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The doorbell rang. “I got it,” Shane called out from the living room, leaving Ilya to his cooking. He was currently testing ideas for various foods to serve at the wedding, determined to feature Russian specialties. While his relationship with Russia was complicated, he still felt connected to the culture. Especially, cultural foods reminded him of his mom. He remembered coming home late from after-school hockey practice, to be engulfed in a warm hug by his mom, the house smelling of fresh, home-made pirozhki.
“Did you order something?” Shane asked, entering the kitchen holding a small package.
Ilya’s face lit up immediately, rushing over to grab the package. “Yes! Wait until you see this!”
A big grin plastered on his face, he ripped the package apart. “Look! Little bow ties!”
“What would we need bow ties for?” Shane asked, his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, creating a little wrinkle that Ilya adored.
“We’re getting married,” Ilya deadpanned.
“But we will need regular bow ties. Bow ties that actually require to be tied. I am not getting married wearing a bowtie hanging around my neck from a rubber band.”
Ilya let out a soft chuckle and leaned over to press a kiss on Shane’s scrunched eyebrows. “We will get proper bow ties. These are for Anya. Can you steer?” Ilya asked, pointing to the pots on the stove, and left Shane alone in the kitchen, his eyebrows still knitted together. He was probably trying to imagine Anya wearing a bowtie.
Holding Anya in his arms, which looked mildly ridiculous given that she isn’t a puppy anymore, Ilya carried her into the kitchen, a bow tie dangling around Anya’s neck. “See? Adorable, just like you. Anya will be our ring bearer.”
“Can she even do that? I think Hayden’s kids were gunning for the position. They kinda assumed, you know, given I’m their godfather and everything?”
Ilya gasped dramatically, bringing one hand to his chest. “How dare you place the Pike spawns over our own daughter! No, no. Anya will be the ring bearer. She can do it, I’ll make sure.”
***
“Okay, now with the next one, bring all the intensity you can muster, alright?” Harris’ deep baritone carried over the ice.
“Competitive or sexual?” Ilya asked, a smirk on his face.
“Oh my god, Ilya, can you please keep it together?” Shane said, his blush from the cold deepening.
“Can’t help it”, Ilya winked, “you look too sexy in tuxedo on ice.”
Shane turned away, hiding his face in embarrassment. They were currently staging engagement photos at a frozen lake near Ottawa. Harris, the Ottawa Centaurs’ media manager, had pitched the idea to them after their public engagement during one of their games against each other. Both Shane and Ilya were dressed in tailored tuxedos, wearing their skates and equipped with a hockey stick each. A couple of pucks were scattered on the ice.
The lake Harris had proposed was breathtakingly beautiful in winter. It was quite large, sitting in the valley of some hills, surrounded by snowed in pine trees. The sun was out today, making the snow glitter and the frozen lake shine. Harris had been grumpy about that, complaining about overexposure, but Ilya loved the way the entire world sparkled, feeling the warmth of the sun against his skin, contrasting the cool air that made his breath come out in clouds.
Harris was drilling them on getting some candid shots. He wanted them to look like they were playing against each other on the open ice. He particularly emphasized that he wanted to allude to their previous rivalry.
“Let me show you what I have in mind,” Harris said, signaling the couple to skate over, while he pulled out his phone. “I stumbled across some old pictures of the two of you, something about your on-camera rivalry, and I just really think these are some great inspo pics for your official engagement pictures.”
“Is that the CCM photo shoot from 2009?” Shane asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“Yes!” Harris replied excitedly. “I love how intense they are. I mean, obviously, back then, you were just rivals preparing for your rookie season. But man, now that the two of you are together, I just can’t help but interpret the intensity of the shoot as sexual tension. I mean, how the two of you looked at each other…”
Shane and Ilya glanced at each other and then broke out into laughter. Harris stared at them, tilting his head. “Am I missing something?”
“No, actually you’re not,” Shane said.
“It’s true. Sexual Tension,” Ilya confirmed, padding Harris’ shoulder. “First time we hooked up was that day.”
Harris sputtered. “In 2009?”
Shane and Ilya sheepishly smiled at each other. After Harris collected himself again, they went back to the shoot. First, they recreated the iconic face-off moment of the original CCM photoshoot — with plenty of intensity, just like Harris had wanted.
Back then, they had barely been able to keep it together. Ilya had not been able to take the shoot seriously, bursting out in laughter more and more each take they skated towards each other. Now, Ilya found himself lost in his fiancée's eyes. Instead of bursting out in laughter due to the awkward nature of the task and being fueled by teenage hormones, Ilya found his features softening. His smile still spanned his entire face, but there was a fondness to it, with how the muscles around his eyes relaxed.
“Okay, maybe not the intensity I asked for, but I’ll settle for loving stares and heart eyes,” Harris commented.
***
Ilya dropped a heavy binder right next to a serving of freshly made draniki on the dinner table, where Yuna and Shane were already sitting, each with their respective wedding binders.
“How is your binder even thicker than mine?” Shane commented.
Ilya winked. “I win.”
“How? Wedding planning is not a competition? We are literally planning this together.”
“Boys, can we get on subject? We have a lot to discuss,” Yuna interjected, adjusting her glasses. “Before we can look into venue options, we need to finalize the guest list. Particularly regarding the size of the guest list.”
“Should we invite Scott Hunter?” Shane asked, flipping the pages in his binder to his “guests” section.
“Do you want to have our wedding at a retirement home?” Ilya deadpanned.
“Oh my god, Ilya, he is three years older than us.”
“We'd have to get fresh tennis balls for his walker.”
Yuna cleared her throat, interrupting her son's bickering. “What do you think about having him officiate? That could be a nice full circle moment.”
Her suggestion stumped them, both Ilya and Shane looking at each other as they considered the proposal.
Shane spoke first. “Wouldn't that mean he wins our wedding?”
***
Rose had dragged Shane and Ilya to a dozen groom's wear stores by now, but had yet to find an outfit for them that she approved of. It was a bit beyond Shane, how much thought Rose had put into their outfits, apparently having had mutliple meetings with both of their stylists, but he heavily appreciated the guidance. Particularly considering that he had always felt completely and utterly lost when it came to choosing clothes.
Even Ilya had gotten overly invested, discussing with Rose intensely whether they should go for suits or a tuxedo. Shane had put an end to that part of the conversation, indicating that he would prefer a tuxedo, feeling more comfortable in the simple yet most formal choice. He had always worn tuxedos to the more important events in the leagues, while he associated suits more with game days and exhausting post-game interviews. Thus, it seemed only logical and appropriate for Shane to go for tuxedos, even if they were less versatile than suits.
“Of course you wouldn't want something verse,” Rose joked, earning a high five from Ilya, and a deep blush from Shane.
“I found this absolutely gorgeous piece from Armani, and I really want you to try it on,” Rose continued chattering, pushing Shane into a small changing room. She was holding a white tuxedo jacket from Armani, along with a white satin shirt and cummerbund. She helped him get dressed, fussing and tutting around to make sure everything sat correctly.
When he stepped outside the changing room, Ilya immediately looked up from his phone, his eyes roaming over Shane.
“What do you think?” Shane asked, raising his arms a bit and then turning in small steps to show off the entire piece.
“You look absolutely beautiful, solnyshko,” Ilya answered, getting up to step closer to Shane. “I think the white really suits you.”
“You sure?” Shane asked. “I think I really like it as well. I'm just worried that if people see me wearing white, they'll think I'm the bride, or well, the woman in the relationship or something.”
“If people think two men can only be in a relationship if one of them is the woman, then they clearly know nothing about relationships to begin with”, Rose commented. “And probably don't know how to please their wives.”
“What she said”, Ilya joined, a playful smile curling his lips. “People will think that you are the most handsomest groom ever. They will be very jealous of me.”
“Okay,” Shane said, a relieved smile washing over his face. “I really like this one. And the texture feels good on my skin.”
“Oh! You should try these pants with it!” Rose said, holding a pair of black pants. “Your butt will look amazing in them, trust me.”
Shane nodded and turned to Ilya again. “Will you also be wearing white?”
Before Ilya can reply, Rose interjects. “Definitely a white shirt, but no white jacket. That would wash him out completely.”
“I do want a white flower in my breast jacket,” Ilya added and then continued chatting with Rose about tuxedo options that would match well with Shane's. At some point, they diverted to what Rose would be wearing that night, Ilya having strong opinions on type of dress, jewellery, and shoes she would be wearing. Shane let it flow over him, his fingers rubbing the fabric of the satin dress shirt. The smile hadn't left his face, and he sat back content as he tuned out of the conversation, trusting Ilya and Rose to find their outfits themselves.
***
“Here, taste this,” Ilya said, before he stuffed a spoonful of his cooking into Shane’s mouth.
“Mmh, that’s really good,” Shane said, relishing the flavours in his mouth. “What is it?”
“Borscht. Russian beetroot soup,” Ilya said, and then ate some as well, his shoulders coming up in his happy food dance.
“Beetroot?” Shane pulled a face.
“I know you don’t like the texture of beetroot. But it is blended, so I thought it would be okay,” Ilya admitted.
“Yeah, absolutely! I guess I was just surprised to like something with beetroot. Do you want to serve borscht at the wedding?”
Ilya nodded, biting his lip as he smiled. “We will have to find a good caterer. I can’t make soup for all of our guests.”
Shane frowned. “So you really want the wedding to be big?”
“I think so, yes,” Ilya said, coming up close to Shane, their bodies almost touching. “Are you okay with that?”
“I guess I am still not quite used to the idea that we no longer have to hide,” Shane said, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Maybe I am just worried that people will be weird about it. Call us a distraction from hockey or something.”
Ilya’s hands came up to Shane’s face, cradling it in a treasured way. “The people are on our side. Remember the engagement? How both of our teams lifted us in the air? Shouting Hollanov? We will have a big wedding. I want to take up space. Be visible. Shove it into people’s faces. We had to hide for so long… now I want to do the opposite. Have the entire world know that I love Shane Hollander, slow with a weak backhand.”
“Fuck you’re such an asshole,” Shane laughed, his gaze coming up to meet Ilya’s. They held eye contact, both lost in the other's eyes. “I love you so much.”
Shane closed the distance between them, pressing a kiss to his fiancée's soft lips. Shane could kiss him for hours and still not have enough.
An overly excited furball rudely interrupted their moment, tail wagging excessively as Anya slotted herself between her dads, demanding attention.
“Yes, we love you too, Anya,” Ilya grinned, bending down to scratch the spot behind her ears. “And we will love you even more when you finally learn how to carry the rings.”
“Ilya! You can’t put conditions on our love for our dog! What if she understood that?”
“Then good. Our wedding needs to be perfect. It will only be perfect with Anya as our ringbearer.”
Shane huffed affectionately. “When did you become bridezilla?”