Chapter Text
Not long after Shane unpacks the bags he brought with him, his phone rings with a FaceTime call from his mom. He takes a deep breath before sitting down on the couch, hoping that his mom can’t tell that he hasn’t actually made it to his hotel yet.
“Ilya,” He calls to the alpha in the kitchen. “I’m getting ready to answer a FaceTime from my mom, just a heads-up.”
“Okay,” he calls back. He’d been in there for a while, at first he was on the phone, and then frantically looking through the cupboards.
Shane nods once to steel himself and throws in his media smile before pressing accept.
“Hey, Mom,” He says, adjusting himself ever so slightly on the couch.
“Hi honey,” she says softly with a smile. “Have you gotten settled in yet? You didn’t call when you got to the hotel and your father and I were starting to worry.”
“S-sorry,” Shane says. “You know how I am about airports. I took a shower as soon as I got here and then took a nap.”
“That’s okay,” She says, softer than she ever was when Shane forgot to text her. “But you’re okay? No issues getting your bags or getting checked in?”
“Nope. No problems,” Shane says with a sigh. Except for the fact that he definitely hadn’t checked into the hotel room the team had booked for him.
“And the other thing?” His mom raises her eyebrows. “What’s the plan for telling the other dad? Who is the other dad?”
“I will let you know after I talk to h—“ Shane flinches as the sounds of pots crashing and angry Russian float through the living room.
“Honey?” His mom looks at him with concern. “What was that?”
“Oh, it uh, it was—“Shane looks past his phone and looks out the window.
“You’re not at the hotel, are you?”
“No, Mom.” Shane takes a deep breath. “I’m not.”
***
Shane walks into the locker room, already full of nerves, when time seems to stop. He’d just been led down here by some bright-eyed intern after signing all of his paperwork. Joey, the intern, had dropped him off at the door and had started to say something, but the pager (Shane didn’t even realize people still used those) on his side started blinking and he took off running, offering a rushed goodbye.
20 pairs of eyes turn to look at Shane as he opens the door, and he can’t get a read on them. Not that he’d be able to in normal circumstances, but this is ten times worse. If it weren’t for Ilya being at his own cubby, giving him a reassuring nod, he probably would have spewed all over the floor already.
“Holy shit.” Someone finally breaks the silence. “Holy shit!”
Shane locates the source of the voice and it’s a baby-faced rookie near the back, staring at him in wonder.
“You're Shane Hollander.” he watches as the rookie takes a step forward and then rethinks and steps back. “Like actually.”
“Last time I checked, yeah,” Shane says, earning a low rumble of chuckling from everyone else.
The next person to move is Cliff Marlow. He stands up and walks to where Shane is still frozen in the doorway.
“I thought they were fucking kidding,” He says with a grin, clapping Shane on the shoulder. “What the hell was Montreal thinking, sending you to us?”
“There weren’t,” someone pipes up from the back and there's another round of laughs.
Shane looks around, and already the locker room feels a million times calmer and safer than it ever did in Montreal. He takes a deep breath and grounds himself.
“It’s good to be here, I think,” Shane says, running his hands down his thighs. “But uh, I won’t actually be playing until next season.”
“Even if you are on the bench, that means you’re not out on the ice playing against us,” St. Simon chimes in. “You think Montreal can beat us without you? They’d be lucky to beat Ottawa now that you’ve joined the dark side.”
Another round of laughs, and Shane isn’t the punchline. He joins in with the laughter for the first time in he doesn’t know how long before circling around the locker room and introducing himself properly to everyone. Shane finally takes a seat on the bench, close to Ilya but far enough away not to give them away.
“So,” Hammersmith says. “Not to be all in your business your first twenty minutes here, but why on Earth did they send you here? And does it have anything to do with why you’re out for the season?”
Shane looks around. Everyone seems to have their eyes on him again, waiting with bated breath to see what it is he’s going to say.
“I’m going to be completely honest, I think they were doing it to fuck with you guys,” Shane says with a barked laugh. “It’s no secret that I’m one of like twenty omegas in the whole league.”
There’s a chorus of hums and nods of agreement. “Well, I don’t think the dumbasses in the office realize that a pregnancy only lasts 40 weeks, give or take.”
“Pregnancy?” Connor Connors asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re—“
“Pregnant,” Shane feels in the blank. “Yes. Due at the end of May, which means yeah, I’m missing this whole season, but I’ll be back and ready to go when pre-season starts.”
“And they just…traded you away?” Marlow asks. “Because you’re having a pup?”
“Aren’t there laws against that?” Ryan Carmichael asks. “That’s got discrimination lawsuit written all over it.”
Shane could instantly feel the mood in the room shift. The scent of 15 or so Alphas getting angry was clouding the room. “Well, uh, probably. But when I told Theriault, he said something that I don’t want to repeat, so I told him just to trade me. So I don’t think I’d have a leg to stand on, trying to sue them, I mean.”
That seemed to calm them down, just hair, enough for Shane to breathe evenly at least.
“Well,” Feller says, sitting on the bench beside him and clapping his shoulder. “Welcome to Boston. Montreal’s fuck up is our gain.”
Another round of laughs and Shane feels his shoulders untense.
“I mean, we get Hollander and a Baby Raider. What does Montreal get? Nothing!” Ilya says and Shane can’t help but turn to him and give him a small smile. “Now, the rest of you, get your asses out on the ice. You’ve got people to impress during practice today.”
***
Ilya tried to focus on practice, he really did. But between Shane watching the team intently from the bench and Cliff giving him a look every time he catches Ilya staring at Shane, Ilya is finding focus an odd commodity. (He thinks he is using that word correctly, but who knows? English is a stupid language)
“So,” Cliff finally says, skating up beside Ilya during the cool-down skate. “Anything you want to tell me?”
“You’re going to need a new hip if you keep slamming into the boards like that.”
“That’s not what I mean, Roz, and you know it,” Cliff says, coming to a complete stop in front of Ilya. “Jane and Hollander have a hell of a similar scent, don’t you think?”
Ilya freezes.
“When I first walked up to him, I thought surely my mind was playing tricks on me, because I’d never noticed Hollander's scent before,” Cliff says, and Ilya spares a glance towards Shane, who was having a conversation with one of the rookie defensemen. “But I just spent the last three hours watching you watch him, making sure he’s okay, and now I’m not so sure.”
Ilya doesn’t say anything, there’s no use.
“Right,” Cliff nods. “Well, when you two are ready to tell us, Uncle Marly has your backs, okay?”
“Uncle Marly?” Ilya says with a small laugh.
“Yeah brother,” Cliff says, clapping Ilya on the back before skating away.
Ilya smiles softly and nods once before walking back to center ice to round everyone up.
“Alright, listen the fuck up,” Ilya says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Hollander is going to tell you everything you did wrong and you better fix it before you come back tomorrow!”
“Uh, what?” Shane asks from his spot leaning against the boards.
“We are not wasting your beautiful brain,” Ilya says. “You’re here, you’re on payroll. You can help out. Captain's orders.”
Shane nods once and Ilya ushers everyone off the ice and into the locker room. He gives everyone a chance to change before sticking Shane on them.
Ilya steps back and watches as Shane first tells them everything that they did right. Everything looked good. He was a little shaky at first, his voice wavering like he wasn’t sure if this was something he should really be doing. But as he continued on, Ilya watched as Shane became more and more comfortable going over everything that he’d observed during the practice.
The rest of the team sat around on the benches, soaking up everything Shane was saying. As a whole, they’re usually receptive to constructive criticism, but Ilya is only one set of eyes. Things he misses, Shane definitely picked up on. Having Shane around will be good for them, even if he can’t play yet.
“That was probably way too much detail,” Shane says as he closes out. “I don’t mean to step on anyone's toes or anything.”
Ilya furrows his eyebrows, realizing that that is one of those stupid English phrases that doesn’t make any sense, but he gets the idea. Shane doesn’t want to overstep.
“No, no,” Carmichael says. “That was great, thank you.”
There’s a collective wave of agreement and Shane looks shocked that they are actually listening to what he has to say.
“Uh, Mr. Hollander, sir,” Philips, a baby-faced rookie, says, raising his hand, and Ilya can’t help but chuckle.
“Just Shane is fine, kid,” Shane says with a soft smile. “And you don’t need to raise your hand.”
“Right, sorry, Mr. Hollander,” Philips says, his cheeks flushing pink. “You said that I was favoring my right leg. Any advice on how I could fix that?”
Ilya's chest warms as he watches Shane smile and start listing several things Philips, and everyone else, could do to improve.
***
Shane was quiet the whole way home, but Ilya didn’t want to push him. Today was a lot, between signing all of his paperwork and watching practice but not getting to participate, Ilya knows that Shane is overwhelmed. That’s part of the reason he had Shane give the guys pointers, he knew that it would settle Shane, even just a tad bit.
“What do you want to do for dinner?” Ilya asks, pulling into the garage. “I’ve got things in the fridge or we can order in?”
“I’m not supposed to eat fish right now,” Shane sighs. “But I usually eat salmon and rice for dinner. And now I can’t.”
“We can find alternative, yes?” Ilya asks, reaching over to squeeze Shane’s hand. “Ask Siri “what tastes like salmon but isn’t fish?”
Ilya watches as Shane fights back a smile.
“It’s not the taste I’m worried about,” Shane sighs. “It’s the…routine, I guess. I don’t know, I’m being weird.”
“Is not weird, Shane,” Ilya says, unlocking the door and letting Shane walk in front of him. “You are a habitat creature.”
Shane pauses and turns to look at him with his eyes narrowed, “A creature of habit?”
“Da, this. Creature of habit. You like things your way and that’s okay. We do things your way then.”
“You don’t have to rearrange your whole life just for me,” Shane says, squatting down to take his shoes off before lining them up against the wall.
“Is okay,” Ilya shrugs. “You are doing the hard part. I can Google what is safe for you to eat. Seems like the least I could do.”
Shane looks at him like he wants to protest, but then his phone starts ringing in his pocket.
“It’s my mom,” he sighs. “I should take this.”
“Yes. Go,” Ilya shoos him towards the living room. “I will start dinner after deep? Google search.”
“Thorough?”
“Yes, that.”
Shane nods and turns around slowly, walking toward the bedroom.
Ilya quickly takes out his phone to Google what Shane can and can't eat.
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Ilya sighs in relief when he realizes that, yes, pregnant omegas can eat Salmon, and it’s in fact encouraged. Raw fish, like sushi, however, is not.
With his newfound knowledge, Ilya grabs his phone and places a grocery order, using the list he’d made while searching to stock the cabinets and fridge with pregnancy (and macrobiotic) safe foods. And then, looking at the time, he decided to go ahead and order them dinner as well, seeing as how it would be past 8 pm by the time the groceries were delivered.
Shane walks out of the bedroom, freshly showered, just as the food gets delivered.
“Perfect timing,” Ilya says, bringing the food over to the kitchen and taking it out. “Everything’s okay with your mom?”
Shane nods silently, taking a seat on one of the bar stools. “Her and my dad are coming to visit.”
Ilya nods.
“They want to meet you,” Shane says cautiously.
“Makes sense,” Ilya says, turning around to grab a ginger ale out of the fridge.
“Is that okay?”
“Why would it not be okay? They are your parents.”
“Yeah, but I just ...I kind of just showed up with this life-changing news. It’s okay if you need to take time to process before meeting them.”
Ilya shakes his head. “They are your family, so they are the pups family…which makes them my family by extension. No use delaying it.”
Ilya hands Shane the plate, and when he looks at it confused, Ilya sighs. “Google says salmon is okay. Sushi and deli meat? Not so much.”
Shane nods and picks up his fork, cutting a bite of his salmon.
Ilya takes his own food, chicken Parmesan and garlic mashed potatoes, and sits on the stool beside Shane. “When will your parents be here?”
“They’re driving down in my car with the last of my things, so they should be here sometime Monday.”
“We should probably clean out the closet this weekend, then,” Ilya says, hoping that he’s subtle enough to broach this conversation.
“Clean out the closet?” Shane asks, a single piece of rice hanging off his lip. Ilya wants nothing but to lean over and kiss it away.
“Unless your clothes will fit in one drawer,” Ilya says with a chuckle. “Which, maybe they will? You know, since you only wear gym clothes.”
Shane rolls his eyes. “Fuck off.”
Ilya takes another bite, waiting for Shane to process.
“You want me to live here?” He says after a while.
Yes, forever. “Sure, I mean, it makes sense."
“It makes sense…but you don’t actually want me to?”
Ilya pushes his plate away and turns towards Shane, tucking a stray hair behind his ear. It’s longer than the last time Ilya saw him. It looks good. “Shane.”
“We’re having a pup together, but you don’t really want me.” Shane shakes his head. “You-you can have anyone you want. Models throw themselves at you. I don’t want you to have to settle for me just cause we made a mistake.”
“I can have anyone I want, yes,” Ilya says, standing up and stepping closer to Shane. “And I’m looking right at him.”
“Ilya,” Shane says, looking up at him with those big doe eyes. “You don’t mean that.”
“What? You read minds now?” Ilya asks with a small smile.
“You’re 25, Ilya.”
“Really? I had no idea.” Shane hits him in the chest for this.
“I just don’t want you to feel like you…you have to settle, or whatever.”
“Your best friend had a million kids by the time he was 25, what is the difference?”
“They have three,” Shane says and then pauses. “And a half.”
“How do you have a half baby?”
“Jackie’s pregnant.”
“Jesus Pike, stay off her.”
This causes Shane to laugh, which was Ilya’s main goal. “Shane Hollander, will you and your freckles please move in with me?”
“You should know that I snore,” Shane says, taking another bite of his salmon. “And I’m a neat freak.”
“You folded your boxers the first time we hooked up, I think I’ve picked up on that.” Ilya says, grabbing Shane’s hand, kissing his knuckles. “And snoring is no problem. There’s no way you’re louder than Marly.”
“Then I guess I’m moving in.”
Ilya grins and picks Shane up, carefully, and carries him over to the couch.
“Put me down, you neanderthal,” Shane says, almost with a giggle.
“No,” Ilya says, sitting on the couch with Shane in his lap. He wraps his arms around Shane’s waist and pulls him in close, just breathing him in.
The buzz that had become a constant in his chest since the last time they sat here like this and Shane ran away starts to fade the longer he holds on.
The angle they're at puts Ilya's face right at Shane’s belly button and he can’t help but to turn his face and place a kiss on Shane’s abdomen, right over where their pup is growing.
“Hello, Malysh,” he whispers. “It’s me, your papa.”
“What are you doing?” Shane asks, his hands carding through Ilya’s hair.
“Talking to the pup, what does it look like I am doing?”
“Can you stop?”
“No, I don’t think I will,” Ilya says with a hum and then starts talking to the pup, in Russian this time. “Ignore him, Malysh. I have to make sure that I am your favorite. Your dad gets to carry you for nine months, so he’s already got a head start. I am scared. But also maybe excited. I like kids, but I don’t know if I will be a good father. My father, your grandfather, he is not a good man. I am afraid I will end up like him. You will have to promise me that if I put too much pressure on you, you will let me know.”
Ilya reaches up to discreetly wipe his eye and then continues talking to the pup. About everything and nothing. He tells them the story of how two kids met outside a skating rink in the middle of nowhere, Canada and one of them was so beautiful with freckles that the other forgot how to speak. He tells them about his mom, and how she would have loved to be a grandma.
After a while, Ilya feels Shane’s weight fall heavily against him. Ilya pulls away and looks up at Shane, who is fast asleep, leaning against Ilya.
He smiles and gently moves them so that he is lying on the couch with Shane half on him and half on the couch. Shane moves just enough to nuzzle into Ilya’s neck, taking a deep breath, before his entire body relaxes.
Ilya kisses the top of Shane’s head before slowly joining him in sleep.