Chapter Text
Ilya knew something was wrong as soon as Shane woke up. His husband often woke up bright and ready to take on the day. He never had the chance to offer to make Shane’s smoothie before because his husband was already up and running the blender after doing some morning yoga.
Admittedly, Ilya had no idea how Shane made said smoothie. He did know the ingredients though, so how hard could it be to figure out? If Scott Hunter’s husband could do this, so could he. Shane sounded terrible and definitely needed all the nutrients he could get to help him get in better shape for the game. He knew no matter how much he encouraged his love to take the game off, his husband would protest. The best he could do realistically was make sure Shane was taken care of as best as he could before they had to leave. That he got to take care of Shane when he didn’t feel well, that he had a husband to love and care for, was such a gift. It was the opposite of what life always seemed to have in store for him, and he felt very proud to have come this far. And he was determined to live out the ‘in health’ part of their vows for as long as he could have said husband.
So Ilya smiled to himself as he slipped some ‘Emergen-C’ into the smoothie and pressed the button on the mixer.
Almost as soon as the Hollander-Rozanovs reached the arena, Ilya regretted letting his husband play tonight. As he watched Shane schlep into the locker room, bag barely hanging onto his shoulder, he definitely caught him rubbing at his throat and forehead. Sore throat. Headache. His stomach turned to knots as he thought of their conversation in the car ride over.
“I shouldn’t let you do this,” Ilya scolded himself, shaking his head as he drove.
Shane had been curled up in the passenger seat with his head against the cool glass for most of the right but straightened up for the sake of arguing.
“Let me?” Shane shot. “I’m a grown ass individual, Ilya! I have a contract and my own brain and I can determine if I’m healthy enough to play and I’m fine.”
Yet Shane’s voice was much lower than normal, struggling to even finish one sentence as his words broke into a muffled squeak. It was painful to hear, as was the offense he took, thinking Ilya didn’t trust his judgement. It wasn’t that Ilya didn’t, he just wasn’t sure Shane was in his best state of mind right now with not feeling well. Ilya reached for his husband’s hand to squeeze once they were safely at a red light.
“I’m sorry, that was bad,” Ilya admitted. “I just mean…I’m worried about you. I wish you didn’t have to play. You don’t sound good and sometimes you push yourself too hard.”
He felt a little tug on his hand as his husband shifted uncomfortably.
“I’m a hockey player,” his husband mumbled in an exhausted voice. That’s the job. He offered Ilya a small smile as though to say ‘what can we do?’. It only made Ilya feel worse.
Maybe this was another reason why more queer players didn’t come out in the league- let alone get married: avoiding the hell that was watching the love of their life break their body down in the name of a sport.
Now that Ilya was watching his husband get dressed for a game he definitely did not feel up to playing, their job felt silly. It was just a game. Over-playing an injury or playing while sick was, yes, something players did every day- Ilya had himself. But he was older now and understood the risk better. It was frustrating to see someone he loved fold under the pressure of the job, all for the sake of making a short appearance in one game.
Well, if there was one thing Ilya could do, it was look after Shane tonight and watch for the first sign of his husband feeling too ill to play.
He just didn’t expect that first sign to come from his husband passing out in his arms.
“Someone help him!” Ilya screamed as he lowered Shane carefully to the ice.
In no time players from both Ottawa and Buffalo surrounded them both, meaning to help, but it felt suffocating.
“Give them space!” Ilya barked once the medic rushed to help.
“They’ve got this, Roz,” coach promised as he encouraged Ilya too to give them space to work. In a lower voice, he promised over the gossip of the crowd: “He’s going to be okay.”
The moments between the medic being called to the ice, jumping into the ambulance with Shane, and seeing his husband rushed into a trauma bay in the ER passed in a blur. Ilya watched in horror at the doorway as the man he loved was hooked up to machines to monitor his heart, had blood drawn and an IV inserted to get fluids into him. It was easy for coach to say Shane would be okay on ice, where players got hurt and yes, even passed out sometimes. But Ilya had a terrible feeling that he couldn’t shake. This wasn’t normal, whatever Shane had. How had he gone from having a sore throat this morning to this?
He swallowed nervously as the doctor came over to talk to him.
“Any unusual symptoms before the game?” The doctor asked.
Thank god they didn’t have to hide their relationship anymore. Ilya rubbed anxiously at the bare space on his left hand where his wedding ring usually sat; he typically took it off for the game to protect it and his fingers from injury. Even with his gloves, it felt like the safe choice. Now he regretted that. This wasn’t his teammate, it was his husband who was sick and not waking up in front of him. This was his family. He had texted Yuna in a panic in the ambulance, not only wanting her to know because of Shane but because he needed her there. He needed his mom.
“You can call me mom, if you want, Yuna had told him as she helped him with his tux before the wedding, “no pressure. I’m not trying to replace your mother at all but as a mom…I would want my son to know it’s okay to have another mother to care for him.”
God, he wanted both of his moms.
If he lost his husband too…
Ilya swallowed the anxiety away. Shane needed him to be strong, and the best way he could be strong for him was to answer the doctor’s questions.
“A sore throat,” Ilya finally replied in a shaky voice. “His voice has been bad. He was tired all day but determined to play. I tried to tell him not to, I promise. But he said it was just a sore throat. He said it was allergies."
“It’s okay,” the doctor placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to run some tests and take excellent care of him. A nurse is going to take you to ask some more questions.”
“Come with me please, Mr. Rozanov,” a nurse greeted as she ushered him away from the chaos surrounding his unconscious husband.
It was only then that he realized he was still wearing his Ottawa uniform. He felt like he was drowning in it.
The heart monitor beeped and antibiotics and fluids dripped down, down, down through the IV as Ilya sat at his husband’s bedside, holding his hand, he could see how dehydrated and far too pale he was. The temperature the nurse read was 38.3, and Shane’s blood pressure was too low while his heart rate too high. The doctors were worried about something called sepsis, which sounded terrifying.
“I’m sorry,” Ilya whispered.
A broken sob escaped him, he closed his eyes quick to fight the tears. He hated that no matter how integrated into north American culture he became, it was still his instinct to hide his pain. All because of his father. His father never showed how he really felt when his mother was sick; Ilya wasn’t sure he was upset at all. He opened his wet eyes. He didn’t want to be that kind of husband- and eventually, maybe, that kind of father. Sharing feelings was healthy. His therapist had told him this many times. Shane deserved to see how much he cared and worried for him, even if it was hard.
“I never should have let them send you out on the ice,” Ilya went on shakily. “You care so much about the game and your career- our careers. But I think…I think our careers could end tomorrow and I wouldn’t care, as long as I had you with me. That’s all I want, Hollander. Please, let me have that. Let us have that. Please be okay, moya Lyubov.”
“Not…fault.”
His husband’s eyes fluttered open weakly, yet beautifully, and found his. A soft smile crossed Shane’s face.
“Hi…” Shane greeted, his voice hoarser than ever. Then his eyes flickered around in a panic. “Shouldn't we be on the ice? Did I get hurt?”
Ilya frowned. “Do you not remember being ill this morning and me taking care of you like the proper husband I am?”
“I remember…smoothie. You…poisoned…me!”
He let out a bark of laughter. “You ass,” Ilya teased. “That was Emergen-C. Extra nutrients for your ‘allergies’. I looked it up. Allergies do not make you pass out into your husband’s arms during hockey games!"
It hit Ilya that maybe pouring extra vitamins into Shane's drink when he had no idea what his levels were might not have been a good idea. What if he set something off that messed with his levels, and it caused all this? It sounded crazy, but not implausible, after today
Suddenly, Shane looked very worried. “Wait…that’s what happened?”
Ilya told him everything; Shane tried to sit up, taking it all in. Then he had the nerve to ask:
“So…did we win?”
“Oh my god, you’re impossible!” Ilya cried, throwing his hands in the air. “It’s a game, Hollander! I almost lost you over a game.”
This time, a loopy smile crossed his husband’s face before he replied in his frog voce: “Tis sexy when you called me Hollander.”
“Impossible,” Ilya mumbled again. But he had to give in at how adorably out of it Shane was. Leaning forward, he placed a kiss to his husband’s warm forehead and warned softly: “Do not ever do that to me again, Shane.”
“I won’t, Ilya. I promise.”
At that moment the doctor came back into the room and the two broke apart, blushing. They may be out and comfortable with kissing in the locker room and sexy dancing in the open at clubs, but it was still a little odd for strangers to see them together in public after so many years of hiding. He wondered if that feeling would ever go away.
“It’s nice to see you awake, Mr. Hollander,” the doctor greeted. “How do you feel?”
“Perfect,” Shane replied with dry sarcasm. Literally, he was barely audible. “Put me in, coach.”
Ilya threw him a seriously? look, though the doctor laughed.
“What is wrong with him?” Ilya demanded.
He didn’t care how much time the tests took. Surely the doctors had some kind of answers now beyond ‘we think’ or ‘we’re worried about’.
“Your tonsils are very inflamed,” the doctor informed Shane. “How long have you had a sore throat?”
Ilya was beside himself. All this over a sore throat? He looked to his husband in a panic. “Just since this morning, right? You told me it was allergies!”
Reluctantly, Shane shook his head. Cold, icy worry and realization sank through him.
“I didn’t feel great yesterday,” Shane admitted. His voice fell to a whisper to make it easier on his throat. “I could talk, so I didn’t think it was bad. I hadn’t slept great, I thought that was why.”
“That’s why you were so cranky,” Ilya remembered.
Shane hadn’t even wanted to go with Ilya to take their dog, Anya, to Shane’s parents so she could stay with them during their road trip after the home game. Then during their day off they could go on a couple’s day trip. Shane had been excited about it originally but didn’t even want to discuss it. He was withdrawn and off until they went to bed together and woke up the next morning, like this.
“I thought I was okay,” Shane whined shyly. “I’ve had sore throats.”
“Ah, but yours is different than a classic viral sore throat,” the doctor explained. “I suspect your tonsilitis was caused by bacteria. One of your tonsils is quite a bit larger than the other. Do you notice more pain on one side of your throat?”
Swallowing, Shane felt his throat and nodded.
“Given your high fever and low blood pressure, we’re concerned about sepsis,” the doctor went on. “It’s rare, but sometimes it can happen if a bacterial sore throat, like tonsilitis, doesn’t get treated.”
This was all Ilya’s fault. He sank in his seat, burrowing in the anxiety and anger overwhelming him. He had known something was wrong, and he wasn’t even honest with the coach about it. All he had to do was make sure Shane didn’t play. Instead, his husband overworked himself, likely shot his heartrate far beyond what his body could handle right now, his blood pressure dropped and…
He could still feel the dead weight of his husband falling into his arms.
“It happened so fast,” Shane whispered, echoing Ilya’s thoughts.
“Unfortunately, that can happen,” the doctor replied. “Fortunately, you got excellent care from your team medics, who got you to us very quickly. We’ve started you on antibiotics for the infection. When your labs come back, we’ll know exactly which specific medications to treat you with. We’ll be monitoring you very closely. You’re in great hands, Mr. Hollander. Any questions?”
Aside from, how could this happen, Ilya shook his head.
“Do I need tonsil surgery?” Shane asked.
Shit, Ilya hadn’t even thought about that.
“Likely not right now. That’s typically for recurrent cases of tonsilitis, and surgery is very risky if you are septic. Right now, we’re focused on treating the infection, then we’ll go from there. Any other questions?”
“Could Ilya be sick too?” That was Yuna’s voice.
They turned, surprised to find that Shane’s parents were in the doorway. They had obviously heard the doctor’s diagnosis; both of them were clearly worried but maintained their usual strong fronts.
How could she possibly be concerned about him right now?
“Tonsilitis is contagious, right?” Yuna went on. “Likely, Ilya needs to have tests and labs done too.”
“Yes,” the doctor agreed. “It certainly wouldn’t hurt.”
“But-" Ilya protested reluctantly.
“Shane needs to rest,” Yuna told him, “and you need to take care of yourself too, so that you can take care of your husband.”
She came over to place a hand on Ilya’s shoulder and another on Shane’s shoulder. He hadn’t had a parent to be concerned for him like this, to advocate for him like this, since his mom. And if he were being honest with himself, he was a bit terrified to find out if he had what Shane had.
“Would you like me to come with you?” Yuna offered softly.
“I’ll stay with Shane,” David promised as he came over to take his son’s hand and told Shane: “You need to rest, son.”
“Yes, Dad.”
Shane’s eyes were already fluttering closed. Ilya bent over again so that he could give his love another forehead kiss and promise of I love you.
“Come with me,” Yuna encouraged, holding out her arm for Ilya to take.
He knew she only had his best interest at heart, so he took her arm and smiled: "Yes, Mom."
Later, Ilya sported his very own superhero bandage on his arm from where they drew blood as he returned to Shane’s room. David and Yuna went back home to take care of Anya and promised to return with a change of clothes for Ilya.
He didn’t feel like much of a superhero. He still couldn’t believe how fast this all happened. Fortunately, Shane was already looking a lot better as he woke up again to find Ilya lingering in the doorway.
“Rozanov!” Shane greeted, face brightening.
“Hollander,” Ilya nodded. He couldn’t help but to grin. Well, this was Déjà vu. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah?”
He had just gotten off the phone with their coach. Both of them were granted the next road trip off. He already knew how Shane would react, but he would try his shot anyway.
“Will you come to my cottage next week?” Ilya asked. A smirk played as his lips. “Don’t go to Boston. Come to my house. It will be so much fun, so private. No one will know. We could have a week or even two.”
They were both giggling like schoolboys at this point.
"We'll we be completely alone...together?"
Shane did a very tired and weak jazz hands, and Ilya giggled harder.
"Yes, unless your father forgets his only charger there."
They laughed harder until Shane had to swallow hard and ask for water.
“Wait, don’t you mean our cottage?” Shane challenged after.
Ilya came to his bedside, took his hand and kissed it.
“Yes, moya Lyubov, our cottage. Coach gave us both the road trip off.”
“But-"
“No buts.” This time, he grinned. “Except maybe mine.”
His husband shook his head incredulously. “You’re impossible.”
“No, you’re impossible.’
“No, you’re-"
They were close enough to kiss now, and knowing they had already shared all the germs, they did. Ilya was started on antibiotics ‘just in case’, at Yuna’s request to the doctor. Shane would stay in the hospital while the worst of the infection was treated. Already, his temperature and blood pressure were improving, but they were warned this could be a long battle with ups and downs.
However long it took to get his husband better, Ilya would be here, at his side.
“You should go home, get some sleep,” Shane encouraged.
“I did say ‘in sickness and in health’, didn’t I?”
The visitor’s couch in the room was already set up for him with blankets. Shane looked over to it, pouting.
“You’re going to sleep all the way over there?” Shane whined.
Rolling his eyes, Ilya waved his hand. “Move over.”
The bed was barely enough for the two of them to cuddle up together, but it was enough to hold his husband like he needed to, to ease his own beating heart.
His mother never had the support from her partner that she deserved while she was sick. No matter what happened to him and Shane in their lifetime, Ilya knew he would always be there. He would never be scared away. He would make sure they both took care of themselves and would continue to do so, long after their hockey careers ended. They had each other, and Ilya had his new family. And that was enough to make Ilya comfortable enough to wrap his arms around his sick husband and finally get some rest of his own.