Chapter Text
When Ilya’s father dies, it is Cliff who books his flight and drives him to the airport, much to Ilya’s begrudging agreement.
He hugs him tightly, muttering his condolences, he tells him he loves him, that he’ll be there for him when he gets back, and sends him on his way.
He rushes back only just in time for their game against Nashville, his head isn’t in it, they lose, but it doesn’t feel like a big deal as it usually would.
A week later, the tv played idly in Cliff’s hotel room as he packed his suitcase, Rozanov was meeting the team in Montreal for their game, flying straight from Russia.
Cliff had just gotten off the phone with him when Hollander appeared on the tv, he knew the man wasn’t going to flaunt about winning but still he had half a mind to turn the tv off there and then.
“Mr Hollander! Do you have any words for Mr Rozanov regarding his disappearance from his last game?” The reporter had asked.
Cliff scoffed at the question, reporters are such dickheads, well at least 90% of them in his personal experience.
“His father passed away” Hollander replied bluntly, and Cliff raised a brow at the defensiveness in his tone, “he had every right to not play last week” the Metro Captain stated with narrowing eyes.
The death of Rozanov’s father was public news, it was as though they were trying to trick the dude into saying something and sounding like an asshole.
“I have nothing but condolences for Rozanov, our rivalry starts and ends on the ice, outside of it I wish him nothing but the best” Hollander said earnestly.
Cliff hummed in surprise, he knew Hollzy was a goody two shoes with only nice things to say about everyone, but everyone usually didn’t include Rozanov.
“Mr Hollander, are you disappointed Rozanov will be back in time for Boston’s game against Montreal?”
Cliff frowned, what kind of question was that?
Hollander seemed to be thinking the same thing judging by the look on his face, “no, why would I be disappointed? I always play better against Rozanov, playing Boston without him just wouldn’t feel right” he answered.
More follow-up questions were shot at him, more microphones shoved in his face, but Hollander shook his head, “no further questions” he stated.
Cliff couldn’t help but laugh dryly, Roz’s skin was probably crawling hearing Shane Hollander defend him.
***
Their game against Montreal was a complete shitshow and Cliff was absolutely crawling with guilt.
He played terribly the rest of the game and, unknowing as to why, Ilya did too. He looked completely shaken, Cliff had never seen him go as pale as he did when Hollander crumpled to the ground in a heap on the ice, unmoving.
He looked almost out of it in concern, god he looked like he had seen a ghost, he almost looked… heartbroken?
When the game was over, Ilya had disappeared, not giving Cliff a chance to get a word in, to ask him if he was okay, to wonder what happened out there on the ice.
He wasn’t at the hotel room when he got back, it hadn’t looked like he had stopped by either and Cliff waited, worried and confused until eventually Ilya showed up.
He didn’t say anything and neither did Cliff, the latter merely followed his movements as the man walked over to his suitcase, grabbing a change of clothes and a towel.
Ilya stopped and sighed, finally meeting his eyes, “I visited Hollander, told him you did not mean it, he is okay” he said an Cliff was taken aback at the relief he felt, because fuck he would never forgive himself if he ended a man’s career, especially Hollander who seemed to live and breathe hockey.
“You visited Hollander?” He asked, suddenly finding the absurdity in that statement because Rozanov hated Hollander, all they did was insult each other.
He had so many questions, maybe they were friends or something, that would explain his reaction on the ice, explain why he went out of his way to visit the guy in hospital.
“Yes… as captain, you know” Ilya replied with a shrug but he didn’t meet Cliff’s eyes.
“Okay I’m gonna ask something crazy but I have to know… are you and Hollander like-“
Ilya inhaled sharply, eyebrows shooting up, Cliff frowned before continuing, “-friends?” He asked, Ilya was silent, Cliff was confused.
“You know you don’t have to hide the fact you like the guy we all know you chirp the players you like the most, and well you chirp Hollander more than anyone” Cliff teased and Ilya seemed to freeze.
Ilya walked around and stiffly sat on his bed, opposite to where Cliff was sitting on his.
He wiped his hands on his knees, “I want to tell you something, but umm, but I am scared you will see me differently, that you will be… angry” he stated, filling the air with tension so thick there wasn’t a knife sharp enough to cut through it.
Cliff frowned, “…you know I’m not mad you’re friends with Hollander right? I mean I get he’s on another team but y’know… hockey is just a game” he replied, confused as to where the hell he was going.
“Hollander is not my friend” Ilya said, eyes darting up at Cliffs before darting back to the floor between them.
“Well he is but, he is not just my friend” he clarified, swallowing hard, he looked up again for Cliff’s reaction but the man merely looked confused.
“I am bisexual” he said and Cliff blinked, staring at the man impassively, Ilya raised a brow at his lack of a reaction, did he just not know what bisexual meant? “That means I like women and men… like romantically” he cleared up.
“Yes I know what bisexual means,” Cliff said, his eyebrows knitted together, like he was trying to figure out what to say, trying to piece together what Ilya was saying.
Ilya was used to him being… slow so he didn’t immediately take his silence as threatening.
“Are you saying you’re in a relationship with Shane Hollander?” Cliff couldn’t believe the words coming out his mouth because seriously, what the fuck?
Ilya smiled a strained smile, “he’s my montreal Jane, has been… the whole time” he confessed.
“Oh my god, you’re in love with Shane Hollander” Cliff said, immediately feeling his mouth go dry.
He paled, “oh my god, I just hospitalised the man you love” he gasped, looking absolutely terrified.
Ilya frowned, this was less shouting than he expected, “you are not… mad at me?” He questioned, confused.
“No… are you mad at me?” Cliff asked, looking entirely on edge.
“I was, a little, but no, it’s part of the game, we all get our bell rung eventually” Ilya replied, repeating Shane’s words with fondness.
Cliff sighed in relief, “I really thought he would move out the way, I was going too fast to stop” he said, wringing his hands guiltily.
“It’s fine Marly, really, aren’t you… I don’t know, annoyed? I lied to you” Ilya said, face twisted in confusion.
“Umm shocked, yeah, I mean I don’t care that you’re bisexual, or that you’re dating Hollander, I mean he’s one pretty dude, I think I get it…” Cliff frowned, “but also it’s Shane fucking Hollander, I thought you hated him” he said, struggling to wrap his head around it.
Ilya laughed, the tension leaving his body bit by bit, “no, is just how we are, I love him” he said, unable to wipe the smile from his face.
Cliff grinned, “I thought you said Russians don’t blush” he teased.
“I am not blushing!” Ilya retorted defensively, throwing his pillow with as much force as he could muster at the man but he could feel himself go redder.
Cliff let out a cackle, catching the pillow, “dude you so are” he scoffed, throwing it right back.
“Okay so maybe Hollander is an exception” he mumbled admittedly.
“Roz and Hollzy sittin’ in a tree k-i-s-s-i-n-g” Cliff started singing teasingly.
“What is this song? Stop it!”
“First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a golden carriage” he sang.
“I hate you."