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Shane catches Luca before practice. He looks relaxed, much more relaxed than Shane can even imagine after what happened to him. Which might have to do with the fact that (what Shane assumes is) his boyfriend dropped him off this morning.
Now, Luca is smiling down at his phone, the tips of his ears pink.
“Hey.” Shane stands next to him.
Luca quickly locks his phone, and smiles at Shane. “Good morning.”
“How are you feeling?” Shane feels like a dad; all that’s missing is the sport tacked onto the end of the question. But he can’t help it- he cares for this team. And the kids. And especially Luca, because, well. Pot and kettle and all that.
“Great!” Luca beams way too fast, then scrunches up his face, “That’s weird, probably. But no, I do feel good. I feel like it’ll be okay. And Yannick is here now, so.”
“Did you talk to a lawyer?” Shane asks.
“Yeah, I e-mailed the one whose address you sent me.”
“You’ve got to call them,” Shane says, and hears his mother in his voice, “E-mail’s not enough.”
“I guess I just wanted to calm down yesterday,” Luca admits, shifting on his feet. “It was just a lot. Emotionally. I’ll call them today.”
Shane feels bad immediately. “Yeah, of course. Sorry.” He pauses, but can’t help adding, “But call them today, yeah?”
“Yes, mom.” Luca gives him a little grin, and Shane huffs.
“Stop that.”
Luca very briefly bumps his shoulder into Shane’s. “Thank you for all the help, I really appreciate it.”
“It’s important we support each other,” Shane says, aware that he’s sounding like a pamphlet for the Irina Foundation’s diversity program.
Something else occurs to him. “Ilya said you got, um… some weird DMs?”
Luca snorts. “Yeah. Weird is one way to put it.” He unlocks his phone again, and opens Instagram.
“From guys in the league?” Shane tries not to sound too nosy, but he can’t help trying to sneak a glance at Luca’s phone screen. Which proves unnecessary immediately, because Luca angles the screen so Shane can see it.
“Yeah, a bunch of them. And other sports, too. And AHL and stuff.”
“You know you can report that, right?” Shane says mechanically while his eyes fly down the interface. He recognizes guys from all over- Nashville, Anaheim, New York, Chicago, Michigan… some of the messages seem to be just nice and supportive, or teasing, but there are a bunch of them who are clearly trying to shoot their shot. Shane can feel his eyes grow wider. Luca isn’t opening the individual messages, just scrolling over the previews. There are so many of them.
Let me buy you a drink…
Next time you're in Nashville…
Baby, I think you're my bi awakening…
Can I just say you have beautiful eyes…
“Jesus,” Shane mumbles.
“Yeah,” Luca shrugs dismissively, “most of these were sent in the middle of the night with their hands down their pants, I bet.” He locks his phone again and tosses it onto the shelf of his stall. “I'm ignoring them.”
Shane is genuinely shocked, frozen in place. “That… uh, that didn't happen when I came out.” He doesn't even know what to say, there's no script for this.
“Maybe because you weren't outed via a video which was taken five seconds before a blowjob,” Luca says dryly, then blushes. “...sorry. I mean. Maybe they just, uhm, respected you more. Or were too scared.”
“I guess, yeah. I… it was more of a rumor, before Ilya and I were outed.”
“Yeah, so they were probably too scared to try it. And it was probably different, back then.” Luca gives him a weird little look, but says nothing else. “And after… well, everybody’s scared of Ilya.”
“Yeah, it was different,” Shane replies with a nod, “For sure.”
He has to really focus to tamp down the very irrational, very stupid sliver of jealousy blooming in his chest now.
---
Luca can’t get out of the rink fast enough. He knows Yannick is waiting for him, so the second practice is over, he sprints to the locker room to change.
“Are you running from something, Haasy?” Holmberg asks with a grin. Luca is already on his way to the showers while the others are just taking off their skates.
“No,” Young answers for him, “Don’t you remember? His boyfriend is here to pick him up.”
Luca feels his cheeks heat up but just nods and gestures to Young.
“Are we meeting him, then?” Bolduc asks, his grin looking genuinely excited, “I’ve never met a movie star.”
“Shane used to date a movie star,” Holmberg brings up, loud enough for Ilya to hear. Ilya glares at him, and Holmberg blows him a kiss, which is rejected by a middle finger.
Luca refuses to listen to this inane conversation and dashes off to the showers, giving himself exactly thirty seconds to get all the dirty bits and his hair.
“You’re breaking some sort of record,” LaPointe says when Luca returns with a towel slung around his waist.
“That’s what it’s like when you have someone you love waiting for you,” Young tells him, then immediately pulls a face. “...sorry, man.”
LaPointe huffs, but only gives a half-hearted “Fuck you, dude.” before he adds, “At least one of us is in a happy relationship.”
“Hey!” Holmberg exclaims.
“Dude, I love you, but if I have to listen to you and Stella babytalk to each other on the phone one more time-”
“Oh, fuck you-”
Luca is already in the process of pulling on his shirt, when one of their security guards, Devon, peeks in through the door. “Haas, there’s a visitor for you.”
Luca feels his entire body warm up in joy. “I’m almost done!”
He gets dressed as fast as he can as the guys ooh and aah, ignoring them, throws his duffle bag over his shoulder and runs out the door- and directly into Yannick’s arms.
“Oh! Hi!” Yannick immediately wraps him in a hug, and Luca leans into it; Yannick smells amazing.
“Hi! I didn’t think you’d want to come in!”
“Of course, I want to see the place you spend most of your time at if I’m here.” Yannick grins at him, and Luca can’t help it: he leans forward and kisses him on the mouth briefly.
Behind him, there’s whooping, and Yannick grins over Luca’s shoulder. “...and meet your teammates.”
“They’re nosy assholes!” Luca says loud enough for them to hear, causing laughter.
“We just want to meet the man behind the camera!” Holmberg teases, and Luca feels his cheeks turn tomato red immediately.
“Shut up, Bergy!”
Yannick takes it in stride, though, covering his face with his hands and giving a charming laugh. “I am usually in front of the camera, and maybe I’ll keep it like that in the future.”
The guys crowd them now, all seemingly eager to meet Yannick. It’s equal parts embarrassing and endearing. There’s hand shaking and chirps, but Yannick is charming and nice and funny, and Luca is beaming with pride and happiness seeing his two worlds collide.
After a few minutes, more of the older players leave the locker room as well, curious to meet Luca’s boyfriend, but much more subdued than the puppy-like mess of the younger players.
And then, the metaphorical sea of Luca’s curious teammates parts around Shane and Ilya.
Shane gives Yannick a polite “Hi”, offering a handshake, while Ilya just gives a very slavic stare as if to assess Yannick.
“Hello, nice to meet again,” Yannick tells Shane, then offers his hand to Ilya with the same openness. “Ilya Rozanov, yes? I remember you from the poster.”
Ilya’s eyebrow jumps in amusement, and he shakes Yannick’s hand.
Before they can embarrass Luca any further, Shane cuts in. “I already told Luca, he needs to call the lawyer today. Call, not e-mail. You’re not really in the video but you should also consider taking legal action-”
Ilya slowly places a hand on Shane’s arm, and Shane shuts his mouth. “Sorry.”
“No, I really appreciate it,” Yannick tells him warmly, “Luca told me about how helpful you were to him. I’m so glad someone was there for him. It’s all kind of… weird and scary, that someone would do something like this.” He looks genuinely uncomfortable, and Luca follows his instinct to reach out and squeeze his hand. Yannick gives him a grateful smile and squeezes back.
“We were also outed by a video,” Ilya says, crossing his arms.
“I was already out,” Yannick explains, “but it really annoys me that Luca didn’t get to come out on his own terms because of this.” Luca feels yet another rush of love for Yannick, and he can tell Ilya and Shane appreciate the consideration. “And that people saw an intimate moment.”
“It’s just an invasion of privacy,” Shane agrees with a nod. “I felt horrible when it happened to us.”
“I felt relieved,” Ilya admits openly, and Shane rolls his eyes with a soft laugh. “But it bothered me that it made Shane so sad.”
It’s slightly surreal but endearing to hear them talk about their relationship like this. Luca makes a mental note to ask them about how things were, back then. In a quiet minute.
“It feels like a hundred years ago now, so.” Shane looks at Ilya, and the love in his gaze feels almost too intimate. At work, they usually stay away from each other, and don’t act like a married couple- Luca wonders if something has changed about that.
“Yeah,” Young chirps from the side, “It was way before we were all born.” causing them all to laugh.
Luca uses the distraction to turn to Yannick. “Do you want to see the rink?”
---
Ilya notices that Shane's mood is off right away. He chalks it up to yesterday's events, to the stress and re-living parts of their trauma through Luca. He knows this is hard for Shane; he went through so much shit right after the fateful FanMail video.
So, Ilya is an extra caring and nice husband today, showering Shane with affection and love, and take-out from his favorite sushi place.
After dinner, they're lying on the sofa in a sushi-induced food coma, spread out wide, Shane's head on Ilya's stomach. Ilya is carding his hand through Shane’s hair, and Shane is frowning at the rugby match on tv, his hand absently petting Anya who's curled up against him.
“What's on your mind, Shane?” Ilya asks gently. Internally, he’s already going through all the conversation models he’s learned in therapy.
Shane turns to him, still frowning, and inhales sharply. “Am I hot?”
This is not what Ilya expected to come out of his mouth, so he stumbles for a second. “What?” Then, immediately, “Who told you you weren’t?”
Shane’s frown deepens and he huffs. Normally, Ilya loves when he gets like this over little things: prissy and a little bitchy. It’s fun to tease him when he’s like this. But right now, Ilya is just confused. “Shane.” Ilya sits up so he can look down at him. “You are the hottest, most attractive man in the world,” he says seriously.
“To you, maybe.” Shane rolls his eyes.
“To me?! You were voted sexiest player for three years in a row! You’re on every single ‘Top 10 hottest MLH players’ list.” So is Ilya. “Is not just me, is objective!”
Shane is still frowning at the ceiling. “But those are mostly for women,” he grumbles.
“I’m sure you’ve been in a bunch of lists in gay magazines also,” Ilya sits up completely, so Shane has to move and Ilya can look at him properly. “What the fuck is this about?”
Shane avoids eye contact, crossing his arms, shifting. Ilya gives him time.
“Luca got all these messages from guys in the league,” Shane eventually starts, voice petulant and grumpy, and it dawns on Ilya what this is about.
For a second, neither of them speak.
Then, Ilya says: “Shane, are you jealous because you did not get horny messages from some shitty, second class MLH players?”
Shane huffs, squirms and blushes, which tells Ilya he’s spot-on. And now, Ilya has to try not to laugh. “Seriously, Shane?”
“Fuck off,” Shane grumbles, but he’s still not looking at Ilya.
“Who did you want to message you? Fucking, what was his name, Andersson or who?”
“No,” Shane mumbles in a tone that makes it obvious it’s not about one specific player. “But Luca got so many messages, like, at least a dozen. Nobody messaged me.”
“Shane, you did not come out by way of porn video!” Ilya can’t keep his laughter inside, and Shane rolls his eyes at him so hard they might fall out of his head. “It was a rumor, that you were gay. Before Hayden’s stupid FanMail video.”
“But nobody even tried,” Shane uncrosses, then re-crosses his arms, frowning down at Anya who has started to lick his hand to calm him down. “Anyway, it’s stupid.”
“Do you want to make an actual sex tape? I bet a million guys would message you if they saw how eager you are to suck dick.”
Shane’s blush deepens, and he finally focuses on Ilya to give him an annoyed look. “Alright.”
“Shane.” Ilya leans forward to cup Shane’s pretty face in his palms. “You are so cute and beautiful and hot and sexy… but you are also married to me. And these guys, they know I will kill them if they try to hit on you.”
This gets the tiniest grin out of Shane. “Luca said the same thing.”
“Also,” Ilya continues, “they are intimidated by you. You are best hockey player in the league. They know they are not worthy of you.”
Shane’s little grin turns pleased.
“And,” Ilya holds up a finger, “you are already married to the hottest player in the league, so.”
Shane’s grin turns into a laugh. “I thought I was the hottest.”
“It’s a tie.” Ilya leans forward, pushing Shane back onto the couch cushions, “Is why we’re perfect for each other.”
Shane smiles into the kiss that follows.
-
Ilya makes sure to give Shane some extra love in the coming days- it’s not like that’s a hard task. He doesn’t want Shane to spiral out over something so silly.
Ilya quietly thinks it has something to do with Shane’s age. Ilya himself never really cared about his own age, if the number started with a two or a three, and never cared if he noticed a new wrinkle. He remembers reading an article about how men reach their physical peak in their late twenties to mid-thirties, and Ilya can confirm- he feels amazing. Sure, a night of drinking doesn’t leave him as unaffected as it used to at twenty-two, but he also doesn’t feel the need to get that drunk anymore.
Shane, though. Shane cares, Ilya knows it. Sometimes, he catches him checking his face for wrinkles, and his head for grey hairs. His extensive skin care routine has become even more extensive in the past few years, now containing all sorts of substances which supposedly age you backwards, or something. And yes, neither of them look like they’re seventeen anymore, but who would want that?
Ilya sees Shane’s laughter in the tiny crow’s feet around his eyes, and the way his physique went from boyish to solid during the span of their relationship, while Ilya had a front-row seat to this change, worshipping Shane’s changing body at every stage of it.
They show up to practice early since they had an early sponsor meeting, and are the first ones in the locker room. It’s nice and quiet… and tempting. Ilya can feel Shane’s eyes on him when he pulls off his t-shirt.
“Staring, Hollander?” he teases, keeping his voice low. Shane immediately blushes.
“No,” he lies.
“Yes, I think you were.” Ilya saunters over to him, flexing his pecs; Shane’s eyes dart down to them. There is a spark of mischief in them, the kind Ilya loves.
“I would never ogle my teammate, Rozanov,” he says with fake sternness which barely hides the giddiness behind it.
“But I think you were.” Ilya crowds Shane against his stall, placing one hand just above his shoulder. “Am I distracting you from hockey, Hollander?”
“Never,” Shane replies, his voice a tad breathless now, “I’m a professional.”
Ilya hums and leans in just so, until their lips are a hair’s breadth apart. “Professional slut, maybe.”
Shane’s breath catches deliciously in his throat; Ilya loves that he can still make him react like this, even after all these years.
Ilya pushes his hips against Shane’s, and closes the gap between their mouths, kissing him. Shane sighs against his lips, his hands immediately going to Ilya’s waist, fingers digging into the skin there.
“Ilya,” Shane gasps for air between kisses, “We can’t, here-”
“Just kissing,” Ilya murmurs, and Shane folds immediately.
They both know they can’t go further here, but a brief make-out session in an empty locker room is just the right amount of naughty to wake them both back up after their sponsor call.
Ilya crowds Shane against the stall, barely keeping himself from fondling him. Meanwhile, Shane’s hands are traveling up Ilya’s spine, landing on his shoulderblades, digging in.
They kiss and kiss and kiss some more, and Ilya’s entire body is filled with the joy of being able to do this, of having his beloved husband here to do this with. The novelty never wears off.
They both know they need to stop at some point, because the team is going to be here soon, but neither of them have enough self-restraint.
Which is how they end up jumping apart when the locker room door is ripped open by their rookies, who all spill into the room, loud and boisterous as always.
It’s chaos: Shane pushes Ilya away, and Ilya stumbles back; both of them wiping their mouths and acting like they’re innocent. Too late, though.
There’s one split-second of silence, and then a whole lot of recoiling and eye covering and a chorus of “Eww!”s and “Oh my god!”s.
“In the locker room?!” Young exclaims.
Shane’s face is beet-red, and Ilya tries to compose himself as well. “You know we are married?!”
“Yes we know!” Holmberg exclaims, “But you never… we’ve never seen you kiss!”
“I have,” Luca intercepts sheepishly.
“What’s going on in here?” Wyatt pushes into the room behind the kids.
“They were making out,” LaPointe informs him, the repugnance audible in his voice. Ilya sees Shane flinch from the corner of his eyes.
Wyatt frowns at them. “Are you seriously being homophobic about this?”
“No!” the kids say all at once, somewhere between horrified and defiant.
“It’s like…” Holmberg gestures, trying to find the words.
“Like seeing your parents kiss!” Bolduc supplies, and Ilya cannot believe they’re all nodding in agreement.
Wyatt shoots Ilya an amused, incredulous look.
“Or like, seeing your dad grab your mom’s ass,” Young adds helpfully.
“Sounds like your parents are in a healthy marriage,” Ilya tells him. He’s glad Shane’s stiff posture has softened next to him. He’s turned around and is pulling out his jersey now. He shoots Ilya a tiny grin.
“You know people don’t stop having sex when they get married or turn thirty, right?” Hazy asks, clearly amused. The kids all pull faces.
“We weren’t having sex!” Shane says, horrified.
“Barely!”
“Yes, you came in too early,” Ilya tells them in a flat voice, causing another chorus of “Eww”s.
“Ilya!” Shane hisses, lightly slapping his chest with the back of his hand. There’s a smile on his face, though.
“Is this the Gen Z prudery everybody talks about?” Wyatt asks with a grin.
They bicker back and forth, but eventually everybody gets busy changing into their gear. Ilya bumps his shoulder into Shane's, giving him a smile. See, he wants to say, nothing bad happened.
“Woah, Haasy!”
Ilya automatically turns around, just fast enough to catch sight of the blue and purple bruise on the back of Luca’s neck before he slaps his hand over it as the guys tease him.
“Damn, Haas!”
“That’s huge!”
“Did you lose a fight with an octopus?”
Shane catches Ilya’s eyes, and shakes his head with a fond smile. Ilya returns the smile, and touches his chest, fingers on the wedding ring on his chain. Shane’s smile broadens, the skin around his eyes crinkling beautifully.