Work Text:
Ottawa Centaurs emergency landing in Tampa!
Sources report that the team's private plane had to perform an emergency landing due to technical issues. Currently we have no news regarding possible casulties or injuries. We will keep you updated.
Shane stared at his phone like it would change the headlines rolling across his screen. The tweets pouring in. The speculation running rampant.
The Centaurs plane had crashed. Almost crashed. Emergency landing was the official wording but that could be closer to a crash than anyone wanted to believe.
And the only thing Shane wanted to believe right now was that Ilya was fine. He had to be fine. He had to be.
Shane needed to be in Tampa.
Nobody was going to call him. Nobody knew that they needed to call him. Nobody knew. And wasn't that the biggest irony of Shane's life?
They had been hiding for years. Under everyone's noses and no one had noticed. They had felt so clever, tricking the league and keeping up the charade of the rivalry.
And now nobody would call Shane if llya was injured or if he was...
No. Shane couldn’t think about that. He would not make it if he thought about that possibility.
He would arrive in Tampa and Ilya would be there, safe and whole and he would laugh at Shane for worrying too much. For making a fuss and coming all the way to Florida.
Maybe Shane would be able to laugh about it too. In 20 years at the earliest.
——
The first thing Ilya heard was a steady insistent beeping coming from his right. It was too loud and too annoying.
The second thing was the incessant tapping of a foot against linoleum flooring.
"Stoooop. Is too loud." God his throat was dry.
The tapping stopped.
"Roz? You awake man?" It was a tentative question.
Ilya peeled his eyes open and looked at Wyatt Hayes sitting next to his bed.
The room was altogether too bright. The floor, the walls, the ceiling, the bed sheets, everything was white. Ilya closed his eyes again immediately.
"Wish I wasn't. Why am I in hospital?"
"What do you remember?"
Ilya thought for a second and realised he didn't remember all that much. That was a weird feeling. What had happened to him that got him into the hospital?
"Not sure. Did I get laid out during game?"
English was especially hard right now. His head was jumbled and trying to translate was a bitch. It made his headache worse.
"No. No it didn't happen during a game." Wyatt sounded hesitant. Wyatt never sounded hesitant. He was loud and outgoing and talked about comics too much.
"Tell me Hazy. What happened? Head hurts too much for guessing right now." Ilya winced as the pain in his head spiked.
"We, the team, we were in an accident. Well, something close to an accident. Our plane had to do an emergnecy landing in Tampa and we all got jostled around quite a bit. You hit your head on the window. Doc says you have a nasty concussion but you should be okay. I’m sure they will do more tests now that you are awake."
"Oh. Oke."
What was there to say really? Ilya didn’t remember a plane crash. Maybe Hayes was fucking with him. But then again, that would be a very elaborate joke.
"ls everybody else okay?"
"A few scrapes here and there but you got the worst of it."
"Thats good. If l'm out you gonna need the others." Ilya tried to put on his usual bravado and the smirk that came with it.
"Just woke up in the hospital and already thinking about hockey." Wyatt said with a chuckle.
"One of us has too." llya retorted.
"Is there anyone I should call?" Hayes asked after a moment. "Coach is your emergency contact and I know you are not close with your family in Russia. But is there anyone that should know you are okay? The media is making a whole deal out of this. Some of them even wrote about casualties."
Ilya thought about it for a moment. „No. There is close friend but she lives in Boston and I will tell her myself. Where is my phone?"
Wyatt winced. "It kinda broke during the crash. I can see what we can do about getting you a new one."
"That would be good. I don't have her number memorized so have to wait for new phone."
Svetlana would be fine. She was tougher than she looked and even with the media coverage, llya knew she would not jump to conclusions so long as there were no official statements.
"So nobody else?" Wyatt checked again.
"No, there is nobody else."
Something about that felt wrong. But what did Ilya know. He had a concussion.
After the rest of the team had stopped by to see how their captain was doing, and doctors and nurses had flitted around him to check his vitals and assess his condition, Ilya was finally left to an empty, quiet room.
The curtains were closed to let in as little light as possible.
He might have nodded off again when he heard a knock on his door.
"Yes?" He croaked. God he needed something to drink.
The door opened just enough for his visitor to slip inside and close the door behind him. When he turned around Ilya was surprised to see Shane Hollander standing in his hospital room looking a little wrecked.
"Hello?"
What the fuck was Hollander of all people doing in his hospital room?
——
The last day of Shane's life felt like a haze. Getting the news, finding the fastest way to get to Tampa, scouring every article to find out which hospital he was admitted to, and then thinking of a believable story why he was there if somebody recognized him.
He and llya had been friends publicly for a few years but traveling for hours at a moments notice was a little much just to check on a „friend".
Not to mention that Shane had to get back as soon as possible. He technically had practice in the morning. But that didn't matter. What mattered was seeing llya alive and breathing.
The final hurdle was getting Ilya's room number. But by the time Shane stood in the hospital‘s lobby he was too exhausted to lie. He gave his real name and asked for Ilya’s room.
Let them gossip, let them talk.
Shane was pretty sure he was close to collapsing and being admitted himself so what if people saw him here?
He wanted to see his boyfriend.
It should have happened under less dramatic circumstances but it really put everything into perspective. In the face of potentially loosing the most important person in his life, Shane hardly cared about anything else.
What could be more important than Ilya's life? Hockey? Public opinion? His sponsors? Hardly.
Shane had never been more sure. For Ilya he would give it all up.
So when he went into that hospital room, he was prepared for anything. A broken and unconscious Ilya, hooked up to multiple peeping machines.
What he found instead was a dimly lit room and a squinting, slightly confused looking llya.
„Hello?" He said as if he himself was not sure if that was the right word.
Shane felt the first real breath flood his lungs since he got the notification. The axis of his world righted itself. Colour came rushing back.
He exhaled and took the few steps towards the bed.
"I came as soon as I could. Are you okay? God, I was so scared." It all rushed out of Shane. Now that that heavy knot in his chest had dissolved, his panic needed an outlet.
Stood next to the bed Shane could see how tired Ilya looked. No obvious wounds but the drawn curtains were his first clue to the concussion his boyfriend most likely had.
He reached for Ilya's hand and squeezed his fingers tight. Ilya's hand was warm. The familiar callouses exactly how Shane remembered them. Everything was fine. Or would be.
"I tried calling but your phone went straight to voicemail. I guess you don't have it? I'm sorry if this is too much but I had to see you. Had to make sure you were alright."
He wanted to reach out, run his hand through Ilya's beautiful curls but he was scared to hurt him.
Shane remembered his own concussion a few years ago rather well. Unpleasant didn't begin to cover it. And anyone touching his head would have been unbearable.
Ilya was still just looking at him, a little more alert than when he came in but distinctly confused. His eyes were wandering over Shane. Tracing him as if he was looking for something specific he couldn't find. And then he extracted his hand from Shane's. Slowly but deliberately.
Shane felt the nerves creep back in. Was Ilya more injured than he thought? Something that wasn't obvious at first glance? Was he on so many drugs that he didn't know how to speak? Did he not recognise Shane? He looked a little loopy.
„Hollander, what are you talking about? My phone broke in the crash."
Okay yeah, his speech was maybe a little slurred. But Hollander?
They only called each other by their last names when they were on the ice or where others could hear.
„Exactly. The crash. I saw the news and came straight here. I didn't want you to be alone."
Shane tried to sound reassuring, to hide the panic clawing it‘s way up his throat.
Ilya's brow furrowed and then he winced as the move evidently hurt him.
"That's nice. Nice polite Canadian thing to do." He looked down at the hand Shane had just been holding and then looked back up at him.
"So you always come and hold other players hand when they are in hospital? Must take a lot of time."
"Come on llya, this is not the time for jokes."
"You going to pat me on the head and tell me to get better like a good nurse?"
His head rolled around on his pillow and a silly smile stretched across his face. Shane would have taken it as another joke but this wasn't Ilya's real smile. The one he got every time he made a joke he knew Shane would hate but was so proud of anyway.
This was a smile Shane recognised from years ago. It was more teasing, it had a mean slant to it. This was llya deflecting, making a joke to piss the other person off, and hopefully be left alone without further questions.
He had explained it one night at the cottage. How in the beginning of his career he had learned that he could get away with being brash and blunt because everybody assumed that his English simply wasn’t good enough to talk more eloquently.
When his English got better he still got away with being mean because people were used to it, expected it, and because his good looks gave him a lot of leeway.
A handsome, charming, young man with an accent was allowed to be a little mean. So Ilya kept it up to avoid personal questions and to get out of conversations he was not interested in.
But this was not a conversation he was supposed to want out of.
Dread trickled down Shane's spine.
„Ilya. What do you remember about me?"
"You are very good hockey player. We kissed once."
He said those things as if they all held the same weight, which was none at all.
„Once? Ilya we are boyfriends." He didn't know what compelled him to just say it but something in Shane's brain had been fried and he needed the world to make sense again right the fuck now.
"What?" Now Ilya seemed less loopy. "No we are not."
"Yes, we are." Shane wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry. Possibly both.
"We have been together for almost four years now. We have a charity together. You moved to Ottawa because of me. Ottawa!"
He knew his voice was rising but there was nothing he could do about it. His boyfriend didn't remember being his boyfriend.
Ilya tilted his head to the side. "Did I?"
"Yes! Why else would you leave Boston?"
That gave Ilya pause: "Oh. So that means I can just do this?" Ilya grabbed Shane's hand again.
"Of course you can."
Shane squeezed Ilya’s hand. This time to reassure himself.
“So we have kissed more than once I guess?”
“Yeah.” Why was Shane blushing? That was his boyfriend! They had done way more than kiss over the years. Way before they were officially together.
“Gimme kiss.” Ilya puckered his lips in that over exaggerated way and leaned towards Shane who leaned in immediately.
He pressed his lips to Ilya‘s. Careful so he didn’t hurt him. It was more a peck than a kiss. Shane wasn’t sure how to proceed. How do you act around your boyfriend, who doesn’t remember being your boyfriend?
When they separated Ilya blinked up at him. ”This is real? You are not messing with me?"
His voice was so small. More uncertain than Shane had ever heard it.
Shane scoffed. ”Do you think I have it in me to kiss you as a joke?"
Ilya thought about it for a moment and then nodded decisively. ”You are right. You are too much of a chicken for that.“
“I am not a chicken. I have told you that before.” Shane choked out.
Now Ilya’s real smile bloomed on his face. He reached out and traced Shane’s freckles with his fingers.
"Wanted to do that for so long." The reverence in his voice took Shane’s breath away. He looked enthralled.
"You have been doing it. Every chance you get.”
Ilya kept touching Shane’s face. Carding his fingers through his hair.
“So you just believe me? Just like that? What if I am fucking with you?” Shane couldn’t help but ask.
“Then you are stuck with me now. Too bad for you, very good for me."
They kissed again and Shane couldn’t wait for Ilya to regain his memories so he can tease him about this for the rest of their lives.