Chapter Text
They lay in bed well past nine in the morning. Shane was not comfortable with this fact, but they didn’t have practice until that afternoon, and they had been up pretty late. He lay his hand gently on Ilya’s chest. He loved to hear him breathe, feel his heartbeat beneath his palm. Even better if he shifted to lay his head on his chest. He did just that, and smiled inexorably at the strong rhythm. He closed his eyes and breathed.
When he woke up again—when did he fall asleep?—Ilya was running his fingers through his hair. Shane smiled sleepily but didn’t move. He didn’t want this to end.
“Practice starts in half an hour—“ Ilya began.
Shane sprang up, all his alarm bells ringing at once. “What?!” He checked the clock and saw it was only 9:30. By now, Ilya was cackling like a lunatic. “Oh my God! Fuck you!” He screamed, thrashing Ilya with a pillow.
Ilya didn’t stop laughing and instead wrapped Shane up in a bear hug and threw him down to the bed. “Morning, Moy milyy kheruvim.”
“Uuugh!” Shane groaned, finally giving in to laughter too. “Ne delay takoy kherni!” He was very proud he was able to say that in Russian. He continued, “Why are you always doing shit like that?!”
Ilya first looked thrilled he’d spoken angry Russian to him, then he flopped back to the bed. “You seem to like it,” he replied in Russian.
Shane brushed his hair from his face. It really was getting long… “Maybe I should cut this,” he teased, knowing how much Ilya loved the hair.
Ilya looked genuinely concerned but also a little horny.
Shane laughed and pulled his hair up with the ever present elastic we wore on his wrist these days. “I wouldn’t,” he said, switching back to English. “But I will have to trim it again eventually. This is almost out of hand.”
“Mmmm, but it’s so good to hold you with,” Ilya said, not letting go of Russian yet.
Oooh, and hearing him flirt in Russian and really, really understand it thrilled him every time. Totally worth all the hours he’d spent learning. He’d try to keep it going. “Is that so?” He purred, liking how deep his voice became with the placement of those Russian vowels and consonants in his mouth. “Maybe I…don’t want you to hold on to me so much.” He thought that sentence might be a little awkward but—
Ilya kissed him and immediately Shane couldn’t care so much about grammar. Ilya tangled a hand in his hair and pulled it back so he had access to his neck. Shane gasped and held on to Ilya’s shoulders.
Then something was licking his thigh.
“Anya!” Ilya cried adoringly, letting Shane go immediately.
Shane flipped dramatically to his back as Ilya continued to speak lovingly to their dog in Russian. “I’ll just leave you two alone,” Shane joked.
“We need to walk her and feed her! She’s so abused!”
Shane groaned performatively and dragged himself out of bed.
——-
After a long walk with Anya, they all sat down for breakfast.
“You’re going to over feed that dog,” Shane quipped, watching as Anya scarfed, what he thought, was an absurd amount of wet food out of a fancy bowl. Ilya spent more money on that dog than he did on himself.
“I am feeding her the right amount,” Ilya protested as though Shane had truly offended him. Shane had never had a pet, so he honestly had no idea.
“Okay, okay sorry,” Shane said with a laugh.
Ilya kissed his forehead to say there were no hard feelings, and then they were happily silent a few minutes as they ate their eggs and turkey sausage. Ilya had insisted on sausage, and Shane had insisted on turkey.
Shane was trying pointedly not to worry about today. It was his first day of pre-season practice with the Centaurs. He knew it would probably be okay, but he couldn’t stop thinking about worst case scenarios. However, anything that happened would be worth it; he would be with Ilya for the entire season. He would play with him every game. The thrill of that would probably never wear off.
——
“Hey love birds!” Wyatt Hayes greeted when Shane and Ilya arrived.
Shane flinched.
“Fuck off,” Ilya said affectionately, punching Hayes in the shoulder.
“I’m not singling you two out,” Hayes explained, “I’m saying that to everyone who walks in!”
Shane knew that Hayes was just being silly. Of course he would only say that to Ilya and Shane, but sure enough when Boodram and Dykstra came in, he shouted the same to them. To Shane’s surprise, instead of reacting with annoyance or by shouting self-conscious slurs, they both just laughed. He knew things were very different on this team from everything Ilya had told him, but seeing it first hand was amazing.
Though everyone was very kind, Shane felt awkward and out of place as the team chatted and warmed up. Ilya of course was talking to everyone and catching up. He and Boodram seemed especially close, which made sense--he was the assistant captain. Shane had never felt this…isolated before, aside from, of course, the way he felt when he left Montreal. Shane really needed Coach Weibe to get here so practice could start because his mind was heading down a bad path…
Suddenly Ilya’s lips were on his cheek and he subconsciously pulled away before remembering that this was fine. He repeated “It’s fine” several times in his mind.
“Shane?” Ilya asked. “You okay?” Then he scoffed. “Why did I ask? You are not okay. I can tell.”
“No, I’m fine,” Shane lied. Ilya gave him a skeptical look. “Really! Just, you know, anxious for practice to start.”
Fortunately, just then Wiebe arrived and called everyone to order. Unfortunately, the first thing he did was single Shane out.
“Let’s all welcome Shane Hollander to the team!” He announced happily. The team whooped and hollered, and Shane wished he could somehow sink into the floor. It got worse when Ilya gave him a huge hug and everyone laughed and clapped more. To his horror, Gen and Harris appeared out of nowhere to take publicity shots. Shane was certain he looked mortified rather than happy.
Thankfully, it was over soon and they started running drills. Shane could handle this part no problem. The idea of getting to play with a whole new team was thrilling. Obviously there’d been lots of new players over the years with the Metros, but there had always been the reliable standbys like J.J. and Hayden. Now, aside from Ilya, who he obviously had great chemistry with, it was fun having to establish himself with the rest of the team and the second shift line which would be his. And honestly, they were all pretty good. He had to admit that even Barrett was very impressive. He was fast; he was able to keep up with Ilya and Shane. That wasn’t really enough to absolve him of years of jerk-off behavior, but he was one of the only other openly gay NHL players, and Ilya seemed to like him well enough, so Shane had better try and get along with him.
When they all made it into the locker room after practice, sweaty and exhausted, Shane felt so much better. He wasn’t even rattled when Ilya kissed his cheek--well, maybe a little, but it was manageable.
“Awesome job out there,” Wiebe said, coming up to Shane as he took off his shoulder pads.
“Thanks, Coach.”
Wiebe didn’t even try to hold back his excitement as he gave Shane’s shoulder a squeeze. “We’re coming for the cup this year!”
Ilya, who was right beside Shane, piped in, “Fuck yes! And also Shane will be there--”
Shane elbowed Ilya and shook his head. “I’m sorry about him.”
Wiebe laughed. It was an unguarded and lighthearted sound. Coach Theriault had never laughed like that. “It’s gonna take some getting used to, the fact you two have been together for…years.” He didn’t look disgusted by that. He actually looked impressed. It still made Shane uncomfortable.
Wiebe then furrowed his brow and turned his attention to Ilya who was currently shirtless. He said something Shane couldn’t hear, Ilya furrowed his brow.
Though Wiebe looked positive overall, Shane could tell there was a little hint of…suspicion? Uncertainty? Something.
“Have a good night, you guys,” Wiebe finally said. Then he went off to talk to a couple of the other players.
To the untrained eye, Ilya looked unfazed, but Shane knew he was feeling off.
____
Ilya had driven them in his Mercedes, so they climbed back into it now to drive to their home. Shane didn’t think the excitement would ever wear off. Ilya was being more quiet than usual, but Shane wasn’t quite sure how to broach the topic. Once they’d driven ten minutes in silence, however, Shane had to do something.
“Want to talk?” He asked in Russian.
Ilya’s Russian reply was so fast that he was only able to pick out the words “talk” and “words” and “hard.”
“Could you try slower?” He asked. He realized after he said it that was probably the wrong thing to say.
Ilya exploded in a quiet rage. It was like that time years ago when Shane had asked him to tell him all his feelings in Russian even if he didn’t understand him. Only this time he could get some of it. He said “hard” a lot, and “understand” and “team.”
“Ilya!” Shane cried then switched to English, raising his voice. “Stop it! I want to hear what you’re saying.” Then he continued when he knew he should have shut up. “Also slow the car down! You’re going too fast.”
Ilya swerved to the side of the road and slammed on the breaks in a maneuver Shane was pretty sure he’d seen in those commercials that say “professional driver, closed course.”
“Fuck! Be careful!” Shane yelled.
They both sat there in silence for a few seconds during which Shane wondered if Ilya had taken his meds that morning. He was smart enough not to bring that up.
“I am careful,” Ilya said firmly in English.
Shane couldn’t stop himself from scoffing. He saw Ilya’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Wanna tell me what’s up?” Shane asked. It didn’t come out as kindly as he’d wanted it to.
Ilya punched the flashers on, and they listened to the traffic whirring by for a minute or two. “You still don’t want me to touch you.”
Shane looked down, his anger fizzling out. “You know I want you to touch me.”
Ilya shook his head. “In private.”
“We’ve only been out a few months! It takes time. You didn’t honestly think that everything would be perfect right away?”
Ilya worked his jaw and fumed. Shane hated to see him this angry--come to think of it, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him this angry. He reached over and put a hand on Ilya’s thigh. To his immense relief Ilya took his hand and squeezed it. Then he unbuckled his seatbelt and lay in Shane’s lap. Shane’s heart thundered with worry. Ilya held him around the waist and started to cry. Shane had witnessed these breakdowns before, and though it broke his heart, he knew how to handle it. He stroked his hair and waited.
After a few minutes, Ilya’s sobs turned to sniffles and he sat up, wiping his face. He looked ashamed like he always did after he cried.
“It’s okay,” Shane whispered, reaching over to touch his shoulder. To his surprise, Ilya leaned away.
“Don’t.” Then Ilya started the car up and drove them home at a much slower pace. Unfortunately, Shane’s belly was in knots, and he might have preferred Ilya’s normal speed since they’d be out of the car faster.
When they got home, Anya was barking happily at the door and as soon as Ilya opened it he immediately wrapped her in a hug. She licked his face and his ears and jumped all over him. He laughed weakly and completely ignored Shane.
Shane sidestepped around them and dropped his bag in the foyer before moving into the living room. He wasn’t sure what to do. This was uncharted territory; there had never been a time in all their years together when he didn’t feel like a hug and a kiss would help Ilya feel better. This time it seemed he wanted nothing to do with him. His heart clenched in fear even though his brain told him that fear was obviously unfounded. They’d just come back from their honeymoon in Spain for heaven’s sake. He took some deep breaths. Things were okay. Ilya was just upset.
Then Ilya was in his peripheral vision briefly before he darted up the stairs, Anya following of course. Shane paced in a circle in the living room. He wanted to text his mom…that’s exactly what he’d do. Maybe he should call her.
As he waited for his mom to pick up, Shane looked out at the soothing river view. He didn’t feel soothed.
“Shane, how’s it going!” his mom asked cheerfully. “First day with the Centaurs, right? I’m so proud of you, Honey. Of course I was so happy you were playing with Montreal, but having you back home is just--”
“Hey, Mom, yeah me too. I mean it was great, the practice. And--”
His mom’s tone shifted right away. “What’s wrong?”
Shane felt tears in his eyes, but he fought them back. “Ilya had a break down and this time it’s really bad. It’s worse and--”
“You’re both okay. Neither hurt?”
“Hurt? No. We’re fine.”
“Then you two will work it out.”
Shane groaned in frustration. “What should I do, Mom? What should I say?”
“Hon, you’ll have to figure that out.” She was quiet a few seconds. “I know it’s hard: you two having been together so long yet not really together. I remember when David and I…Well, once you move in with someone, there’s a lot to adjust to. You two got so used to seeing each other in little slices of time. This is the longest you’ve been together in one stretch by a long shot, right?”
When his mom said the last sentence it almost made him cry again. It had been the longest they’d been together--by a lot: half a year. They’d been so busy with the wedding and traveling and getting ready to start the season that he hadn’t realized it had been that long. What was the longest they’d lived together before? About a month
“Yeah, it’s been…” Shane breathed through the emotions and tried to get her off the phone before he sobbed. “Thanks, Mom. Yeah, we’ll, um, we’ll work it out.”
“You will. Love you, Honey.”
“Love you, Mom,” he whispered and hung up.
Then he took a bracing breath and looked up as though he could see through the ceiling to their bedroom upstairs. He would not cry. He headed upstairs making as much noise as he reasonably could so that Ilya would know he was coming.
He found him in the dark, face down on their bed, Anya snuggled up to his side. Shane felt like there was a wall there between them suddenly. And though he’d intended to go right over and give him a hug, he was paralyzed by the door.
Then Ilya lifted his head up a little. “Come here,” he said weakly.
It was as though Shane was pulled by a rope straight to his husband’s side. He lay down and let Ilya wrap him up in his arms. Then Shane kissed him chastely, and Ilya returned the kiss, sweet and gentle. Shane shifted so Ilya could lay his head on Shane’s chest and he gratefully did.
Shane released a held breath. “Ilya, I’m really sorry. I…I don’t know what to do. Can you please talk to me?”
Ilya smoothed a hand over Shane’s chest and sighed. “There is so much. I don’t think I can say it in English. And your Russian isn’t good enough,” he said mournfully.
Shane hated to hear that anything of his wasn’t good enough. “I will get better, and--”
Ilya put a finger to Shane’s lip. “Shh, you are good. I love you. You do not need to speak perfect Russian. I need to work on my English.” Ilya sounded so exhausted.
But Shane pushed anyway. “Maybe try to tell me?”
“I am sad that things are not moving faster. I know you are right when you say that it takes time. It has been so long. It has been twelve years, Shane. Do you not feel like that?”
He wasn’t sure he understood the question. “Yeah, it’s been twelve years. I know. It’s been a long time of us hiding but now--”
Ilya sat up and Anya seemed to realize things were serious, so she jumped down and curled up in her own bed.
“Yes! A long time hiding. Almost the whole time we were hiding, I wanted to tell people--”
“Bullshit!” Shane yelled suddenly, all his feelings bubbling up as anger. He stood and paced away. “You pushed me away so many times! I thought you fucking hated me after Sochi! I didn’t know what I’d fucking done wrong. I’d been into you for, like, four years at that point! And I was so, so fucking scared that you were going to end it--even though I kept telling myself that I needed to end it,” he finished, feeling like he was going a little crazy.
Ilya looked at Shane like he’d said something cataclysmic. He stood and walked to him like Shane was a ghost. “You thought I hated you?”
Shane shrugged and backpedaled. “I don’t know. Hated is a strong word. But I had missed you so much when you finally talked to me in that bathroom at awards night. And then we didn’t even kiss!”
Ilya looked like he’d been stabbed. “Kiss?”
Shane was shaking. “I wanted to kiss you and it scared the hell out of me. It…” he wasn’t going to cry. He wouldn’t do it. His eyes were stinging and he felt the wetness on his cheeks. “I was worried about you. I thought that you were going to get arrested or something--while we were in Russia. Some of the guys on the USA team were talking about being gay being illegal and I thought that--and then you wouldn’t talk to me,” Shane wanted himself to stop, but he couldn’t do it. Just like he couldn't stop the tears running down his cheeks. “And, God, I loved you so much even then.”
And suddenly Ilya was holding him close and Shane rested his head on his shoulder and held him so tight. “I did not want to get arrested,” Ilya explained. “That is why I wouldn’t talk to you in Russia.”
Shane sniffled. “I know that now, but at the time I was a stupid kid.”
Ilya squeezed him tighter. “You were sad we didn’t kiss that night in Vegas?”
“Yeah,” Shane whispered. Somehow even now it sounded stupid.
Ilya kissed his head. “If I had known you felt that way I would have kissed every inch of you. I think at that time, I still thought I had to trick you into being with me. That I had to make it fun or you would get bored.”
Shane finally laughed and it felt good, even if it was a weak, watery laugh. “Bored? Ilya, you’re by far the most interesting thing that has or will ever happen to me.”
“So it has hurt you all these years too?” Ilya finally said.
It took a few moments for Shane to piece together their conversation. Right. Being together and hiding for twelve years. “Yes. It hurt. But to me it didn’t hurt nearly as much once you finally said you loved me and I could say it back. It mattered most that we knew how we felt, not the rest of the world. It was honestly sexy to hide it, kind of.”
“Part of me wanted to say it after that first night,” Ilya admitted quietly, leading Shane back to the bed. “You were…perfect. I knew it was the biggest mistake of my life going to bed with you. From the moment I saw you fold your boring clothes, I knew I was in trouble.”
Shane laughed again and lay beside him. “From the moment you sucked my dick, I knew I was in trouble.”
Finally, finally Ilya laughed and Shane smiled, kissing his jawline.
They held each other a long time. And damn, being 30 made it a lot harder to stay up so late. Shane was exhausted. As much as he would love to have his husband fuck him, he honestly preferred sleep at the moment. It looked like Ilya already was asleep.
He crept out of bed and brushed his teeth and got ready for bed, then he snagged the extra blanket off the chair in the corner and pulled it up over Ilya and himself—since they had just flopped on top of the comforter.
The next thing he was aware of was a small fluffy creature getting into bed. Anya could stay. He was too exhausted to make her get down.