Chapter Text
Shane Hollander didn't spend much of his time thinking about Troy Barrett.
He mostly just knew he existed, was kind of a dick and had recently been unceremoniously booted out of Toronto and traded to Boston way under what should be his selling price.
Barrett was such a non-existent concept Ilya hadn't even acknowledged his move to Boston beyond liking the post on the team's official Instagram, as was his captain duty. And when he was with Shane, well they definitely had better things to discuss and do than think about a likely homophobic dick from Toronto.
So it was a bit surprising when Shane got the long awaited text before Montreal’s game in Boston. They were arriving the morning before the game and had two whole days off after it, so Shane and Ilya had big plans to spend them together. Alone.
Ilya: Troy is staying at my place.
Shane: Troy? As in Troy Barrett?
He sent another text filled with question marks, before Ilya could even begin to reply, just to drive home the magnitude of his confusion.
Ilya: Is sick. Should not be alone.
Shane had no idea why that necessarily meant Barrett should be staying with Ilya. Yeah, he was the captain, but surely there was somewhere else he’d rather be, someone he’d rather be with.
Also that put a sizable dent into their plans. He can’t just show up at Ilya’s door unexplained. God only knew how Barrett would think. It was too dangerous. He could out them to the league and then they might get booted out and Ilya would no longer have a visa and he’d get sent back to Russia and ...
Shane’s thoughts started spiralling, but his phone pinged again.
Ilya: It is okay.
Ilya: He won’t say anything.
Ilya: Just come over. I will explain.
Shane stared at his phone screen in disbelief. Did Ilya hit his head? Maybe somebody is holding him hostage? Maybe Barrett is?
The phone lit up again, revealing a singular word from his boyfriend: Please.
And just like that Shane folded like his clothes before sex.
Shane and his team arrived in the snowy town of Boston the morning before the game. He promptly got dragged off to do some PR bullshit that would have fans commenting things like: “He looks like somebody is holding a gun to his head,” or “Are they threatening his parents to make him do this,” or Ilya’s personal favourite “Why does he always seem haunted in these?”
His darling partner laughed at that one way to much and when he finally stopped he played the clip they were referring to again and the cycle continued until Shane was half worried he’d suffocate from the lack of air he managed to get in his lungs.
In Ilya’s defence, Shane did look like he’d rather be conversing with ghosts than answer any more stupid media questions.
Today was even worse than usual, they wanted him to play some sort of a game, not the trivia kind, where he could spew his encyclopaedic knowledge of hockey, but something about recognizing which player’s faces were mashed together in the picture. It was borderline creepy.
Ilya would enjoy it though and make funny comments that would get clipped and spread around until the end of time. What? He kept up with what internet said about his boyfriend, sue him.
He also enjoyed watching very nice photos of him and the occasional fan art, that he would sent to Ilya, because he knew he secretly loved them too.
What he didn’t enjoy was being in the same city as Ilya and not even seeing him until warm-ups.
It might just be the distance, but Shane could swear, he looked extra good today.
He saw him wink at him from across the ring and Shane had to try his damn hardest not to blush like a teenager with a crush.
The game was brutal, but that was nothing new for them. They fought tooth and nail, finishing the regular part on equal points. Boston somehow managed to score in just before the horn sounded and while Shane was moderately annoyed by the loss, he could barely stop himself from smiling at the thought of him and Ilya in bed tonight.
Then he remembered that Barrett was apparently at Ilya’s place, Shane did note his absence, and it made it a bit easier to keep that smile of his face.
But Ilya said he’d explain and Shane trusted him more than anybody on this plane of existence.
Blissfully absolved of after game media today, he showered quickly and packed his stuff away without properly folding it, which apparently ticked off Hayden, who gave him a strange look that quickly turned into a suggestive smile and an eyebrow wiggle.
He of course thought Shane was meeting “Boston Lily” and in his defence he was.
Shane let himself into Ilya’s house with the key that sat right next to the key to his own and the one for the cottage. They had exchanged keys a few months ago after they talked about the pointlessness of hiding in the back alleys.
The door closed rather quietly after him and Shane looked around the spacious living space.
He could tell Ilya wasn’t back yet, the chaos at the door was too limited, but there were a few unknown pairs of shoes, which reminded him that an asshole was supposed to be somewhere in the house.
He took a few steps further in and disposed of his bag on the chair by the kitchen island, before walking further into the house and would you know there was a miserable looking heap lying at the edge of the couch.
If Shane hadn’t possessed a better knowledge of Ilya’s living room he would confuse it for s pile of blankets. If he looked closely, he could see it move slightly, rising with each inhale and dipping down with each exhale.
Shane stares at it, after fifteen seconds he could hear a faint cough coming out of the blanket burrito, unsure whether it was dampened by the thick fabric or the person that produced it.
Deciding this was too awkward even for him, Shane finally makes a proper sound.
“Um, hello?”
The pile twitched in surprise and was then overcome with complete stillness. Shane wasn’t even sure Barrett was still breathing.
It wasn’t like he could shock him to death, right? Right?!
To his immense relief the blanket slowly started moving again into an upwards position, like a strange over grown fabric worm.
At some point a part of it slid off revealing a messy mop of dark hair.
Barrett finally turned to face him and his expression could best be described as shock mixed with fear rolled up into confusion.
He looked quite horrendous, Shane had to admit. His skin was pale, his eye bags heavy and the part of his hair that wasn’t sticking up in all directions was plastered on his forehead with sweat.
After a few seconds his expression changed and his complexion turned red with embarrassment.
“Oh, hi. I mean ... Ilya said you’d be coming.”
Ilya told him Shane was coming?
Well he probably had to. The one thing weirder than Shane Hollander showing up at his rival’s house is Shane Hollander showing up at his rival’s house unannounced. So yeah, Ilya probably decided it would be for the best he informed his germ infested guest there Shane would appear at some point.
They were now awkwardly staring at each other and Shane found himself regretting making his presence known.
Him and this guy had nothing in common, except like being Canadian hockey players. And Shane didn’t know him, never had the desire to, from what he heard he was an ass, not the way Ilya was an ass, the worse kind of an ass.
And God only knew when Ilya would be coming, so for now they were stuck together.
Shane wracked around his brain trying to figure out what to do.
“Do you want some tea?”
He wasn’t one hundred percent sure how he came to this exact idea, but whenever he was sick his mother would pour excessive amounts of disgusting tasting tea down his throat while explaining its medicinal purposes.
He was pretty sure Ilya had some tea somewhere, hopefully not the disgusting variety.
He turned on the kettle and found tea bags that didn’t look too suspicious and claimed to be some kind of a herbal tea. There was however also a box with Cyrillic inscriptions giving off a strange smell that Shane choose to shove to the very back of the cupboard.
The water finally boiled and Shane poured it into the mugs, then made his way with them over to the couch where Troy sat unmoving for the past three minutes or so, staring through the giant widows Ilya was so fond of.
Shane had a slight problem finding space on the coffee table, navigating around half a mountain of tissues and at least three empty mugs, thankfully none of them had yet developed any cultures.
The clink of the mugs against the hard wood surface finally woke Barrett out of his stupor.
“Thank you,” he said with the energy of a non reanimated mummy.
They sat in silence slowly sipping tea, until even Shane couldn’t take the awkward silence anymore.
“So, how are you finding Boston?”
Troy looked up at him, visibly surprised that Shane Hollander is attempting to make conversation with him.
“Um. Yeah. It’s fine, the guys are nice. Roz is really nice, has been very helpful," he didn’t sound particularly convinced, except the last part; that was said with more certainty.
It didn’t surprise Shane though, he knew Ilya was an amazing person and actually quite a bit of a softy under his well placed masks and walls.
“Why did you get traded?”
It slipped out of Shane’s mouth before his brain could even process the idea of saying it. It was a rarity, but he just got a bit too curious. Ilya did like to say he was asking too many quesitons on occasion.
Troy gets a strange expression and his eyes already red now rim with tears.
“I called Dallas Kent a rapist.”
He what? Shane’s brain was spinning. Why would Troy Barrett call Dallas Kent, his best friend, a rapist? It made no sense. Those two were basically always together, at least from what Shane had seen, which he had to admit wasn’t all that much.
“Why?” he breathed out.
“Because he’s a rapist.”
The second reply was even more blunt than the first one.
Shane was so out of his depth here. He wouldn’t put it past the racist homophobic jerk, but the free admittance of it, by his best friend (well, probably not anymore) at that? That was almost surreal.
He usually wasn’t one for gossip and he could see it was not a light topic for Troy, but he just wanted to know?
“Did you ... did you know?”
Shane knew it was a nasty thing to ask, but depending on the answer his opinion of Troy would likely to be decided for the rest of times.
He immediately regretted it though, Troy looked heartbroken. Maybe because he did know, maybe because he couldn’t believe Shane would think that about him.
God, Shane hoped it was the second one.
“I ... I only put it together recently, after one of,” his breath hitched, “after one of his victims contacted me.”
Troy was fully crying now. Shane could see the stray tears, before he lifted up his hands to cover his face.
“And I didn’t want to believe it at first, but then ... it made sense? And there were others, I saw posts online. And I just can’t believe I was so blind ...”
He breaks off sobbing.
Shane had no clue what to do, but he had to do something, because, well, it was kind of his fault, wasn’t it?
So he awkwardly put his hand on Troy’s shoulder, the way his mother did sometimes when he was upset.
“Hey, it wasn’t your fault. You can’t hold yourself responsible for his actions.”
It felt emotionally constipated and it was far from perfect, but Shane hoped it was at least somewhat soothing.
“But ... but if I had noticed something sooner ...” he trailed off into quiet hick ups.
“You didn’t. It’s not your fault. I’m not judging you,” Shane said while gently massaging his right shoulder, channelling his inner Hayden, because he was good with people and calming them down.
He wasn’t sure why he said that last part out loud, probably because approximately half an hour ago he was judging Troy, quite a lot to be honest. It did seem to make Troy feel a little bit better and he finally started breathing a bit easier.
Shane stretched towards the table and pulled a fresh tissue out of the box, passing it over to Troy so he could blow his nose.
He steered the conversation away and they spent a few more minutes, just talking about random safe topics, like how was Boston and where there were any good restaurants nearby. Strangely enough they bonded over their diets and love for salmon.
Shane also noticed Troy didn’t ask why Shane came over or what his deal with Ilya was. He remained perfectly unintrusive and Shane appreciated it.
Finally the door creaked announcing the arrival of Ilya. And Shane was so happy to finally see him.
“Sorry. Media was annoying,” he said from the door, while taking off his shoes.
Ilya made his way to the main living space with quick steps, revealing his haste to finally see the man he loved.
As he turned the corner the scene seemed quite surprising for him.
Well, if Shane thought about it, it was rather uncanny.
As far as Ilya was concerned he had just walked in to see his boyfriend and his very sick new teammate, possibly friend, sitting on the couch, and the teammate had obviously been crying. Not a good look.
“Shane,” Ilya said with confusion and possible disappointment in his voice.
Maybe Ilya was currently getting a taste of what Shane was feeling when he walked into the living room just to see Ilya and Hayden with knifes to each other's throats midst what was supposed to be a “get to know each other in a civilised manner” dinner.
Before he could gather the words to explain nothing bad happened, Troy decided to absolve him of it.
“We had a strangely personal conversation, but it’s good now,” he said in a strangely blunt manner, that made Shane think he might just befriend this guy.
Ilya seemed to be content with that answer and smiled brightly.
“You are getting along then?”
“I think so, yes,” said Shane finally finding his voice.
It made Ilya even happier and he strode over to the couch and kissed Shane passionately, while Troy awkwardly looked away.
Oh, yes, they hadn’t exactly told Troy about their relationship, had they?
So this was like double awkward.
The idea hit Ilya too as he slowly detached himself from Shane and looked over at Troy who was stubbornly staring at the TV, that was turned off of course.
Both Shane and Ilya straightened up and Shane absently wiped his mouth.
“Um, so, Shane and I are a couple,” Ilya said. Normally Ilya would ask Shane for permission before divulging their secret, but they were a bit past that.
Troy hummed in response, clearly wildly uncomfortable by the display.
Shane hoped it was because it was a bit much and not because they were two guys, from different teams, who were pitted as rivals near a decade.
“Um, I’m gay,” Troy said after a brief moment of silence.
Oh.
Was the only thought in Shane’s brain.
“I’m gay too,” he said, as if that wasn’t obvious from their performance a few seconds ago.
Troy took it in stride, thought, and simply nodded, saying “awesome.”
The sheer weirdness of it all made Ilya burst out laughing, which then prompted the other two to join him. The mood in the room immediately lightened.
“I’m guessing you two want some privacy,” Troy said.
Shane gaped, but no sound came out of his mouth.
“No worries. It’s not like I haven’t done it myself. And I have really good noise cancelling headphones,” Troy added and started rising from the couch, with the stability of a newborn dear on ice, only to be pushed back down by Ilya.
“After dinner, maybe. You look like Halloween decoration.”
Shane had to admit Ilya was somewhat right, but still rude. He was just about to stretch over to slap him when Troy barked out a laugh, it was horse as hell, but incredibly joyous for someone who just cried their eyes out only a few minutes ago.
They ended up ordering in. Ilya and Shane too tired from the game and especially the press after and Troy was too sick to do anything half way decent, also he’d probably get his germs all over the food.
It was from a nearby Chinese restaurant, that Ilya swore by and soon enough the tissues on the table were replaced with a mountain of take out containers.
When most of the containers were emptied Shane could see Troy slowly nodding off. Ilya noticed it too and took it upon himself to get his younger teammate in to the guest bedroom, even if he basically had to carry him there.
After that Shane and Ilya started watching a movie, which quickly turned to watching each other pretending to watch the movie, which turned horny.
Which then moved to Ilya’s bedroom.
Shane really hoped Troy’s noise cancelling headphones were as good as he said.