Chapter Text
There was a door in front of Shane. It was a very familiar door. In fact it was the door to his parents home. This shouldn’t have been as stressful as it was. He had been there the day before, and both his parents already knew everything he was going to talk to them about. He’d already done all this, in a much more dramatic manner, but still baring part of himself so openly was terrifying.
Ilya stood quietly next to him, supportive but waiting for him to knock. Almost certainly his parents were standing on the other side of the door, also waiting for him to knock. He was really struggling to do this.
A warm hand slipped into his own, as Ilya bumped shoulders with him lightly. Ilya seemed to have some sort of magical understanding of when Shane wanted to be touched, wanted comfort, and when he felt more prickly than a cactus and a single hair touching him would make him explode. He inhaled deeply, and knocked.
The door swung open after exactly two seconds.
“You didn’t have to knock, you know. You have a key.” His dad said, grinning slightly. Shane shrugged one shoulder. It felt like the situation called for the formality of knocking. Of his parents willingly letting Ilya Rozanov into their home.
Shane’s dad held the door open and motioned them inside. Shane could smell more baked goods and something more savory. David Hollander believed firmly in feeding everyone who entered his home, including but not limited to, the solicitors, random political canvassers and even, memorably, a failed robber. Ilya Rozanov was clearly not going to be the exception to his rule.
“Shane, Ilya!” Shane’s mom poked her head out of the kitchen. Her normally perfect appearance was marred slightly by what appeared to be chalk. She strode forward and hugged them both. It was mildly awkward because Shane had been in the middle of trying to untie his shoes with one hand, and both his father and Ilya had been trying to help him.
“Next time,” Ilya muttered, “we get you velcro shoes.”
His mom brushed past the chaos with the ease of someone who could organize a tenured professors office in under an hour. Given two she could probably redo their thesis in groundbreaking ways. “I’m just heating up water for tea. Ilya, can I get you something to drink?”
Ilya looked slightly off balance, which was exactly how Shane felt, “Sure.” He looked at Shane as if asking him what the correct answer to this question was. Shane wasn’t sure what Ilya was expecting him to do. He was going to have a ginger ale, and Ilya certainly didn't want that. So he shrugged. “Tea sounds nice?” Ilya sounded more unsure than Shane had ever heard. It was adorable.
“Oh excellent. And Ilya didn’t have any issues with driving your car?” She led them into the kitchen. It was cozy, and off putting to have them all in there. Shane felt like the fourth chair had been waiting for Ilya to fill it. He thought of the stuffed animals he used to put in the same place his boyfriend now occupied, pretending they were his friends. Shane hadn’t been a lonely kid, he had been too good at hockey for that, but he had been on a slightly different wavelength than everyone else. It had always made real connections difficult. Some of those stuffed animals were still upstairs, preserved supposedly because his mom couldn’t stand to part with them. Shane appreciated that they could both hide behind that lie. But he was insanely grateful at that moment because he desperately wanted to go grab the slightly wonky owl plush he had been especially fond of and compare it to Ilya right then. They both had the same ruffled bemused expression, the same sandy brown hair. The same gleaming eyes. It was almost uncanny.
“No no, I drive a lot of different cars, Shane's boring car was no issue.” Shane spat out his ginger ale, shocked that Ilya would feel comfortable enough to joke already. And seriously annoyed.
“Hey! It’s good in the snow! It’s practical. I didn’t see you complaining when you turned on all wheel drive.”
Ilya waved his hand back and forth, waving Shane's sentence away. “Is a boring car. Practical, but boring. Not an insult. I like boring.”
Both his parents raised their eyebrows doubting the truth of that statement. Most people wouldn’t have believed those words coming from Ilya Rozanov, but Shane’s heart melted. He gave Ilya a soft smile. Ilya smiled back.
“Mom, Dad, this is Ilya Rozanov, my boyfriend. I’m gay.” Shane thought for a moment, but he wasn't sure if there was really anything else he needed to add. That pretty much summed up the details.
“Thank you for telling us Shane. Ilya, it's wonderful to meet you. Again.” His mom’s eyes smiled, laughing at their attempt at redoing this scene.
Ilya nodded, “thank you for inviting me into your home.”
“Whats the plan?” She asked. And Shane and Ilya exchanged a look.
“What plan?” Shane said slowly. He didn’t have a plan for this. They were supposed to be talking. Well in fairness he felt like he had already stated all the facts. But this was probably the question time. It was just that he didn’t understand his moms question.
“Well. This will obviously have a serious impact on your careers, given that they are built around this rivalry. Now obviously you are both good enough at hockey that you don’t need that. But it’s still pretty mixed into your images. So how do we change that?”
Shane couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of this. He stared down at the table, the same one he had ruined accidentally with a science project gone wrong, the same one his dad had taught him how to bake at. Absent-mindedly he began tracing one of the dents left in it from various mishaps.
“I don’t know.” He said honestly, “figure out a way to let the public know we are friends first? Maybe start a charity? Mental health?” he asked and Ilya looked at him like he had hung the moon in the sky.
His mom snapped her fingers at him, “Exactly!” She strode into the hallway and came back wheeling in a blackboard. That explained the chalk all over her. Shane really should have known. Any time there was a puzzle to solve his mom went all out. She could put any conspiracy theorist to shame. He was a little disappointed by the lack of red yarn, maybe she hadn’t wanted to scare away Ilya. Little did she know Ilya had been putting up with Shane’s own personal brand of insanity for years.
Ilya shot him an alarmed look, “and I thought you were over thinker. Now I see New Yorker and this is genetic.” Shane laughed, and tapped Ilya’s foot with his own under the table.
His mom launched into a multi part plan, including but not limited to several contingency plans. Then after about ten minutes, where Shane was trying to pay attention to her and failing largely, she paused. “Who else knows?”
“Hmm?” Ilya asked, he was devouring all the food Shane’s dad had put before him. This was probably very exciting for him. Normally both Shane and his mom were reluctant to eat so much food high in sugar and low in basically anything else, but Ilya had the largest sweet tooth of anyone Shane had ever met. Including all of Hayden's kids put together.
“You two.” Shane started, “and Hayden. And I guess those two nurses. Oh and Rose but not about Ilya specifically.”
He looked over at Ilya who shrugged, “Svetlana has a few guesses. She knows I’m interested in someone, and that it's serious. And given how much she follows hockey she probably knows. But that's it for me.”
“No one else?” His mom asked faintly.
“No.”
“Would you have told us,” His dad asked, “if we hadn’t found out accidentally?”
Shane shrugged and Ilya shook his head, “probably not. We weren’t even ‘dating’ a few weeks ago.” Jokingly he grabbed Shane’s face, “but then someone went and spilled beans and now here we are.”
Shane tried to knock his arm away but the sling made most motions difficult. Ilya grinned at him, with vulpine intent. He continued, “maybe this is why you don’t drink. A few pain meds and you want to tell the world. Completely the opposite of usual Shane.”
“Alright alright, enough. You have as much to lose if not more Ilya. You wouldn’t be able to go home if it got out.”
Ilya shrugged, “nothing there for me now.”
Shane stared at him, that sentiment made him feel like he just lost to The Centaurs four to zero. “Ilya. I don’t want you to pick between your home and me.”
“I’m not.” Ilya replied, steadily.
“Yes you would be!”
This time when Ilya grabbed his face it was gentle but firm, “no, I really am not.” He pressed a kiss to Shane's forehead.
The moment was broken when Shane’s mom exclaimed, “Ilya your contract ends with Boston soon doesn't it?”
“Yes?”
“How would you feel playing for a team that doesn’t hate Montreal? Given that Shane still has several years on his contract.”
Ilya shrugged, “hockey is hockey.”
“You would be uprooting yourself again.” Shane argued, though he wasn’t really sure why. He just needed someone in this conversation to worry about Ilya, instead of worrying about Shane and Ilya.
Ilya didn’t look upset though, “maybe Canadian team? Ottawa? Is closer, and they can afford me. Plus is your home.”
Shane looked on aghast but also incredibly full of gratitude. Ilya was committing to them with his usual one hundred percent. “But they are awful!”
Ilya raised an eyebrow at him, “but I am very good. Don’t worry Shane, I will make sure that everyone knows how good we are before defeating you. Less embarrassing then.”
Shane's dad laughed openly at that, and Shane wondered what sort of nightmare he had created for himself introducing this silly delightful man to his parents.
“I would never lose to you!”
Ilya began listing times Shane had in fact either as an individual or as part of a team lost to him, with his own mother chiming in on Ilya’s side. By the end of it they were all laughing so hard arguing over one another that Shane could hardly remember why the entire plan had stressed him out so much. Ilya wouldn’t be alone, he had a support system now, it wasn't like when he was eighteen and not comfortable speaking English moving across an ocean alone.
Shane wished they had been closer then, so he could have given Ilya a friend during that time. But Ilya seemed more than capable of making friends, in fact he was probably better at it than Shane. Hayden had basically kidnapped him several times in order to become friends. It had been terrifying.
They continued talking and scheming throughout dinner, then yelling at each other over one of his parents favorite games. The entire night was one of the best Shane had had in a long time. Still he found himself yawning more and more as the night wore on, losing to the concussion in this manner.
Ilya noted this and began pushing Shane towards the door, helping him with the zipper on his coat and laces on his shoes. Shane smiled, Ilya was really good at hiding his soft side from the public and atrocious at hiding it around Shane.
The drive back was quiet, but as Ilya expertly parked the car Shane found himself saying, “Maybe I should have gotten injured a lot sooner. Look how well it turned out for me.”
Ilya shot him a glare, but it melted slightly at Shane's smile. “Yes, but do not joke about this. You will need to be in best shape to defeat me and my new team.”
“Ilya, that's a year away! You don’t even know who it will be.”
They bickered and teased all the way up to his apartment, then through the foyer. They traded chirps while getting ready for bed, glaring at one another while brushing their teeth. Shane was finding there was a way to win at brushing one's teeth. And he had definitely won. They even argued about what time Shane’s alarm was going to go off.
“There is no good reason to get up at six in morning. You can’t even work out.”
“Yes but it's important to keep a schedule.” Shane rolled over so he could stare at Ilya’s face laying next to him in bed. It was a dream to realize he would wake up and Ilya would still be there in the morning.
“No. I refuse, that's it, I'm going back to Russia. At least people there wake up at one like proper.”
Shane stared at him, mouth open, “One?! Like in the afternoon?”
“That is part of sentence that is most upsetting to you!?” Ilya laughed back at him.
They were both laughing now. And Shane realized that their rivalry may have been for all intents and purposes a lie, but both of them were never going to stop competing. And he was perfectly fine with that.
“You are going to be the death of me.” He muttered, pressing a kiss to Ilya.
“So we wake up at what. Ten? Ten is good compromise. Ten is reasonable.”
Shane sighed and set his alarm for eight thirty. Ilya huffed and pouted lightly at him, but they both knew they weren't going to get out of bed at eight thirty. In fact Shane was hoping they could spend the entire day in bed. He wondered how far they could stretch the interpretation of his doctors orders to avoid ‘strenuous’ activities. A few ideas popped into his head.
He smiled before snuggling into Ilya’s shoulder and promptly became more exhausted than he had ever been in his life. Ilya ran his fingers through his hair and Shane wanted to melt. He wished he could tell his eighteen year old self that this was his future, just to see how jealous he got of himself.
He couldn’t believe this was going to be the rest of their lives together, but he was so so excited for everything that was to come.
Because with Ilya by his side, Shane didn’t think there was anything that could stand in their way.
“I love you,” he whispered as he began to drift off. It was the first time he had said that to Ilya. But he felt so comfortable and safe at that moment. Besides he had no doubts now.
“I love you too.” Ilya whispered into the darkness of the room. And the words filled the space around them perfectly, like stardust in a nebula. And because they knew Ilya couldn’t help himself he followed it up with, “still better at hockey than you.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Shane muttered.