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Trips to Los Angeles to play the LA Crowns were always packed. Many of their sponsors had offices there, and any time Shane and Ilya were in the city, Yuna would have a full calendar waiting. She was meticulous about it, and Shane had long since stopped being surprised by how much she could fit into a two-day window.
That was why it was a little surprising when she suggested a brand new deal.
They were at his parents’ house after dinner, casually playing Yahtzee (the Hollander definition of casual being “win at any cost”), when Yuna brought it up.
“Oh, I thought this was interesting. Los Angeles Metro, the transit authority, reached out to see if you’d be interested in doing a social media campaign to promote the expansion of their subway. The Purple Line. Or the D Line, I think they said.”
Ilya raised an eyebrow. “They have subway in Los Angeles? I thought was cars. Everywhere.”
“I think that’s why they want to advertise it,” Yuna said. “I was surprised they wanted out-of-towners, but they said their angle was how easy it is for visitors to use it to explore LA.”
Shane's first instinct was that they didn't really need it, as their LA schedule was already sure to be packed, and it wasn't like they were short on brand deals. But public transit was genuinely worth promoting. He'd spent enough hours stuck in traffic outside arenas to have opinions about it.
"If we have the time, it could be good," he said. "Public transit is so much more sustainable than everyone just driving alone."
“Captain Canada,” Ilya said fondly. “So responsible.”
“That’s Alternate Captain Canada to you.”
Shane still sometimes felt odd without the C on his jersey, but there wasn’t anyone he’d rather back up than his husband. It wasn’t as much of a loss as he’d once feared. Also, Ilya was a fantastic captain, and it still gave Shane a small, private thrill watching the way he could motivate the team.
“Well,” Yuna said, “you don’t have to decide right now. Just let me know in the next few weeks. It’s not a lot of money, but it could be good exposure. And a fun change.”
Ilya shook the dice cup thoughtfully.
Shane rerolled three sixes with ruthless precision.
Later, back at the house, Ilya pulled out his phone while they were watching game tape. Shane disapproved of anything that distracted from analyzing their opponents’ defensive structure, but had long since accepted that no one was as focused on this as he was.
Ilya liked to gently remind him of that.
He opened the Los Angeles Metropolitan Transit Authority Instagram. If Yuna thought it was worth considering, he would at least look. It did seem a little odd that they’d reach out to hockey players from an opposing team, but the account had a playful tone. There was a teaser video for the subway expansion that was actually quite charming.
Then he saw the slogan.
And the T-shirts.
Ilya put his phone face-down on the coffee table with great care.
“You think we should do subway ad?” he asked lightly. “Might be fun.”
Shane didn’t look away from the screen. “Sure, if you want. Could be nice to do something a little different.”
A little different indeed.
Ilya sent a text to the family group confirming they were in.
Then he ordered a crop top.
They flew out ahead of the team to handle sponsor obligations and whatever else Yuna had stacked onto the calendar, arguing it made sense to fill in as much as possible since they were already there.
By the time they were standing on the Wilshire/Western platform with a small film crew and two Metro social media reps in purple polos, Shane was deep into environmental responsibility.
“This is great,” he said to the woman with the clipboard. “I’ve heard traffic here is unreal. I didn’t even know people could just get on a train—”
“Exactly,” she said brightly. “That’s the message.”
Ilya stood beside him, sunglasses still on, hands in his jacket pockets. He hadn’t stopped smiling since they came down the escalator.
Behind them, the sign read:
D LINE
Shane looked around with interest. “So, this is the extension?”
“Yeah,” the other rep said. “We’re expanding further west. We want people to see how easy it is to ride it from here to anywhere along Wilshire.”
“Ride it,” Ilya echoed softly.
Shane nodded. “It’s smart. Visitors don’t want to rent a car just to explore.”
Ilya resisted the urge to pat him on the head. He was so earnest.
They were handed TAP cards and filmed entering through the gates. The crew arranged them in a series of natural poses: leaning against the wall together, sitting side by side on a bench.
At one point, Ilya laughingly pulled Shane down into his lap.
Shane made a face, kissed him quickly, then pushed back up. “It’s not that kind of ride.”
Somehow, Ilya kept a straight face.
Since the line wasn’t running yet, they filmed the interior shots in a staged car. The team explained they’d simulate motion in post-production. Ilya suspected they’d also digitally add other passengers later.
They sat shoulder to shoulder on the molded plastic seats.
“Maybe something about how visitors can use it to get to a game?” the director suggested.
“Right!” Shane brightened. “If you’re in town to see the Crowns, you don’t need to deal with parking. Just take the subway straight to the arena—”
One of the social media reps cut in. “Can you mention the line by name? We’re really trying to push the branding.”
Ilya bit the inside of his cheek.
“Oh, of course.” Shane tried again. “Just take the D Line straight in.”
Ilya looked down at his hands so the camera wouldn’t catch the way his shoulders were shaking.
They filmed B-roll next: emerging into sunlight, walking along Wilshire, stopping to peer into storefronts. Palm trees lined the street.
Ilya stopped for a fish taco at a stand, ignoring Shane’s faintly horrified look at the concept of street food. The crew delighted in filming the taco disintegrating in his hands while Shane patiently held napkins at the ready.
By late afternoon they returned underground for the final shot.
“We’ll end with you heading back toward the hotel,” the director said. “Full circle.”
They climbed the stairs, juggling shopping bags filled with tissue paper. As they approached the hotel entrance, Ilya slid a hand to the small of Shane’s back, guiding him through the revolving door.
The director beamed. “That was perfect. You were so natural.”
They declined offers of dinner—Yuna would have a coronary if they skipped a scheduled sponsor meeting—and took a cab back to their actual hotel.
“That wasn’t bad at all,” Shane said as they sat in the LA traffic they’d spent the day avoiding.
“Very enjoyable,” Ilya agreed.
Shane glanced at him. “You’re in a weirdly good mood.”
“I am always in a good mood.”
“Not like this.”
Ilya removed his sunglasses and gave him a look.
“I just think,” he said mildly, “it is important to support public transportation.”
Shane snorted. “Like you care about public transportation. You complain when we have to fly commercial.”
Ilya smiled.
“Of course I do. I care very much about… riding.”
Shane frowned, then shrugged. “Okay. Whatever you say.”
There was nothing particularly special about that Tuesday morning at first.
Shane ran with Anya, they worked out, Shane made a smoothie while Ilya insisted on eating “actual food.”
Then their phones started exploding.
Shane opened Hayden’s text first. Bro. Seriously?
That didn’t clarify anything. He opened the team chat. It had fifty-three messages and was still going.
He scrolled down, catching glimpses: are reels from the shower next? and didn’t know you had it in you! and, from Luca, a plaintive wait is this actually about trains??
Shane looked up slowly. Ilya was shaking with laughter.
“Ilya. What did you do?”
Ilya attempted innocence and failed spectacularly. “Oh! Did I forget to mention we received the link to review the LA subway ad? You were busy, so I approved it. Knew you would not mind.”
Shane stared at him.
Why would a public transit ad cause this much chaos?
“Give,” Shane said, holding out his hand.
“Was posted this morning,” Ilya said brightly, sending the link.
Shane tapped it.
The video looked normal. Cute music. Transit montage. Laughing. Tourism. Them walking into the hotel together, Ilya’s hand on his back, their heads tilted toward each other.
Then the caption appeared in bright purple text:
RIDE THE D.
And beneath it:
#RideTheD
For one split second, something cold dropped into his stomach. It was one thing for teammates to chirp them about being married. It was another thing entirely if a city transit authority had decided to make them the punchline.
He could just not look at the comments. That was an option.
He looked at the comments.
Laughing emojis. Purple hearts. Hockey fans tagging each other. The inevitable #Hollanov. One comment read: Of course they picked those two.
Shane’s jaw tightened as he clicked over to the LA Metro profile.
And stopped.
Every recent post had the same tagline. A construction update: RIDE THE D. A route map graphic: RIDE THE D. A family boarding at a different station: RIDE THE D.
It went back for months. They even sold shirts.
Shane exhaled slowly, then looked back at Ilya. “So we weren’t the joke.”
Ilya tilted his head. “No. We were perfect fit.”
“And you knew.”
Silence was confirmation.
“How long?”
“Was reason I said yes.”
Shane let his head thunk gently against the counter. “You let me talk about environmentalism. And infrastructure.”
Ilya patted his back. “You were very sincere.”
“I’m going to get chirped about this for the rest of the season.”
“Yes.”
Shane tried to glare. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
“How much is too much?”
“You could’ve warned me.”
“You looked happy,” Ilya said lightly. “And it is harmless. Also, it is funny.”
Shane wanted to stay indignant. He really did. But it was funny. Or it would be, once he survived the group chat.
His lips twitched despite himself, and Ilya visibly relaxed.
“Be right back,” he said, and disappeared down the hall. Shane watched him go with deep suspicion, knowing that tone never meant anything good.
He picked up his phone with a sigh. He answered his mom with Yes, we approved it, deciding a small lie now would save a longer explanation later. Rose had sent several messages he couldn’t bring himself to open.
The team chat was a lost cause, but he fired back anyway: It is LITERALLY about trains. He put the phone back face down before he could see any responses.
A minute passed.
He flipped it over.
The Los Angeles Metro account had replied to someone tagging them in the video: “We love seeing people enjoy the D Line 💜”
Shane stared at it for a long moment. Then he put the phone down very carefully, like it had done something to him personally.
“I am changing teams,” he muttered.
From the hallway came the soft sound of a door closing. Shane narrowed his eyes.
Then Ilya reappeared.
He was wearing a crop top.
It fit obscenely well.
And stretched across his chest in unapologetic letters:
RIDE THE D.
Shane just stared.
“You ordered that,” he said slowly. “Before we even went.”
Ilya turned in a slow circle, modeling it like he was on a runway. “Very comfortable. High quality. Sustainable cotton.”
Shane dragged a hand down his face. “You are never, ever wearing that outside this house.”
“I was not planning to.” Ilya stepped closer, close enough that Shane could see the satisfaction in his eyes. “But you do ride it very, very well.”
Shane grabbed the hem and pulled him in. The shirt was soft. The skin underneath was softer.
“I’ve always thought,” Shane muttered, “the key was finding the right D to ride.”
Ilya’s grin was blinding. “Should we test theory?”
Shane’s phone was abandoned on the counter as they disappeared down the hall, still laughing.
On the counter, his phone buzzed again.
Rose: Enjoy the ride!