Chapter Text
Ilya was crammed into the back of a taxi on his way to the hotel where some stupid media awards show that he didn’t give a single shit about is being held. He was invited to represent the league or something. But the only reason he’d agreed to it was because Hollander was going to be there too and Ilya was too weak to resist actually seeing him again, even if he had a girlfriend.
He was never yours to keep.
A voice whispers in the back of his mind. Whatever. He was too far gone now. If the most he could see of Hollander now was a glimpse of him across the room then he’d take it. Just to be close to him, just to breathe the same air.
Get a grip Rozanov.
People are tightly packed into the venue when Ilya arrives. Minor celebrities and other irrelevant public figures there to make an appearance, like him, he supposes. He scans the room for Hollander but can’t see him. Then, just before the lights dim, Ilya sees a figure dip into his seat a two rows in front of him. Ilya knows the broad shoulders, that dark head, that careful poise. Shane
Ilya’s chest tightens and he can’t focus anywhere else. As the presenters drone on and on, working their way through the different categories, Ilya’s eyes keep being drawn back to the one person there that he cares about. It’s like Shane is a bonfire on a dark night, blazing bright just for Ilya’s eyes.
Everyone is expected to mingle after the awards in a great hall with high ceilings and a large bar. Networking his agent had said, and really that was the only reason he was there - he wasn’t even up for any of the stupid awards they were handing out. Fuck networking, Ilya wanted to see Shane. So what if he's being pathetic?
But the room is heaving. Women in grand dresses taking up room, photographers milling and taking snaps with people who were presumably networking. The room is too big to scan for Hollander, he decides he’ll have to work his way around slowly. But first, a drink. Ilya gets himself a large vodka. It won’t be any good but it’ll settle his nerves before seeing Shane again. Drink secured, he moves past the bar and leans against the wall, taking a sip and observing the room again.
A young woman with sparkly eyeshadow meets his eyes and smiles at him. She’s pretty enough, but she’s not Shane. Ilya gives a polite nod back.
Go away, not now. He tries to convey to her telepathically. But it doesn’t work because she takes a step towards him and he is preparing a glare when Shane himself pops out from behind her and all but falls into Ilya.
He must have lost his balance somehow when he dodged around the woman because he bumps into Ilya and spills his drink all down the front of Ilya's suit.
Hollander, of course, freaks out.
“Oh GOD, oh god I’m so sorry Rozanov. I didnt-“
“Hollander-“
“I was trying to find you and that woman came out of nowhere and oh my god”
The woman, thankfully was stepping away from them, scared off by the chaos.
Shane is freaking out, searching around frantically for something to soak the red liquid spilled down Ilya’s chest. Was it wine? Since when did Shane drink wine?
"I was trying to find you"
Shane is on the verge of tears. This is extreme, even for Shane. Even for the suit that is now dripping.
“Hollander, let’s go to the bathroom. They will have towels”
“Okay”
Ilya leads them down a hallway to a bathroom he’d used before the ceremony began. They get a few looks on their way out, Ilya’s suit’s a mess. It looks a bit like he’s been shot with all the red bleeding down his white shirt.
When they each the bathroom, clearly meant for one person, he pulls Shane in after him and locks the door.
“But if they see-“ he starts but Ilya waves him off.
“Then they will see you helping me clean up after spilling drink on me. Like the polite Canadian you are”
Shane looks wiped out, now Ilya can see him up close. Dark smudges under his eyes and his hands are shaking slightly as they bunch up paper towels to hand to Ilya.
“Oh god. Oh god. I’m sorry”, he’s muttering.
“Hollander, is okay”
“It’s NOT okay Rozanov I’ve ruined it!” Shane bursts out, eyes wide.
“Is not ruined” Ilya lies.
“Yes it is!!” Shane’s looking up at him now, those dark brown eyes full of distress. Ilya’s stomach twists.
“Okay, maybe a bit ruined. But Shane, really, is okay. I will buy new one. I am very rich, yes? I can afford it.”
He hopes the use of his name won’t make him freak out any more than he already is. Shane goes quiet.
God he’s beautiful.
“Has been a very long day for you” Ilya says gently, trying not to scare him off.
It’s not a question. He’d seen on Shane’s instagram that he’d been interviewed for a TV segment. Shane nods
“And they save most stupid questions for the best players huh?”
“They - they kept asking things I didn’t wanna answer.” Shane says, voice trembling a little. “But- but I’ve ruined your night. You were networking and- and having a good time”
Ilya scoffs. He abandons the paper towels that have done nothing to reduce the massive crimson stain down his front. He leans against the wall opposite Shane.
“I probably should have been. To keep up appearance as charming party boy”, he smiles a little. “But no, I was not enjoying it very much. My drink was best part.” You are the best part. He wants to say.
Shane’s shoulders seem to drop a bit at that and Ilya finds himself feeling a little more steady too. Shane is here, close enough to touch. And he was trying to find him.
Ilya steps forwards into Shane’s space and Shane leans towards him and it is like it is every time. Two planets falling into orbit. Ilya gently cups Shane’s jaw with one hand and lifts Shane’s head so he can look Ilya in the eyes. Shane’s eyes are still heavy. Ilya wants to soothe every jagged edge inside this man.
“Is okay Hollander. Really. “
“Okay” Shane says thickly. And he leans forward into Ilya’s chest. Ilya lets him, placing a steadying hand between Shane’s shoulder blades. Pressing warmth into Shane to soothe him. And it feels so right, having him in his arms again. After a few breaths Shane pulls back and looks back up at Ilya. His dark eyes are wet but no tears have fallen. Ilya can’t bear it. If he doesn’t say something now, he’ll kiss Shane and then Shane will freak out because he’ll be cheating on Rose and he would hate to be a cheater.
“Besides” he says, “if you ruin my suit, that means you must help me take it off” he waggles his eyebrows. He’s only joking but Shane huffs out an unexpected laugh.
“Not here” he whispers. And Ilya tries his best to contain the rush of joy he feels at Shane not immediately shutting down the idea.
“No, back in my room. You are done with this event now yes?” Shane nods a little, lost for words. “Well so am I. Let’s make our goodbyes and I will see you up in 407 in 15 minutes.”
“Okay” Shane let’s put a long breath and then nods to himself.
He unlocks the door and steps back out to the main hall, without looking back.
Ilya waits for a few minutes before leaving the bathroom and makes his way to the lifts to take him up to his room. The spilled wine sticks to his skin unpleasantly and he pulls his shirt away where it’s plastered to his abdomen as the lift takes him up. For someone with the best shot accuracy in the league, Shane might as well have been aiming to drench Ilya with that glass.
Shane knocks on Ilya’s door before he’s had time to take his shirt off which he curses himself for because the stain looks so much worse without the dark jacket covering it. Shane’s eyes land on it immediately and it upsets him all over again.
“Oh god I really have ruined it. Your suit AND your shirt.” Ilya pulls him further into the room and shushes him
“Shh Shane as I say, is okay. I have other shirts and other suits.”
Shane whimpers a little.
Ilya stands back from him to strip the shirt off.
“There. Better now? No mess to look at. Only me.”
Shane’s gaze rakes up Ilya’s bare torso and Ilya catches the glimpse of heat in his eyes. He feels like devouring Shane whole. But he’s not sure Shane could handle that tonight. And of course, there’s Rose…
“You did not bring Rose tonight?”
“Huh?” Shane’s forehead wrinkles in the adorable way that it does when he’s confused.
“Rose. Your girlfriend. To the event”.
Ilya feels a little bad for bringing her up when Shane’s so stressed already but he can’t bear it. Shane’s face clears as he sits on the end of the bed.
“Oh no, um- she’s not- We’re not together anymore. It didn’t last very long. We’re just friends now”
“Oh”
Ilya’s heart soars. But Shane still looks deflated. His shoulders hunched, hands fidgeting.
“Is not just my shirt that has upset you. Is something else too?”, he asks quietly.
A pair of dark eyes meet his and Ilya can see Shane’s close to tears again. So he sits himself next to him on the bed. Not touching, although he wants to. He’ll wait for Shane to make the move.
Shane exhales shakily next to him.
“It-it’s just that I tried so hard today. All day. In all the interviews. I was filming a commercial today too and it took hours. It was so awkward and they kept retaking shots and I was trying-”
Shane’s voice cracks and Ilya loses his restraint and pulls Shane into his side. Shane goes willingly, pressing his face in Ilya’s neck.
“And in the interviews” he carries on, voice barely above a whisper “they kept comparing me to Serena Williams. And I know why. But it’s so tiring Ilya. And you must get this too, with- with not being North American. It makes me feel like an outsider in my own sport. And fuck them for making me feel like that.”
Shane’s eyes are on him now. Dark and open, so vulnerable. He’s laying his heart out for Ilya, or at least some of it. Ilya tries to tamp down some of the rage rising up in his gut at the stupid fucking media for making Shane feel like that. Sure Ilya had had his fair share of stupid questions from the press but he knows it’s still different when you’re a white athlete.
“And all day I kept thinking”, Shane carries on, “just get through this thing. Just this next thing. And then I’ll see Ilya and it’ll be okay. But then I do see you and even after trying so hard all day, I still go and fuck it up and pour a drink all over you and ruin your suit. And I don’t know, it was just the last straw”
Ilya strokes his hand slowly up and down Shane’s side, trying to soothe him.
“You did not fuck it up”
“Yes I did”, Shane says miserably. “And I fucked things up with us, and with Rose. It was stupid”
Ilya doesn’t know what to say.
“But I am still here”, he says eventually. Still stroking Shane’s side in slow strokes. He doesn't know why he says it. It's probably pathetic to admit he's still waiting around for Shane. But it is also the truth.
“I don’t know why. I ran away from you and then didn’t speak to you and then poured wine on you”
“You do not even drink wine”
“I know! I was holding someone else’s drink for them but then I saw you and rushed over-“
Ilya can't help the smile that tugs at his mouth.
“You came to see me”
“Yes. I actually only came because i heard you were invited too.” Shane says quietly.
Ilya looks down and catches a slight blush on Shane’s cheeks.
“Texting works as well Hollander”
“I know-I know. I just- I thought it would be easier to see you”.
Shane pulls away from his side and looks up at Ilya. And he’s so beautiful it hurts.
“I’m sorry I ran away.”
Shane is laying his heart open, again. His expression is so open and earnest. Ilya’s heart skips around in his chest.
“But you came back”, he whispers.
“Yes”, Shane nods. “I wanted to see you again. I want to carry on with whatever it is that we do together”
Ilya would’ve taken whatever crumbs Shane would have thrown and would have survived off them. Just seeing him at events, at games. It would have half killed him but he would have coped.
“I missed you”
This confession from Shane is what finally undoes Ilya. One minute he’s looking at him and the next minute he’s kissing him, feeling the familiar warmth of Shane’s mouth and the soft press of lips. Ilya wraps his arms around him as if he could absorb Shane into his skin. He’s missed this man so much. The smell of him, the feel of his firm shoulders and arms. The softness of his hair as he runs his fingers through it.
“I missed you too solnyshko” (little sun)