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June 2014 - Las Vegas
His unsent text glared back up at him: “We didn’t even kiss.” Shane’s head rested against the elevator wall. His heart beating quickly as he processed what exactly he was feeling. He had written up and deleted several iterations. Simple texts, flirty texts, and finally one that actually conveyed why he felt so down despite all that transpired between them.
“Fuck it!” he said and clicked the elevator button back to the penthouse.
Shane never considered himself brave, but maybe every action that led him to this moment defined something in him. Every interaction felt like some sort of power play, but maybe being there–being with Ilya in all their shared moments, the ones nobody got to see, maybe that was brave.
He was a man possessed, making long strides from the elevator to the penthouse, stopping right as his knuckles were about to hit the door. Shane didn’t know what he wanted. Was it peace of mind? Was it to see if he wanted more? Could they even be more? Did Shane want more? And as those thoughts swirled in his head, his knuckles ready, he knocked.
Ilya felt like shit. Maybe he was shit. He had spent all night being careful, telling himself to keep his distance. It was a dangerous game he was playing. Shane made him want in a way that he knew wasn’t healthy, knew wasn’t quite him. Or at least the version of him that he kept denying himself. So when the knocks hit his door, he was utterly shocked to see Shane standing on the other side.
Shane pushed him in, the door slamming shut behind them. He closed the gap between them, forehead resting against Ilya's. His breath caught.
“I can't keep pretending I don't like you,” Shane barely whispered across the small space between his breath and Ilya's.
Ilya didn't think he wanted anything more in that moment than he wanted Shane. He wanted him back in bed. He wanted him in the dark. But, most of all, he wanted him in the morning. He wanted him in the light. And as that realization took hold in his heart, he steadied his face to show the opposite. Because why did he deserve it? Why did he deserve someone as good as Shane Hollander?
“You don't like me,” Ilya responded.
“I do…I… I maybe like you too much.”
And the facade broke. Ilya's hand found purchase in Shane's hair. He kissed him, pouring into him all the bravery Shane was giving him. He wanted to take and give so that this kiss could last through the Russian summer. So maybe that there could be more.
Shane's head laid tucked under Ilya's chin.
“This is nice,” he said.
Ilya hummed quietly in assent. Shane didn't know if he wanted to push it further. All these years orbiting around what is Ilya Rozanov, he was tired. He wanted their worlds to collide. He wanted the Big Bang to change the shape of the world. He was ready to shape himself into whatever that meant for Ilya. And though he was scared it could leave him hurting more than that moment on the elevator, he had a feeling that maybe Ilya wanted the same thing. That Ilya wouldn't have kissed him, taken him back to bed. That Ilya, just as he did, wanted more.
“Would you want to be more? If we could be more, would you want it?” Shane found himself asking aloud. He really must be fucking brave.
Ilya sat quietly, contemplating the question. As the silence stretched, Shane couldn't help but panic. He'll say we can't be more Hollander. And he wouldn't be entirely wrong. But maybe in this hotel room, maybe in those text messages between Lily and Jane, and every moment stretched and stolen, they could try to be more.
Shane held his breath waiting for an answer that seemed like it would never come. Ilya took a deep breath in. He turned his body flipping Shane to his back and straddled him from above. Ilya's eyes bore deep into Shane, exposing all of his wants and fears. When the sun shines that brightly, you couldn't help but look away. Ilya gently grabbed his face to maintain eye contact.
“Shane, you are so brave and beautiful. You are here. I am afraid I will not be enough. But for you, I want to try.”
“Ilya…”
October 2016 - Montreal
Shane is laughing as Ilya yells into the phone “Tell Pike I'm going to fucking kill him if he keeps trying to set my boyfriend up! And tell him to stop having so many fucking kids!”
October 2016 - Washington
Ilya watches as the ESPN special on Shane Hollander plays on his TV. He opens his phone and clicks call on Lily. Ilya teasingly says, “when are we gonna try those yoga moves together?”
On the other end, Shane's blush creeps from his neck to his cheeks.
November 2016 - Boston
“We have a game tomorrow Ilya. I shouldn't stay,” Shane reasoned with him.
“Come on sweetheart, I'll make us tuna melts,” Ilya pleaded.
How could Shane say no when Ilya speaks to him in those endearing nicknames.
November 2016 - Montreal
“I met fucking Rose Landry tonight! I introduced her to J.J. and she was so fucking cool!” Shane exclaims over the phone to Ilya. Ilya is half-asleep and all he could muster out was a sound close to mmkay.
January 2017 - Montreal
Ilya has Shane pushed against the bathroom stall. The club music pounding just outside the door. They had an exhausting game tonight and Montreal had barely gotten the win against Boston. Ilya wanted to give him a taste of his reward before they both made excuses to sneak out early.
All the things she said, all the things she said. Runnin’ through my head, runnin’ through my head.
January 2017 - Tampa Bay
“What room are you in?” Shane whispered.
“1217.”
Ilya knew that from July to now, he was ready. Shane had been brave for them so now he was going to be brave for him. All Star Weekend was chaos reincarnated but among all the chaos, Shane bought him peace.
Their fingers slowly released and Shane got up, stretching towards the dying sun. If God was real, Ilya was sure Shane was a fucking angel sent from above. How in the world did he deserve someone so beautiful?
He was ready to finally admit he loved him and then maybe they could finally spend the summer at the cottage he'd seen on that ESPN special. There was no doubt in his heart that Shane wouldn't say it back. He loved him so fucking much, it felt wrong to keep it inside any longer.