Chapter Text
Ilya wanted to sleep for a year.
His bed wasn’t even that comfortable (it hadn’t felt comfortable since Shane left it), but he tugged the covers over his head and sank down into it anyway. It had been five months.
There was a lot that Ilya should have been happy about. His team was headed to the playoffs, he had successfully cyber stalked the man Shane had been seen with at a restaurant (Francis Auchard. Judging by his instagram, the man was a complete asshole. Also judging by his instagram, he was still pathetically single despite getting to go on an actual date with Shane.), and he had gotten into contact with Hayden Pike.
Sure, Pike was a mediocre hockey player at best and a mosquito on the ice buzzing in Ilya’s ear at worst, but apparently he knew Shane.
Naturally Ilya had been texting him every day in the hopes that Pike would pass one of the messages along to Shane. So far, Pike hadn’t blocked him, but he also didn’t seem to be talking to Shane like Ilya wanted him to.
Ilya curled up tighter under his blanket, ignoring his phone as it buzzed once on his nightstand. It was probably Svetlana again. She had been checking in on him frequently after she found out about his ‘situationship’ as she insisted on calling it. She had looked at him knowingly whenever Shane’s ads played for a year before he ever met the man, but now she looked at him with pity instead.
It would be annoying if she weren’t so kind about it.
Ilya was wrenched out of his thoughts by his phone buzzing again. And then again.
Sveta usually only messaged once before coming over if he didn’t respond in an hour or two.
Ilya quickly squashed the hope rising in his chest as he slowly sat up, his blankets falling to rest around his waist. He reached out for his phone as if it was going to bite him, cautiously tapping on the screen to light it up and see his notifications.
There, sitting innocently as if they weren’t making his head spin, were three texts from Shane.
Shane: I know it’s probably been too long but I want to apologize.
I think I may have jumped to conclusions. I’m not on the internet much so I only just found out what you’ve been doing. I’m sorry for making assumptions.
Unless you’ve been talking about someone else, in which case please ignore all of this and feel free to block me this time.
Ilya scrambled to throw his legs out of bed, typing rapidly on his phone as he tripped over his own feet getting up,
Ilya: does this mean you will go out with me?
please
He cringed a bit at how pathetic the message was, but couldn’t find it in himself to regret it. Maybe being as pathetic as he was feeling would help to convince Shane that he was serious about this.
Typing bubbles appeared as Ilya stared anxiously at this screen, one hand holding the phone while the other patted around for his shoes.
Shane: I would love to.
I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have blocked you before you responded, that was rude.
I was just scared. And maybe a little hurt. I thought you had lied about wanting more than a hookup.
Ilya frowned, his chest panging. He had spent a long time wanting Shane Hollander to care about him, but the knowledge that that meant hurting him filled him with regret.
Ilya: no sorries. I should have never said anything like that in interviews
just in case I met you one day and needed to prove I was serious
I really like you, Shane
He bit his nails anxiously as he waited for a response, hoping he wasn’t being too forward.
Shane: I like you, too. I think maybe that’s why I freaked out so badly.
Are you back in Ottawa anytime soon?
Heart racing, Ilya scanned the text several times before he felt ready to type a response. Was Shane implying what it seemed like he was implying? Were they finally going to go on their date?
Ilya: playoffs start in a few days
promise I will sweep the stupid Cougars so I can see you sooner
should have a few days off while we wait for worse teams to finish their rounds
Shane: Fuck I can’t believe I forgot it’s playoff season.
I just looked up your schedule. Looks like you have a two-day stretch in Boston after your second game before you have to leave for the away games. Mind if I come by?
Holy fuck.
No, Ilya did not mind if Shane came by. Ilya would fall to his knees and kiss the ground on which Shane’s plane landed if he wanted. He would fly to Ottawa right that second if Shane asked, actually, practice and captainly duties be damned.
He glanced down at where he had stopped moving after his scramble out of bed, his shoes right in front of him and his keys sat innocently on a table by the door. He shouldn’t go straight to Ottawa. It would be a bad idea and probably freak Shane out, no matter how badly he wanted to.
Ilya: no, do not mind
please come by
promise we will not even make out until third date
we will go slow
I will prove how serious I am
It would probably be difficult for both of them, but Ilya was serious. As mind blowing as having sex with Shane had been that first day, it wasn’t the way he really wanted their relationship to start. Besides, he had never been in a real relationship before. He wanted to go slowly with Shane.
Shane: You don’t need to prove yourself to me.
I like the sound of going slow, though.
I want to get to know you beyond what you say in interviews.
Heart fluttering, Ilya typed out a simple response.
Ilya: me too
***
It was the best day of Ilya’s life.
Objectively, that shouldn’t be true. He was an award-winning hockey player with a fantastic team and friends surrounding him, but it felt true in the moment.
Twelve hours ago, he had scored the game-winning goal in game two of the playoffs against the Florida Cougars, and now he was picking Shane Hollander up from the airport after months of hopeless pining.
There was a lot that could go wrong, but Ilya felt sure that nothing would. The worst case scenario had already happened: Shane had stopped talking to him. After that, nothing else could compare.
He sat in his car, fingers tapping idly on his steering wheel while his eyes stayed glued to the doors. There was a huge arrivals sign hanging over them, but Ilya still found himself double and triple checking the map of the airport he had printed out for this occasion. He couldn’t risk Shane getting out of the airport and thinking Ilya had abandoned him there.
He wasn’t taking any chances.
Finally, only five minutes after Shane had texted that he was getting off the plane, Ilya spotted him coming through the doors. He leaped into action, shoving himself out of his car and racing around to take Shane’s suitcase from him. He gave the other man what he hoped passed for a normal, completely sane smile, and stowed the suitcase away in the trunk before opening the passenger side door for Shane.
“Hello,” he said, his voice breathless as if he had been racing across the ice instead of just waiting in his car for the potential love of his life.
“Hi,” Shane responded, not sounding much better. He was staring up at Ilya with huge, hopeful eyes, and Ilya had to tighten his hands into fists to keep from reaching out and kissing Shane in the middle of the arrivals lane. Instead, he gently nudged Shane towards the passenger seat and closed the door once he was inside.
There would be a time where he could pick Shane up from the airport and greet him with a kiss. Ilya was determined to make it happen. Unfortunately, they weren’t there yet– or more accurately, the world wasn’t there yet.
“I have been looking forward to this,” Ilya said, not bothering to be coy. There was time for that later, when they had gotten more comfortable with each other (and when Ilya could stop being worried that Shane might run away again).
“Me too.”
Ilya grinned to himself, his head tipped towards the window as he merged back into traffic so Shane wouldn’t see.
“So…” Shane began, “What are we going to do? You never said.”
Ilya hummed as he thought, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel.
“I was thinking, maybe… I make us lunch. We sit and talk, maybe we watch a game– I scored a beautiful goal last night, Shane–”
“Could we… sorry, do you mind if we don’t watch hockey?”
Frowning, Ilya darted a glance towards Shane. He had assumed Shane was at least a little bit of a hockey fan because of his knowledge of Ilya’s playoff schedule, but maybe he had just looked it up.
“Of course. Sorry, it is okay if you don’t like hockey. I promise I can talk about other things.”
“It’s not that!” Shane rushed out, his eyes wide when Ilya looked over again. “I just… it’ll be easier to get to know each other without background noise, right?”
“Right,” Ilya said slowly, his eyes narrowing. There was something about Shane’s words that didn’t feel entirely truthful, but Ilya didn’t push. After all, he hardly knew Shane outside of his PR-approved interviews. He was probably overthinking things.
“I’m excited to relax with you,” Shane murmured.
Suddenly, Ilya was thinking of nothing but how much he wanted to relax with Shane, too.
***
It was everything Ilya had imagined.
Everything and more, really.
Shane was curled up across from him on the couch, one of his legs extended to press his foot into Ilya’s thigh. It was a comforting weight, and Ilya dropped his hand onto his ankle to keep it there. Shane was talking animatedly about something he had done with his friend Rose– Rose Landry, apparently.
Ilya was too busy staring at his carefree smile to pay too much attention, honestly.
“–she actually said I should reach out to you a while back, but I guess I was too afraid.”
That got Ilya’s attention.
“You were afraid?”
Shane shuffled a bit, his foot twitching but not pulling away. Ilya tightened his hand just to be safe.
“Yeah, it’s– it’s a big risk, you know? Well, obviously you know, but… I wasn’t sure if it was something I was willing to do, and even if I was I still didn’t think you would want anything from me, so…”
He trailed off awkwardly, his eyes focused on the wall behind Ilya’s head.
Frowning, Ilya drummed his fingers lightly on Shane’s shins.
“I want everything from you, Shane,” he murmured. “I know it’s a risk, but I think it is worth it. Don’t you?”
“Yeah.” Shane’s voice was practically a sigh. His eyes sharpened as he finally looked back at Ilya, and Ilya felt his breath catch in his throat. He wanted Shane to look at him like that forever– determined and sure and wanting. “It’s worth it.”
“So Rose Landry did not tell you about my desperate begging on live TV?” Ilya teased, trying to steer the conversation towards lighter territory. This was meant to be their first date, after all, even if it was happening on his couch.
Shane flushed, one hand raising to scratch the back of his neck. “She probably would have, actually, but I kind of… didn’t tell her it was you? I guess maybe I was worried she would confirm what I already knew about your reputation, and I didn’t feel like hearing it. What I thought I knew, I mean.”
Ilya hummed, turning his head towards the blank screen of his TV as he worked to mask his hurt. “I hope you know nobody else matters to be in that way,” he said softly. “You are different.”
“You hardly even know me,” Shane said, his eyebrows rising disbelievingly.
“But I want to.”
It was hard to believe, but Ilya wanted everything he could get with Shane. There was a spark between them that he had never felt before, and he intended to dedicate himself to finding the source.
***
Going to practice knowing that Shane Hollander was waiting for him at home was tough.
Even the boisterous shouts of his teammates around him couldn’t raise Ilya’s spirits. He stared despondently at his phone, trying to will it into lighting up with a text from Shane.
“Roz! C’mon, man, what’s up with you?”
Marlow’s voice boomed, echoing around the room as he slung a sweaty arm over Ilya’s shoulders. He grimaced, glaring up at his friend only to be showered with more sweat when Marlow shook his hair out like a dog.
“I am around all of you idiots,” he responded tersely, rolling his eyes as Marlow shook him with the arm around his shoulders. Nothing dissuaded the big oaf. It was one of the things that Ilya reluctantly loved about him.
“You love us,” Marlow said easily. “I know you’ve been in a funk since… you know…” he lowered his voice, clearly attempting discretion. “Everything with uhhh… Jane… Stollander?”
“Jesus christ, Marly,” Ilya said, closing his eyes and sending up a brief prayer to a god he didn’t believe in. “How do you even speak through the fucking static in your brain?”
“That’s not an answer.”
Ilya threw his hands up, letting out a small laugh despite himself. “Yes, is ‘cause of Jane Stollander.”
“I knew it!” Marlow cheered, pumping a fist victoriously. “I mean– I’m sorry, man. You seem kind of down.”
Deeply unimpressed, Ilya stared at him until Marlow began to fidget uncomfortably.
“I mean– sorry, Roz, I know you were really set on him– on her, I mean–”
“Marly,” Ilya cut in, deciding to put the other man out of his misery. “He is in my house right now. I am upset because I am here at practice instead of at home with him.”
Marlow’s face turned an alarming shade of purple as he clamped a hand over his own mouth, probably holding in some sort of victorious shout. The sight, however strange, filled Ilya with the same rush of adrenaline he got from scoring a goal and turning to catch Marlow as the man rushed him.
“You can speak,” Ilya said, his lips curling up into a grin as Marlow shook him again with his free hand.
“I don’t know if I can keep it down,” he said very seriously. “I know you aren’t out to the rest of the guys but dude– Shane Hollander–”
“I know,” Ilya said, allowing some of his genuine excitement to seep into his tone. His heart was speeding up just thinking about going home and having Shane waiting for him on his couch.
“So are you guys…”
Rolling his eyes, Ilya finally extracted himself from Marlow’s hold just to give him a smack on the back. “We are trying. I am… very much looking forward to it. He is unlike anyone else, Marly.”
Marlow’s gaze softened at that. “I’m glad to hear it, Roz. Hey, think we can add him to the WAG chat?”
“Absolutely not.”
***
Ilya stumbled up to his door after finally escaping practice. He fumbled with his key several times before finally managing to unlock it, only to practically fall into the house with the force of his enthusiasm.
“Shane?”
“In here!”
Shane’s voice drifted from the living room, and Ilya rushed down the short entry hallway, his eyes landing on Shane’s relaxed figure as soon as he turned the corner.
“Shane.”
The man giggled, his eyes shining as he looked up at Ilya from his spot reclined against an arm rest.
“You’re acting like it’s been years. Ilya, you’ve only been gone for three hours.”
Ilya groaned dramatically, dropping himself onto the couch beside Shane and turning his most pitiful gaze towards the man. “Three hours I could have been talking to you.”
Laughing, Shane shoved his hand into Ilya’s face. “Quit looking at me like that! What the hell, where did you even learn to make that face? You’re a grown man!”
Ilya grinned. It had been a long time since he had felt this light, and he allowed himself to cross the small distance between them and drape himself over Shane.
“I am happy you are here,” he said, honesty bleeding into his voice.
“Me too,” Shane said, his words soft. He took in a breath, and Ilya’s stomach twisted as he felt it in his hair. “I’m really sorry we couldn’t do this sooner.”
Shaking his head, Ilya pulled back. He would always regret the time lost, but in the end five months wasn’t that long. If he was allowed, he would keep Shane for the rest of his life.
“No need to be sorry. We are doing it now.” He tugged Shane into his chest as he spoke, running a careful hand up and down his spine. He felt the other man melt against him, and he held tighter in response.
It was hard to believe he got to have this.
“We are,” Shane agreed easily. “So this is date number one, right? When is date two?”
“Eager,” Ilya teased. Inside, he was overcome with excitement. Shane hadn’t even left his arms yet and he already wanted a second date! Sure, Ilya had wanted a second date ever since he ran into Shane at that coffee shop, but–
“I just figured we should straighten that out before I leave this time.”
Fair enough.
Grinning, Ilya tugged Shane back by his shoulder to look him in the eyes.
“Four more days and we will sweep the Cougars. I could come to Ottawa before round two?”
“You’re awfully cocky,” Shane said, an eyebrow raised judgementally. “What if you lose the next two games? They’ll have home ice advantage.”
“Does not matter,” Ilya dismissed easily, his hands falling to squeeze at Shane’s waist. “I have a good incentive. I will not lose with you waiting for me.”