Chapter Text
Shane put the car in park and gently nudged Ilya.
“Ilya, wake up, we’re here.”
Ilya groaned softly, pulling his eyes open and taking in the view in front of him. They had arrived at the cottage. He had seen some of this place in the editorial piece they did on Shane but seeing it in person was a different story. The wooden frame mixed with opaque glass, exposed rugged brick work and view of the lake beyond was breathtaking.
“Wow, this is some place. Your real estate fetish paid off.”
“Shut up. This is… this is home to me.”
“I know, Shane.”
Ilya rubbed his eyes and pushed open the car door, stretching out his legs which had been cramped from the plane ride and car journey here. His neck felt really stiff, a dull ache throbbing where the scars were and the tape was pulling on his skin.
He gingerly pulled himself up, finding Shane’s hands on his arms, helping him.
“I can manage myself.”
“I know, but I want to help.”
Ilya did his best to not smile like a fool at Shane, but must have failed as Shane’s face grew red, his freckles darkening.
“Come on, you must be exhausted, let’s get you to bed.”
Shane glanced at Ilya as he took his hand to pull him toward the cottage. It wasn’t lost on him that this was the first time that Ilya would be in a place that he lived in and he was nervous.
They got through the front door, shoes off and Ilya led the way into the open plan kitchen and dining room, the vast expanse of windows framing the calm and serene lake view outside.
Letting out a low whistle, “I can see why you prefer to live here.”
Shane came up behind Ilya, wrapping his arms around him, putting his nose into his neck. He smelled like Ilya again, now that the hospital scent was gone. It felt like a drug to Shane, like he could drink him in forever and never have enough.
“Do you want to go to bed first, or shower?”
Ilya smirked, “You know what I want to do.”
“Yes, well, me too but doctors’ orders, nothing strenuous, right? So how about a quick shower and then a rest and we can… later.”
Ilya nodded, not exactly happy with having to wait but the exhaustion was crawling up his spine, and he knew he needed to sleep.
“A shower would be nice.”
Shane pulled Ilya toward the ensuite bathroom, leading the way into the large room and turned on the shower. As the room started to fill with steam, Shane removed Ilya’s Boston General Hospital hoody, tossing it into the corner. The rest of his clothes followed suit.
Shane smiled shyly before ripping off his own clothes with speed and walking backwards into the hot flow of water, pulling Ilya with him.
Ilya’s hands came up to wrap around Shane, pulling him closer until they were both under the spray of water. They stayed there, swaying against each other, not rushing, just content to be here, together.
Shane could feel the way Ilya’s limbs were getting heavy and knew that he needed rest, as much as they were both half-hard – that would just have to wait. He picked up a sponge, filling it with shower gel and slowly, but deliberately, washed Ilya. He rubbed off the horrible remains of the hospital, dried blood and tape residue that was smattered all over him.
He took care with Ilya’s chest which was still a terrifying purple colour and made sure to avoid his neck where the gauze was holding up but was getting soaked.
He worked his way down Ilya’s muscular body, from his arms to his hips, his legs, his feet. He tried his best to avoid even glancing at anything that would become a distraction to them; that wasn’t what Ilya needed right now.
He finished by washing his hair, letting the soap run down his body. Ilya’s eyes fluttered closed with Shane’s hands in his hair, a soft groan coming from the back of his throat, swaying unsteadily on his feet.
“I’ve got you, Ilya.” Shane shut off the water and darted out to get a large towel for Ilya. Wrapping him up, arms and all, before wrapping a smaller towel around his own waist. He led them into the adjacent bedroom, drying off Ilya and helping him into Shane’s clothes.
Ilya smiled softly as he looked down at the plain grey t-shirt, “I thought you would have tried to put me in a Metros t-shirt.”
“You can wear that tomorrow; I don’t want to scare you away on the first night.”
“You couldn’t scare me away if you tried.” Ilya leaned in, finding Shane’s waiting mouth. This kiss was different to any other ones that had shared in hotel bedrooms. It was slow and tender, not hurried and frantic. Ilya thought this might be his favourite kiss he has ever had.
Shane helped him into the bed, crawled in beside him, and used the remote to lower the blinds, shutting out the view and blocking the sunshine.
“No, Shane, you can leave open, s’ok.”
“Shhhhh just rest now, Ilya.”
Before Shane had even finished the words, Ilya was gone. His fingers were laced through Shane’s, his face turned into his arm. Shane didn’t want to disturb him, not when he needed the sleep so badly, so he shuffled himself lower, resting his chin on Ilya’s still damp curls and napped with him.
Shane woke some time later, wrapped up in Ilya’s limbs. He had no idea what time it was, the shutters blocking out all the light. He moved slightly, aiming to reach for his phone on the bedside locker but Ilya grumbled, a low groan and pulled Shane in even closer.
There had been a moment, many moments, in the hospital where Shane had thought he would never get to have Ilya back again, that he would never wake up. He had thought he would never feel those ocean-coloured eyes on his, never see the confident smirk on his face and never hear his deep voice again. A voice that made him laugh, made him breathless. Hands that caressed him so gently and shoved him into hockey boards so harshly. The relief that he had Ilya here now with him, alive, recovering, calm was overwhelming.
Tucked into Ilya’s neck and confident he couldn’t be seen, Shane let loose some of the emotion he had been trying to put into a box inside his head. He let his tears fall, spilling onto the bed sheets, trying his best to not get them on Ilya and wake him up.
He thought back to all the nights they had seen each other, when he wanted to beg Ilya to stay, but couldn’t. He could never ask it, he never wanted to know the answer, was too afraid Ilya would say yes, or would say no. He had dreamed about waking up beside him, wrapped around him, limbs tangled and breath mingling and not one of those dreams came close to how it actually felt. It was like he had been missing part of his soul and here in bed, with Ilya, he felt whole again.
Seeing Ilya fall heavily to the ice had broken something in Shane. It was like it turned off all the noise, and the pointless opinions around him and just left one thing in front of him - Ilya. And he realised he could live without a lot of things, would happily make sacrifices if it meant waking up tangled in these arms every day forever.
“Shane. What’s wrong?” Shane hadn’t realised that Ilya had woken up.
“Nothing, sorry, I thought you were asleep. Go back asleep.”
Ilya rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure, I’ll just ignore that you are not ok.”
“I’m fine, Ilya.”
Ilya ignored him, pulling his tear-stained face up to his.
“Shane, look at me, look at me.” Reluctantly, Shane met his eyes, finding a pool of concern in them. It just made Shane cry harder.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be… I need to be strong for you.”
“But you are strong for me. You are. You came to the hospital, and you stayed and you helped me. You held me and explained things to me and brought me home. You are so brave, Shane. I don’t like seeing you crying but not because you shouldn’t, I don’t want you hurting.”
“Shane, look at me.”
It took Shane a few attempts, but he eventually made his eyes find Ilya’s again.
“Shane, I know you think you need to be strong and hide this from me, but I feel better knowing that you can tell me when you are sad.”
Ilya thought about what he would have been like, if it was Shane who took the hit and Shane who was in the coma with a broken neck. Ilya knew he had gone through it but from his perspective, all he could remember was the initial pain and then nothing really until he heard Shane’s voice floating around him, telling him he loved him over and over again.
Ilya let his arms trace up Shane’s bare arm, tickling patterns into his skin.
“Shane, I cannot imagine what I would feel like if it was you… I don’t think I would be able to live… I cannot think of it.” Ilya shook his head, trying desperately to get the images out of his head, banishing them in case they had the audacity to come true.
“Ilya… I was so scared I had lost you forever. I was so afraid.”
“I know Shane, I know” Ilya pressed kisses into Shane, pressing as hard as he could given his stiff neck and weak muscles. It was like he was trying to convey to Shane how much he loved him, how much he needed him and how destroyed he would be to live without him.
“I love you, Ilya.”
“I love you too, Shane.”
They fell back asleep, tangled together, skin damp from Shane’s tears.
The next time they woke it was from the sound of Ilya’s stomach rumbling.
“Hungry?”
“How can you tell?” Shane chuckled at him, brushing a soft kiss to his cheek as he sat up in bed.
“I’ll go make us some lunch. Or dinner. I have no idea what time it is.”
Shane pressed the remote again and the shutters automatically started rising. It was pitch black outside, the moon high in the sky, casting a glow over the expanse of the lake.
“Wow, krasivyy.” Ilya’s words came out as a whisper, his eyes roaming over the scene beyond the window. Shane’s eyes crinkled at the Russian words, trying to guess the meaning of them.
“I’m so glad you are here, Ilya.”
“Me too, Shane.”
Shane pulled on a jumper, the air cooler now that the sun had set and made his way to the kitchen. Rummaging around in the fridge for a while, he pulled out the burgers he knew Ilya would like. Shane never really ate anything like burgers, preferring to eat macro friendly food but he just couldn’t seem to find the same motivation to care about that right now. It was like that part of his brain that held all the obsessive focus was turned off for the first time in his life. The peace was nice.
The food was nearly ready when Ilya arrived in, standing behind Shane at the cooker and wrapping his arms around him, pressing soft kisses into his neck. Shane melted into him, their bodies fitting together as if they were cut outs of each other.
“Dinner is nearly ready.”
“This looks nice.”
“The burgers?”
“No, you cooking for me in the kitchen.”
“Fuck off.”
Ilya laughed as he moved to the table, bringing cutlery and condiments with him. He opened the fridge and chose a beer for himself, holding one up to Shane as a question.
“Yes, ok.”
“Good, Hollander, we are celebrating.”
Shane piled the burgers onto a plate, grabbing the toppings and buns and bringing them all over to join Ilya at the table.
“And what exactly are we celebrating?”
“This. The cottage. You. Me. Being out of the hospital. All of it, I don’t know, I don’t care, I just feel like we should celebrate.” Ilya shrugged, holding out his drink to cheers with Shane.
Shane smiled, “Then it’s a celebration, cheers Ilya.” He clinked their drinks together, both grinning at each other.
The tucked into their burgers in calm silence. Ilya couldn’t remember ever having time to relax with Shane. He was so used to it always being a rush, in secret, in stolen moments. It was nice, he thought, having time laid out for them. He didn’t want to shatter the moment, but he realised he knew very little of what had actually happened over the last week while he had been out of it.
“So, will you tell me, what happened in the hospital? My brain is a bit foggy, and I can’t remember much.”
Shane swallowed his food, images flashing back of the last few days. He never wanted to relive them and if he had his way, he would never speak on them again. He never wanted to remember how Ilya looked with all the wires coming from his body, the severe neck brace, the machines beeping out of control because his heart wouldn’t slow down.
He didn’t realise he was panicking until –
“Shane, Shane, it’s ok, I’m ok now, it’s over. You don’t have to tell me.” Ilya laid a hand on his leg, squeezing reassurance.
Shane risked a glance up at him. Ilya looked so worried and concerned about him, he wanted to kiss that look off his face and never see it again. He took a deep breath.
“No, it’s ok Ilya, you want to know what was happening and that is only fair.”
Shane took a long drink of beer, stealing some time to steady himself. His eyes drifted out to the glistening water and dark banks along the side of the lake.
“I was playing my game earlier than yours. When we got to the airport to fly back to Montreal, JJ came over and asked if anyone had heard about you… I hadn’t checked my phone yet, I knew you were still meant to be mid game so I didn’t think to look at it.”
Shane smiled shyly, inadvertently admitting to Ilya that he knew he schedule inside and out and only wanted to check his phone when there was a chance Ilya would text him. Ilya responded by gently rubbing his leg, a look of soft wonder on his face.
“And then the tv was showing replays of the hit, from every angle. And I saw you fall to the ice, over and over again. And you didn’t move. For so long you didn’t move.” Shane could feel the tears slowly running down his cheeks, but he didn’t move to stop them.
“I didn’t know what to do. They were calling us to board our plane, but I couldn’t move. Hayden was trying to grab me and I just… I just walked away, didn’t even tell him where I was going. I don’t think I knew where I was going.”
Another drink of beer, Ilya’s hand was frozen on his leg, his face stuck in horror.
“I made my way to the desk, the lady helped me get the next seat out to Buffalo airport. I don’t really remember the flight there, not really. But when I landed, my phone rang. It was a number I didn’t recognise, and I thought about not answering but then what if it was you, somehow? So, I answered it. And it was Cliff Marleau.”
Shane smiled, the call had been frantic and stilted, both of them trying to figure out what was going on but Shane’s panic won over and Cliff had been so kind.
“Cliff was great, he didn’t even hesitate, just said yes and met me at the door. Hearing from Cliff what had happened and how bad your injuries were… I felt like… like… I can’t explain…”
Shane let his head fall to his chest, his breath huffing out of him, one hand shaking on the table, the other clutching at his chest. He needed to be closer to Ilya, so he sank to his knees in front of him, letting his head fall into Ilya’s lap, his hands coming up around his waist.
“Shane, you are so brave.”
Ilya ran his hands through Shane’s short hair, making slow circles down to his neck. He could feel Shane’s haggard breathing, his shoulders hitching with the effort of keeping himself in control. Shane didn’t want to leave Ilya’s lap, so he didn’t.
He told Ilya about everything that had happened, how gracious the Raiders had been, how accepting of him they were. He was still blown away by their kindness and care for him. He looked up at Ilya.
“I don’t think my team will be as accepting but your team didn’t even blink at me. They just nodded, some of them hugged me and sat with me while I was falling apart. When we are back... I’d like to thank them properly if I could.” The question sat on Shane’s face until Ilya fully processed what he had said.
He responded with a warm kiss, his body curling down to meet Shane.
“Of course, moya lyubov’. They are good team.”
“One day, I will learn Russian for you so I can understand what you call me.”
Ilya let out a small laugh, he didn’t think he would be able to be any way calm about hearing Shane speak in Russian back to him. He vowed to teach him a few words, his body heating at what this would do to him.
Shane ploughed on, telling Ilya about what he saw when he was allowed into the room. The wires, the bruises, the beeping machines. His entire body had gone rigid, the images flashing brutally through his head. Ilya kept stroking him, his hands finding every part of his skin he could reach.
It was only when Shane got to the part where Ilya had returned from his final surgery that Shane was able to move his limbs again. His hands found movement first, gently moving up Ilya’s back, tracing his spine.
His face was still in Ilya’s lap, and he moved his face slightly, nuzzling into his shorts, feeling other parts of Ilya waking up to his touch.
Shane kept nuzzling, his face pushing further into Ilya’s shorts, his breaths coming in shorter bursts. He had been so focussed on Ilya surviving, recovering and being ok that he had turned off any of his want, but it came alive now. It was like a need that would not be tamed, he needed Ilya, needed him like he was a lifeline.
Ilya’s hands were hot on his skin, his caresses getting harsher, rougher, harder.
“Shane… I…”
“Do you want me to-.”
“Yes, I always want you.”
“That’s not what I was asking.”
“Yes, I know. Fuck, Shane, I need you. Can we… can we go to bed.”
Shane responded immediately, rushing to his feet and pulling Ilya by his hand back to the unmade bed. It was normally Ilya shoving Shane onto the bed, pinning him down, but today, Shane wanted to take care of Ilya. The doctor had been very clear, nothing too strenuous and to be mindful of Ilya’s neck, which was recovering from two different surgeries.
He gently guided him to the bed, pushing him down softly on his back, running his hands down his body and under his clothes. He gently tugged Ilya’s clothes off, exposing his skin which was shining in the moonlight. The bruise on his chest looked more like a dark shadow in the dim light and Shane decided to pretend it was just that and not dwell on the fear it usually ignited in him.
Shane leaned over Ilya’s body, making sure he was ok.
“Is this ok? Are you comfortable?”
“Yes, is good, Hollander. Ok, yes, comfortable yes, but getting uncomfortable.”
Ilya motioned down his body, his hand reaching for his hard cock, which Shane thought did look rather uncomfortable.
Shane batted his hand away, smirking.
“Hands off, Rosanov, this is mine.”
“Yes, yes, yours, just… hurry up.”
Still smiling, Shane trailed hot, wet kisses down Ilya’s stomach, achingly slowly. Ilya’s hips started to move off the bed, desperate for Shane to touch him. Shane pushed his hands against Ilya’s hip bones, his fingernails pressing into the delicate skin.
Ilya was the one writhing underneath him, but Shane wasn’t exactly unaffected. His own cock strained against his loose shorts, vying for attention. Shane ignored it, his entire world was focussed on Ilya laid out under his, body trembling, breaths coming in short bursts.
Shane didn’t wait any longer, couldn’t wait any longer. He flicked his tongue out, meeting Ilya’s glistening cock, eliciting a low moan from the man.
He pushed on, his tongue leading the way, his mouth following until the full length was touching the back of his throat. He took a moment there, relishing in the fullness in his mouth, the taste and scent that was just so Ilya. Shane’s eyes fluttered closed. No matter how many years it had been between their hookups, this was one place that quieted the chaos in his mind, that shut off the incessant worried voice and the stress from everywhere else. When Shane was with Ilya, everything else was quiet.
Ilya’s hips thrust upwards, itching for friction. The action caused Shane’s nose to smash into his pelvis, but Shane didn’t loosen the grip his mouth had on Ilya. He followed the motion and let his mouth create the much-needed sensation that Ilya was chasing. Ilya’s hips continued to thrust and Shane met every movement.
Shane’s hands came up to join his mouth, squeezing and pulling. The added touch made Ilya groan in pleasure. Shane’s eyes flicked up to his face once, making sure he wasn’t straining his neck.
The bedsheets were fisted into Ilya’s hands, his knuckles white. His whole body seemed to go tense.
“Shane, I’m… Shane…” His breath hitched and his hands tried to push Shane off him. Shane didn’t let him, he stayed where he was, drinking him in, swallowing the warmth down his throat. And still he stayed, letting Ilya’s cock soften in his mouth, relishing the taste of him. Ilya’s body which had been wound so tightly just a moment ago, almost deflated into the bed, the tension leaving him.
Shane worked his way back up Ilya’s body, letting his tongue mark little trails along the way.
“Still ok?”
“More than ok.” Ilya pulled Shane into him, their mouths crashing together. His limbs felt heavy, like they had been filled with lead, like he was sinking into some delicious soft substance. He couldn’t seem to open his eyes or move anymore. He tried to think of the last time he felt this happy and came up with nothing.
He opened his mouth to try speaking but Shane pressed his lips to his, silencing his half-formed thought.
“Sleep, Ilya, you need it. I’ve got you.” The words washed over him like a warm safety blanket, and Ilya felt himself drift off. He wanted to stay awake; to touch Shane and not leave him awake and frustrated but he couldn’t seem to do it.
Shane watched Ilya fight against sleep, a bemused smile on his face. He didn’t think he would ever get used to watching Ilya Rosanov fall asleep in his arms. He had seen Ilya glare so harshly at players that they withered away, his words so cutting that they rarely came back for another bite. The coaches in the league were both awed and terrified of the angry Russian. They all wanted him on their team and never wanted to play against him. Shane had witnessed first hand the fear he elicited but looking at him now, his features soft, his eyelashes resting on his cheeks, he couldn’t be further from the aggressive persona on ice. His lips were slightly bruised from kissing, but a ghost of a smile hinted, as if he had drifted off thinking happy thoughts.
Thinking back to all those years ago, when they were both barely eighteen and Shane had thrust his hand out to meet Ilya, even then it felt like there was a magnet between them. He had never anticipated this. Never anticipated that it could turn into more than hotel hook ups and clandestine meetings. That it could turn into love.
Shane dusted a soft kiss to Ilya’s forehead, lingering there because he could.
His phone screen lit up the room, the blue light casting shadows into the corners.
Shane groaned. He knew that real life was out there, needing to be dealt with and needing his attention. For all intents and purposes, him and Ilya had disappeared off the face of the earth days ago and no one had really heard from them. He didn’t feel ready to bring in the outside world and burst their bubble but as his phone lit up for the second time, he knew this wasn’t going to wait forever.
Reaching over as gently as he could to not disturb the sleeping man beside him, Shane grabbed his phone. There was an overwhelming number of notifications filling up the screen. He had no idea where to even start, his thumb scrolling until he found a name that felt safe.
Mom: Hi Shane, how are you guys doing? Did you make it back to the cottage ok? How is Ilya’s recovery going? If you need anything, we are only 10 mins away.
Another message was under this one.
Mom: Do yourselves a favour and stay offline, I will handle it until you are both ready.
Shane’s breath caught in his throat. His anxiety spiking, feeling like fibreglass under his skin. He clicked out of the chat with his mom and scrolled through the message tabs. Hayden, JJ, Cliff and Rose had all sent him multiple messages, but his eyes caught on the Metros group chat. He clicked in, dread flowing into every single cell in his body.
His eyes raced through messages from the whole team. He scrolled back to the last time he had been online and started reading.
‘Is that real’
‘What the fuck’
‘Rosanov??? Is it true?’
‘Hollander, what the fuck?’
‘Coach told us but none of us actually believed him… seriously, are we being punk’d?’
‘Did you miss our last game to play nurse to Ilya fucking Rosanov?’
‘Hollander, you better have a good explanation for this, because what the FUCK.’
‘Is our fucking Captain a cocksucker for the fucking enemy?’
Shane’s heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest. It almost felt like he was floating above himself, nothing felt real. He stopped reading, if this was the reaction to his Coach telling the team about Ilya, he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to keep going.
Figuring it couldn’t get any worse, he clicked into Twitter, morbidly curious at what his mom had been hinting at. He knew with absolute certainty that not one of the Raiders had leaked their secret to the media, he trusted Cliff Marleau and the guys he had met. He knew it would never be Greg McSweeney either, he had looked heartbroken in the hospital, knowing his teammate had caused Ilya’s injury and Shane’s heartache.
He didn’t have to scroll far before he was confronted with a video of him and Ilya, kissing outside Buffalo Airport. The video started with them talking, Ilya saying something seriously to Shane. Shane responded with a shrug and leaned into him, his arms under his hoody, Ilya’s hands on Shane’s face. You could see the gauze around Ilya’s neck, limiting the movement. It wasn’t a steamy kiss by any means, but it brought a smile to Shane’s face. You could tell, even in the grainy, shaky video the adoration in both their faces. They both looked happy and relieved, and as the kiss ended, they both had sappy, romantic grins on their faces.
Shane had very little photos of him and Ilya over the years, other than professional photos from games or promos. He had never even seen them in photos at after parties, their teams tended not to mix. This was the first time he had seen them together like this and his fingers reached out to stroke the screen.
Without meaning to, his fingers pushed the video away and the comments ticked onto his screen. He read feverishly through a mix of some of the vilest hate comments he had ever seen but also some supportive comments doing their best to bash back the trolls. It looked like the hate was winning the war and Shane groaned reading hot takes about him, accusations about game manipulation, homophobic slurs and weird para-social narratives about their sex life.
He clicked out of social media, figuring that wasn’t the best place to hang out and went back into his messages. He fired quick proof of life messages to Cliff, Hayden and JJ, promising Hayden he would call him later to talk about the team. He opened Rose’s messages to a flurry of texts that read more like a stream of consciousness.
‘Shane, are you ok, you missed your game???’
‘Shane, is everything ok? The news is being vague and you’re not answering?’
‘Shane, please respond?’
‘ILYA ROSANOV?’
‘OMG SHANE! Firstly, I hope you are ok, the media is a cesspit, stay away from it. I really hope you are ok. If you need anything, you know where I am. Love you x’
‘Ok you guys are way too hot, that video… jeeeeeesus.’
Shane smiled, Rose was a good friend to him. He shot off a quick message, hoping she would understand why he had basically gone to ground and ignored her for so long. Not able to help himself, he went back into the Metros group chat and kept reading.
‘So it was true, fucking hell.’
‘Hollander and Rosanov, fucking gross man.’
‘I cannot fucking believe this.’
‘Ugh, we have all been showering next to Hollander for years. I’m so grossed out right now.’
‘How can we trust Hollander to score against Rosanov now?’
‘You all know Shane can see all of these messages, right? Shut the fuck up all of you.’
The last message was from Hayden and Shane appreciated the support. He should have known from his Coach’s reaction that this is how the team would be, he just hadn’t expected it to hurt this much seeing how quickly the team turned on him.
Shane let his head fall back against the soft headboard; his eyes closed against the harsh glare of the phone. He had imagined what would happen when they came out but he always figured it would be when they retired. They had been so careful over the years, covering their tracks, barely engaging in even light conversation in public. He had known that the moment Ilya got hurt and Shane went to the hospital that it was risky, and he had been ok with that.
No amount of media backlash would have kept him away from Ilya. It didn’t make it any easier to read and his pulse raced in the aftermath. His hand reached out, looking for comfort and found it in Ilya’s curls. He threaded his fingers gently through the soft hair, looking fondly at the still sleeping man. If he could turn off the world and protect Ilya from this he would.
They hadn’t had many conversations about their families, but Shane knew that Ilya hadn’t exactly got a happy home back in Russia. He thought back to their time in Russia for the Sochi Olympics and how terrible Ilya had been. With hindsight, Shane could appreciate that Ilya had obviously been dealing with an awful lot, between his home team being knocked out in the first round and it being a home Olympics. He suspected his father and family had not exactly been kind to him either.
It had stung Shane how brusque Ilya had been with him; how short and cold his words had been. ‘Get away from me, Hollander’. Those words replayed in Shane’s mind for months after the Olympics, not helped by the radio silence from Ilya even after the Games had finished.
His fingers stilled in Ilya’s hair. It dawned on him that Ilya would never be able to go back home again. Not back to Russia, not back to his family. Shane had no idea what would happen to him if he did, but he knew it wouldn’t be good. In fact, it would be very, very bad. No matter how bad things would be for Shane, they would be so much worse for Ilya. His heart shattered into a million pieces.
“Shane, what is wrong, why are you holding so tight?” Ilya’s words were mumbled and dulled from sleep. Shane released his hair immediately.
“Sorry, I didn’t realise I was hurting you.”
“No, is ok, come back. What is wrong?” Ilya pulled Shane’s fingers, putting them back in his hair, a small, satisfied smile glancing over his face at Shane’s obedience.
“It’s not important right now, Ilya, you can go back asleep.”
“Shane… moy lyubimyy, I can hear you panicking in your head.”
Shimmying down the bed, Shane simply handed Ilya his phone. Burying his face in Ilya’s neck, he closed his eyes, squeezing them shut to block out the blue glare of the phone.
Time must have passed by, but Shane felt like it ground to a halt. He itched to look up at Ilya, gauge what his reaction was but he couldn't seem to find the strength to see Ilya’s world shatter on his beautiful face.
“This is ok, no? Is a nice video of us, we look happy,” Ilya put his hand under Shane’s chin, pulling his eyes up to meet his own. His face was a mixture of sleep and confusion.
“It’s… everyone knows now. Look at the team chat,” Shane furrowed back into Ilya’s neck, as if he could hide from the damning words on the small screen.
“Ah yes, your team is assholes though, no? We knew this, everyone knows this.”
“Yeah, I know, but… are you not bothered by what they are saying about us?”
“Yes, very much, but only because it is your team and they are being mean to you. You have done so much for them, and this is what they say… not very nice to their captain,” Ilya shut the screen off, throwing the phone somewhere on the bed, hopefully never to be found again, thought Shane.
“But Ilya… it’s out now. And I know we never really spoke about… about what would happen if – when – it got out. But your family, Russia… It will be bad for you.”
“Ah,” It dawned on Ilya why Shane seemed so heartbroken for him, he wanted to laugh at how misplaced Shane’s care was and would have, if Shane wasn’t looking at him with such earnest and open eyes.
“I don’t need to ever go there ever again. I ah, my home is here now. With you. There is no home in Russia for me anymore.”
“Ilya, I can’t ask you to…”
“You are not asking, you did not ask me to. It was decision I made, for me, for us. There is no family for me in Russia.”
“But your father-.”
“Dead,” Ilya didn’t mean for the word to sound so harsh and final and when Shane sucked in a breath from shock, it spurred Ilya on to explain it better.
“I didn’t tell you, I couldn't find the words to. I don’t know how to explain it. He was not a good man, he was not good father. And he had been sick for a long time. They hated me, Shane. Him and my brother, both of them. I don’t ever want to go back there; I won’t ever go back there. It is not home, here is home, with you.”
Tears pooled in Shane’s eyes, his lip trembling, “Ilya… I… I’m sorry.”
“No sorry from you, this isn’t sad for me. Not anymore.”
Shane pushed Ilya back, crowding over him, his hands bracketing his face as he leaned down to kiss Ilya. A desperate, hard kiss, teeth clashing, tears spilling onto Ilya’s cheeks.
Pulling back slightly, Shane sought Ilya’s eyes, as if looking for confirmation he was ok, not fully believing his words. As he pulled back, the crucifix Shane was still wearing fell forward, hitting Ilya gently on his chin.
“Moya tsepochka, you have it!” Ilya’s entire face broke into a wide grin, his whole demeanour changing as his fingers came up to hold the gold chain hanging between them. It was like watching the sun come out from behind the clouds, thought Shane.
“Oh yeah, I… they took it off you in the hospital and Cliff helped me get it back. I wanted to make sure I kept it safe for you… I hope that’s ok?” Shane looked a little unsure, eyes scanning over Ilya’s face.
“Thank you… I thought… I thought it was gone. It was my mother’s and it’s all I have left of her… thank you for minding it and getting it back, I love you,” catching the chain with his lips, Ilya let himself relax. He hadn’t realised how much he was affected by the chain missing from around his neck. He had been avoiding bringing it up, as if to stave off confirming it was gone.
He thought back to their shower earlier and tried to pull forward any image of Shane wearing the chain, “Did you have this on the whole time?”
Shane laughed, “Yeah, you have been pretty out of it, I was waiting for you to notice.”
The look of confused bewilderment on Ilya’s face made Shane descend further into a fit of giggles and before long the two of them were lying together, clutching each other laughing. Shane didn’t really know what was so funny, but he felt lighter than he had done in years. The world was finding out about them and even if his team hated him now, who cares, Ilya didn’t need to go back to Russia and instead he would stay here, with Shane. Shane pulled him in even closer, their skin pressed up to each other.
“I love you, Ilya.”
“I love you, Shane.”
They drifted back into a calm sleep, the sun barely hinting at brightening the horizon beyond the lake outside.