Chapter Text
Ilya had been playing on the same team as his husband for three years. Three marvellous life changing years. Good enough to make him forget all about the fact he couldn’t play for five weeks between his relationship with Shane being revealed and his marriage being recognized through their first wedding because Russia rescinded his citizenship. Or the fact they had to hire someone—Rose recommended because Harris didn't need to read that—to program both their social media accounts, especially his, to filter out comments in Russian. And what to say of everything else?
Day by day, week by week, he had learned to move on. A part of him would always miss the Russia of his childhood, but what his country had become, he did not miss. Last year, the law had worsened, making all gender affirming care illegal, as well as making homosexuality a mental illness once more.
July 1, 2023. Canada Day. If he’d been Shane, he’d have thought nothing of it. But he wasn’t. And regardless, how could one not see the link, when they’d named the law after him? The Rozanov Act.
The next day, he’d taken off the comment filter. Svetlana had put it back on three days later.
He was having a good day. He’d done a run with Anya, and he’d been with Shane all day practicing to win the Cup. Again. They should just leave it in Ottawa at this point. Better for the planet, and true to what would be.
They didn’t call him. Or Shane. Or their three emergency contacts of Rose, Scott and Yuna (in reverse order, and they weren't each other's emergency contact since they were always together and since they were married it apparently came with the territory in Canada). No. They called the Canadian embassy in Moscow, who called the Russian embassy in Ottawa who called the Ministry of Immigration who called the League who called Coach Wiebe. It angers him because he’s never been able to change his number without receiving a dead-line call with a Russian calling code ID about five minutes afterwards.
He knows there’s a problem when Wiebe cancels practice. That’s criminal to do unless someone is dead, and if it’s the King, Ilya doesn’t give a shit.
It’s not the King. It’s his brother. Andrei is 38. Was. Was 38. And he’s dead. An accident, they say. Ilya would have asked what kind of accident they mean, because in Russia there’s three. But he’s not on the phone, and calling back would be useless.
“Why are they calling? I’m not going to the funeral.” He says with more accent than usual, and he knows his team can tell it’s a sign he’s upset, but they don’t mention it because they’re nice. They’ve never laugh at his accent either, which he appreciates.
“I wouldn’t let you.” Coach says at the same time Shane says he’d rather die than let him. Lots of nodding and yeah fuck Russia echo their alternate captain.
“I wasn’t thinking of going.” Ilya scowls. “So why are they calling?”
“I’m not repeating it. And they played a real game of telephone with that sentence, so no doubt it sounds nothing like the original.”
“I don’t care, tell me.” He crosses his arms.
“Rozan-”
“I mean it. I’ve heard it all. Tell me.”
“They wanted to inform you that you’d be getting custody of your niece if you weren’t…” Coach winces half anger half disgust and it’s clear he won’t finish the sentence.
“What? A f*g? A traitor? Mentally ill? All three and more?” Ilya bites out, yet sinking into Shane’s arms carefully wrapping around him from behind.
“Something of that kind…” Coach mumbles.
“Hope you told them to go fuck themselves!” Wyatt shouts from the goal.
“No, Hayes, I didn’t tell the League to go fuck themselves. I’m keeping my one coach penalty of the year for the Metros.”
As if by some funny coincidence, they’ve never managed to play the Metros. Either the games were canceled or the Montreal team got kicked off before they could meet. He heard Pike say, through Shane, that it’s no coincidence at all, and he’s fully behind that. Fucking cowards.
But not this year. This year, every team that went up against the Metros lost, including Boston and New York. Which should be statistically impossible.
And it was statistically impossible until Ilya opened his work mails last week to find more or less clear pictures of the Metros plays. Still, if the other teams had them, too, how come they lost?
Boston is better than this, he’s definitely taught them better than this hockey wise. But clearly, he’s not made them done enough lateral suicides if they’re acting so. New York is also good, and Ilya has new respect for Scott Hunter since the first team that played Montreal after Shane's transfer was the Admirals and they trashed the bastards. Point is, maybe he should send Hunter and his old team vodka to console them. Or maybe not, since both teams should still make the Series, albeit with abysmal statistics.
Since they have decided to cancel practice as if that’s what Ilya needs, he and Shane make their way back to their car—which he picked, an actual good car—and for once Ilya lets Shane drive.
But Shane doesn’t drive. He don’t even put the car on. “Solnyshko (Sunshine). You have to start the car for us to make it home.”
“Ilya. Do you want to talk about it?” Ilya had been raised to think not looking people in the eyes was disrespectful. That it meant you weren’t paying attention. But Shane, ever since they’d been married and out, tended to look past him when they spoke. He didn’t know why, but it amused him. He loved everything about Shane, including how their house was color-coded from top to bottom. However, no matter what Canadians say, Ginger Ale is disgusting. They had a mini-fridge of it. The things he endured for love.
"No, Shane, I don't want to talk about it."
"Is it a real you don't want to or is it one of these times where I have to ask you again in ten minutes because in truth you do?"
They'd been navigating Shane's...Shaneness for three years, and they'd found some tricks. Ilya knew when he told Shane something, to say it as it is as much as possible. Shane knew to check when he was usure to have understood the social interaction that had transpired.
"I really don't want to talk about it. But...I could use a way to get it out my head." He smirked and the most beautiful perfect hockey player in the world, who also happened to be his husband, smirked back. Ilya leaned in to kiss him and Shane did the same. It was, after all, a twenty-minutes drive back home and they couldn't kiss while driving...
Ilya already had many reasons not to like Hayden Pike, and now he had a new one.
Shane's phone rang. Very loudly. Shane Hollander had a different ringtone for every contact in his phone that mattered enough to him. Ilya wasn't even sure how to change a ringtone. He was an instrumental of Once Upon A December, and nothing he could say would make Shane change it.
Hayden Pike, that little shit, was an instrumental of You've Got A Friend In Me. Ilya decided here and there if he ever had children-hopefully, one day, maybe-he would never let them watch Toy Tale or whatever it was called.
When Shane answered, Ilya immediately spoke over him: "He isn't available, please call back never."
"Very funny, Rozanov."
"Why thank you, Pike, and it's Hollander to you."
"Hayden, what's going on?" Shane spoke louder so they couldn't keep arguing.
"I dont think we'll be able to come to your house tonight."
"Why, did Montreal find out you still talk to us and lock you in a freezer?"
"Ilya." Shane sounded almost pleading, but it wasn't the context in which Ilya liked to hear that tone from his husband, so he raise his hands in mock surrender and shut up. For now.
"The babies are coming."
"What?! Is Jackie ok? Were you guys on the way there, is everything alright? Are you at the hospital now?"
"Yes. Jackie's alright, considering the circumstances. And actually we were already in the city so..."
"So you're in an Ottawa hospital." Ilya traduced for Shane.
"Do you want us to come?"
Of the top of his head, Ilya could think of five things he'd rather do than be present for the birth of the second set of twin daughters of Hayden Pike. Joking aside, Ilya knew they would be completely useless there and Jackie already was giving birth to two babies, she didn't need to deal with two more After all, Ilya was the youngest of two and Shane was an only child. Whatever help would they be in this context?
"Yes, actually. The girls are early, and for some reason, they won't let me in the room and I'm freaking out."
Ilya started the car. "Switch with me, Shane, I'll drive. Pike, you're gonna switch to the car's speakers, one moment."
Shane, who was on Ilya's lap anyway, simply let his husband move to the driver's seat before strapping himself in.
"Lya, seatbelt." He scolded and Ilya reached annoyedly for it.
"Seatbelts don't keep you alive, drivers do."
"That is so factually incorrect, Hollander."
"Shut up, Pike. If everyone was a good driver, we wouldn't need seatbelts."
"Says the guy who got out of three speeding tickets in a year by pretending he couldn't speak English and so he couldn't read the signs."
"If the streets of Montreal weren't always in repairs, I wouldn't need to speed to get to your house in a timely manner. Also, the circulation ticket people of Montreal are crazy. If the repair people were as good, then there would not be repair every time we visit. How long can it possibly take to repair St-Catherine?"
Shane hung up on Hayden before they could get more into it. "Will you take us there or not?"
And Ilya did.
They arrived there five minutes earlier than the GPS said.
"Why do I still let you drive us?"
"Because I am efficient. We've arrived."
"Barely..." Shane mumbled.
Hayden was shockingly easy to find once they'd reach the labour floor. One only had to follow the Quebec-style cursing. Shane passed an hand through his hair at the same moment Pike did, and Ilya could already tell he was osmosing his best friend's stress. Still, he had to admit Hayden Pike never cursed unless times were dire, although he was a great chirper anyway. Another thing Ilya was taking to his grave.
"We are here." He announced even thought it wasn't we that Hayden had wanted here but Shane.
"I don't understand why they won't let me in the room..." Whatever kicked puppies sounded like, Hayden wasn't too far from it, certainly.
Ilya found the look on Pike's face familiar, and it took him a moment to place why. It was the same look he had when Sha-no. If he thought about IT, he might actually cry today, and the idea of Shane-or worst Pike-thinking he was crying over his brother made him want to jump off something high. It would be humiliating.
"I'm sure it will be alright." Shane said even thought he had never watched someone give birth. Ilya had called it, they were going to be so useless.
"Why won't they let you in?" He inquired.
"I don't know, tabarnak!"
"That is not my name."
Shane looked like he was asking the hockey gods for strength, or maybe patience.
"It's just a curse word, Lya. Like fuck."
"I know. I am chirping."
"Really, now?"
"It's actually helpful, takes my mind off what's happening to focus on your pathological unbearableness, Rozanov."
"It's still Hollander to you."
"Will you two-"
"Mr. Pike?"
Three heads whipped toward the nurse, but to his credit, he seemed to recognize them and decided not to ask.
"You still can't come in."
"What?!" Hayden looked seconds away from an aneurysm.
And normally, Ilya would jape and chirp because that's what his relationship with Hayden Pike was-even if they were much closer and less into it than they had been three years ago-but he remembered IT. How awful IT had been, being unable to be with Shane, to check on him. To make sure the love of his life, the reason he got up in the morning, was alright. But Hayden could do that. There were literally no good reasons why he couldn't be by his wife's side. No doubt Jackie-although she was a sweet yet scary badass Ilya would never cross-would much prefer to have her husband by her side right now, and if it was Shane who was at risk of dying, Ilya would do anything to be by his side in the last moments.
"Why not?" Ilya played up his accent, not that it was hard. "Why can not? What is reason?"
"I..I..the doctor said-"
"Is doctor married?" Shane was hiding his face in Hayden's shoulder by now. Hayden was keeping a straight face but his eyes were laughing.
"Y-Yes."
"Have doctor children?"
"No, bu-"
"Then doctor idiot. Let us in. Jackie wants, am sure."
The nurse paled and went back in. Ilya knew these mirrors were not real and basically glowered at it. The young nurse came back with three blue robe things. No. Ilya wasn't wearing that and he wasn't going in.
"Let's go." Shane pushed his best friend forward and they both got dressed. Ilya followed.
The next three hours made Ilya so glad the love of his life was a man. He'd wanted children more seriously since babysitting the little Pikes more regularly-it had the opposing effect on Shane, as it appears toddlers dont understand colour codes-but labour was brutal. Women were goddesses, and Ilya didn't understand pathetic men who decided to hate on them because they couldn't otherwise be interesting.
"And they say hockey violent." Ilya was losing his English watching this, but Jackie had looked relieved to see them all. Shane had his head hidden in Ilya's shirt for the last fifteen minutes.
And then the babies came out. Twin girls, they had known. One of them quickly cried, but not the other.
Ilya-already not at his best with all the blood-could not look at the blue-tinted little one. It reminded him of-
But eventually, she too cried and the tension suddenly went down.
Ilya couldn't wait to get out of this suffocating room, but Jackie told them to wait. He frowned at her.
"Is this about me scaring the nurse?"
"No. But don't do that again. These poor healthcare workers are overworked enough as it is without having to deal with you."
Pike was grinning way too much for a man whose oldest children had an eleven year difference with the newest. That set Ilya on edge.
"Shane, Ilya." Jackie said gently. "Meet Lily and Jane."
It made Shane laugh. Ilya, not so much.
"Really, Pike?"
"So you will not be Jane's godfather?"
"I never said that, you are twisting my words to make me lie."
"Well, you don't look happy about it, so I'll just bestow the entire honor on Shane."
And they were at it again, bickering.
Jackie and Shane shared an exasperated look.
And if Ilya had very shiny eyes when holding Jane, it was just a light trick.