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The minute the school called, Shane felt his stomach drop.
He had been at the rink coaching Ottawa’s youth team.
He and Ilya had retired five years ago after 22 years of exceptional hockey. Shane was now coaching. Ilya had gone a very different route. He worked together with Harris as Ottawa’s social media manager. It made the social media even more queer and more chaotic, but the fans loved it. Both Shane and Ilya had retired at forty.
They had in total played four seasons together on the Centaurs. The first year after their marriage, they hadn’t won the Cup, but the two seasons after that they won back-to-back Cups as husbands.
The other Thing that was very different except for how old both Shane and Ilya had gotten was that Shane and Ilya had two wonderful kids, and one of them was clearly the reason for the unexpected call. They had a son and a daughter. Shane was certain the call wasn’t about his quiet, introverted daughter. It was surely about his whirlwind of a son.
Misha was twelve years old. He was brilliant, chaotic, and the owner of a heart far too big for his own good.
As their son was born, he was everything to them. But at the same time, they weren’t yet able to fully let hockey go. So after two cups togerther and three seasons of playing side by side everyday, one of them stayed home each season while the other kept playing. It wasn’t always easy, but it worked. They switched every season, and Ilya even managed to win one more Cup on his own with the Centaurs.
When Shane and Ilya neared fourty, and their children were seven and five, they decided to have one last season together. They managed to win the Stanley Cup for one last time. But it had wrung them out, and they both knew there was no more hockey left in them. Shane retired with six Stanley Cups under his belt, Ilya with five. Shane was so fucking proud of having beat Ilya. Having one more cup was almost as good as the rookie of the year award.
Shanes mind had stared to drift but the minute the school said the words “your son was in a fight” over the phone, even though Shane had expected it was his son, he straightened up and was a hundert percent back. A fight was so unusual for their son. He was chaotic but has never thrown a punch in his life. The person on the other line now had Shanes full attention. He was informed that his and Ilya’s presence was required at the school. So he handed the last thirty minutes of coaching to his assistant, excused himself, and made his way over to Ilya’s office. As he entered, Ilya’s face lit up, but the second he saw Shane’s expression, he knew something was wrong. Shane explained the situation to his husband, and Ilya immediately stood up and told Harris he had to leave.
⸻
By the time they arrived at the office, their son Misha was sitting outside the dean’s door with one scraped knuckle and an expression that said he was nervous. Shane crouched down in front of him, placing a hand on his leg so Misha looked up. “Mish… are you hurt? Did you start a fight?”
“No,” Misha said earnestly. “I ended one.”
Ilya’s eyebrows shot up. “Amazing,” he whispered proudly.
Shane immediately stepped on his husband’s foot.
“We’re not praising that,” he hissed.
Ilya only winked at his son.
⸻
As the family was called inside the Office Director Rodriguez folded his hands dramatically, as if preparing to deliver a TED Talk nobody had asked for.
“Mr. Hollander. Mr. Rozanov. Your son was involved in a physical altercation today. I just want to say, that Violence is unacceptable in school. Misha will need to serve a suspension.”
Shane frowned. “Hold on — what actually happened?”
Misha sat upright. “May I explain?”
Director Rodriguez opened her mouth. “Maybe it’s best if I go ahead and—”
Shane interrupted. “Maybe it is best if we hear what happened from our son, actually. I would appreciate it.”
The Director sighed, but nodded. “Go ahead.”
Misha took a deep breath.
“A sixth-grade boy was calling Sara really mean words. She looked so sad and hurt and sudddently he shoved her, and he was so much bigger than her. I wanted him to stop harassing her. So I pushed him back. Then he punched me. So I punched him back. Once.”
Ilya’s hand shot up like he was in class.
“To be clear — he threw the first punch?”
The Director glared. “Yes, but—”
Ilya turned toward her, hands flat on the table.
“I don’t know what you want us to say now. It sounds to me like the case is closed. Our son tried to help.”
Director Rodriguez inhaled sharply.
“This isn’t hockey. Students cannot solve disagreements with violence.”
Ilya narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“What do you mean? If some bully touches him or a little girl? Of course he defends.”
The Director clasped his hands.
“I need to ask this. Do you think he learned this aggressive behavior… from you?”
Both dads stared.
“From us?” Shane repeated.
“Yes,” the dean said. “You were both professional hockey players. Hockey is… famously violent.”
Shane sat up straighter.
“I have never thrown a punch on the ice in my entire career!”
Ilya nodded seriously.
“Is true. He plays like polite golden retriever.”
Shane shot him a look.
“That’s not what we’re focusing on right now.”
The dean turned to Ilya.
“And you, Mr. Rozanov… your record precedes you. You’ve been in many fights.”
Ilya looked deeply offended.
“I have not! This is not true! Yes I have talk trash, a lot on the ice. I took some punches for it. Definitely more than Shane, yes. But I never initiate the punch!”
The Director massaged his forehead.
“I think you might both be accidentally modeling physical conflict.”
Shane threw up his hands.
“Our kid punches one bully in seven years and suddenly we’re teaching him violence?”
Misha looked down, fiddling with his hands. Ilya placed a hand on his shoulder.
Shane spoke again, calm and firm,
“Just so we are clear. We will not be punishing him at home. We will talk to him again and make sure he understands that violence is never the solution, and can’t ever be the first choice.”
This seemed to settle the matter. Eventually the Director agreed to settle on the punishment of a one day suspension, so Shane and Ilya would have time to talk with their son. The Director also saw reason and the other boy was suspended for a week with an additional 1 Month detention.
⸻
After they made their was back Home. The car ride was quiet.
When they got inside, Shane guided Misha to the couch. “Okay,” he said gently. “You can’t punch kids, even if you’re trying to help someone.”
Ilya crossed his arms, standing in front of his son and husband.
“You mostly cannot punch kids.”
“Ilya.” Shane said
“What? Nuance is important.”
Shane continued, “Next time, you use your words, not your fists. You get a teacher to help you. Please don’t throw yourself into fist fights.”
Misha nodded while lokking at his lap.
“I know. I’m sorry. I only wanted to help Sara. I never wanted to get you too in trouble. I have not learned violent behaviour from you, dad“, misha said while looking at shane. Than he looked up at Ilya and said in his direction „I truly am sorry Papa”
That was it — Shane’s heart melted instantly.
Ilya kissed the top of his son’s head. “You have a good heart. Too good. But listen to Dad. Use your words first. You are allowed to use your fists if you are attacked, sweetheart, if you need to defend yourself. But never initiate it or provoke it. Fists are always the very last resort.”
Misha nodded again. “Okay. But… are you mad?”
Both dads answered at once:“No.”
Then Ilya added proudly, “Your punch was at least good. You landed a solid punch, my son.”
“Ilya!” Shane exclaimed.
“What? He must know!” Ilya said shrugging his shoulders
Shane sighed, pulling their son into a tight hug.
“We’re proud you tried to protect someone. We’re just… trying to teach you better ways.”
Ilya ruffled Misha’s hair and joined the hug, wrapping both Shane and Misha in his arms.
“But if anyone tries to bully you again—”
“Ilya.”
“…you use words,” he finished, defeated.
Shane smiled.