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He had been trying to get the puck back. The Centaurs were practically in the crease and all Shane wanted to do was get the puck back. They were tied, the seconds were counting down in the third, but there was still time if he could just–
The puck broke free. Shane’s hit was a little too forceful. The crease was a little too crowded. Drapeau wasn't paying enough attention. The puck went in to the Metros net.
Off of Shane's stick.
Shane could feel his heart stopping as the crowd erupted. There wasn't enough time to score again, not anymore. The Metros were out of the playoffs and it was all Shane's fault. Own goals were never fun, own goals after all of the tension that had risen since he and Ilya got outed? It felt like a death sentence.
The locker room was silent as they all filed in. Hayden was standing close to Shane, angling himself between Shane and the rest of the room; JJ stayed close too, like he could see the way the tide was turning and wanted to make sure Shane didn't get hurt. They all changed out of their gear quietly until finally Theriault came in and broke the silence.
“Hollander.” This coach's voice was sharp, thundering through the space. “Do you want to explain what the fuck that was?”
“It was an accident–”
“Was it?” Comeau barked out. “Or did you throw it for your little boytoy?”
Shane could tell that they were trying to get a rise out of him, trying to get him to break and grovel for forgiveness. But he wasn't going to back down. “Of course I didn't throw the game for Ilya, how stupid are you? You really think I'd throw the game just because I'm dating Ilya?” The room was silent. Half the men were glaring at him while they other half– mostly the rookies– were looking anywhere but at Shane. “You really think that,” he said in disbelief. “All of you?”
“Of course not, Shane,” Hayden tried to intervene. “No one thinks that, right?”
JJ nodded. “Right. We know you wouldn't do that.”
But it wasn't JJ and Hayden that Shane needed to hear this from. It was the rest of the team, all of whom were staying remarkably quiet.
“I've been with Ilya in some form or other since before my rookie season,” Shane spat out. “You might remember that in that time I captained us to three fucking Cups and dozens of wins against Boston. So if you're going to call into question my judgments now, you're going to have to ask yourself if the last ten years of my fucking career were all fake too.”
“You've been together that long?”
It was Drapeau who asked and for a beautiful moment, Shane thought he was getting through to the team. “I have,” he replied with a soft smile. “I've loved him for a long time.”
That moment vanished in an instant, Drapeau getting directly into Shane's face. “I can't believe we let a backstabbing faggot captain our team for so long.”
Drapeau was taller than Shane, bigger than him too. He was clearly trying to use his size to scare Shane into backing down, but Shane had finally had enough. It was more a joke– a silly part of his brain insisting on the formality– than anything else when Shane reached behind him to grab his gloves off the bench, dropping them to the floor and decking Drapeau in the face.
All hell broke loose after that.
Shane was able to dodge the first punch Drapeau threw, but he wasn't ready for Comeau to come swinging at him, striking him in the stomach and knocking the wind out of him. He didn't let that stop him, though, throwing another punch, this time hitting Comeau in the chin. Drapeau hit Shane in the meat of his cheek, sure to leave a bruise under his eye. Comeau got another hit on Shane, just to the side of the mouth. It was dirty, but Shane didn't care anymore, kicking directly between Drapeau's legs and sending him tumbling before grabbing Comeau and punching him again, relishing in the feeling of his nose cracking beneath his fist.
“Does anyone else have anything to say?” Shane barked out, turning his eyes to Theriault. There was a strange mix of pride and disgust on his face, like he wanted to commend Shane's fight and call him a slur all at once. He remained silent, though; the floor remained under Shane's control. “I gave fucking everything to this team. I spent years here, working as hard as I possibly could and getting us three fucking Cups, just for you all to throw it away because you don't like the man I'm going to marry. You have never known a version of me that didn't belong to Ilya Rozanov and you have never known a version of Ilya that didn't belong to me. Do you know how much I gave up just because I was stupidly loyal to this team? I almost lost the best thing that ever happened to me because I was afraid of losing this team.” Tears– bitter and angry– were starting to cling to Shane's lashes. “I wanted to play here for my entire career. I wanted to have my jersey up in the rafters. I tried to cut the parts of myself that you wouldn't like out so that I could keep being Shane Hollander, captain of the Montreal Metros but that was never going to be enough. If you really think that I threw this game on purpose, then there's no getting through to any of you. Have fun cleaning up this mess that you made for yourself because I can promise you one thing: as long as I'm on the ice, the Metros are never winning a cup again.”
“Hollander–”
“If it wasn't already clear coach,” Shane spat out the word like a curse. “I fucking quit.”
He dumped the rest of his gear on the floor, grabbing his bag and stalking out of the locker room, flipping them off as he went. Rage was still burning through his body as he made his way to the visitor's locker room. The sound of celebration could be heard leaking through the door as Shane approached; he threw the door open with more confidence than he actually felt.
“Shane!” It was Ilya's voice that greeted him, bright and happy, as he crossed the room. “Moya lyubov, what are you doing here?” He paused, the joy in his eyes fading to concern as he raised an hand to Shane's cheek. “What happened?”
While he knew that the bruise itself wouldn't appear for at least a couple hours, the redness and swelling from the punches he took were definitely noticeable. And if that didn't give Shane away, his split lip definitely would; he could taste the blood on his tongue as he tried to figure out what to tell Ilya. “I kicked Drapeau in the nuts,” is what he settled on, trying to smile reassuringly; judging by the worry still painted on Ilya's face, he hadn't done a good job. “They think that last goal was on purpose.”
“They what?” Ilya's expression darkened. The tears that had been clinging to Shane's lashes finally started to fall, the rage in Ilya's eyes dying immediately as he pulled Shane into a tight hug. “Oh, solnyshko, I'm so sorry.”
Here, wrapped in Ilya's arms, Shane finally allowed himself to break down. “I gave them everything and they still think I would let you win. I almost lost you because of them and they still–” A sob tore through his throat.
“It's okay, dorogoy, I'm here. You're okay.”
“I'm sorry,” Shane sobbed into Ilya's chest, becoming increasingly aware of the Centaurs’ eyes on him. “You're supposed to be celebrating–”
“Can celebrate later,” Ilya murmured, pressing a kiss to Shane's head. “You need me now.”
He heard more than saw someone approaching, keeping his face hidden in Ilya’s chest. “We got your back, Hollander.”
Shane pulled back to look over Ilya's shoulder, Zane Boodram standing there with a soft, understanding smile. He could see Troy Barrett with a grim look of determination and Wyatt Hayes cursing under his breath. What really got him was Luca– Ilya's favorite rookie– looking at them with tears in his eyes. The amount of support that the Centaurs showed to Ilya– and, by extension now, Shane– was enough to set Shane sobbing again.
“Thank you,” he managed to choke out through the sobs racking his chest. “For taking care of Ilya. I’m glad he has all of you. I wish I had a team as supportive as you all have been for him.”
But he likely never would. Not after physically fighting two of his former teammates and everything he said before he left. He’d be blacklisted among the teams for sure– if he didn’t face losing his job for off-ice violence to begin with. It had felt good in the moment– like he was finally getting to do something, getting to take control of his life– but it wasn’t something sustainable. Shane had fucked himself, no one to blame for all of this but himself. He was going to lose everything because of this.
Well, he thought, looking at Ilya. Not everything.
It was worth it– blowing up his career and possibly never being able to play professional hockey again– if it meant that he had Ilya. He’d give it all up again and again and again if it meant getting to marry the man that he loved. Knowing that Ilya had the support of his team around him made the pain of it all sting a little less; Shane may have ended his own career, but Ilya would still have his. He didn’t ruin everything.
“You will have that,” Ilya said firmly, putting his hands on Shane’s shoulders and leaning in to look directly into his eyes. “Look at me, solnyshko. No more tears. You will have the supportive team you deserve, you will have all the love you deserve, I promise.”
“Given that I technically just assaulted Comeau and Drapeau, I kind of doubt that,” Shane managed a weak smile. “It was worth it, though. Theriault almost looked proud, like he would’ve commended me if I weren’t such a fag.”
Ilya’s eyes grew wide. “You fought Comeau and Drapeau?” Shane nodded, the pain in his jaw feeling more noticeable now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off. “And they do this to you?”
“I started it–”
“They started it by swinging around stupid accusations,” Ilya bit out. “They should feel lucky that we are not marching over there right now to tear entire locker room to shreds.”
There were grumblings of agreement all over the room; Shane’s heart once again ached in his chest at the love and support the Centaurs were showing for Ilya. For him. “Even if I’m not fired from the league, I doubt any team’s gonna want me after all of this.”
Ilya looked baffled by the statement. “Did they hit your head so hard you forget that you are best player in the league? Everyone is going to want you, dorogoy– but they will have to fight off Ottawa for you.”
“You really think they’d sign me here?” The thought was almost too good to be true. Not only would he get to marry Ilya, but to get to play with him? Maybe even on the same line sometimes depending on how special teams shook out– he knew they were both killer on the power play. “Would you want that?”
“Would you?”
“Of course I would,” Shane murmured quickly; tension that he hadn’t realized had gathered in Ilya’s shoulders melted away at the speed of his reply. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Ilya. Getting to play on your team? That would be more than I ever could’ve dreamed of.”
Ilya kissed him gently– ignoring the wolf whistles and exaggerated ‘aww’s coming from his teammates. “Then we will make it happen. You and me, moya lyubov. Forever.”
“Forever,” Shane agreed, wrapping his arms around Ilya again. There, in the safety of his fiance’s embrace, the future seemed a lot brighter than it had when he was in the Montreal locker room. Everything was brighter with Ilya– his guiding light, his little sun.
The love of his life.
“We have to get on the plane to New York shortly,” Ilya murmured as he broke their embrace. “Will you be okay?”
“I’ll be okay,” Shane said, surprised to find that he actually meant it. “Go kick Hunter’s ass for me, okay?”
Ilya grinned at that, kissing Shane quickly. “I will tell him you said that,” he teased. “Shane Hollander fights one man–”
“Two men!” Shane couldn't help but interject with a laugh.
“Two men,” Ilya corrected. “And now thinks he can chirp old man Hunter. He will be devastated, solnyshko, absolutely devastated.”
The world around them seemed to move again, the Cens getting ready to leave while Shane watched Ilya finished getting changed. He would go home with his parents tonight– back to the apartment in Montreal he had called home for the past decade of his life– and would start packing up his things. Tomorrow he would receive a call from Farah telling him that the Metros were not going to renew his contract but also were not going to press any charges from the fight. Tomorrow he would ask Farah to reach out to the Centaurs about the possibility of Shane joining the team. Tomorrow he would receive tearful calls from Hayden and JJ letting him know how loved and supported he was.
But all of that was a world away. For now, Shane watched the love of his life be surrounded by kindness, love, and support and knew it was all worth it.