Chapter Text
Shane’s husband had at least ten tattoos. They ranged in size from palm-sized to the 81 that took up most of his back. Ilya seemed happy with all of them, despite the varying level of artistic and technical quality.
Shane had one tattoo. That he hated. That the professional athlete, amature tattoo artist love of his life had given to him. It was not artistically well rendered. The lines were different thicknesses (not on purpose). It was on his left shoulderblade, and he was trying not to look at himself too much in the mirror so he wouldn’t stare at the childish drawing that was now forever on his skin.
Shane had expressed to Ilya over the years that he didn’t think tattoos really fit his personality. They didn’t go with his image.
Ilya disagreed. “Oh my God, Shane. You really think people would care if you have tattoo? You play hockey. You are gay. Gay people and hockey people love tattoo.”
Shane felt like he was being judged for his resistance. He planned everything, it wasn’t like him to go out drunk and get a tattoo, or get ink as a declaration of love.
It was really sweet when Ilya got the loon tattoo though. It did make him feel… valued. Before Shane was ready to come out, there wasn’t much Ilya could do, but having a public symbol of their relationship was special. He understood why Ilya did it, and it had melted his heart.
Shane had thought about what he would (and wouldn't) possibly consider as a tattoo for a long time.
Instead of picking out something symbolic, or from an artist he thought had beautiful work, his first and only tattoo was poorly done and not sentimental. It didn’t even say “Canada Dry”. The text said “GINGER ALE”.
He had a strong feeling this would be a mistake before and while it was happening. Ilya was so excited at the idea though, it was hard to keep telling him no. Shane had spent too many years telling Ilya he couldn’t have things he desperately wanted, and this felt like a small thing to do (in theory). His now-husband had been asking Shane to let him give him ink for years.
The night he got the wretched soda can tattoo, Shane was in the bathroom searching “what to do if you don’t like a tattoo you just got”. He ended up on reddit, which he mostly tried to avoid, but people had good advice. There were individual subreddits for coverups, tattoo regret, and DIY tattoos. He told himself, like others, it may be the initial shock of the change of appearance, and he’d get used to it over time. Others lamented hating tattoos immediately, or getting ones covered up they’d had for years – and sometimes getting the cover ups covered up. It was a lot. He shut the tabs on his phone.
He took a deep breath. Maybe he could get through this. After all, he loved ginger ale. He loved Ilya.
He just really really, really really did not like this style of tattoo on himself. “Ignorant Style”, even the name was bad. He didn’t like the uneven lines. Or the way there wasn’t the same amount of space on each side of the lettering. And that he had to shower weird the next week with different soap.
Ilya was so excited about the tattoo, and wanted to show everyone immediately.
“Finally, Shane Hollander has tattoo!” he said as he rolled the gloves off his hands at the end of the session. There was a whole table of supplies next to the sofa, with everything from needles to paper towels and more paper towels and strange liquids. At least it seemed sterile. Shane had watched his “artist” disinfect everything and take fresh supplies out from wrappings. His guts twisted thinking about the possibility of infection. Could his arm fall off? What if this ended his hockey career? He thought Ilya might, but not like this.
“Is done. You want to see, no?” Ilya interrupted his doom spiral with another thing to be anxious about instead.
Shane was silent for too long. He knew he had to say something. “Is there blood? I don’t know if I want to see it right now, if it still has that.”
“Ah, okay. I have picture, tell me if you do”. How had he already gotten a photo?
Ilya went over the aftercare instructions and offered to help wash the tattoo twice a day in the shower. None of it was sinking in, but the infection wasn’t really what he was worried about. It was the off season, he had time to heal this bloody, inky open wound. He was used to blood from his body, but for some reason he was more squeamish about this than a knocked out tooth. He could get in a round of antibiotics if it got infected, or his skin started to peel off. He tried to forget the pictures of infected tattoos he saw on the internet.
The rest of the day was a blur. Everything he’d researched said it was good to take it easy the day of an appointment and be prepared for a crash after. He tried his best to relax as they ate food Ilya cooked and lounged in front of the TV as the day wound down. A little after 8 p.m., Shane’s phone buzzed with an alarming text from his mom.
“My son said you got a tattoo today! I’m proud of you for loosening up. Be sure to drink lots of water and wash and moisturize properly! Mine from Ilya healed up well and I’m sure yours will too.”
He did not like this text. Loosening up? Was it bad enough to make it seem like he was changing his image? If his mom knew, who else had Ilya told? Ilya was conveniently hiding in the kitchen doing dishes.
“Did you tell my mom you tattooed me?” Shane asked from the next room.
“Yes. Is that problem?”
It shouldn't feel like a problem. His mom and Ilya texted all the time, but this made it feel more real.
Ilya, oblivious to his crisis, continued. “She asked for picture.”
“What? No, you didn’t send it to her, did you?”
Silence.
“She is big fan of my work, and of you. She has picture.”
“Oh my God, I haven't even seen it yet!”
“Is good tattoo.”
“Can you hold off on sending it to anyone else?”
“Okay. Will delete instagram post.”
“WHAT?”
“Just kidding.” His cortisol levels were higher than when there were literal needles going into his skin hours ago.
***
It was a week later now. Shane needed to tell Ilya. They were in the car to visit Hayden’s house to celebrate one of his uncountable kids’ birthdays.
Talking in the car felt easier sometimes. Ilya kept his eyes on the road, and Shane didn’t have to overthink eye contact. They had two hours to talk on the way there, or he could bring it up on the way back. That would be better, Ilya was always in a good mood after seeing the kids. He always made a point to thank Jade and Ruby for their “real wedding”, and made sure to agonize Hayden by calling himself their godfather.
The car ride did not go according to plan. They’d been in the car for half an hour when Ilya asked “Shane, what is wrong?”
Fuck. He wasn’t ready for this. He didn’t want to hurt Ilya now. He weighed the pros and cons of talking and felt like it was really not the best time.
“Shane?”
“It’s nothing.”
“You worried I will ask Hayden and Jackie for foursome? You do not want threesome, but –”
“No. Can we talk about it later?” Fuck. That was the wrong thing to say.
Ilya started tapping the steering wheel to give himself something to do while he waited for Shane to add more. “Laterrr”, he drawed out, tone no longer joking. He was annoyed. Hurt, even. “Is later now?”
“Sorry, it’s nothing serious. I’m not mad at you, I just want to go to Hayden’s house and do the birthday party and we can talk after that.”
“Okay.”
Shane’s stomach hurt. He wanted a ginger ale to settle it. Fuck. He thought of the stupid tattoo.
The party was fine. It was cute, but a little more chaotic than he cared for. Five kids was a lot. After an awkward hour of trying to socialize as a couple, the older kids successfully got Ilya all to themselves to play dressup from a treasure chest of various costumes. Hayden nudged Shane to follow him to the kitchen, grabbed each of them a soda, then nodded to the door to the garage for privacy.
After it shut, Hayden cracked open his Fanta. He took a swig, then studied Shane and asked “Hey, you doing okay? Is Rosanov being a shithead?”
Shane was holding a ginger ale. He really didn’t want a second one – he’d had to force himself to finish the first. It was kind of Hayden to always have them on hand for him and he didn’t want to act ungrateful. He popped open the tab and took a small sip. He wanted a beer, or something stronger. A toddler’s birthday party wasn’t exactly open bar though.
“Yeah, I’m overall okay. Ilya didn’t do anything wrong.” He wasn’t sure how to explain it without sounding stupid. Maybe Hayden wasn’t a good person to talk to about this and he should text Rose.
Hayden nodded, but clearly wanted more of an answer. Shane let out a breath. “It’s stupid. Promise not to laugh.”
Hayden raised his eyebrows in response. “I’ll try, but no promises.”
“I let Ilya give me a tattoo last week and I’m having regrets.”
Hayden looked puzzled. “About... you guys? Like is it making you feel weird?”
“No, not at all! We’re good, I just don’t think I should have gotten a tattoo at all. Of anything. I don’t like it.”
Hayden nodded. “Is it something that’s like, romantic, though?”
“Hayden, you’ve seen his tattoos. The instagram page.”
Understanding dawned. “Ooooh. The shitty on purpose ones?”
That was one way to put it.
His friend must have seen his reaction and tried to backtrack a little. “Not like, bad shitty. Just like, you know, doodles? I like the dog ones a lot, and the kids’ drawings he did on his legs are cool.”
This was not helping. “Yeah.” He started plucking at the can tab with his thumb. “It seemed to mean a lot to him, and it’s kind of weird to not have any, so I thought I’d give it a try.”
“Okay, I get that, I feel like I’m naked compared to some of the guys who are covered. But what did you get?”
Shane sighed. “Here, I can show you.” He turned his back to Hayden and started pulling off his shirt. He stood there for what felt even longer than the awkward car ride from Ottawa.
“Yeah, okay. Well, no one’s going to see it, it’s pretty hidden with the shirt on.”
“I’m going to see it!” Shane pulled his shirt back on.
“It’s not that bad! Well, it could be better, but it’s kind of fun. And it’s not offensive. I’ve seen some crazy stuff on Inkmaster. You could have gotten your ex’s name, or something that accidentally looks like a dick. Sorry, was that homophonic?”
“Not helping.”
“I think the kids would like it, they love tattoos. Would you want to show them, maybe that could help?”
“No. I need to tell Ilya I don’t like it. That’s the problem.”
“What? He doesn’t know? You’re usually pretty blunt with each other. Except the not talking about your feelings for ten years thing.”
Shane took another sip.
Hayden loaded more words. “Are you afraid you’ll hurt his feelings?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Well, it's your body.”
“I just feel stupid.”
“Look, if Jackie wanted to tattoo me, I’d think that was hot. And I know you guys really like each other. But you don’t need to pretend to like a tattoo you don’t like just to be polite to your partner. What if he gets the wrong idea and wants to do more?”
After a shiver passed through him, he nodded. Hayden clapped him on the shoulder, just missing the tender area with itchy red skin on his upper back.
There was a crash in the living room. Hayden shifted into dad mode, and quickly ran off to attend to the damages.
Shane took another anxious sip of Canada Dry. It was nice to be alone for a second. He let out an audible sigh, and thought. He’d spent enough time hiding and being secretly miserable about parts of himself. He could be brave. He could talk to Ilya, he could set up a laser removal appointment, and maybe they could laugh about it later. This was a fixable problem.
It just wasn’t going to be simple to fix.