Work Text:
Announcer 1: What a season it has been here at the International Prospect Cup! This year, we have another Canada-Russia final showcasing the two most talked about prospects in the world. From Canada, we have seventeen-year-old Shoma Hollander. For any of you hockey fans out there, he’s none other than the son of the most decorated hockey players in the League- Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov. At seventeen, he’s been favoured to be the overall number one pick for his fathers’ dynasty franchise, the Ottawa Centaurs, and like his father, he’s been chosen as team Canada’s captain. He’s extremely fast and he fires shots with deadly accuracy. His hockey IQ? Unmatched. With his name and background, the expectation to perform must be extremely high for the young player.
Announcer 2: Oh, yeah. You gotta feel for the kid, those are some deep shoes to fill. Both his parents seem to be extremely supportive though, as we can see them both rinkside by the Canada bench. (laughs) In fact, I think we see Hollander and Rozanov here at the Bell Center so often, it’s almost as if they never retired at all. I hear next week they’ll be back for the final of the ISU Junior Grand Prix Final Canada, where their daughter Yuri Rozanova If you haven’t seen her skate, I strongly recommend you tune in, she skates a beautiful program.
Announcer 1: I’ll bet she does. From Russia, we have seventeen-year-old Nikolai Vasilev. He is also a fast skater and his puck-handling is very smooth, very clean. He has a temper on the ice, but which hockey player doesn’t? (Laughs). Nikolai is also expected to be in the top three overall picks, but we aren’t sure which place or team he would be signing to as yet. His stats make him a good fit for the Boston Raiders or the New York Admirals.
Announcer 2: This fact pattern is making me have violent flashbacks to the great Hollander/Rozanov rivalry.
Announcer 1: Huh. That’s true. Hey, if they fall in love, good for them! (Both Announcers laugh).
⛸️⛸️⛸️
”I can do this,” Shoma exhales.
”You can do this,” Ilya says, grabbing one of his hands, his heart aching in his chest.
His baby’s cheeks are chubby from baby weight he hasn’t lost yet. He looks devastatingly like Shane did all those years ago, sitting in his Team Canada shirt over layers and layers of protective gear. God. Had they ever been that young?
”I’m not letting the pressure get to me,” Shoma exhales, “I chose to do this.”
”You go out there and do your best,” Shane nods, grabbing the other hand, “Win or lose. We don’t care. We love you.”
”Any last minute advice for me, guys?” Shoma looks up at them with soft brown eyes.
“Are your skates tight enough? Is you stick taped properly?” Shane checks. Shoma nods, to both questions.
”If you can anticipate taking a hit, make sure you can angle yourself in a way that minimizes damage. If you hurt your foot, do not put any unnecessary weight on it. Do not, and I cannot emphasize this enough, try to regain your momentum mid-fall. You’ll crash into the ice harder than you would have,” Shane says.
”And Papa?”
”Your father and I know the weight of the C of a country,” Ilya mumbles, squeezing his hand, “And the expectation that comes with it. It’s a terrible, heavy burden for shoulders so small. You must tell us if it ever becomes too much. Do you hear me, Masha?”
Shoma nods, breath shaking.
”Those kids have probably been coached by the kids I grew up playing with,” Ilya continues, tucking away an errant string of hair, “So they are probably dicks.”
”Ilya—“ Shane sighs.
”Do not let their words get to you,” Ilya grins, “The minute you show anger, the minute you let them get to your head, you will start to play sloppily. When you play sloppy, they will find chinks in your defence. Make chinks. They will also play dirty. Don’t retaliate, let them drop gloves first. More penalty minutes to them and power play minutes to you. I say this from experience, because as a former dick from the Russian team, this is what we were trained to do.”
”Former dick,” Shane mutters, rolling his eyes, “Your team must be airtight. Your team is airtight. Cohesive. Your power play unit is airtight and cohesive. Your boys trust you and you need to trust them.”
”Most importantly, have fun,” Ilya grins.
”Most importantly, have fun,” Shane grins back at Ilya, and for a moment, they’re transported back in time, to Saskatchewan, 2008.
⛸️⛸️⛸️
Announcer 1: Oh! There goes Vasilev, ramming Hollander into the boards. Will he get a penalty for that? Is Hollander okay?
Announcer 2: Seems so. He’s holding his ribs but he’s skating it off. Looks like he and Vasilev are having a little argument here, one that’s clearly not in English.
Announcer 2: Whoa, okay. Here comes Drover and Marleau to make Vasilev answer for the check, but Hollander looks like he’s telling them not to retaliate. And there’s the Ref’s whistle to stop play.
Ref: Russia Number 21, boarding, two minutes. Power play to Canada.
Announcer 1: What a beauty from Hollander, with an assist from Drover! First goal of the game!
⛸️⛸️⛸️
”Relax,” Ilya squeezes Shane’s thigh, “Masha can handle himself.”
”I know. It’s different, when it’s your child being rammed into the boards like that,” Shane laughs nervously.
”But he is okay, yes? Skated it off. He is not a child anymore. He’s tough, like his papa,” Ilya says, soothingly.
”Russian captain though,” Yuri hisses beside them, blonde curls in a loose ponytail, eyes narrowing, “What an asshole.”
”Yurasha!” comes the scandalized gasp from both Shane and Ilya.
⛸️⛸️⛸️
Announcer 1: Fifteen minutes into the third period. Five to go. The score is 5 to 4 with Russia in the lead. Can the hometown boys do anything? Hollander looks frustrated, the poor kid.
⛸️⛸️⛸️
Announcer 1: Hollander sends the puck to Drover who rushes it down the ice. He finds Marleau. Passes it to him. There’s a D-Man coming up on Marleau and he passes it back to Drover. Here goes Hollander with that speed he’s known for as he races past the neutral zone, Drover spots him, passes it back— there it is, there is the chink in the Russian defence! Will Hollander do it???
Announcer 2: I cannot believe it! What a final! The last minute into the game, Hollander evens out the score by using his father’s signature move, “The Rozanov”! Final score 5-5 and we will see you in the overtime.
⛸️⛸️⛸️
Announcer 1: Shootout?
Announcer 2: Shootout.
Announcer 1: (sarcastically) everyone loves a shootout.
⛸️⛸️⛸️
Announcer 1: There you have it folks. Canada takes gold, Russia takes silver. Sweden will have bronze. This win cements Hollander’s spot as the first pick. Congratulations to the young captain. What a night it must be for him.
⛸️⛸️⛸️
Shoma’s face is set into what Ilya likes to call “angry kitten: son edition” as he enters the SUV. Shane and Ilya exchange a glance as they drive home. Ilya and Shane, as former players, knew that sometimes, they all needed time to decompress after a game so they weren’t expecting heavy conversation. And with Yuri’s competition next week, her every moment was spent listening to music, trying to burn her choreography into her mind.
⛸️⛸️⛸️
“I could punch that smug fucking Russian,” Shoma mutters as he grabs a water bottle from the fridge.
”A phrase that was thrown at your father many times on many occasions that were very deserved,” Shane says diplomatically, sitting at the counter in their kitchen.
Ilya watches, amused.
”Would you like to tell us what brought this on?”
”It’s just that he had this way of getting under my skin,” Shoma sighs, flopping down beside his dad, placing an ice pack against his ribs, “Like a fucking rash, spreading and itching and like I can’t seem to ditch.”
The check into the boards hurt like a bitch and he was going to be bruised as hell tomorrow.
”Did he say anything that we should be genuinely concerned about?” Ilya asks this time. His tone is serious and Shoma knows that as cool as his parents are, they’re equally as protective. If something was wrong, a report was going to be made to someone. And that someone would have to answer to Shane and Ilya if no action was done to remedy the situation.
”No, he didn’t say anything. It’s just the way he was acting. Y’know. Cocky. With his better than you attitude, like he owned the rink. And his stupid ratty brown hair and fucking— sparkling gray eyes,” Shoma rants, sighing, “It’s one thing for him to run his mouth, but he actually has talent and stamina to back it up. It’s fucking irritating, how good he is.”
Shane meets Ilya’s eyes, a wordless conversation happening between them.
”Did, ah,” Ilya tries delicately, ears pink, “Did he come to your locker room? Or try to flash you in the locker room?”
Shane bursts out laughing— heaving laughs that have him doubling over.
”What?” Shoma whines, “Pa, I’m being serious.”
“Okay, I think we need some family time tonight,” Shane says, “Ilya, go get your daughter.”
Ilya winces like a man condemned.
⛸️⛸️⛸️
Sitting together, there was no doubt Shoma and Yuri are siblings. Shoma’s hair is jet black and straight whereas Yuri has a head full of blonde curls. Shoma’s eyes are brown to Yuri’s blue, but their svelte frames, eye shape, face shape and smattering of freckles across their noses are the same. Even their heights are imposing.
Shane watches his children fondly as he sets warm cups of tea infront them. Shane preparing tea and spending cozy family time together is something they do often or when an talk was needed, and they look expectantly to Ilya, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere but in their kitchen at this moment.
”Okay, so we have had this conversation before, but I think we need to have it again. I know you two travel a lot. And sometimes, you travel without parental supervision. That’s okay. What’s not okay is for you both to be having sex of any kind with boys or girls. Or, uh, people?” Ilya looks at Shane, eyebrows raised, and Shane nods, biting back a smile, “Especially unprotected sex, at that.”
”Papa, come on,” Shoma whines.
Yuri narrows her eyes at her brother.
”Is there any reason we’re having this conversation?”
”Just a reminder,” Shane says, sipping his own tea.
”It is stupid and irresponsible and you are both way too young,” Ilya continues, “As much as I would like to think of you as my babies forever, you’re growing up, and it is natural for you to want to… experiment. And that’s okay too. We don’t care what you or your partners identify or don’t identify as, as long as you’re happy. But we don’t want you veering down that path as yet. Shoma, you’re only eighteen. Yuri, you’re sixteen. Your father and I are way too young to be grandparents, okay?”
”Okay.”
”Okay.”
”So as long as we understand each other. No sex,,” Ilya frowns, “And when you do get to that age, make sure that whatever you’re doing with your partner is consensual. Make sure you get their full consent.”
”Consent is sexy, kids,” Shane adds, winking.
”Eww, Dad, please—“
”And last thing. Always wrap it before you tap it. Goes for both of you. Now, you remember how I taught you to use a condom or do I need to—“ Ilya winces.
”Dad, no—“
”Let’s stop talking—“
Ilya laughs.
”Okay. Do you guys have any questions? Or anything you’d like to share?”
”Nope, Theo and I are very good and have done nothing of the sort,” Yuri holds up her hand in a surrendering motion, “Now I’ve got to go bleach my ears, night guys.”
Ilya rolls his eyes fondly as he watches Yuri scramble up to her room.
It takes Shoma a while to say anything. Mostly he just quietly stares at his tea as Shane and Ilya sit beside him.
”I have a crush on the asshole, don’t I?” He whispers.
”At least you’re self-aware, solnyshko,” Ilya says, sagely.
“There’s no need for you to put a label on anything at all, Shoma,” Shane says, reassuringly, “Not until you’re ready.”
”I think I might be bisexual,” Shoma confesses, leaning his head on Shane’s shoulder like he did as a kid, “Like Papa. I’ve known a while now, I think.”
”I’m so proud of you for telling us that. It couldn’t have been an easy thing to do,” Shane passes his hand comfortingly through his son’s hair.
”How did you do it, Dad? How do be hyper aware that people have all these expectations for you— I’m Shoma Hollander-Rozanov,” he says, like he’s reciting from a fact sheet, “Predicted number one pick for the Ottawa Centaurs. Captain of Team Canada. Brand ambassador for Rolex, Ferrari, CCM. Son of future NHL hall of famers Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov. One of the few active Asian players. One of the few active LGBTQ players. Like, how did you find you make space for you to just be you, under the weight of it?”
Ilya looks over at Shane and feels his heart break for their son. It isn’t easy, standing alone at the top. Both of their children would be, in their respective fields. His boy plays hockey and takes all sorts of violent hits to his body, his girl figure skates and spins on the ice with grace at speeds that makes him dizzy and she dances till her toes bleed.
“Sometimes, you have to be careful that you lose yourself to the weight of expectation,” Shane says, “And you have to know when to step back. Ignore the noise. First and foremost, I’m Shane Hollander. I also happen to be gay and Asian. Those are just parts of my identity that the people who love me, the right people, have to accept.”
”I’m tired,” Shoma says it like another confession. He could mean anything.
”Here’s what,” Ilya coos, poking his son lightly, “You’ve had a long day, solnyshko. Go take a bath, get changed and we’ll have another nice long talk more tomorrow, da? About everything, from the inner workings of gay sex to stepping away from things.”
”Papa,” Shoma whines, but gets up anyway, laughing, “Good night, Dads.”
“Night.”
”Sweet dreams.”
⛸️⛸️⛸️
Ilya wraps his arms around Shane’s waist and pulls him close.
”I think tomorrow’s your turn to have that talk with our son, Mr. Lots-of-Sex.”
”Oh, fuck off, Rozanov,” Shane scowls at him playfully.
”It’s good that they trust us enough to talk about these things,” Ilya nods, “Instead of sneaking around in hotel rooms to have hot sex with their rivals like we used to.”
”Oh, I don’t know, I think we better keep an eye on Shoma and the Russian,” Shane continues in that playful tone, “Last I remember, we had an incident where the Russian and Canadian captains fell in love and got married. Very scandalous. Not very rival-like of them.”
”Ah, last I heard, the Russian captain said it was the best thing that ever happened to him,” Ilya winks, kissing Shane deeply under the warm kitchen lights.