Work Text:
Shane eyed the entrance to the small, trendy restaurant they’d entered. The foyer area was barely two meters square, warm and stuffy, with a plush carpet and ornate interior door muffling the noise of the diners within. As his date argued with the hostess, his arms becoming emphatic as his voice rose, Shane considered making a run for it. He could be out onto the street in three strides, he could probably make it at least a block before James even realised he’d left.
He’d known in the car that this evening was going to be a bust, but he was already in James’ car and there was no real way to back out. Realistically, running away from the restaurant before they were seated would be the last chance to escape without making things awkward.
The thought of having to explain to JJ that he literally ran away from a date was exhausting enough that he didn’t make a move to the door. His teammate had hounded him for weeks before he’d accepted a blind date with one of his endless friends. Shane figured accepting one would give him at least a month or two of good grace where he could refuse any new pushes from his friend.
Watching the hostess’ jaw clench, Shane didn’t think he’d accept anything less than JJ promising never to try and set him up again.
Shane didn’t know who won the argument over seating in the end, he just smiled apologetically to the hostess as she led them to an intimate two seater, bathed in romantic mood lighting and with the faint strains of something slow and jazzy playing, just loud enough to hide the clank of cutlery and blur the murmur of surrounding conversations.
The menu was unchanged from the one online he’d pursued before coming, but he lingered over the heavy paper copy to occupy himself as James asked a bunch of questions to the waiter that appeared to pour them water.
“... and he'll have the rib eye.”
Shane's head jerked up, “Oh, no. Sorry, I'll have the chicken parmesan, thank you.”
“Nonsense,” James scoffed, “red meat’s better for you, if you want to see some gains you need to feed the body and get some blood in you.”
“My diet is pretty structured.” Shane turned back to the waiter, “I'll have the chicken, thanks”
The waiter was watching them like a tennis match. He paused with a subtle glance towards James before nodding and jotting it down.
James specified a bottle of wine, making sure the waiter noted down the exact year and vineyard before snapping his menu shut and waving it at the guy without a glance. “I only drink wine from that area,” James told Shane, “a lot of the North American wines just lack the body and are full of chemicals that pollute the bouquet.”
Shane nodded and made a vague sound of acknowledgement.
This diatribe on wine evolved into a story about a wine tour he took through France with a couple of his college friends. Shane nodded along, his mind wandering to plans for practice tomorrow afternoon, he wanted to tighten up the power play, at the moment it lacked the speed he knew they could get, they’d been playing around with configurations and hadn’t settled on the right one just yet but they were close, he could feel it.
James had moved on to talking about something else, it might still be wine, Shane wasn’t sure and had lost the thread of the conversation entirely. He forced himself to pay attention. James was a good looking guy, he was well groomed and fit, Shane should be excited to see how this goes. JJ had been thrilled when he’d agreed to the date, he should at least give it a proper try.
Two slim young women approached wearing glittery dresses that didn’t really suit the mood of the restaurant, but were probably very trendy and attractive. They stood how some of the younger puck bunnies did, clutching at each other and almost quivering as they seemed to almost hold each other up while they instigated conversation, their eyes fixed on James.
James greeted them boisterously, standing up and pulling them into his orbit as they gushed about some colab he’d been a part of. Shane looked away and took a sip of his water.
“Jesus,” a low, accented voice came from the next table, “are you seriously dating this guy?”
Shane glanced over, catching a sharp jawline illuminated by the flickering candle on their table. The lighting turned him into a gold-hued artist rendering of the perfect man, even with the pinched look of distaste he was pointing towards James.
Quickly looking away, Shane fiddled with his glass of water. Checking out random men was still awkward enough for him, doing it while on a date with someone else was just crazy.
“It’s, uh, a first date. A friend set us up.”
“Does your friend hate you?”
A surprised snort of laughter escaped Shane. “I'm starting to wonder.” He lifted a hand as though to push the words back in, surprised at himself.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the man shift towards him, his teeth flashing in the dark in a wolfish grin.
“He takes being an influencer very seriously.” Shane found himself saying, voice dry and expression blank in a way most people didn't know how to handle.
This man however grinned wider, something like delight lighting his eyes as he draped an arm over the back of his chair to face Shane more.
“What does he influence?”
“Fitness.” He scrambled to remember what JJ had said about what type of fitness, “something about working out… or… something.”
The man's eyebrows rose to his hairline as he lifted his bottle of beer. There was a pregnant pause while they both considered that and James clasped each girl's waist and pouted into a camera.
“Ah.” The man said and took a long pull of his drink. It sounded like a punchline.
The motion pulled Shane's eyes to the sharp jawline exaggerated by shadows, down the strong line of his throat tipped back as he drank. Warm, golden skin disappearing beneath the deep, rich blue of his shirt where it plunged open at his throat revealing a teasing flash of gold and more skin.
Shane's eyes slipped towards the arm draped over the back of his chair, the fabric of his shirt bulged and strained to contain what looked like a truly impressive bicep and showed off the broad, powerful looking shoulders.
Suddenly parched, Shane took a sip of his water. He'd spent the majority of his life in gyms and locker rooms, and was a large man himself, but even at a glance in a dimly lit restaurant this guy was impressive and carried it well.
The two of them watched James talk to the girls, grinning wide, unnaturally white teeth proudly on display. He lifted one arm in a flex and laughed as the girls gripped it, giggling and talking softly.
“My name is Ilya.” The man at the next table said, and Shane turned back to see him watching him, the candlelight softened his features at this angle, turning his curls into a golden halo around him.
“Shane.” Shane said, offering his hand and they shook.
Ilya’s grin was crooked.
“Oh, I know, Captain of the Metros.”
“Oh.” Shane felt his smile turn pinched and polite, he never knew how to handle this part of his job. Ilya continued.
“Top scorer of the MLH. Shame about the weak backhand, though.”
“I do not have a weak backhand!” Shane blurted. Ilya threw his head back and barked out a laugh, loud and unashamed, his grin spreading wide across his face, Shane felt himself blush.
Ilya's laugh tapered off and he grinned softly as he took another sip of his drink, eyes roving over Shane's face.
“So is Mr Influencer going to teach you to post topless photos for your Instagram?”
“Oh god no. I'm not really a… thirst trap kind of guy.” He was quite proud he remembered that term, Hayden had cackled like a maniac when he realised Shane had no idea what he was talking about.
“A shame.” Ilya said, “you only go topless for sponsors then?”
“I mean,” Shane fiddled with his glass and smiled in what he thought might be a charming way, “they pay me a lot to stand around like an idiot.”
Ilya's teeth flash in a grin. “Ah, no, no. Not like idiot. More like-” he rolled his wrist as he tried to find the right word, “more like pretty deer!” He said victoriously, “startled and confused why he is there.”
“Fuck off!” Shane said with a laugh. Shaking his head at the other man's grin. “So what do you do then?”
“I am pediatric surgeon.”
“Wow!” Shane said honestly, shifting towards him more, “In Montreal?”
Ilya nodded. “I just moved here last week.”
“From Russia?” Shane asked, not caring that it wasn’t a subtle dig for more information. Ilya smiled, eyes sparkling.
“Ah, good ear, but no. From America. I have been working in Boston, where I went to school.”
“Impressive.”
“I live to impress,” he purred, low voice going deeper and rushing through Shane like electricity, sending heat to his cheeks.
James’ chair scraped as he returned to his seat. Shane straightened, he hadn’t realised but he’d been leaning against the table, angling towards Ilya, attention entirely caught.
“People always want something from me,” James said as an apology, “it comes with the territory.”
Shane thought he heard a snort from Ilya, but didn't glance his way to check.
“Sure, you're a public figure in a way.”
“Exactly!” James said, leaning forward, “It's not some shitty nine to five! I have to be on all the time, can't just clock in and out.”
Shane nodded. He'd never even thought about a normal job and he didn’t interact with a whole lot of people that had them. His parents both worked for the government and as far as he knew clocks weren't involved beyond meeting schedules.
James kept talking and Shane tried to listen, but a stunning woman in a slinky black dress appeared at Ilya’s table, reaching into a purse he hadn't noticed on the opposite chair as she said something rapid-fire in a rolling language. Ilya replied, relaxing back into his chair. The woman spoke again, perfectly shaped eyebrow raising as she gestured with her phone. Ilya waved her away and she went with a roll of her eyes.
God, what a stunning couple. She probably did something impressive and worthwhile as well, probably a brain surgeon, or rocket scientist or something. Something smart, where being so beautiful was the least interesting thing about her.
A waiter appeared beside their table, drawing Shane's attention back to his own date. He watched as the waiter went about the production of presenting the wine and offering the glass to James, who sniffed it and nodded superiorly, letting him pour his glass.
When the waiter moved to pour his, Shane let a small drizzle fill the bottom before he gestured for him to stop and murmured a thanks. The waiter shot a glance towards James as though expecting another opinion, but he was holding the glass up and studying it. Shane shared a look with the waiter, who ducked his head and placed the bottle carefully on the table, angling the label towards James before disappearing between the tables.
James placed his glass in front of the bottle and got his phone out, tweaking the composition carefully, frowning as he worked. Shane shot a glance towards Ilya who caught his eyes, already hiding a smirk in the lip of his beer bottle. Shane sipped his glass of water to hide his own smile.
Looking over the photos he'd just taken, James began talking about the importance of creating an aspirational aesthetic for his personal brand, because it broadened his appeal to sponsors and keeps the followers engaged trying to emulate him. Shane nodded along, gaze wandering to his Rolex he was obligated to wear in formal wear situations where he was likely to be photographed.
He’d been wearing his sponsored brands since he was a teenager, didn’t give it much thought anymore, couldn’t say who the other brand ambassadors he shared the labels with, or whether or not they’d influence him to buy the stuff. He supposed when he was younger he might have brought a stick or skates if he wanted to be like the players who wore them, but it had been so long since he had to make a choice like that, even his stick tape came from a sponsor nowadays.
His musing was interrupted by a plate of entrees being placed down on the table. James leaned close to the waiter, “Is that Tiffany Klein?” he asked, gesturing to another table.
The waiter glanced over, confirming it was before asking if there was anything else and moving away, rather quickly, Shane thought.
“I have to get a photo with her.” James said, laser focused on the back of a woman’s head across the room. “It’ll boost my numbers like crazy.”
With that he was up and crossing the room, moving casually in the general direction of the woman.
“Does he realise he is on a date with most famous hockey player in Canada?” Ilya asked, pulling Shane’s attention back from where James was accidentally bumping into the woman’s table. Shane considered the question.
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” he said, turning to face him. “He hasn’t asked me any questions.”
“What a waste.” Ilya clicked his tongue derisively, “Not even to ask what your favourite position is?” he made a faux bashful expression, “to play, of course. Or what you like for breakfast.”
“I have a pre-workout smoothie for breakfast.”
“Ah, is it green?”
“Yes.” Shane took a minuscule sip of his wine and gave what he hoped was a humorously unaffected look. Ilya grinned, wide and crooked.
“Well, as a doctor I can say that is probably very good for you, as a man,” he shrugged, “that is depressing.”
“Fuck off,” Shane said around a laugh. “What do you have?”
“Depends if I’m trying to impress someone or not.” he said, leaning forward. Shane mirrored his movement.
“You need to try to impress?”
Ilya made a noise in his throat that could have been a purr, “I need to keep the good impression going after a very long, full night of very rigorous impressing.”
Shane bit his lip but couldn’t hide the grin that was trying to take over his face. He was flirting! Actually flirting, in public, with a very handsome man. And it seemed to be going well!
Movement drew Shane’s eye to the beautiful woman who reappeared at the other side of Ilya’s table. She held her phone to her chest as she asked something in Russian. Ilya rolled his eyes and replied. She made a gesture before walking off, lifting the phone back to her ear.
Cold reality settled back in Shane’s stomach, washing away the thrilled glow of their flirting. He leaned back, away from Ilya, to sit straighter in his chair as he reached forward to fiddle with his water glass again.
He could feel Ilya’s gaze on the side of his head and after a moment of resisting turned to meet it. Ilya was still angled towards Shane, one hand on his beer bottle. When he saw Shane looking he nodded towards where she’d gone.
“She is annoyed. She took a week off work to help me move because she says I decorate like it is still soviet times, and it took two days for them to lose a container of Ferrari.”
“What?” Shane gaped. The rolling unease over flirting with a guy on a date with a beautiful woman evaporated at the baffling turn.
He waved a hand, “They have the container, not the paperwork.”
Shane nodded like that made sense. He glanced to where she'd gone before darting his eyes back to the crisp tablecloth on Ilya’s table.
“So she didn't move with you?” When he glanced up, Ilya was smiling.
“No, I am single. Sveta is good friend from home.”
“That's really nice of her to help you move.” Shane said, relaxing back into his chair and resuming his angle towards the other man.
“She worries. A mother hen. But don't tell her I said that, she'll have me run over by one of her expensive cars.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“Well let's not go too far.” Ilya mused, his eyes drifting down to focus on Shane’s lips. The soft lighting made his eye colour mercurial, Shane kept locking onto them in a way very unusual for him to try and figure out what colour they were.
He licked his lips, just to see if Ilya would follow the motion. He did and Shane ducked his head, unused to playing this kind of game. The few times he’d hooked up with a guy before coming out had been blunt and to the point, a lot of alcohol in his system and far, far away from any place that had a popular hockey team. The few dates he’d been set up on since he’d come out had mostly been awkward, with maybe a lacklustre blowjob if they weren’t too pushy. Prolonged flirting with a hot guy in public was a whole new experience, it made his skin prickle with excitement and his mind quiet from its usual busy noise to something fuzzy and pleasant he wanted to chase.
Shane jumped when the waiter appeared next to the table, and touched the wine bottle in invitation and asked if he needed anything.
“No, thank you, everything’s great.” He darted a look towards James across the room. “I’m just going to the restroom if he returns and notices.”
The waiter’s professional expression cracked and they shared an amused look as he assured him he would. Shane darted a glance at Ilya as he passed, finding him already watching.
If asked, Shane would honestly not know if he was waiting for a knock on the restroom door as he washed his hands. It was a small, single unisex room, painted red and with a small vase of flowers on the basin and a gilt frame around the mirror.
When the quiet knock did come, he met his own eyes in the mirror, his heart rising to his throat. He gave himself three breaths before he reached over and unlocked the door.
Ilya slipped through the door and closed it behind him, the lock engaging with a gentle click that raced down Shane’s spine. Ilya looked bigger standing up in a small room. Realistically he was about the same height as Shane, but it felt like he took all the air out of the room when he entered and Shane’s vision was filled with him.
He smelled good. Something woodsy and deep, filing Shane’s head when he took a small step forward and was suddenly closer, almost pressed against him, almost enveloping him completely.
“This is a bad idea,” Shane breathed. Ilya cocked his head and finished moving into his space, pressing him against the sink like a tidal force.
“What is?”
Shane’s gaze dipped to his lips and got trapped there.
“This.” he breathed, leaning forward until their lips were a breath apart. He’d never wanted to be kissed more than he did in that second. Ilya’s large hands came to rest on his hips, barely touching him but somehow suggesting exactly what he could do with them.
“Why?” Ilya breathed and Shane had enough sense left to huff out a laugh and pull back slightly.
“Because I’m on a date!”
“It’s a shit date, you should leave it anyway.” Ilya shrugged. “Would you be so heartbroken if he didn't ask you on another one?”
“No,” Shane admitted with a laugh, “but… well, he drove me.”
“You can't order a car?”
“It seems rude.” Heat flushed up his neck when Ilya made a face that told him exactly how dumb that sounded
“Yes,” Ilya said, voice dry, “he is very polite and attentive.”
Shane let out a noise he refused to think of as a giggle and bowed his head. Lifting a hand he fiddled with a button on Ilya’s shirt. The fabric was as soft and expensive-feeling as he expected, and the small buttons matched it perfectly. Ilya lifted one large hand to cup his, his palm hot against Shane’s skin. He didn’t move him away from the button, just held him as his fidgeting eased.
“I don’t want to cause a scene,” Shane admitted quietly, “that shit gets online and suddenly I’m a demanding bitch who shouldn’t be a captain.”
“Ah,” Ilya said, nodding and pressing closer. “The actual burden of being a public figure, not like Mr Influencer.”
“And people would have a lot to say if I got caught with a really hot guy in a bathroom.” Shane breathed, resting his hands on Ilya’s impossible pecs as their bodies slotted together effortlessly, a thigh slipping between his legs and the heat of the other man warming his front.
“No,” a smile tugging at Ilya’s lips, “I am a doctor! Very respectable, pillar of community, I wouldn't be caught fucking pretty hockey player in public bathroom. Is all lies.”
Shane bit his lip to hold in a laugh, giddiness washing away his nerves. “Yeah?”
Ilya nodded, humming a thoughtful sound. “How could I resist?” he asked as they both leaned forward, their lips brushing together as he spoke, “he’s perfect.”
It was possible they moved to close the last bit of distance between them at the same time, or maybe Shane succumbed first, but either way they fell together, bodies pressing close as their mouths met hungrily.
Shane generally liked kissing, even when he was closetted and the lips he was kissing were too small and sometimes sticky with gloss, kissing had been fun. It was everything else that made him feel a bit sick and out of place in his body. Kissing Ilya was a revelation, rendering every kiss he’d had up to this moment into a flimsy imitation.
His large, strong hands came up to cradle Shane’s face, angling him up just right so their lips locked perfectly. His charming Cupid’s bow mouth slotted against Shane’s, plump and soft but sure in what they were doing.
When he opened his mouth enough to draw Shane’s bottom lip in, to suck and tease with the barest suggestion of teeth before his tongue swept out to tease his mouth open, Shane felt a shudder run through his body and he melted back against the counter, knees weak.
Ilya made a hungry sound and his hands left Shane’s face to grip his thighs and pull him up onto the counter in a swift, confident move that made Shane’s stomach swoop and a breathy noise escape him.
It felt good to spread his legs around the solid weight of Ilya as he ground closer. It felt right to clutch at his broad shoulders and reach a hand up to tangle in his gorgeous curls.
When Ilya trailed kisses across his jaw and down to his throat, Shane rolled his head back to give him more room, sucking in lungfuls of air and gripping the fabric of his shirt in one hand, and his curls in the other as Ilya ground closer, thrusting against him, tight and firm in the enclosed space of Shane’s legs now locked around his waist.
“Mr, Um, Mr Hollander?” A tentative call came through the door. They froze, barely breathing as they pulled back from each other slightly, waiting for the voice to come again. When it did it was still low, and sounded closer to the door. “Mr Hollander?”
“Yes?” Shane called, praying his voice sounded steady.
“Well, it's just… um. Well, your date is being asked to leave.”
“What!” Shane jerked up into Ilya's chest, surprise turning his voice strangled.
“Yeah, he got into an argument with a wait staff and, um, well it got a bit physical and he's been asked to leave. If you want to leave with him you'd have to go now. But, um, well I wouldn't recommend it, phones are out.”
Shane pressed his face into Ilya's chest “Jesus Christ.” He breathed into the nice smelling fabric.
“I can let you out the back if you'd like,” the voice offered.
“Yes! Yes, please!”
Ilya stepped back as Shane scrambled onto his feet and rushed to straighten his hair and clothes so he didn’t look like he’d just been mauled in the restroom. He startled when Ilya pressed a set of keys into his hand.
“Red Porsche, around the corner on the left,” he rattled off a registration number, “wait, I'll settle here and can take you home.”
“What about your friend?” Shane asked as he clutched at the keys like a life line.
“She will not mind.” Ilya smiled and moved to stand behind the door, angling carefully so he wouldn’t even be reflected in the mirror if the waiter glanced in.
Shane gave himself one more frazzled look in the mirror and turned to the door. Ilya gave him a wink and a cheeky grin as he flicked the lock and opened it enough to ease out, hoping it didn’t look too much like he was trying to hide the interior.
The waiter who had been serving him all evening gave him a grimacing smile, which Shane matched, and wordlessly led him away from the restaurant and restroom. Shane watched as the door clicked shut silently behind them and breathed a sigh of relief at escaping being caught.
“What did he do?” Shane asked when they pushed through a Staff Only doorway and into the back of the building. The waiter rolled his eyes.
“He was badgering Tiffany Klein, wouldn’t leave her alone and then got physical with a waiter who tried to get him to leave her table.”
Shane groaned as he rubbed a hand over his face. They didn’t even get to the mains, he knew he should have made a run for it the moment he could.
“I’ll cover the tab and everything,” Shane said, “I’m so sorry about all this.”
“The manager made him pay, don’t worry about it.” He grinned as he held open the door into the laneway behind the building, holding out Shane’s coat he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.
“Thank you so much for getting me out, not just of this mess but this whole night.”
The waiter laughed and Shane ducked out into the lane, glancing around for anyone with a smartphone trained on him. The coast was clear and he made his way around to the front of the building and down the block to the street Ilya had parked his car.
Clicking the key, it beeped merrily and Shane sent a quick, guilty look around before ducking into the passenger seat. It smelled like new leather and Ilya’s cologne in a way that gave Shane a head rush as he realised where he was. He could have ordered a ride, it was crazy to be sitting in this man’s car, waiting for him to cut his evening short to drive him home.
He swallowed and rubbed the palms of his hands against his thighs. He could invite him inside, thank him properly for saving him from the world’s worst date. The arousal that had evaporated with the interrupted makeout in the restroom spluttered back to life in his belly at the thought.
Ilya rounded the corner with a determined stride. He looked effortlessly casual and cool. His long, strong legs eat up the pavement as a breeze ruffled his curls, Shane sunk back into the seat and concentrated on the excited thrum in his blood, pooling in his groin. He wanted to touch him, to be held by him, to taste him.
It had taken Shane a long time to become comfortable with his desires, to realise that it was allowed and not something to be ashamed or embarrassed by. It hadn’t exactly been a smooth coming out, the team had divided into those who were fine with it and didn’t treat him differently, and those who suddenly wanted a bit more space from their captain. It was pretty much what he’d expected when he finally came out, but ultimately the decision had been made because he was tired of hiding and pretending to be something he’s not.
Actually letting himself be gay, to have desire and not hide every suggestion of it was new, was thrilling and scary. But being able to look at Ilya smile as he caught a glimpse of Shane in his car, felt like the most natural thing he’d ever experienced. It felt right to smile back, to angle towards him as he climbed into the driver’s seat and catch the scent of crisp night air and his woodsy cologne.
When Ilya tilted his head, looked at him through lidded eyes, soft lips pink and inviting and said in his low, rolling accent, “Can I take you home?”
The only possible response was, “Yes, please.”
***
Shane felt loose-limbed and settled the next afternoon as he entered the arena and made his way to the change rooms. He almost felt like humming, but figured that was a bit too extreme and he needed to retain some level of control and decorum as captain, but he knew he was smiling to himself as he reached his stall.
JJ threw himself into the stall next to him the second he sat down.
“So?” JJ asked, eyes wide and leaning forward eagerly. “How did the date go?”
“Oh.” A blush rose to Shane's cheeks as he thought about Ilya pouting at him over the kitchen counter when he announced he had practice, about how he followed Shane into the bedroom and delayed his departure very cleverly with a leisurely blowjob that had Shane begging and sobbing for release.
JJ crowed a laugh. “I know the look of a man who got laid, Capitaine! It was good?”
Shane recoiled. “Oh, god no! It was awful, never set me up on a date again. He got kicked out of the restaurant for assaulting a staff member.”
“What!”
“Yeah, it was kind of crazy.”
“But you are glowing!” JJ spluttered.
“Well,” Shane ducked his head and took off his shoes, “I did meet someone at the restaurant. He was… yeah, he’s great. We're going out again tonight.” he said with a grin down at his shoes. His phone buzzed where he’d left it on the stall shelf, and he knew without even looking it was from Ilya.