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1
Wyatt has found out more about Shane Hollander’s personality in the past half a year than in the entire previous decade. Sure, he’s met him while coaching at the camps, but it’s not like Hollander shared a lot of himself on the occasions they spoke. But after the FanMail video and the wedding, Wyatt is learning a lot about him, because Roz will not stop talking about his husband. Ever. Shane likes to read boring hockey books. Shane thinks it’s silly to buy accessories for Anya but he lets me do it anyway. Shane doesn’t like it when I smoke because he worries. My Shane is so sweet. Shane, Shane, Shane.
The thing is, amidst all of Roz’s gushing about his husband, it is all too easy to forget that his sweet Shane is, well, the Shane Hollander.
Seeing him at training camp is a sort of shock. This is real, they are actually, seriously going to be playing on the same team as both Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander. Everyone on the team is awed by training with Hollander, except Roz. Actually, Roz is very obviously also awed, but even more obviously very horny above anything else.
Hollander has been unfailingly gracious and polite during all his interactions with the team. He has also clearly been watching everybody’s smallest movements on the ice like a hawk. Wyatt is sure that he’s making mental notes of any strengths and weaknesses, though his face remains completely neutral throughout.
Wyatt sits down next to Bood towards the end of a break. Roz and Hollander are already back on the ice.
Wyatt leans forward to watch the two of them. They’re passing around, and it should be simple, and it looks simple, but it somehow also looks like a perfect choreography that they’re inventing as they’re going. They’re very obviously trying to one-up one another. Watching them almost feels like a transgression, like they’re in some secret hockey guild that requires initiation, like in X-Squad IV: The Guild of Blood. Except there it was blood magic and not hockey that required initiation. Wyatt should watch that movie again.
The rest of the team comes back in twos and threes, and joins Wyatt and Bood watching the ice. Neither Roz nor Hollander seem to take any notice at all.
“His focus is insane, man,” Bood mutters after Hollander easily receives an absolutely impossible pass and scoffs at Roz who’s cursing him out in return.
Dykstra’s mouth is hanging slightly open. Dillon has taken off a glove and is chewing on his nails. Haasy seems to be having some sort of cardiac event, going by the bright flush on his face.
Wiebe comes back and joins them all in watching for a bit. Eventually, he calls out towards the two of them, and they stop.
“Ah,” Roz says. “Everybody is watching us.” He shakes his head sadly. “Perverts.”
Hollander elbows him. “Sorry,” he says. “We didn’t mean to delay anything. Lost track of time.”
“No, no,” Wiebe says. “Good to see you enjoying yourselves. We can have some fun, we've had a tough morning. Let’s pair up in different combinations and warm back up.”
Hollander looks astonished. Wyatt remembers being surprised by Wiebe’s coaching style, after Toronto. He supposes that Montreal would have been more like Toronto, less like Ottawa.
“Of course,” Hollander says, perfectly polite as he has been in every interaction with the team. “Who would like to pair up with me next?”
There’s a long silence. Roz snickers. Wyatt goes to play the boards, grinning to himself at his teammates’ apprehensive faces. It’s good to be a goalie.
2
Tanner isn’t, like, salty about Barrett replacing him on the first line. When it initially happened, and frankly for a good while after, he was angry at himself for not performing better. It’s sort of humiliating now that Shane Hollander is on the second line and appears perfectly content with it, outside of the constant ribbing and one-upping with the captain. But that seems to be some way of expressing marital bliss or potentially foreplay for them, and who is Tanner to judge?
There’s no hint of Roz and Hollander’s usual banter in the locker room tonight, though.
It’s not the Centaurs’ first game of the season against Montreal, but it’s the first they’re playing in Montreal, and the atmosphere is tense. Hollander is almost entirely silent, and Roz is too focused on him to loosen the rest of the team up in any way. Bood is trying to joke around to help, but every time there’s a round of laughter, Hollander flinches like he’s been hit.
Montreal are savage once they’re on the ice, not that it’s a surprise. Hollander never talks about what went down in his final months at Montreal, but judging by the murderous look on Roz’s face whenever anyone ever mentions Hollander leaving the Voyageurs, it was nothing good.
Hollander is hard to get a read on at the best of times, and tonight he is expressionless, not even looking up when the entire arena boos him after a beautiful goal – off Tanner’s solid pass, if he does say so himself. Hollander doesn’t flinch whenever he gets chirped, and Tanner is close enough a couple of times to hear awful slurs in there, which is fucked up. It would be fucked up even if Hollander were a stranger to these guys, instead of their former captain who built them from the ground up and led them to three Stanley Cup wins. It’s not like anyone can forget, with the banners hanging overhead.
Hollander doesn’t acknowledge anything around him except the puck, not even when the entire first line gets into a brawl about some comment that was definitely homophobic. Not even when it becomes clear that the rest of the Voyageurs are completely freezing out Pike and Boiziau for having waved at Hollander before the game. Not even when Comeau illegally checks Haasy so badly Tanner is genuinely frightened for the kid until he gets up okay.
Hollander is perfectly composed through it all. He doesn’t drop gloves. He barely chirps back. He has an almost serene look on his face. Tanner has no fucking idea how he’s pulling that off, especially amidst everyone else on both teams progressively losing their shit.
Tanner is relieved once the game is over. It was a trainwreck, but at least they came out on top, and he even assisted one of Hollander’s goals. Roz didn’t murder any Voyageurs, though it was definitely a close call.
Pike and Boiziau skate up to talk to Hollander once it’s over, to jeers of the crowd. Fucking hell.
“Shane,” Pike says.
“It’s fine,” Hollander says.
Roz actually snarls wordlessly. His face is still bloody from a fight during the second period.
“It’s really not, though.” Pike sounds miserable. Boiziau shakes his head apologetically.
Before anyone else can speak, another Voyageur comes up. Comeau, who checked Haas so badly earlier. He spits on the ice in front of Hollander, then points at the crowd. “Look what they think of you now, Hollander,” he says. “You fucking traitor.”
“Comeau, shut your mouth,” Pike says. “There’s no fucking need for this -”
“Just because you’re a fag like half their fucking team,” Comeau says. “Bringing all their queer shit into hockey. Impossible to just fucking play normal hockey these days.”
Hollander makes a soft, contemptuous noise and grabs hold of Rozanov’s arm from where he’s pulled it back to punch.
“Play for what, Comeau?” Hollander asks. He’s barely raised his voice. “To claw your way up to thirty points for a change?”
Roz laughs, clearly delighted. Tanner winces, not exactly in sympathy with this asshole Comeau, but, shit. Hollander never seems like he has it in him. He never seemed like he could be scary, if he wanted to.
“Fuck you,” Comeau says. “Get off our fucking rink. And don’t trip on your way out, Hollander.”
Roz lunges forward, but Hollander stops him again. “Leave it, Ilya,” he says. He tilts his head up to look at the at the banners hanging from the rafters, then meets Comeau’s eyes. “Enjoy these, Gil. Might be some time until they find someone to carry you to another one.”
Hollander skates off without waiting for a reply.
Fuck, his edges are insane. Tanner has work to do if he wants to stay on Hollander’s line.
3
Zane loves Roz, obviously, and he’s got along well with Hollander at the camps this summer and during the season so far. But he has a slight suspicion that having to hide their relationship for so long has done a number on them, because they’re, well, strange. They’re never apart. Even now, celebrating tonight’s win, Hollander keeps looking over at the bar where Roz is queuing to get the next round. And Roz keeps glancing back to meet his gaze.
Zane is about to roll his eyes, lovingly, at Roz’s sappy look, when someone slides into the line of sight between their table and the bar.
“Hi,” the guy says. He’s tall, and he’s looking exclusively at Hollander, who’s frowning slightly now that his view of Roz is blocked.
“You’re Shane Hollander, right?” the guy continues.
Zane exchanges a glance with Barrett. Surely, this man isn’t about to hit on a recently-married superstar whose husband is standing half a room away. Especially when that husband is Ilya Rozanov, who everyone who’s ever seen him play knows can throw a punch. Who even those who know that deep down he is a total sweetheart agree can be scary if he wants to be.
“Yes,” Hollander says. “Hi.” He smiles very politely, like Zane has seen him do when speaking to the media. Zane has glimpsed Hollander’s actual, real smile on rare occasions when he can’t hold it back at Roz scoring a particularly good goal or giving him a gooey-sweet compliment. Zane is pretty sure that the people who are ever on the receiving end of that smile can be counted on one hand. And one of those people is a dog.
“I’m James,” the guy says. He’s still completely ignoring Zane and Barrett.
“Nice to meet you.” Hollander’s eyes flick to James’s left elbow, which is still hiding Roz from view.
“I, uh, actually play hockey, too,” James says.
Hollander tilts his head. “Which team are you signed with? I haven’t seen you before.”
Next to Zane, Barrett takes a gulp of beer to hide a grin.
“No, no,” James says hurriedly. “Like, I’m part of a beer league for queer players.”
“Oh.” Hollander perks up a little, in that barely-noticeable way of it that Zane still often has trouble spotting even months into playing with him. “Do you want to talk about our camps? My husband and I run a charity that organises inclusive hockey camps for kids.”
“Yeah,” James says. “I know who your husband is.”
“Right,” Hollander says. “So, this year the camps -”
“You could do better,” James says.
Barrett puts down his beer. Zane wonders whether they should drag James away to avoid Roz murdering him when he comes back and sees Hollander being hit on. Zane can help his captain hide a body if he really has to, but he’d prefer not to have to if it can be at all avoided.
“Excuse me?” Hollander says.
James, to his credit, looks mortified. “That – I just meant, you’re, you know. Shane Hollander. And everyone knows that he’s not as good at hockey as you are. And you’re such a good person, and he’s…” James trails off, about a minute after he should have.
Before Barrett or Zane can say anything, Hollander smiles again. Zane once saw him smile that way at a reporter who asked about ‘distractions’ in the locker room. Uh-oh.
“Don’t speak about my husband, please, James,” Hollander says calmly. “You aren’t a better hockey player. You aren’t a better person. No one is.”
“No, I’m sorry,” James hurries to say. “It’s just – I only meant – he’s so – and you’re so – in comparison to Rozanov -”
“I’d rather you kept his name out of your mouth, actually,” Hollander says. And then, casually, “You like playing in that beer league, right? Probably want to keep doing that for a while?”
James gapes at him. “Are you – are you threatening to, what – call them up and get them to kick me out, or – or something?”
Hollander doesn’t respond, merely looks past James’s left elbow towards the bar again, that real smile forming on his face. A moment later, Roz appears with a beer in one hand and a ginger ale in the other.
“For you,” he says, holding out the ginger ale.
Hollander takes it with another smile. “Thank you.”
Roz slides into the booth next to Hollander and looks up at the guy. “Who is this?”
“This is James,” Hollander says evenly. “He plays in a beer league for queer players.”
“That’s very cool,” Roz says. “Must be fun.”
“He really enjoys it,” Hollander says.
“Uh, yeah, I do,” James says. “But I should – yeah, I – great, great game tonight, everyone, I’ll -” He points over his shoulder, turns around, and heads off.
“Finish your drink and let’s go home, Ilya,” Hollander says.
“Are you okay? Are you tired, Shane?”
Hollander doesn’t say anything, just has some more ginger ale, but something about it makes Roz smirk. “Ah,” he says. He gets up without having finished his beer. “Yes, let’s go now. Bye, Bood, bye, Barrett.”
“Bye, guys,” Hollander says, abandoning his half-finished can on the table.
As soon as they’re gone, Zane turns to Barrett. “Jesus Christ,” he says. “Did you know Hollander could be this scary off the ice?”
Barrett shakes his head. “To be fair, that guy had it coming.” He grins. “Glad I never asked Roz for Hollander’s number when I thought about it last year. I’d have been respectful, but I don’t want to imagine how fast he’d have shot me down.”
Zane almost chokes on his beer. “You what?”
4
Evan loves barbecues at Bood’s place. Not only is the food amazing and he’s part of the most awesome team in the league, it’s a treat. He loves being a dad more than anything but occasionally, he likes having a night off. He and Caitlin alternate for social occasions, so that he can join the team and she can join her friends for book club and zumba. He knows with all his travel, it’s not as fair as it should be, but he thinks they’ve worked out a fairly good system. He’s glad whenever he can join the guys, and he’s even more glad when he gets a night of spending time with Susie and feeding her sweet potato puree and watching her cuddle her favourite stuffed rabbit.
“D,” Bood calls as soon as Evan enters. “You made it!”
“Yeah,” Evan says. “Sorry to be this late, but I didn’t want to leave Caitlin until we were sure Susie was okay. She’s been teething a lot.”
“Don’t worry, I get it,” Bood says. He grimaces. “We’re not looking forward to the teething phase.”
Evan wishes he could say something reassuring, but he can’t think of anything that could make teething less daunting, so he just claps Bood on the shoulder. Susie teething might be the worst thing that happened to him since the whole plane thing.
He heads through to where the guys and their partners are sitting and waves at their welcomes and hellos. He grabs himself some food – most of it has been demolished already – and a beer before joining the rest of them.
“Is Caitlin at home with Susie?” Lisa asks.
“Yeah,” Evan says, opening his beer. “She says hi.”
“Say hi back!” Cassie says. “Hard to get a good babysitter, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Evan agrees. “But it’s nice to have separate nights out, anyway.”
“Really?” Hollander sounds surprised. He’s sitting pressed up against Roz’s side. Roz’s arm is wrapped around him, and Hollander is holding Roz’s free hand in both of his. It’s nice to see, because early on in the season, Hollander seemed very shy of touching the captain even fleetingly whenever anyone else could see.
Evan laughs, because those two are really too adorable. “I mean, I guess you wouldn’t understand, you and Roz are weirdly codependent. But I think most people want time apart occasionally, like me and Caitlin.”
“Codependent?” Hollander asks. A little frown has appeared between his eyebrows.
“Uh,” Evan says. Maybe he didn’t phrase that in the best way. “I mean – it’s all good, it’s just, you’re never apart. It’s cool, it’s just not really normal.”
Hollander looks at him for a moment. Then he says, “Right. And how many years did you and Caitlin have to be apart and hide until you could get married?”
Everyone’s gone very, very quiet all of a sudden. Shit. Evan definitely didn’t mean it like that. This is now, funnily enough, one of those occasions where he wishes Caitlin were here, because she would be much better at making this right. He sees Roz pull Hollander more tightly against him.
“Look,” Evan says. “I said that all wrong. Shit. I’m really sorry, man.”
Hollander doesn’t say, it’s fine, or no worries, or even thanks for apologising. He just gives Evan a very tight smile. The moment passes, conversation moves on. Evan feels shitty. The whole team understands that you can rib Roz about their relationship, but not Hollander. Evan isn’t exactly a genius, but everybody knows that after whatever went down during Hollander’s departure from the Voyageurs, the comments can’t have been lighthearted fun like with the Centaurs. He doesn’t ever want to make Hollander feel like his relationship is being judged.
A little later, Roz and Hollander go to get more drinks from the fridge in the kitchen. Evan fidgets for a while, then decides he has to fix things. “Going to apologise,” he mutters to the others.
As he nears the kitchen, he can hear Roz and Hollander talk. Evan can’t help it – he slows his steps and listens in. He knows it isn’t right, but he also doesn’t want to burst in at the wrong time, and Hollander sounds more agitated than Evan has ever heard him.
“Look,” Hollander is saying. “I almost lost you too many times, Ilya. Because I was scared, or stubborn, or because of that stupid fucking plane -”
“It was a stupid fucking plane,” Roz agrees.
Hollander laughs. “All I’m saying is, I know they’re all good guys, and I like them, but I’m done being scared. I’m done worrying about other people. I want to be around you all the time, I don’t want you out of my sight, I don’t care what anyone else thinks. And if it’s too much for you, you can tell me and I’ll back off, but only for you. Not for anyone else.”
“Good,” Roz says, his voice low. There’s noises that sound very much like a drawn-out kiss. “Because I do not want to leave you for a moment. Fuck what other people think.”
“I love you,” Hollander says, almost aggressively.
Another kiss. Then, soft Russian words. Evan heads back towards the veranda. He’ll apologise after tomorrow’s practise. He doesn’t need to interrupt their time together now.
Also, he doesn’t want to piss Hollander off any more than he already has today. Seems like it’d be foolish to risk it.
5
Harris runs into Shane outside of the door of Ilya’s room at the clinic.
“Hey,” Shane says. “Thanks for staying with him, Harris. Sorry it took so long for me to get here. The shoot ran for ages and traffic was horrible.”
“No problem,” Harris says. “Sorry, I didn’t get you a coffee. Do you want mine? I haven’t drunk from it yet. It’s got syrup.”
“No thanks,” Shane says. “How bad was it?”
Harris chuckles. “He wiped the floor with the other guy. Even after he lost the teeth.”
“Fuck,” Shane mutters. “I can’t believe he got into a fucking bar fight.”
“The guy was being a jerk to Luca,” Harris says. “He deserved it.”
“Yeah, sure,” Shane says. “But there are other ways to handle that kind of thing. Ways that wouldn’t end with my husband having two teeth knocked out. I leave him alone one time and this is what happens. I’m going to give him so much shit for this.”
Harris grimaces. “Maybe wait until tomorrow. He didn’t have the best reaction to the drugs.”
“What do you mean?” Shane asks.
“The nurse said it’s pretty common and not dangerous at all, but he’s very confused and he’s been asking for you a lot since he woke up. He seems pretty scared, so either me or Troy stayed with him the entire time.”
Shane’s eyes have narrowed slightly. “He’s been scared since he woke up?”
“Yeah,” Harris says. “But we’ve been telling him you’ll be here soon.”
“Right,” Shane says. “Only I wasn’t. Why did you tell me he was fine when you called?”
Harris suddenly feels the need to tread carefully. “Well, the nurse said it was a very normal reaction, and we figured you’d want to finish the shoot. I was thinking, the surgery went well. And there wasn’t really a need to worry. We made sure to stay with him the entire time and reassure him, I swear.”
“He asked for me, and I didn’t come, because you told me he was fine,” Shane says. “And he was fucking scared. What the fuck, Harris? I would’ve left the shoot early if I had known.”
Harris swallows hard. He never realised that Shane’s eyes can have this sort of dangerous gleam to them. Before he can think of how to best apologise, Shane’s already pulled open the door and strode into the room.
“Hi,” Troy says from where he’s sitting in a corner chair. “You made it! Look who’s here, Roz!”
Shane doesn’t answer. He walks straight to Ilya’s bed, and whispers, “Hey.” He very carefully reaches up to hold Ilya’s face, avoiding his swollen jaw. He’s touching only with his fingertips, as though he fears that Ilya Rozanov might be breakable. “Hey, I’m here now.”
“Shane?” Ilya sounds like he’s speaking through cotton.
“Yeah. I’m right here.”
“Something’s wrong. My mouth hurts.”
“I know.” Shane sits on the very edge of the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, as though not to startle Ilya. “They gave you medication for your teeth, Ilya. Remember?”
“No,” Ilya mumbles.
“That’s okay.”
“You came.”
“Of course I did,” Shane says, stroking Ilya’s curls back from his forehead. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here more quickly. I’ll take you home as soon as I can, yeah? Anya’s going to be so happy to see you.”
Ilya seems to be trying to smile. He doesn’t manage very well with all the swelling. “I won fight,” he slurs.
Shane huffs. “Of course you’re proud. I cannot believe you got into a bar fight, Ilya. You are thirty fucking years old.” He’s still stroking Ilya’s hair even as he says it, though.
“Are you angry?” Ilya sounds dejected at the thought.
Shane says something in Russian and presses a kiss to Ilya’s forehead. Then he adds, “Let me find the nurse and ask when I can take you home, okay?”
Ilya clutches Shane’s hand. “No,” he says. “Don’t leave me alone. They’ll put more teeth in my mouth, Shane.”
“We’ll do it,” Troy says hurriedly. “We’ll come back and let you know.”
“Thanks, Barrett,” Shane says. “That’d be great.” He’s cradling Ilya against him now, still careful to avoid Ilya’s swollen jaw.
“Uh, Shane,” Harris says, as he and Troy head out. “I’m sorry. We really thought it was fine, and we knew you’d get here soon.”
“Just do it right next time,” Shane says.
Harris nods and closes the door. He wonders whether Shane knows he’s scary enough that Harris will make sure there is no next time. If Ilya wants to get into another bar fight, Troy’s going to be the one calling Shane.
+1
“Do you think the team likes me?” Shane asks, completely out of nowhere.
Ilya looks up from where he’s making Shane’s disgusting breakfast smoothie. “Of course they do,” he says. “Why are you asking?”
“It’s just been almost a whole season. They’re great guys, but I feel like I haven’t fully clicked with them. They seem… off, whenever they talk to me. And I don’t know why.”
Ilya chuckles and pushes the finished smoothie across the counter towards Shane. “You don’t know why? You cannot think of any reason?”
“Did I do something? Shit, I didn’t think so, but did I miss -”
Ilya steps around the counter and puts his hands on Shane’s waist to calm him down. “You have done nothing wrong, Shane. You are perfect. Is because they are scared of you.”
“Scared? Of me?”
“Yes. They adore you. But they are terrified.”
“But – but why? What did I do?”
Ilya pretends to think. “Hmm. What did you do? Maybe it was the first Stanley Cup. Or the second. Or the third. Or your MVP wins. Or every single fucking game you have ever played in your life. You are Shane fucking Hollander. Did you forget? Do I need to fuck you in front of your trophies again?”
Shane’s blushing. Ilya leans in to kiss his freckles.
“That’s not – that’s just – are you saying I should be more approachable?”
“I am saying nothing like that. I am telling you, you are perfect.”
Shane isn’t hearing him, Ilya can tell. That little frown has appeared between his eyebrows. Ilya gently smooths it out with his thumb, but clearly, Shane is already doing the Shane thing and making plans.
“Alright,” Ilya says loudly, and the team’s chatter dies down. They’re all at the edge of the rink. “Wiebe is late but on the way. He was at the vet with Lolly for emergency. But we have confirmation that she is fine!” There’s a cheer and shouts of long live Lolly. Fuck, he loves his team.
“Hey, everyone, I have an idea,” Shane pipes up from next to Ilya once the noise has died down. Ilya turns to him in surprise. Shane is a great A but he tends to lead by example instead of with words.
“I think we should just take it easy until Wiebe gets here,” Shane continues. In light of this morning’s conversation, that makes sense to Ilya. The rest of the team look very confused, though. Shane is not to be deterred. “You know, mess around. Skate how we want. The most important thing is to have fun on the ice.”
“Uh,” Barrett says. “Are you sure?”
Ilya sees the pain in Shane’s eyes as he grits out. “Yeah. It’s not that serious, right, guys?”
No one answers. Everyone is looking at Shane in utter silence.
Ilya, being the amazing, supportive husband he is, and maybe also because he wants to have some fun, says, “I agree. What a fun way of thinking, Shane! So chill!”
Shane nods jerkily. “Exactly. Thank you, Ilya.”
And, oh, that determined look in Shane’s eyes, that clear desire to do his best at being casual. Ilya can’t wait to worship him for hours tonight, take him out of his head completely, help him actually relax.
Shane gives Ilya a fierce look and a serious nod, and then heads off onto the ice.
“Oh god,” Chouinard says as soon as Shane is out of earshot. “Roz, what the fuck is wrong with him? Is he okay?”
“Yeah, who was that and where the hell is our Hollander?” Boyle says.
“Oh no, oh no,” Young gasps. “Guys. I think I know what this is. I think he’s just given up on us.”
“Fuck,” LaPointe says, eyes wide. “You might be right.”
“We have to do better,” Holmberg hisses. “Show him that we can improve. If we don’t, who knows what might happen?”
“What do you mean, what do you think is going to happen?” Haasy whispers.
“I don’t know,” Young mutters darkly. “But can you imagine him looking at us, all disappointed? We’ll just have to work hard enough, like Bergy said. Keep training hard and get better. We can’t let him down.”
The others nod seriously. Their jaws are set and their eyes narrowed, like they’re getting ready for battle.
“Okay,” Ilya says brightly. “Sounds like smart plan. I will go skate with my husband now.”
“Right,” Shane whispers once Ilya has joined him on the ice, the rest of the guys warily filing on after them. “I think now they see it. That I can be approachable.”
Ilya meets Haasy’s terrified gaze across the ice. LaPointe’s hands are shaking where he’s re-tying his skates. Holmberg keeps dropping his stick.
Ilya wraps an arm around Shane and pulls him as close as he can while wearing gear. Shane for once doesn’t protest. This being approachable at work thing clearly has upsides.
Once the rest of the team are on the ice, they expectantly look at Shane.
“Maybe we could, uh, play tag?” he says.
Ilya wants to grab him and cuddle him against his chest and cover him in kisses. Especially now that they’re married, his brain often just goes mine mine mine when he sees Shane do anything. He always revels in it being true, sometimes simply refuses to push down the swell of possessiveness and affection, but it’s not really helpful for concentrating on anything going on around him on the ice.
“Uh,” Barrett says bravely. “Hollander, are you sure you want to play tag?”
“Y-yes,” Shane says. “Definitely.”
“We could run escapes instead?” Chouinard suggests.
“But playing tag is more fun, right?” Shane says.
The rest of the team exchanges glances.
Eventually, Dykstra speaks up. “We love you, Hollander,” he says.
“Um,” Shane says. “Thank you?”
“Is, you know, everything all right?” Hazy says. “You’re acting – different.”
Ilya decides to take pity on everyone and explain the situation. “Shane is being especially approachable today.”
“But why is that necessary?” Boyle asks. He turns to Shane. “Can’t you go back to your usual self? Please?”
“Really?” Shane asks. “I can be more relaxed.”
“No,” Haasy says. He sounds desperate. “Please go back to normal.”
“Yeah, please. You teach us so much,” LaPointe says.
“He is lying,” Ilya says. “Stop sucking up, Pointy. You are horrible teacher, Hollander. Everybody knows this. But is okay. I make up for it. I am amazing at teaching others.”
“Well, you know what they say, Rozanov,” Shane says. “Those who can’t do, teach.”
“I heard that, Hollander,” someone calls from the edge of the rink before Ilya can answer.
Shane whirls around and goes adorably wide-eyed at Wiebe heading towards them. “I didn’t mean – you’re a great – I -”
Wiebe grins. “All good,” he says. “Sorry for being late, everyone. Lolly is confirmed to be okay.”
There’s another round of cheers for Lolly.
“Coach, can we have ten minutes of fun before starting practise?” Ilya asks. “This was Shane’s idea while we wait for you.”
“It was?” Wiebe asks, looking at Shane.
“He’s being very approachable today,” Ilya explains.
“Oh, fuck off, Rozanov,” Shane mutters under his breath.
Wiebe smiles. “Okay,” he says. “Ten minutes.” He claps his hands. “Go, have fun, come on.”
Ilya grabs Shane’s hands and skates backwards slowly, until they’re apart from the rest of the team who have started messing around at centre ice.
“This is fun, no?” Ilya asks. “Even without playing tag.”
“It’s nice,” Shane agrees. “It is. I just – I wanted the team to see me as one of them. I’m not sure it worked.”
Ilya presses a quick kiss to the corner of Shane’s mouth. His brave, focussed, hard-working husband who makes everyone around him want to be better and is the least chill person in the entire world. Of course everybody is in awe of him. They are all, Ilya more than anyone, lucky to be on the same ice as Shane. He squeezes Shane’s waist, then starts pulling him along to skate together.
“We see you,” Ilya says. “I promise, we see all the best things about you, sweetheart.”
Shane smiles at him, and checks him very gently, before skating off. Ilya chases after him as fast as he can, not bothering to look left or right. Here, there’s nothing in their way.