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When Hayden had originally suggested it as a joke, they had all laughed, laughed until Jackie had choked on her vodka. It had been a rare night where the kids had gone to bed early, worn out from the games, and the four of them had broken out the vodka and a ginger ale for Shane.

They had chatted and drank, cuddling up to their other halves on the sofa, loose limbed and comfortable. Shane treasured these moments dearly, being able to be his authentic self with Ilya around his best friends. He only wished that he could share these moments with the rest of his team, share this version of Ilya with the world. Let them see the other side of his man, see that he was sweet and caring and deserved love too.

The four of them had gossiped for what felt like hours, Jackie had insisted on dragging them into a rousing game of Smash or Pass, which had turned into Kiss, Marry or Kill when Shane and Hayden refused to answer some of the players.

Ilya had been arguing his point with Jackie about a diabolical option involving Scott Hunter, Dallas Kent, and Hayden himself. Ilya was insistent that he would not kiss Scott or marry him, but didn't want to admit that he would do either with Hayden, much to Jackie's amusement. She was drunk enough to start extolling her husband's virtues, which unfortunately included discussing his best friend's tongue to Ilyas loud protests. Shane already knew who he would choose, and he was thankfully sober enough to keep it to himself lest Ilya start whining into his shirt.

Then Hayden had spoken up from his place next to Jackie, pulling Shane away from watching his boyfriend's hands. "You know with your fucking love heart eyes", the shot glass in his hand thankfully was empty as he gestured at them. "You could fucking make out on the KissCam and no one, no one would blink an eye."

Shane snorted loudly and flushed red as the noise echoed around the room, almost echoing in the quiet of the night. They had certainly curbed the argument between Ilya and Jackie as the latter buried her face into a cushion, trying desperately not to laugh. Jackie would wake up the kids if she started laughing properly; her drunk laughter had gotten her kicked out of a library before, and the kids weren't exactly deep sleepers.

Ilya was just huffing lightly as the room dissolved into stifled giggles. Shane could see his shoulders shaking and his teeth clacking against the glass held to his lips. He couldn't help but join in, as if the kisscam would ever pick them. The world may know them as very good friends, but they certainly wouldn't be picked.

It wasn't like the KissCam didn't sometimes choose hockey players, but it was normally when they were in the crowd, not playing. If they were playing, it was generally ignored, except that one time Carter Vaughan had smacked a giant kiss on Scott Hunter's cheek and then started dancing when the crowds roared in approval.

Shane hadn't been able to stop thinking about it the rest of the night. It was on his mind when he and Ilya practically fell into the bed in Jackie and Hayden's spare room. It was on his mind when they were loudly woken up by Arthur demanding hugs from his uncles at 8 am. It was on his mind all morning and all afternoon while they played with the twins on the frozen lake, 10 mins walk from the house. It was on his mind during the family style dinner, and while Ilya packed up the car to leave.

He was sure Jackie and Hayden knew he was mentally somewhere else; they had hugged him extra tight, like when he had completed a bad practice in his first years as captain. They knew he just needed time to mull something over, and he would tell them eventually. Shane was so glad he had friends like them who understood him.

He mulled it over the 2 hour drive back to Ottawa and the cottage. Was it possible? Could they do it? It wasn't like the team didn't know he was gay, and Ilya had dual citizenship for America, Russia couldn't take him back.

He had come out to his teammates a few months prior, and they had taken it well. If awkwardly. They acted like bumbling idiots around him for a good week before he tore them a new one in practice.

He hadn't panicked at the awkward and off behaviour, Hayden had reassured him that it wasn't homophobia, and he trusted Hayden that whole week until he literally couldn't take it anymore. He ended up yelling at them when Coach Theriault was off recovering from a hangover.

They had apologised, barely looking at him in the eye, until one of the rookies had folded like cardboard. The whole team had been confused about how not to be homophobic and whether he was upset with them about the previous slurs they had used; instead of using words, they had awkwardly tried to Google it and failed because it involved emotion, which they were allergic to. His team really did share a cup full of brain cells. JJ and Hayden and the WAGs had been trying to smack some sense into them all week.

Much to the assistant coach's annoyance, Shane had cancelled practice and taken them all out to lunch on his dime. It had turned from lunch into a team day all the way to an evening out. It had been sorely needed. Although the hangover and the lecture from the WAGs, when they picked them up at stupid o'clock from Shane's, had not been fun.

They had scheduled a team fun night every month since, and the team was clicking like never before. He could be himself fully in Montreal, in his locker room, without fear. The only question was, would they accept Ilya too?

The following 2 days before they parted, Shane spent relaxing with his boyfriend at the cottage. He tried to let the thought of coming out fade, but 2 hours before they were supposed to drive back to Montreal, he found himself lying in Ilya's arms, unable to think of anything else.

"I've been thinking," he said, staring at Ilyas's sweat-soaked chest rather than his face. "Was Hayden's idea such a bad idea?"

Shane could feel the sigh before he heard it, "No, as much as I do not want to admit it. It was good in theory."

"But?"

"But," Ilya continued, his hand stroking Shane's back, caressing his clammy skin. "It would be hard to control. I know we both want this. We both want to be in the sun. But it could make people angry at you моя любовь. I do not want you to be hurt."

Shane turned, leaning on his elbows, looking down at the curly-haired Russian beneath him and felt loved more than anything. He smiled, "I want that too, and I'm not scared anymore. I'm not scared of the fallout. I'm not scared of the hurt." His lips came closer to Ilyas as he whispered. "I just want to show you off."

There were no words anymore as they came together; they were definitely going to be late returning to Montreal, but Ilyas' flight back to Boston wasn't until the following day. More time in the cottage was heaven.

It was while they were shutting down the cottage that it occurred to him that they couldn't leave Hayden and Jackie out of the plans, especially since they knew. Shane sighed as he opened the Fab Four chat; they would definitely hit the late-night rush hour now.

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They didn't really put concrete plans in place for a while; it was an idea, but planning it seemed impossible. A week went by, the playoffs looming ever larger in the distance, when Shane had finally had enough. It was going to be organised soon; he was sick of waiting. He just wanted to take Ilya out on a date; he wanted to just hold his fucking fiancé's hand in public.

He really hated that this was a big deal; hetero couples didn't have to come out, they just made out in public. Hell, Jackie and Hayden had pretty much humped like animals on the dance floor when they first met, and no one batted an eyelid. Well, Shane did, because they were doing it right in front of the big-screen TV that was playing a Boston game. But that wasn't the point. On the one hand, the Ilya in him wanted to be dramatic and shock the world; that boring hockey robot Hollander had snagged Playboy Ilya Rozanov. On the other hand, he wished they could just be, just be out without the big reveal.

The next month dragged by in Shane's opinion; they were both trying to keep their team near the top of the division, but Shane was having more luck. Unfortunately, Crosby and his Penguins had been on a roll lately, and they were sitting pretty in 2nd place, much to Shane's annoyance. Crosby had been out for half the season with a lower-body injury, and now he was back, making Shane's life difficult. He respected the man immensely, and he was good friends with Sid, even though they didn't talk much outside the Olympics. But between the Penguins, Boston, and Buffalo, of all teams, he was kept busy and fighting to stay at the top. Buffalo had somehow put together a decent line, and they were annoyingly competent. 

It was in the locker room after the last game against Pittsburgh, 2-1 to Montreal after overtime, that Shane looked at the calendar and realised there was a perfect chance staring him right in the face.

Montreal and Boston had one final game before the playoffs started next week, and they were in 1st and 3rd place, respectively. They wouldn't be playing each other until the Conference Final, if they made it that far and if the standings stayed as they were. There was no better time to come out; everyone would be distracted in a few weeks anyway.

It was now or never, and Shane was going to get it done now before he lost his nerve. He got into his car and drove back home to call Ilya, then let Hayden and Jackie know.

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The next day Ilya messaged Vicks to ask about the Boston WAGs. Shane wasn't sure they would come or even could, but he hoped for Ilya's sake that some would show. Boston was extremely close to Ilya, like a giant family; they looked after him and made sure their Captain was protected. Ilya had stayed with Marlow when he first joined Boston as a billet, and the two had stayed incredibly close. Ilya had even been the best man at Cliff's wedding to Vicks. 

Boston was a loud, violent team, but they clicked like no other. The team held huge cookouts once a month, cramming in as many WAGs and kids as they could and making sure everyone had their piece and their place. Vicks had given Shane an open invitation to the next cookout when he and Ilya were out, promising to make sure he had the best taste of Boston she could do. Shane ached to go just as he ached to bring Ilya to the Montreal team meets.

He sent Ilya a quick "love you" and "good luck" message before grabbing his gym gear. Ilya would sort out his side; Shane was confident of that. Boston would never let him down, not on purpose at least, and if they did well, Vicks and Cliff would beat them up until they accepted Ilya. Vicks was Jackie's level of scary, with the added benefit that she was absent of children, meaning she had time to ruin someone's life.

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3 days later, Shane found himself outside a small office about to meet Harris Drover. Lucie had nothing but good things to say about the man, but she had made him promise to take it easy on Harris; apparently, he had a heart condition. Shane hoped the favour he was going to ask wasn't going to make him an accessory to murder. 

He may have panicked after he heard that and made Hayden promise to stand outside the door. Hayden, upon finding out he was expecting twins, had gone through an extensive 3-day first aid course in a panic. He kept it up to date and was a backup first aider if the trainers weren't available. Montreal had given him a salary bonus, paid for his recertifications as long as he kept them up to date, and even paid for Jackie to get certified as well.

Shane let out a big sigh, ignoring the big grin and thumbs up from Hayden as he pushed the office door open. The man inside looked like a farmer; that was his first thought: rugged, with neat dark blond hair and a matching beard. He was a few inches shorter than Shane, although his legs were definitely longer than his. His clothes were more in the style of a country worker than the home of the Montreal Metros, but Shane had no room to judge; it wasn't like his style was any better, even after getting a stylist. 

"Hello, are you Harris Drover?" Shane asked. The man whirled around in shock, blinking rapidly and nearly stumbling into the desk in front of him, but he recovered quickly and pulled his face into a beaming smile. 

"That's me, Mr Hollander. How can I assist you?" 

"I need a favour, a confidential favour, Mr Drover," Shane gestured towards the desk, moving to sit down on the leather chair.

Harris sat down opposite, his brows furrowing, "Please call me Harris, and umm, sure, what can I do? I am at your disposal." 

"Nothing I say leaves this office, correct?" 

"Correct," Harris nodded. Shane could see the pride pin on his lapel. He wondered absent-mindedly if maybe he could wear something like that after next week. Maybe a rainbow hockey pin.

"I'm gay, I don't know if you are aware. Gossip does spread here." The words came easier each time Shane said that; by the end of this season, he would be a pro at coming out, if there was such a thing. Number 1 at coming out of the closet, there should be a reward for that. 

"I…I didn't know, but thank you for telling me," Harris smiled warmly, his deep green eyes looked at Shane directly as he spoke. 

"Thank you. I appreciate that." Shane hesitated before letting the cat out of the bag. "I am in a relationship with Ilya Rozanov, and we are engaged." 

The table banged loudly between them, and Harris let out a hissed yelp as he slammed his knee into the underside of the table. Some paperwork fell to the floor, which Shane rushed to pick up to give him something to do in the awkward silence. 

"I…wow…..um…..Okay. That I wasn't expecting." Harris looked stunned before belief, eyes bulging as he shook his head like he had water in his ears. 

No one ever did expect that; Shane's lips twitched as he fought back a smile. The urge to puff out his chest in pride, he had locked down the Boston Playboy, him - boring Shane Hollander. 

Harris let a breath raking his hand through his hair, "So what's the plan? I assume you want to come out and thats the favour," he laughed, looking at Shane's raised eyebrows. "My dream job is a social media manager. I know how the internet works, and hard launching is in."

Shane didn't know what hard launching was, but he trusted Harris a lot more with this, than he did himself. "Yes, we were going to come out via KissCam if that's possible."

The shocked look was back, "Well, that's one way to come out. It could certainly be done." Harris leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his beard. "When is the question?"

"In 4 days, at the Boston and Montreal game."

"Thats a little short notice, but I could make it work. You are absolutely sure, both of you, once I start planning, you may not have enough time to pull back." He levelled a look at Shane. 

"Yes," there was no backing out now. Shane would be coming out in 4 days, come hell or high water. 

"I'm sorry, I have to ask," Harris hesitated, "Will Rozanov be ok, you know, with Russia. They aren't kind to our people?" Shane smiled. It was so refreshing to have someone think of Ilyas' safety first rather than his own, and Harris did look genuinely concerned. "Yes, absolutely. Ilya has a dual visa; he is safe from Russia."

"Good, good. Ok then, let's do this. I will come up with a plan and drop you a message tonight. Let me grab your digits first."

Shane handed over his business card with his personal number, his email, and the contact information for both his mother and his agent. "This has my details and my team's details. They are aware of what's going on. If you can't get hold of me, they will answer."

That had been an awkward conversation with his mother, that yes he wanted to come by making out with his boyfriend on national TV. She had concerns, of course, she wouldn't be The Yuna Hollander without concerns, but she and Farah had accepted the plan and were waiting for him to speak to Harris before proceeding. His father, on the other hand, just laughed and said he was getting as dramatic as Ilya. He had tried to defend himself, saying it was Hayden's idea, but once his mother and Ilya had joined in the laughter, he just gave up and sulked. At least he had won at Uno that night, which shut everyone up. 

10 minutes later, he had left Harris' temporary office with a new number burning in his pocket and potentially a new friend who was like him. That was weird to think about: there were no LGBT people in the league at the moment; he and Ilya would be the game-changers, hopefully. 

When he got back home after dropping Hayden off, Ilya was waiting for him to message. Harris, in the meantime, had already CC'd him in an email to his mother and Farah. He definitely didn't waste any time. Finally, someone outside of his circle who understood the value of urgency.

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During the 4 days leading up to the game, Shane exchanged many messages with Harris. He really was a fascinating person to talk to. Harris had looped in both Farah and his mother into his plans and had even helped set up a social media post ready to go for both Shane and Ilya. Ilyas post even sounded like him, despite being written exclusively by Harris. Ilya had immediately signed off on the post, laughing that he wanted to hire the bearded man so he could take a day off annoying people online. 

Shane had not expected Harris to have so much sway in Montreal, though; he had only been working at the Bell Centre for 2 months, and he seemed to have not just the latest gossip but also all the information on employees and who was who. He had been an unlikely ally. Shane found himself rather fond of the man, who seemed to radiate joy and kindness everywhere he went. 

Ilya and Shane spoke every night, reassuring each other and calming each other. They were both nervous, even though they were trying not to show it. They would be the first, but they would pave the way for others. Ilya was convinced that several other active players were gay; he had a list on his phone. He was utterly determined that he could help them become the best version of themselves, and Shane was all for it. He wanted to talk to other players like them. 

Shane wanted to be the barrier and protection for others; the league couldn't bench or fine all the LGBT players. Well, they could try, but they wouldn't be successful. His mother had hired a lawyer who specialised in LGBT discrimination, just in case, though. They had contingency plans for everything; there was even a plan if the KissCam failed or an official prised them apart. His mother planned for everything. 

The day of the game Shane felt the nerves all over, like a buzzing across his skin. He had changed his morning outfit 4 times before just giving up and realising the buzzing wasn't going to go away. He felt stretched and out of sorts without Ilya here. 

He and Ilya had agreed to talk on the phone that night instead of meeting up beforehand, so as not to arouse any suspicion. They had hung out with their teams and had gone to bed earlier than usual, both citing tiredness. Cliff and Hayden had covered for them.

Cliff was still completely unaware of what was going to happen, but he was always happy to make sure Ilya and Shane had time together. For a man who crushed people on an almost nightly basis, he really was the biggest softy of the league.

Harris had set everything up for them, cornering one of the officials and stating that there would be an exciting interruption at the first face off. Puck drop would be delayed by 5-10 minutes to allow the 'event' to happen. It was unusual but not unheard of for a secret event to happen; normally, it was an announcement or celebration, but only 2 other people were told and sworn to secrecy. 

He got to the Bell Centre early for the game; he needed the extra time to calm down before he started getting ready, and the quiet of the locker room was heaven on his nerves. Shane hummed to himself as he sorted through his gear, organising his tape and drinks and stretching his neck as he worked. After today, he could wear his ring to the rink. After today, he could post cute couple photos of him and Ilya online. After today, they could properly start planning their wedding. Shane couldn't wait. He slipped a pair of headphones on, quickly checking his messages before closing his eyes for 20 minutes. 

When he opened his eyes next, the locker room was full. The team was stretching and organising their gear; most of them, like Shane, had headphones on or were humming to themselves. It was still peaceful with time left before they had to change. Hayden smiled at him from the cubby next door. JJ waved from where he sat, stretching his hamstrings. 

Piece by piece Shane got ready; every minute brought him closer to the biggest event of his life so far. He found he was oddly calm and relaxed, which was the most surprising thing. It was as if his body and brain were in sync for once, like when the puck was in front of his stick.

The noise of the locker room fell away as he smiled, staring at the phone in his hand. He felt the necklace with its ring under his compression shirt, warm and comforting against his skin. It was like having Ilya with him all the time.

"Shane," Hayden sat down at his side. "Are you ok?" Hayden's voice was hushed in the now loud room.

He stared into his long time friend's eyes and nodded, a grin on his face, "I'm so fucking ready Hayd."

Hayden echoed back his grin. "It's going to be so good dude. Jackie and the other WAGs are already here." Hayden pulled out his phone and showed the last photo Jackie had sent him. She was decked out in a Hollander jersey, smiling into the camera, with the rink glittering behind her.

"Although," Hayden whispered, "You can have that fucking jersey back later, or I'll burn it. Bloody sacrilege for my own wife to not wear my number."

Shane laughed at his friend's dramatics, "At least it's not a Rozanov jersey."

Hayden recoiled in horror. "Fuck off Hollzy, Jacks would never."

Shane just laughed harder while Hayden moaned that he was a traitor and the worst friend ever. It was moments like this that he loved Hayden all the more. Like Ilya and Jackie, he always knew when Shane needed to get out of his head, even if it meant taking a hit against his own ego. Shane knew he would never let Ilya wear anyone else's jerseys but their own, and he certainly wouldn't have shown a photo of it if he did.

People might think Ilya would be the possessive one, but Shane didn't like the thought of anyone else's name or number on his fiancé. That was his back to decorate, not theirs.

15 mins later, and it was nearly go time.

"Hollander, speech tonight, eh?" Drapeau laughed as he finished taping his stick, "Or are we getting a fuck off and go?"

Shane groaned. Speeches were not his forte, but he did owe his team something tonight. If just to lessen the blow that would soon come.

"Come on, Cap, give us something," Andropov said from his cubby.

"Fine, but remember you asked for this," the room echoed with laughs at his face. He stood up in the centre, all eyes on him. Shane never felt powerful like this. Others would see this as a power trip, but he was normally uncomfortable. All eyes on him meant his quicks were on show, meant they could be judging him. His team, he felt confident, wouldn't do that; they had embraced him fully in the months prior, and they had always tolerated his quirks in a way that never made him feel lesser.

He spoke clearly and from his chest, imagining the spirit of Ilya standing in the corner, taking notes on his performance. He would say, 'This isn't library Hollander, yell at them, they need stupid brains to turn on. You are Captain, not Librarian.' Shane could picture the faces he would make and the way his hands would fly into the air, as if he were praying for the stupidity to stop.

"Ok," Shane began. "We have beaten Boston before. They are the same players we thrashed 2 weeks ago; they haven't changed players. They haven't changed anything but the lines. We have a game streak of 5; they have a game streak of 3. They will be looking to dismantle our streak tonight. I'm not going to fucking let them. Are you?"

"Fuck no," Berkes yelled.

"No way Captaine," Wilson echoed.

"We're gonna get a 6th win in the bag," Gagnon said.

Shane nodded, "Thats what I like to hear. This time, Boston goes home crying, not Montreal."

The roar of his team was deafening to his ears, a loud shout that felt like it broke the containment of the locker room.

"Right, let's go, Team," Shane said as he walked back to his cubby.

"And for the record, I didn't cry last time we lost. It was Gatorade in my eye." Mitty protested.

"Sure," JJ laughed, "and was it Gatorade at your wedding or when the Montreal Victoire's lost the Walter Cup in the final?"

"We don't talk about that," Mitty hissed.

"Don't tease JJ, maybe Montreal will win this year, and Sarah will finally earn a Cup her husband doesn't have."

"I fucking hope so, last year was carnage, Sarah was furious."

Comeau nodded, "That last shot was a fucking goal, can't believe the refs disallowed it, blind as a bat."

That game had been the whole talk of Montreal last year and had brought more fans to the PWHL than Shane had seen in a long time. Shane and the team had been in the stands supporting the women. Mitty had been decked out in his wife's jersey and proudly telling anyone who talked to him that his wife was the Captain and star centre.

The game had been incredible until overtime, when Sarah scored right in the crease. The goalie grabbed it just inside the line, but the refs marked it as interference from the right winger. It had definitely not been interference; even the other team agreed, though they were hardly going to refuse the cup. But it had certainly soured their victory when they scored 2 min later.

Minnesota later went on record saying they were shocked by the call. Sarah had been incensed for weeks, and since last season, the Victoires had been utterly dominating their games. They were on a 7 game winning streak, which was almost unheard of for a PWHL team.

Shane hoped that their presence again this year would bring about more people getting into the PWHL. Viewership was definitely up, and the last game in the Place Bell had been sold out. Shane personally wanted them to sell out the Bell Centre, but that was a dream a long way off. But at least it was going the right way; there were now 8 teams since the takeover tour 2 seasons ago. He had been thrilled to see that the 2 new teams were both Canadian.

"Well, this year we will be cheering for them again Mitty. Sarah and the Victoires absolutely have this."

Mitty punched the air, "fuck yeah, they do, go Montreal."

"Go Montreal," the team yelled back.

The last of the gear was on, and it was 5 minutes before warm ups, when their newest rookie turned his eyes to Shane.

"Wait, Cap, before we go," Shane turned to the rookie, an English player from the 3rd round of the draft, fresh off the plane.

"Yeah Georgie"

"Do you know what's going on tonight?" Georgie asked, looking around the room. "Or does anyone else?"

Shane smirked, "I know, but you lot will have to wait and see. Try to keep an open mind though."

"You can't just not tell us Hollzy," Comeau said, waving his stick at him.

"Coach, do you know?" Hayden asked, trying not to grin.

Therauilt looked increasingly irritated as the line of questioning continued. "I do not know. But I think we should all get back to hockey. Thats what we pay you for." The coach gave them one last look before storming out of the room. Drapeau gave him the middle finger as soon as his back was turned.

There wasn't a single player who didn't hate Coach Theriault; he was rude, racist, sexist, homophobic and an asshole to boot. Thankfully though, it would be their last season with him, fingers crossed. The GM hadn't renewed his contract so far, and the complaints of the players and staff members at the Bell Centre seemed to be finally reaching the right ears. There would likely be a huge party when he left; half the PR team would be organising it, they were his most common victims, second only to the team itself.

Shane grabbed the rest of his gear, putting on his helmet and gloves before moving out to the rink. Stepping onto the ice, Shane saw the WAGs first. The top 4 suites were filled with Boston and Montreal WAGs. They were wearing their jerseys and intermingling. Shane could see Jackie laughing with Vicks and making faces into a phone. He always knew they would get along like a house on fire; Hayden and Cliff would have to watch themselves in the future. The bottomless brunches between the women would be legendary.

"Oh fuck," Hayden skated up to him. "I'm never getting any peace, am I?" he said, looking at Jackie in the box as she started dancing with St. Simon's wife while Vicks cheered her on.

Shane laughed, "I don't think you had peace in the first place Hayd, not with Jackie and certainly not with 4 kids now."

Hayden just sighed, shaking his head and skating back towards JJ and Comeau, who started chirping at him relentlessly about his wife joining the enemy.

Two minutes later, Ilya and the Boston Raiders appeared on the ice. Ilya immediately clocked where he was looking, and a huge smile lit up his face. Boston hadn't let him down.

Ilya skated up to the board and started waving madly at the suites above, grinning. Vicks noticed him immediately and let out a loud cheer. She was wearing a Rozanov jersey. The rest of the Boston WAGs turned around and started to wave and cheer back. To say most of the teams were confused was an understatement. St Simon was staring at his wife and tilting his head from side to side like a puppy. Cliff was leaning on the bench, looking around confused, and scratching his head while Mitty stood at his side.

The only 3 who didn't care were Georgie, Connors and Drapeau, who were laughing together and doing a small conga line while their girlfriends cheered them on. It was easily the strangest warm up for a Boston and Montreal game Shane had seen before, and it wasn't even his and Ilyas' turn yet to shine.

All the WAGs were here; his parents were in a different section wearing jackets over their jerseys. His dad was wearing an 81 jersey, although Ilya didn't know that yet.

Despite it only being warm ups the stands felt electric, the crowd insane.

Once the warm ups were over, they sauntered back to their locker room feeling energised and ready for the game.

Shane sat down on the bench, his muscles warm and his mind centred. Coach didn't bother coming back; he did that sometimes. He just left Shane to deal with the plays; luckily, the team understood, as they had all worked together so long. JJ and Hayden, as his Alternate Captains, had always been fantastic at ensuring the load was shared. Never leaving Shane to do it all. It was why they worked so well together, because he trusted them so much.

They had 25 minutes left before the official puck drop. Shane checked his messages as he waited. There were a couple of messages from Jackie; he hadn't checked them before warm ups. It seemed to be mostly a repeat of the latest messages she had sent to Hayden. She had obviously sent him the photo of herself in the jersey first, then messaged Hayden to show it to Shane when he didn't answer.

There were a couple more messages from Rose wishing him luck. Nothing from Ilya, which was surprising. Then he checked the family chat and tried not to cry as he read the messages. His parents were the best; he was so grateful that they had embraced Ilya without much hesitation.

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"Shane," Lucy, the PR manager, called his name from the open locker room door. "Sportsnet wants a few questions. Is that ok?"

"Yes, no problem. I have 5 minutes." Shane had longer, but he wasn't going to spend time talking to reporters when he'd probably be in front of the press for a while after the game.

He left his helmet on the bench, leaving Hayden messaging Jackie and the rest of the team gossiping about the WAGs in the suites. There were two reporters outside whom he recognised, Casey Stuart and Mackie Evans, both retired players. They were decent people, at least, and tended to respect the players more in comparison to the bloodhounds from ESPN.

"Hey, heard you wanted a soundbite?" Shane smiled as they approached him.

"Shane, good to see you," Casey said. "Thank you for taking a few minutes with us. Just a few questions, and we will let you get back to the locker room."

"Of course," he nodded politely.

"Brilliant," Mackie said, "So the Metros are on a winning streak of 5 games. You very nearly lost that streak to Buffalo 2 days ago. Have there been any changes made since that game?"

"Yes, that was a tough game. We had to dig deep, focus in the third period, and pull together, especially since Buffalo had made some changes to their 2nd line. It wasn't the most perfect game, but we got the job done. Unlike Buffalo, however, Boston's roster hasn't changed in the last 6 months. We are confident we know their guys and what we can expect."

"And what are you expecting?" Casey asked.

"A good game of hockey," Shane laughed. "It's Boston, we've played these guys for years, and you can expect a degree of spectacle, but these guys know how to play good hockey, and they will certainly give us a challenge. I also know that Rozanov personally wants to end our streak. The team has no plans to let him."

"Thank you, Shane," Mackie smiled. "Lastly, any information you can give us on the delay to puck drop? We have heard there is an event happening."

Shane laughed and winked directly into the camera, "No comment." He took a last look at the stunned Casey and Mackie before sauntering back to the locker room. He had to fight the urge to giggle as he opened the door. Ilya would be very proud of that one.

"All good," Hayden asked as he sat down.

"All good," he replied.

He spent the last 10 minutes resting his eyes before he went back to the ice. Shane didn't need to calm himself, but just taking these moments soothed the noise in his head that often turned into anxiety. It was mediating in a way.

When Shane finally went back onto the ice, the crowd had certainly not calmed down. There wasn't a spare seat in the area. He slid a small smile at Ilya from next to the bench, not long, it was minutes away.

His line skated towards the face off circle, where the referee was waiting to start the period or for the KissCam to start. Ilya met him at centre ice, smiling softly. They stood looking at each other, waiting.

The announcer didn't waste any time once the players were in place. "Good afternoon hockey fans, and welcome to the Bell Centre. We have an exciting announcement for you tonight, but first, how about we start with a KissCam."

"Urghh, thats all it was a bloody KissCam," Georgie complained behind him, "that's well shit. You could get more excitement in a Greggs on a Tuesday morning. Lame."

"What the fuck is a Greggs dude? Speak English," JJ whispered to the rookie, looking completely baffled.

"Sorry, I should have said more excitement in a Spoons at lunch." Georgie snarked back, his grin large on his cheeky face.

Shane tuned out the responding bickering around Georgie's random English idioms as he watched the KissCam pick another couple in the crowd. Even the refs were rolling their eyes at this point and laughing softly at the atmosphere of the cheering crowd. Ilya looked at him and smiled. They were next, Harris had said they would be number 5. All Shane had to do was be patient a moment longer.

He heard the gasps before he saw the light. There was a large exhale behind him from one of the players, and the crowd went utterly silent.

No one moved, and the KissCam stayed focused on them. Their faces were large on the Jumbotron above the rink. Shane could see Ilyas real smile there, the one that Ilya saved for him, the sweet, kind, loving smile.

Shane looked at Ilya again and nodded. In sync, they dropped their sticks on the ground first, the clatter loud in the silent rink, even the music had stopped.

Ilya took off his helmet next, and Shane removed his gloves next. They dropped them both to the ice, uncaring where they landed and moved towards each other, closing the small gap between them. No one stopped them.

Ilya's lips met his with no hesitation; it felt like their first kiss all over again—the feel of Ilyas's stubble against his chin, the smell of the rink surrounding him. Shane let out a what he hoped was a small groan as Ilya slipped his tongue into Shane's mouth. It was the perfect kiss. The taste of sweat and of Ilya's favourite pre-game drink. His hand was in Ilya's curls, gripping them tight while Ilya's hands circled his waist, possessively, claiming Shane in front of thousands of people on national TV.

The kiss was passionate and heavy; no one could doubt they were in love after this. Definitely not if they caught Ilyas' tongue in his mouth on the Jumbotron, which was likely. Neither of them were exactly being subtle.

But they had one last trick up their sleeve, in case anyone doubted this was an elaborate prank or just lust. Still kissing, they each reached a hand into the front of their jerseys, pulling out their necklaces where their rings hung.

Their lips broke contact as they looked towards the KissCam and turned, lifting the rings so the cameras could clearly see them. Shane could see his face on the Jumbotron, and he had never seen his smile so big.

There was a pause, and then the arena exploded with a wall of sound. Shane had never heard noise like it. The eruption from the stands shook the building, the ice almost vibrating under his skates. Ilya's hand was still circling his waist, his thumb stroking Shane's hip lightly. It was comforting, even though Shane wasn't stressed at this moment.

He looked around to admire the chaos he had just caused. Looking at the stands first, he saw fans jumping up and down, screaming, and swinging their rally towels around their heads as if celebrating a goal. It was beautiful to see.

His Mum and Dad were cheering in the stands, jackets abandoned, the 81 jersey fit his Dad well. The WAGs were probably the noisiest bunch of them all, screaming and yelling, waving their arms in the air. Jackie had somehow managed to get on a table and was holding a huge sign with the words 'Hollanov 2016 - TO FOREVER', almost smacking Sarah in the face with it as she danced.

Farah and Harris were going to have a field day with that one since they hadn't agreed on how to discuss the timeline yet, but Shane didn't care. That would be a problem for tomorrow. He turned around, looking at the ice and the two teams.

Hayden was pretending to look shocked; he was pretty convincing, Shane had to admit. He was on his knees, hands in his hair as he stared at them. St Simon was shaking Hayden, demanding answers, and Hayden wasn't responding. Shane suspected, mostly because he was still annoyed about the last hit he took from St Simon, which had broken his wrist.

Marlow had sat down on the ice, crossed legs just staring at them, his helmet and stick at his side. Connors was crouched next to him, staring at them with his mouth open, eyes wide and unblinking.

It seems like his team was sitting on the ice as well. JJ was sitting down with his legs splayed open, leaning back on his hands, staring at the Jumbotron as if it would give him answers.

Mitty was sitting on top of the goal, laughing and swinging his legs back and forth. Goalies were fucking weird. Boston's goalie had abandoned his crease and was clapping at them from inside the penalty box. How the fuck he got in there, Shane had no idea.

Hayden had seemingly now given up on pretending he didn't know, as he was pointing and laughing at Cliff, who kept sending him middle fingers.

The benches were as chaotic as the crowd. Players yelling and waving their hands and sticks in the air. Coach Therauilt was red in the face, and Shane was concerned he might have a heart attack with the colour he was turning.

On the Boston bench, Coach LeClaire was laughing with the assistant coach. They were almost falling over and leaning very heavily on Carmichael, who was too busy cheering to notice he had become a leaning post.

The crowd was still going strong, but the noise had quieted enough that Shane could think and actually hear people now.

"Can't believe I didn't see this bullshit," the lineman to their right was muttering, he seemed to be having an existential crisis, "this should have been fucking obvious. They were always flirting," He kept muttering as he stood there, hands on his hips, shaking his head.

"You're an asshole, Roz, thats why my wife is here?" Marlow shouted, apparently out of his shock. He was still sitting on the floor. Hayden skated up to him, still laughing.

"Vicks and Jackie have been plotting all week Cliffy. They had a bet on how long it would take you to sit down. I think Jackie won that." Hayden tapped his chin, thinking. "You owe us 2 free babysitting sessions now."

"YOU KNEW TOO PIKE." Cliff lunged to his feet and started chasing Hayden around the ice, dodging between JJ and Connors. St Simon tried to catch them as they skated by. For all his brawn, Cliff would find it hard to land a hit on Hayden; there was a reason why Hayden was in Shane's line. He was not slow.

Shane watched the antics of his and Ilyas' teams. He had never felt safer, they all knew, and they were supportive if slightly unhinged and dramatic. The crowd was on their side too; it was perfect. That was until Coach opened his mouth and ruined the moment, as was his favourite thing to do.

"What the fuck, Hollander? What is this homo bullshit?" the yell came from the bench where Coach Therauilt, red-faced with his vein jutting out, was trying to storm onto the ice. He had apparently regained the power of speech. The equipment manager, Jimmy, tried to calm him down to no avail; he pushed the older man aside with no regard for Jimmy's age.

The crowd went silent again, and not the good silent; this felt dangerous. Shane saw phones being pulled out and pointed at the bench. He wasn't sure if the cameras had caught Therauilt's words; he hoped they had. He hoped that the coach had just organised his own termination letter.

The coach was still fighting Jimmy and the assistant trainer, Lainy, when it happened. In a series of events that Shane wouldn't be able to recall clearly if asked, the benched Metros and Georgie, for some reason, started chanting his name, "HOLLANDER, HOLLANDER, HOLLANDER," waving their sticks in the air.

In the chaos, a stick from someone smacked Coach Theraiult in the knees; he fell forward onto the assistant coach, who screamed at the unexpected heavy weight and ducked out of the way. The coach then tripped over the bench and knocked himself out. It was like something out of a bad cartoon. Shane fought the urge to laugh, lips twitching.

"Oops, sorry, my mum did always say I'm all thumbs with two left feet," Georgie said, shrugging his shoulders with a grin. If Shane didn't know better, he would have thought the rook could teleport. But no, he had apparently just skated back to sit on the bench while Shane and Ilya had made out.

At that, Ilya just started howling with laughter on the ice, clutching Shane in order to stay upright.

"Very funny…..Rookie….will pinch….for Boston," Ilya gasped out between spouts of laughter.

"Fuck off," Shane rolled his eyes. Ilya wasn't going to be pinching any of his rookies; he had worked too hard on Georgie and Vega. They were future Hall of Famers, that's for sure. "You steal mine, I'll steal yours."

"No, no, you keep моя любовь" Ilya stood up straight and kissed him on his nose, laughing as Shane scrunched it up.

Meanwhile, one of the medics was starting to attend to Therauilt. Therauilt was escorted out once he was awake and assessed, but no one paid him the slightest attention anymore, and if the rookie suddenly found himself with a load of gifts. Well, that was to be expected when you got rid of a problem in such an expert way. It was even better, as they would find out later, as Therauilt's outburst meant he had been suspended from Montreal, and the assistant coach would be in charge for the rest of the season until a replacement could be found.

Shane wouldn't realise this until later because he only saw Therauilt collapse and be escorted out. He didn't care about anything else at that moment. Karma had come for Coach, and Shane wasn't bothered past that point.

He let go of Ilya to check on Jimmy, while he trusted Ilya to get his goalie out of the sin bin and break up Marlow and Hayden. After chivvying the rest of the team back to their positions, Shane was already tired. He didn't know how Hayden handled 4 kids when he felt like Team Mum half the time. The rookies could be the best and worst of the offenders.

For the second time, he approached centre ice, this time ready to play hockey. The ref blew his whistle twice to signal Harris and the announcer.

"Well, wasn't that exciting everyone?" The announcer spoke. "Captain Hollander and Captain Rozanov will post a short statement regarding their relationship after the game. They hope you, as fans, can understand why they kept this a secret, and they hope you will continue to support them. Now, how about we play some hockey?"

A huge scream went up from the crowds, and Shane bent for the face off, smiling at the man he loved opposite him. "May the best player win," he smirked, "Me."

The puck dropped, and the game began.