Chapter Text
In his entire career, the worst road trips were never the road trips where Ilya wasn't seeing Hollander. It was always the Dads' Trips. For many years, he was surrounded by his Boston teammates' dads who were good natured and supportive of their sons. It made the gap in his heart feel a little wider and a little deeper in the spot where his father never occupied. Sometimes, he would go on drinking benders and pick up as many hot women as possible to let the sex and orgasms distract him. One year, he decided to piss off the biggest asshole of all the dads because it made him feel slightly better that he could chirp and talk shit about someone who most resembled his own dad.
And in the later years, he thought of Shane and David Hollander. Would David be the sort of dad to give commentary after Shane's games? Or would he sit quietly and listen to Shane's boring play by play reenactment? He reckoned David Hollander was the sort to have a beer while reassuring Shane that he did a good job, while Shane drove himself crazy. After the summer Ilya was introduced to Yuna and David, all his speculations became certainties. In fact it made those two years of dads' trips even worse. Now he knew that David would be the sort to pat his son on the back while Shane bored everyone to death about his weak backhand or the goals he missed. He knew that Yuna would be the one who would later join the Moms' Trips and spend the entire time strategizing with the Voyageurs' coach. He knew that David would smile and cheer, not in a rowdy way but in the soft way he did when they watched Shane play on TV.
All this to say, when his last Boston Bears' Dads Trip and then his first Ottawa Centaurs Dads' Trip came about, that chasm in his heart wasn't just a dark deep hole, it was a cliff's edge with startling clarity of all it's jagged edges and hard ground.
"I'll get dad's bags," Shane said as he unbuckled his seatbelt, just as Ilya and he pull up to his parents' house. Ilya nodded and tapped restlessly against the steering wheel of his sensible SUV. They left home earlier than usual for the rink as they had to pick up David for the annual Ottawa Centaurs Dads' trip. Already David and Yuna were waiting by the front door for them.
"Promise you'll drive carefully," Yuna said to Ilya from the doorstep.
Ilya rolled down his wiindow, "I'm a good driver. Don't worry."
"More like a crazy driver," Shane said as he loaded David's suitcase into the back of the SUV.
"Says the slow one with a tailgater almost hitting him last week," Ilya said back, pleased he got to use his new word, Tailgate.
"It's only a short drive, let's go boys, David reassures as he gets into the back seat, Ilya still feels strange whenever David pats him on the shoulder like he did now. It fills him with the same sense of wonder as a magic trick. Wonderful and unreal.
They didn't play any music in the car, except for Shane's little intakes of breath whenever Ilya purposefully sped up a little toward a red light. Ilya caught glances at his husband, he couldn't help but smile at Shane's death glare over his cute freckles. When they arrived, Shane was clearly annoyed as he launched out of the car before Ilya even put his handbrake on.
"Oh boy," David finally said and patted Ilya on the shoulder again.
"Don't worry, son, you know how it is." In that moment, Ilya didn't really care if he riled up his husband when his heart glowed with a warmth that was still new and unfamiliar to him. Each time David reassured him felt like a balm on old scars. Never making them disappear but making them less prominent in his life. Ilya got out to see that Shane had taken his suitcase out of the trunk and left it on the asphalt for Ilya, not bothering to wait for father and husband. He must have been pissed.
"Hollander," Ilya shouted to Shane's fine ass walking away from him to the team bus.
"He's much more riled up than usual," David said as they began to walk to the team bus side by side.
"I barely did anything," Ilya exclaimed.
"Yeah but hockey isn't your only talent. You're also good at getting under everyone's skin," David said matter-of-factly.
"Oh, so you're a chirping hockey player now? Not just dad to a famous one?"
David grinned back at Ilya with a fond smile. "I was a hockey player once remember."
"Small university of McGill, right? That's like kids hobby." Ilya knew perfectly well of McGill's legacy now.
David laughed and patted Ilya on the shoulder.
"David Hollander, who was your son's favourite player growing up?" Harris asked with his phone propped against the headrest of Ilya's seat.
"Let me think. I believe it was Patrick Marleau."
"You're wrong, it was clearly his sexy future-husband," Ilya said, earning a nudge from Harris.
"Stop messing up with my content," Harris said. "Actually don't stop. The fans love it. And Shane Hollander, who was your favourite player growing up?" Harris practically pushed into Ilya to get a good angle of Shane on his phone. Ilya felt Shane straighten, his knee that was pressed up against Ilya moved away a fraction.
"I, um, had lots of players to look up to. But I did have a Patrick Marleau poster on my wall."
Ilya blew a raspberry at his husband's publicity trained answer. So boring.
"Thanks Shane and David! Ilya I need you to not terrorise your team while I do my job," Harris warned without bothering to hide his own smile.
"Yeah, save the bullying for the Panthers tonight," Bood shouted from his seat.
"You should really let Harris do his job," Shane said disapprovingly and Ilya was starting to get really annoyed with him.
"Shane," he warned. He was just trying to have a bit of fun.
"Seriously Ilya, what is your problem this morning?" Shane asked and Ilya felt not just Shane's furious gaze fall on him but everyone else's on the plane.
"What?" Ilya shrugged. He didn't understand why Shane wanted to pick a fight with him. He didn't want to have a fight right now. Not in public, not in front of their whole team and not in front of everyone's dads.
"Just," Shane looked around everywhere but at Ilya. "Drop the dicking around. Not here."
Ilya leaned back in his seat, glaring at anyone who had turned around in their seat to catch a glimpse of what's going on between the married couple. Now he is mad. Mad at Shane for being more wound up than usual. Mad at Shane for not telling him why he's the one taking his shit. He wanted to be more obnoxious. But his therapist wouldn't like that so he stood up.
"Come with me," he said, hand outstretched to his husband.
"What?" Shane asked, eyes wide and darted around. It made him look like a confused kitten.
"Come with me," he said in Russian. "Before I pick you up and carry you like a teddy bear."
He waited for Shane to translate what he said and glared back before he hurriedly undid his seatbelt to get up.
"Remember we have a game tonight," Coach Wiebe shouted down the aisle as Ilya took Shane's hand to walk him to the back of the plane with their teammates hooting and cheering but he paid them no mind. He opened the bathroom door and pulled Shane in with him. Fortunately with the Centaurs' private jet, the space is slightly bigger than commercial flights. He didn't even get a chance to lock the door when Shane pushed him up against the sink.
"Seriously, what is your problem?"
Ilya blinked, "No, why are you getting so mad?" He pushed back at Shane, who backed into the wall.
"Me, mad?" Shane gasped. "I can't believe you. You've been driving recklessly, just to piss me off when I asked specifically not to. Then you're playing buddies with dad and finally what are you doing in front of Harris and his camera? What is going on?"
"Is my kitten upset with me because I had too much fun?" Ilya asked in Russian, his thumb reached out to rub one of Shane's freckles.
"Don't," Shane flinched. "I know you are like this sometimes. But I don't know why you would get my dad involved?"
"It is Dads Trip. Dads and sons having fun."
"Yeah but he's my dad." Shane snapped and it cut Ilya deeply. He pulled away.
"Yes he is your dad. Only father-in-law to me." Ilya couldn't look at Shane right now. What was he thinking? Trying to believe that this dad's trip could be different. He would never have a father he could trust and have fun with on the road like this. He stormed out of the bathroom and stared at the rows of his teammates, his family and all of their dads having a great time. He ran into the other bathroom and locked the door.