Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Shane Hollander hated PowerPoints.

He sat at the dining table, fingers tapping lightly against the wood, eyes fixed on the closed laptop like it had personally offended him. It wasn’t even open yet, but the idea of it already felt like a problem.

Next to him, Ilya looked entirely too comfortable. Leaned back in his chair, ankle hooked over his knee, a glass of wine loose in his hand like he had nowhere else to be.

Shane narrowed his eyes. Ilya noticed. Of course he did.

“You are staring,” Ilya said, voice low.

“I’m not.” Shane responded.

“You are,” Ilya took a sip, unbothered. “Like small angry cat.”

Shane exhaled sharply. “Why is there a laptop on the table?”

Across from them, Rose and Svetlana shared a look. Quick. Coordinated. Shane didn’t like that.

He especially didn’t like that they knew each other well enough to do that.

Three years ago, Rose had been the first person Shane met in college. They’d been paired for some useless intro project that turned into friendship faster than he expected.

Ilya came later with hockey, teammates, locker rooms, long practices. And with him came Svetlana, his childhood best friend from Russia. They’d been practically attached at the hip since the start of freshman year.

It wasn’t supposed to overlap but then Shane invited Rose to one of his games. Ilya invited Svetlana without even thinking about it.

After that, it just... stuck.

Now Rose and Svetlana were always together, which somehow meant Shane and Ilya were too, outside of hockey, outside of class, in ways that were harder to ignore.

Rose turned back with a smile that was just a little too careful. “Because,” she said, folding her hands neatly, “before dessert, we have something to present.”

Shane stared at her. “Present?”

Ilya shifted. Not much, just enough interest cutting through the laziness.

“Oh, I like this already.”

“Of course you do.”

Ilya’s mouth curved, slow and pleased.

They were at Ilya’s place. Shane registered that distantly now, the familiar layout, the way Ilya moved easily in the space. The house still smelled like dinner. Garlic, pasta, something warm and familiar. It should’ve been grounding.

It wasn’t.

There was a tension under Shane’s skin instead. The kind that built before a game. Or before something went wrong.

Svetlana flipped the laptop open and Shane immediately regretted agreeing to this dinner. Rose had said she wanted him to meet some friends. She had not mentioned it would be these friends.

Shane hadn’t expected this.

Hadn’t expected Ilya.

Hadn’t expected Svetlana.

Had definitely not expected whatever this was.

The first slide appeared.

Shane blinked. “No,” he said.

Ilya leaned forward, elbows on his knees now, fully invested. “Yes.”

Rose cleared her throat, clearly holding back a smile. “If we could all stay open minded…”

“I’m leaving,” Shane pushed his chair back, already halfway up when a hand caught his wrist.

Warm. Certain.

Shane looked down.

Ilya’s fingers were wrapped loosely around him, thumb pressing lightly against the inside of his wrist like it belonged there.

“Stay,” Ilya said, quieter now. “Please.”

Not a command, something softer.

“They are our best friends,” he added. “They probably have a reason.”

Shane hesitated. He shouldn’t stay. This was a bad idea. All of it was.

Hockey alone made it complicated enough. The team, the jokes, the way things were said and not said. He was already careful, only a few friends knew anything about him. Not his parents. Not the rest of the team. They definitely did not know something like this.

And Ilya-

Ilya didn’t make things easier. He was one of the friends that knew Shane was gay, and Ilya understood that Shane didn't want to tell people, since he saw first hand how people reacted towards that news.

Shane sat back down anyway and he hated how easy that had been.

Across the table, Svetlana clicked to the next slide.

More photos.

Shane choked.

“They are pictures,” she said calmly. “Collected over time.”

“Over time?” Shane repeated.

Ilya leaned closer, eyes bright. “Oh, this is good.”

“This is not good.”

“It is very good.”

“It’s invasive.”

“It is... how you say? thorough,” Ilya corrected.

Shane dragged a hand down his face.

“Oh my God.” Shane whispered

Rose pressed her lips together, failing to hide her smile.

Next slide was a college hockey game photo. Ilya leaning over the boards, saying something to Shane. Shane looked focused, sharp but he was leaning in.

“Exhibit B,” Svetlana said. “Eye contact exceeding social norms.”

Shane pushed his chair back again, harder this time. “This is insane.”

Ilya reached for him again, this time catching his hand properly. Their fingers slid together like it wasn’t new. Like it had never been new. Shane froze. So did Ilya. Only for a second but Ilya didn’t let go.

“Sit,” he said again. Softer.

Shane swallowed. Then sat again.

Across the table, Rose and Svetlana didn’t react. Which somehow made it worse.

The slideshow continued.

Moments. Glances. Small things Shane had barely let himself think about. And now they were all here. Lined up. Obvious.

Heat crept up Shane’s neck. “This proves nothing,” he said.

It sounded weak, even to him.

Svetlana tilted her head. “We are not finished.”

Next slide was a timeline.

Shane stared at it.

“I’m going to die,” he muttered.

Ilya’s thumb brushed over his knuckles. “You will survive,” he said. Then, after a beat, “Probably.”

Shane let out a short breath that might’ve been a laugh. Rose leaned forward slightly. “We know,” she said. Shane stilled. The room felt quieter. “We know you like each other,” she added gently. “We’ve known for a while.”

Svetlana nodded. “Long while.”

Shane’s chest tightened. No one was supposed to know. That was the whole point. It was supposed to stay unspoken, manageable, safe.

Because if it stayed unspoken, it didn’t have to be real. Didn’t have to risk the team, the locker room, everything hockey could turn into if they found out. They were on track to be drafted to the MLH after college, and letting that chanse go is not something Shane was planning to do.

Ilya wouldn’t say it first. Shane knew that. Atleast not when Shane still hadn’t. Not when it could go wrong.

Shane looked at Ilya. Ilya was already looking at him. No teasing now. No amusement. Just something steady.

Shane exhaled slowly. “…Okay.”

Rose smiled, softer this time while Svetlana clicked to the final slide.

Ilya snorted.

Shane dropped his head into his free hand.

“PowerPoints are dumb.”

Ilya squeezed his hand again, thumb brushing lightly over his skin.

“No,” he said. “This one is excellent.”

— ✦ —

Shane didn’t look up for a long moment.

He could feel all of them watching him.

Rose was patient, waiting Svetlana was sharp, observant in a way that made him feel picked apart And next to him was-

Ilya.

Their hands were still together.

Shane noticed it all at once. The warmth of his palm, the roughness of his fingers, the slow, absent movement of his thumb against Shane’s skin.

Like he wasn’t even thinking about it.

Shane thought about it too much and he pulled his hand back. Not fast. Not enough to make it obvious.

But Ilya noticed. Of course he did. Something flickered across his face. Brief. Gone just as quickly. He leaned back again, reaching for his wine like nothing had changed.

“So,” Rose said, folding her hands again. “Thoughts?”

“No,” Shane said immediately.

Svetlana raised an eyebrow. “No thoughts?”

“No participation,” Shane corrected. “This is insane.”

“It's effective.”

“It is not-” Shane exhaled sharply. “You made a timeline.”

“Yes.”

“Of my life.”

“Of your relationship,” she corrected.

Shane let out a short, disbelieving sound.

Rose leaned forward slightly. The teasing had faded from her expression, replaced with something softer.

“Shane,” she said. “I’m on your side.”

He knew that. That was the problem. She wasn’t joking. Wasn’t judging. Just… there.

Shane rubbed the back of his neck. “You thought the best way to show that was this?” he asked, gesturing at the laptop.

Rose winced. “In hindsight…”

" нет no ,” Ilya cut in. “This is good. Very dramatic.”

Shane turned to him. “You are enjoying this way too much.”

“I am enjoying that someone else is making you talk.”

“I talk.”

“You deflect.”

“I do not-”

“ да yes , you do,” Ilya said, interrupting Shane.

Shane stared at him. There it was again. That quiet certainty. The way Ilya said things like they were already decided.

It was infuriating. And yet, somehow, grounding. Shane looked away first.

Svetlana openend something on her phone. “ Теперь now , Let us review key a moment we decided not to put in presentation.” she said.

“No.”

“Yes.”

The phone screen was filled with a photo Shane recognized instantly. A school hallway. Blurry, taken from too far away to matter, but it did. Shane leaned against the wall, tie loose, jacket open. Ilya stood too close. One hand braced beside Shane’s head.

Shane’s breath caught. He remembered that day. All of it.

“Exhibit-” Svetlana started.

“Do not label that,” Shane said, sharper than he meant to.

She paused. Then nodded. “Fine.”

The room went quiet. Ilya leaned forward slightly, gaze fixed on the phone. The amusement in his expression had softened, edged with something heavier.

“ Ты сохранил это? you kept this? ” he asked.

Svetlana shrugged. “ Это было полезно. it was useful. .”

Ilya let out a quiet breath that might’ve been a laugh. " Ты так и не прислал мне это, как невежливо с твоей стороны. you never send it to me, how rude of you. ."

Shane couldn’t look away. He could feel it again, the pull of that moment. The way the world had narrowed, just the two of them in that hallway.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he said. Ilya turned his head. “It means something.”

Shane looked at him. Really looked. No teasing. No deflection. It hit harder than anything else in that room.

Rose shifted, glancing at Svetlana. Something passed between them, silent and quick. Then she reached forward and closed the laptop while Svetlana put her phone away. “Okay,” Rose said. “New approach.”

Shane let out a slow breath. “Thank you.”

Svetlana leaned back, studying them. “You are in love,” she said.

Shane closed his eyes briefly. “Please don’t-”

“With each other,” she added.

“I got that part.” Ilya huffed a quiet laugh.

Shane shot him a look. “This is not funny.”

“It is a little funny.”

“It’s not.”

“ да yes , It is” Ilya said, softer now.

Shane shook his head, then looked back at Rose. “You knew.” Not a question.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“And you-” he glanced at Svetlana.

“Of course.”

“Of course,” Shane echoed.

Silence settled again. Heavy this time.

Shane became aware of the space between him and Ilya. Not just the physical distance, but everything else layered underneath it.

Years of almost. Of moments that never quite went anywhere. Of things left hanging.

Shane exhaled slowly. “…Okay.”

Ilya didn’t look away. “Okay what?”

Shane hesitated. Then, before he could stop himself. “Okay, maybe they’re not wrong.”

The words hung there. Rose’s eyes widened slightly. Svetlana’s mouth curved. Ilya went still.

Shane forced himself to keep going. “I mean…” he gestured vaguely between them. “This. Whatever this is. It’s not… nothing.”

Ilya’s voice was low when he answered. “No,” he said. “It is not nothing.”

Shane nodded once. Quick. “Right. So. That’s… yeah.”

Rose pressed her lips together, holding herself back. Svetlana looked entirely too satisfied.

Shane dragged a hand down his face. “I hate all of you.”

“You love us,” Rose said.

“Debatable.”

“You definitely love someone here,” Ilya added with a smile.

Shane froze. Slowly, he turned his head. Ilya was watching him again, waiting. Shane swallowed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You said that already.”

Svetlana clapped her hands once. “Good. Phase two successful.”

Shane blinked. “That was phase two?”

Rose winced. “Technically.”

“I’m afraid to ask about phase three.”

“It involves results,” Svetlana said.

Shane pointed at her. “No more phases.”

“ Посмотрим we will see .”

Ilya leaned back again, looking far too pleased. Shane glanced between all of them, then shook his head. “PowerPoints are still dumb,” he muttered.

Ilya tilted his head slightly, gaze still on him. “Maybe,” he said. “But this one worked.”

Shane didn’t answer.

Because the worst part was…

It had.

Dinner should have ended twenty minutes ago.

Shane knew that because the dessert plates were empty, the wine nearly gone, and Rose had checked the time twice in the last few minutes.

Svetlana had noticed too but neither of them moved.

Still next to him, Ilya shifted, stretching his legs out under the table until his knee bumped lightly against Shane’s.

Shane didn’t move away. He should have but he didn’t.

Across from them, Rose cleared her throat. “Well,” she said, drawing it out slightly, “this has been… productive.”

“That is one word for it.”

“Accurate word хотя though ,” Svetlana added.

Shane huffed quietly.

The pause that followed stretched just a little too long.

Shane narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing?”

Rose blinked. “What?”

“You’re doing something,” he said. “Both of you.”

Svetlana remained perfectly composed. “We are sitting.”

“Weirdly.”

Ilya snorted softly beside him.

Rose shot him a look. “We’re not doing anything weird.”

“You absolutely are.”

Another glance passed between them.

Shane straightened. “Oh my God. There’s another phase, isn’t there?”

“No,” Rose said.

“ да yes ,” Svetlana said, at the same time.

Rose turned to her. “We said we weren’t calling it that.”

“It is clearly a phase.”

Shane pushed his chair back slightly. “No. Absolutely not. I’m done with phases.”

Ilya’s fingers brushed lightly against his wrist. Not stopping him. Just there. Shane stilled.

“Relax,” Ilya murmured. “Let them finish.”

Shane turned his head. “You are enjoying this way too much.”

“Shane you said this already like 30 minutes ago, stop repeating yourself.”

Shane signed, then looked back at the woman across from him. “Fine. What now?”

Rose smiled. Not innocent this time. “We’re leaving.”

Shane blinked. “You’re what?”

“We’re leaving,” she repeated, already reaching for her bag. Svetlana stood, pushing her chair in with quiet precision. “You will stay.”

“No, I won’t.”

“You will.”

“I really won’t.”

“You really will,” Rose said, slipping on her coat.

Shane looked at Ilya. “Say something”. Ilya considered, then leaned back, arms crossing. “I think this is excellent idea.”

Shane stared at him. “Of course you do.”

“It is efficient, we have our first class tomorrow together.”

“It’s a setup, and that class starts at 1 pm!”

“ да yes but,” Ilya said. “It is a good setup.”

Rose paused at the door, her expression softening. “Hey, You’ll be fine.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

She smiled anyway. “Text me if you need moral support.”

“I need moral support right now.”

“Too late,” Svetlana said, opening the door.

Cold air slipped inside, sharp and brief.

Shane stood. “You can’t just do this”

“We can,” Svetlana said.

“And we did,” Rose added.

Then they were gone. The door clicked shut. Silence settled.

Shane stood there for a moment, staring at the door like it might open again. It didn’t.

He exhaled, then turned back. Ilya hadn’t moved much. One arm draped over the back of his chair now, watching him. There was still amusement there.

“…Well,” Shane said.

Ilya’s mouth curved slightly. “Well.”

Shane walked back slowly. More aware now. Of everything. The floor under his feet. The air between them. He stopped at his chair, hesitated, then sat. The space between them felt smaller. Even though nothing had changed or maybe because something had.

Shane rubbed his palms against his jeans, then glanced at the empty bottle. “Do you want another?”

“No.”

“Yeah,” Shane said. “Probably a good call.”

Shane leaned back. Then forward again. He was restless.

“I can’t believe they did that.” Shane said.

“I can.”

“Of course you can.”

“They are very determined no?”

“That’s one way to put it.”

Ilya hummed softly. Shane glanced at him, then away. “…This is weird,” he said.

“ да yes .”

Shane blinked. “That’s it?”

“ да yes .”

“You don’t have anything else?”

Ilya tilted his head slightly, then leaned forward, forearms resting on the table. “It does not feel bad,” he said.

Shane’s breath caught. “That’s the problem,” he muttered.

Shane looked at Ilya properly again. The way his hair had fallen out of place. Sleeves pushed up. The steadiness in him, like he had already decided something.

Shane swallowed. “No,” he said. “It doesn’t feel bad.”

Ilya didn’t look away.

Shane shifted, then stood abruptly. “I need water.”

Ilya watched him go. Shane crossed the kitchen quickly, grabbing a glass, turning on the tap. The sound of water filled the space. He braced a hand against the counter, staring down.

This was a bad idea. All of it was.

The chair behind Shane scraped softly and a moment later he heard footsteps. They stopped just behind him.

“I am not going to let you run,” Ilya said.

“I’m not running.”

“You are in kitchen hiding.”

“I’m getting water.”

“You are hiding with water.”

Shane let out a quiet breath. “…Okay. Maybe a little.”

A pause. Ilya stepped closer. Not trapping or forcing. Just there.

“You said they are not wrong.” Ilya said.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

Shane tightened his grip on the glass. “I don’t know what you want me to do with that.”

“What do you want?” Ilya asked.

Shane exhaled slowly, then turned. Ilya was closer now. Close enough to see the shift in him. The confidence still there but softened.

Shane’s chest tightened. “This,” he said quietly, gesturing between them. “It’s not simple.”

“ да yes , I know.”

“It’s not just-” Shane shook his head. “We don’t get to decide this and have it be easy.”

“I know.”

Shane searched his face and found no hesitation. “What do you want?” Ilya asked again.

Shane hesitated. “I want…”

He stopped. Ilya didn’t push. Shane exhaled. “I want this to not be a mistake.”

The words sat heavy between them. “It is not,” Ilya said.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

Shane shook his head. “You can’t.”

“I can,” Ilya said, just as steady. “Because it is you.”

Shane’s breath hitched. “You make it sound simple.”

“It is not simple,” Ilya said. “But pretty clear.”

Shane let out a quiet breath. “Easy for you to say.”

Ilya stepped closer closing the last of the space. “It is not easy for me,” he said. “It is worth it.”

Shane went still. “…You’re unbelievable,” he said.

“I know.”

Shane huffed softly. Then, before he could think about it too much. He reached out. Fingers catching the front of Ilya’s shirt. Holding not pulling.

Ilya stilled, Shane looked at him.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

“I won’t.”

Shane held his gaze for one second longer, then pulled him in.

It wasn’t sudden.

That was the first thing Shane noticed. No sharp shift. No overwhelming rush.

Ilya moved first. Slow. Careful. Hands settling at Shane’s sides like he was giving him time to stop..

Shane didn’t. He tightened his grip instead. Closed the space. Their foreheads nearly touched. “You’re very calm,” Shane murmured.

“I am not calm.”

Shane let out a soft breath. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“ Я решила выглядеть спокойной I am choosing to look calm .”

Shane’s mouth twitched.

Shane felt everything. The weight of Ilya’s hands, light but certain. The warmth of him. The familiarity of it.

His grip shifted, one hand sliding higher against Ilya’s chest. “Ilya,” he said, quieter.

“Yes.”

“If this goes bad…”

“It won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know enough, more than you at least.”

“…Okay.”

Ilya nodded once. Then lifted his hand, slow, deliberate, giving Shane time to stop him. Fingers brushed up Shane’s arm, across his shoulder, settling at the side of his neck.

Shane inhaled sharply. “Still okay?” Ilya asked.

“Yeah.”

Then Ilya closed the last inch.

The kiss was careful. Intentional. Ilya didn’t pull him in. Didn’t take control. He let Shane meet him. And Shane did ever so easily.

Shane’s grip tightened, the other hand settling on Ilya’s shoulder. Feeling the tension there, held back. For once, Ilya wasn’t ahead of him.

He was with him, matching him.

Shane exhaled softly against his mouth. Ilya’s hand at his side tightened just slightly, keeping him there. Shane leaned into it, because this felt right and almost too easy. Like something they had been circling for years, which they had.

Shane pulled back first, just enough to breathe. Their foreheads rested together. Neither moved or spoke.

The room was quiet again, but not the same kind of quiet as before. Shane exhaled slowly, eyes still closed for a second longer than necessary.

Nothing about this was simple. Not hockey, not timing, not them.

But for once, it didn’t feel impossible either.

When he opened his eyes, Ilya was still there. Still steady and still choosing this. Shane huffed softly under his breath. “...This is going to be a mess.”

Ilya’s mouth curved slightly. “ да yes .”

Shane almost smiled.

And this time, he didn’t pull away.