plus a little extra performing.”
Shane agreed with this perspective, and he suddenly felt less alone in how he was feeling. He knew that Ilya was someone who was strong and tough on the outside, but more than once now he had seen that armor crack. Tonight had felt like he’d seen those cracks more than any other time combined, and he couldn’t help but feel more connected to him.
He once again felt the clock ticking.
“Do you think,” he started, but paused. It felt like he couldn’t get the words out. He swallowed hard, and tried again. “Do you think at a place like the Olympics, our rivalry could take a backseat? Like the focus would be shifted enough that we could be… I don’t know. Something else?”
Ilya’s face was suddenly harder to read. “Something else? Like what?”
“I’m not sure. Just not… Hollander and Rozanov, always at each other’s throats in front of other people.”
Shane could see Ilya’s brain moving at a pace he was worried about. He was worried that he had overstepped, had expected too much.
“I think,” Ilya slowly said. “That we will have other things to worry about than how we are put up against each other.”
Shane nodded a little bit, not sure how to interpret his response. Ilya must’ve sensed his concern, because he gave another light tap at Shane’s foot. Shane glanced at their feet, smiled a little, and look back to his face.
“You will probably be too busy trying to fight for your bronze medal. No time to worry about me.”
Shane laughed softly and shook his head. “Right. Bronze medal.” He thought for a moment about what Ilya would be doing with his free time during the games. Would he spend time with friends from his home country? Would he be with old hookups? Shane remembered what Ilya had said about his coach’s son, and he couldn’t help but feel an unexpected sting of jealousy that he knew shouldn’t belong to him. He cleared his throat. “So, what will you be doing when you’re not playing or in the village?”
Immediately, Shane felt like he’d asked the wrong question. Ilya looked down and was quiet for a moment. “I will be with my family. My father wants me to attend some events.” He looked back at Shane. “Being home is not… is not fun for me.”
For a second, Shane could’ve sworn that he had seen Ilya's eyes shimmer more than they normally do. A little more wetness that isn’t usually there. Shane suddenly felt like he wasn’t the only one saying the brave things out loud tonight.
“I’m sorry. Is your family intense about hockey?”
Ilya winced and mumbled, “something like that.”
Based on Ilya’s reaction, Shane knew he was off base with the assumption that it was related to hockey. He felt a heaviness in the air that wasn’t there before.
This time, Shane tapped Ilya’s foot. He got a small smile in response. “Whatever it is, I hope it’s better than what you’re expecting it’ll be.”
Ilya swallowed and nodded. “Thank you, Hollander.” He offered Shane a small smile, just enough to balm any more worries Shane was having.
The quiet came in again. Shane couldn’t think of what to say to follow that up. So he went with something light to match Ilya's question about food.
“What are you gonna do when you get back to your hotel tonight?”
This earned a genuine laugh from Ilya, who gave Shane one of his rare, unguarded grins. Shane felt more relief come over him, feeling light like he had before they’d talked about Russia.
“Why?” Ilya asked, still smiling. “Worried that I will be hiding the body of the cab driver?”
Shane laughed alongside Ilya. “Look, all I’m saying is that it’s suspicious that they’re still not here. I’m worried that you’ll be texting me at four in the morning asking for ideas on where to dispose of a shovel.”
“You have no faith in me. You think I can not deal with my own mess? You must not know anything about Russians.”
“I do have faith in you, but I have less faith in your knowledge of good places in Montreal to hide a body.”
Ilya pretended to be shocked and nervous. “Hollander, do you know where to hide a body? I think I should be worried. I am not safe. I was right earlier when I asked if you will murder me.”
Shane smiled and shook his head, looking down at his hands. He knew that the clock would be running out any second. “Well, if you do need help, you have my number. Just call and I’ll be on my way. I wouldn’t turn down even more time with you tonight.”
Ilya’s laughter died down naturally as he watched at Shane. Shane looked back up and smiled softly at Ilya, unsure of how his words landed. He knew they were true, but that didn’t make them less scary. He was more than relieved when Ilya leaned forward, cupped Shane’s cheek in his hand, and softly rubbed over the freckles under his thumb. Shane’s heart rate picked up, and he allowed his eyes to close just as Ilya kissed him. This kiss was just as tender as the others that came before during the night, but he could tell it was fueled by something more. Ilya usually slid his tongue along Shane’s lip to ask for access, but he seemed to just want to linger for a moment instead. Shane wasn’t about to stop him.
This was everything. The things that felt so big outside of this stairwell felt so small in this moment. Shane had what he wanted. It didn’t matter if this sometimes felt sacrilegious to everything else he’d experienced and knew up to this point, because right now, it felt like he was seeing heaven itself. Any doubt he’d had earlier in the night when Ilya left the first time was suddenly rendered impossible. His brain even let him believe Rozanov felt the same way.
Shane didn’t process the car horn he heard outside the door until Ilya pulled away chuckling.
“Fuck,” he said, his accent somehow thicker and voice somehow deeper. “What is opposite of phrase, ‘saved by bell’?”
Shane smiled too, and thought about the answer. “I don’t know, maybe cockblocked by the honk?”
Ilya snorted and sat back, pulling himself to his feet off the railing. Shane knew his whole body was still catching up to itself, and that he was stuck where he was for at least a few more minutes. He watched as Ilya dusted off his coat. He could tell that Rozanov was lingering, and didn’t want to walk out the door just as much as Shane didn’t want it.
Ilya smirked. “Fuck. Now you know there is no body to hide. But do not go and start thinking that Russians are not capable of that.”
Shane couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He mustered up the last of his bravery. “I won’t,” he started. “But the offer stands if you decide you want to call me at four. I’ll still answer.”
Ilya’s smirk shifted into a soft smile. “Maybe I will call.” He stepped back and turned, carefully grabbing the door handle. Shane saw him hesitate as he started to open it.
Without giving Shane enough time to process, he let go of the handle, quickly turned on his heels back towards the stairs, leaned forward, and kissed Shane again. Ilya’s hand came back up to Shane’s cheek where it had rested a moment ago, and Shane reciprocated by tangling his fingers one more time into Ilya’s curls.
It was over too fast, but it left both of them breathless.
“Goodnight, Hollander,” Ilya said softly.
Shane smiled as he caught his breath. “Goodnight, Rozanov.” He saw one more smile from Ilya before he turned back to the door and pulled it open, stepping back into the cold Montreal air.
Shane watched the door close. He took another moment to breathe. He again thanked any and all higher powers that gave him the few extra minutes with Rozanov that he asked for. Once feeling returned to his body, he slowly pulled himself up. He licked his lips softly and smiled before walking back up to his apartment to make sure the sheets did still smell like Ilya.
They did.