Archive of Our Own

My original fic where this came from, if you don't want to read the whole thing it's specifically Chapter 3- Whatever you want 

Inspired by this tumblr post

"How was practice? You played well last game so should've been light today, yes?" Ilya kissed his boyfriend on the cheek as he entered his house, taking the heavy duffel from him so he could remove his shoes.

"Kind of," it was hard to ignore the way Shane's breath hitched as he bent down, "Coach wants to make sure we're in the best shape for our upcoming games so every practice is hard." Shane reciprocated with his own kiss on Ilya's cheek, walking past him to the kitchen.

"You are hurt?" Ilya gestured at Hollander's ribs.

"No, just sore. How was your practice?"

"Was fine. Marly almost beat me but I stopped him with backhand. You are meeting with Pike tomorrow?"

"Yeah, that's the plan." Shane opened the fridge and started taking out the separated ingredients for two tuna melts.

"No no you sit, I will cook. You are standing like you have been kicked in the balls."

"No I'm not." Shane argued, but still left the ingredients on the side and took a seat opposite the other man.

"So, who is responsible for this?" Ilya gestured to him holding his side with a flick of his hand.

"No one, it's just practice. Everyone gets hit."

"You don't."

"Can we drop this, please?"

"Fine, we drop it now but I will pick it up later."

"Sounds great." Shane said sarcastically, wincing as he adjusted his position.

"Show me." The fork Ilya was holding clattered onto the surface.

"Ilya it's just bruising. Besides are you really one to talk? You played with bruised ribs."

"And you carried my bags with collarbone fracture so forgive me if I don't trust your rating for injuries."

Shane was about to rebuff him when his phone started ringing. Hayden.

"I have to get this, it's probably about tomorrow."

Ilya nodded him away, putting together their lunch.

They forgot to talk about it when Shane came back.

.

"Hey."

"Hey man, how's the ribs?" Hayden passed a Shane a ginger ale and sat next to him on the Pike's couch.

"Tolerable."

"Yeah, Comeau hit you hard yesterday."

"It's just part of the game." But was it? That's what Shane had been telling himself since the onslaught of needless chirps and checks and having the puck fired at his head, but he was starting to wonder if his team really was just 'playing the game' or using it as an excuse to target him.

"Yeah, is Rozanov getting shit from his team too?" Hayden squirmed as he asked about the Russian, clearly not used to having to play nice with him.

"I don't think so, he doesn't say they're giving him shit for it."

"Give it time, those guys are assholes so they're probably just waiting for the right moment."

"Especially if they've got a Comeau on their team." Shane muttered petulantly, shifting in place to try and ease the pressure on his ribs.

"He doesn't mean anything by it Shane, it was probably because of the text."

'The text' as it was now being referred to was Comeau picking up Shane's phone thinking it was his and seeing a message from Ilya on the screen. They all knew their Captain was fucking the Russian but purposefully ignored it ever since they found out, treating it like a dirty secret not to be spoken about in the light of day.

After 'the text', Comeau made sure to check Shane into the boards at every opportunity possible, their Coach yelling at him to keep his eyes open, that he wouldn't be any use to the team if he got stopped from scoring because of a 'little push'. It was only when he couldn't push himself up off the ice that he was sent to their medic who confirmed his badly damaged ribs, and if Coach wanted him to be able to play in the next game he had to be pulled from practice to recover.

"I mean, you didn't think everyone was just gonna be fine with it straight away, did you?"

"Well no, of course not. I expected some push back but I wasn't expecting to have my own teammates tackling me into the boards until my ribs almost cracked and having pucks fired at my head." Shane argued, frowning at his best friend who put his hands up in mock surrender.

"Sorry, sorry. It just takes some getting used to when you guys have been pitted against each other since rookie season. And I bet even though he hasn't said anything, Boston is just as bad if not worse. Can you imagine if they actually met you Shane? They'd knock your fucking block off, they hate you."

Shane played with the tab of his ginger ale can while he processed Hayden's words. Ilya always made out his team had taken his coming out well, but maybe he was lying? Why would Ilya be telling him Boston were more intrigued about their relationship than anything else if it wasn't true?

Had he been lying to try and save face in front of the Canadian? To take the pressure off for Shane so he wouldn't worry?

When he stayed silent Hayden sighed, reaching over to pat his knee. "I'm just saying, I don't think it's as smooth sailing over there as he's making it out to be."

.

"So when you fuck, how do you decide who's the goal and who's the puck?"

Ilya arched his eyebrow at his Alternate Captain.

"Or is it like pre decided? Does Hollander have it scheduled on a calendar?"

"We arrange our fucks when we are both free so yes, is on calendar."

Cliff shook his head, grinning down at the bench in the locker room as they got changed for the gym, "Hollander's got you on one hell of a leash brother."

"Actually is usually Shane who wears the leash, not me."

"Shit really?"

"Yes. Hollander is full of surprises." Ilya smiled thinking of what he had planned the next time they met up.

"So you've always been the puck?"

"Most times. I have bottomed before, was okay, nothing special for me. Although that was with different guy, not Shane, so probably not fair comparison."

"Does it feel different fucking a guy than a girl?"

"Yes, is very different with Shane than it was with Svetlana. Asshole feels tighter."

They walked together through the halls of their training facility until they reached the gym, taking a seat on the bikes for their warm up.

"So, a prostate isn't all its cracked up to be then? If you didn't like it."

"Oh it is all it's cracked up to be," the Russian smirked at his teammate, adopting an innocent expression, "you want me to fuck you Marly and I can show you? I don't think Shane would like idea very much but I might be able to convince him."

"Fuck off Rozy-"

"I am your type, no? I thought you liked blondes?" He couldn't help the shit-eating grin taking over his face.

"Blondes who look like Rose Landry, not some Russian prick I have to share a hotel room with."

"Ah but that is how it started Cliffy. You are lucky it was not you and me who ended up together."

"Are you talking about Hollander?" Connors head popped up between them as they were (playfully) arguing.

"Yeah, him and Roz."

"Good cause I've got a question, how the fuck did you manage that Cap?"

"What?"

"How the fuck did you manage to bag Shane fucking Hollander, the best player in the league?"

"Excuse me fucker, who is best player in the league?" Ilya raised his eyebrows at Connors, pointing at himself.

"I see humility isn't in your nature," Connors rolled his eyes and propped himself up against Cliff's bike, "who's the pain in our asses that always managed to stop us from winning the Cup? And then the one time he was out injured Montreal sucked so hard they didn't even make it into the playoffs without him and we won the Stanley Cup."

"Yes he is best player on Montreal team but is not hard, they are abysmal without him."

"Where the fuck did you learn that?" Cliff was unsurprisingly ignored by his Captain.

"Well Rozy, you've got your work cut out for you keeping Hollander around. If you fuck this up and lose him you're one of the stupidest fuckers alive. And that's including that dickhead Dallas Kent."

"I am not anywhere near Kent's level of idiot."

Connors hummed before nodding. "Fine, I'll give you that. But I want to meet him soon Roz, find out all your dirty secrets he's kept for you over the last 10 fucking years."

"Hey didn't he date Rose Landry?" Marleau asked as an ad for her new movie popped up on his phone.

"Yes." Ilya hissed, turning away from his teammates to focus on the television mounted on the wall in front of them.

"Dude! Help a guy out here, can Hollander help me score a date with her?" Cliff slapped his shoulder.

"I do not know, they are barely friends anymore. He has nothing to do with her really since he is busy with me in his free time."

"You are such a fucking liar man." Cliff shook his head, starting to pedal faster on his own bike.

.

"Shane." Ilya's toes were prodding his thigh repetitively.

"What?"

"I have been teasing you for 30 minutes and you just stare at wall instead of your sexy boyfriend, what is wrong?"

Shane chanced a look over at said boyfriend and shook his head, pulling Ilya's sock covered foot onto his lap and began massaging it. "Nothing, Hayden just said some stuff yesterday when we met up. Guess I just got in my head about it, sorry."

"Well he is idiot so that is to be expected."

"Ilya." Shane chastised the Russian, his contempt for the Metros player palpable.

"What did he say?"

"We were talking about how the team reacted to me, you know, coming out and I said I should've expected it," Ilya stretched a hand across the back of the couch to thumb at the scar on Shane's shoulder, "but that your team weren't so bad and he said if I were to meet any of the Raiders they'd be exactly the same, if not worse, than the Metros."

"No is not true." Ilya denied without hesitation. "the boys don't stop asking about us, they want to know everything from who made first move to who gets to cum first when we fuck."

"Please tell me you haven't been telling them about our sex life?"

"Obviously not the details, they are for me and me alone. But they are big fans of yours, keep asking when they can meet you."

"You really think that's a good idea?"

"Hollander, the Raiders are assholes on ice but not outside of game. I will say as many times as I need to so it goes inside your pretty head, the Metros fucking suck. They are almost as bad as Toronto Guardians."

"No they aren't-"

"Yes, they are. Has Pike asked you what being fucked feels like?"

"Jesus Christ." Shane muttered, shaking his head. He was far too overwhelmed to be having this conversation right now.

"Did Comeau fist bump you when you told him you bagged number one hockey star Ilya Rozanov?"

"Shut up-"

"No? Well Cliff has asked me three times now what the difference is between fucking men and women and Connors cornered me in gym while you met up with Pike yesterday and said if I screw this up I was one of the stupidest fuckers alive. Besides Dallas Kent, of course."

"Wait-really?"

"Yes Hollander. Really. I think they might be bigger fans of you than me."

Shane mulled over this information as Ilya scooted closer, resting a warm palm on his thigh.

"They really do want to meet you Shane, not as joke." Ilya assured him softly.

"I mean yeah, okay."

"Okay?" Ilya started to grin.

"Okay." Shane nodded, rewarded for his bravery by a hand moving higher up his leg and lips devouring his, all thoughts of the Metros swiftly disappearing from his brain.

.

"Shane this is getting ridiculous, you have black eye!"

"It's just a scratch, it'll heal."

"Tell me who did this."

"It doesn't matter.

"It was fucking Comeau wasn't it?"

"Ilya-"

"I swear to God If I find one more bruise from Comeau on you he will be shitting his teeth for next month."

"It's not a big deal, you can't tell me you aren't getting some shit off of your team too!"

"Yes but is not the same. I get shit for smiling at my phone when 'Jane' texts or for not paying attention to Coach when he is talking because I am too busy thinking about your weak fucking backhand. I don't come home after practice looking like I went 10 rounds with Mike fucking Tyson."

"Ilya please, just let it go. I promise it's not as bad as it looks."

"I will not let this go, I am calling Yuna to supervise next practice."

"Do not call my mother. I'm handling it."

"Eh barely."

.

They were out at a club of some kind (Ilya's pick) and had been having a good time so far; done some dancing, had some drinks and were now sat in a booth together when a hand clapped down on Shane's shoulder.

"We finally meet Mr Hollander."

The face of Cliff Marleau entered Shane's vision as the man walked round the table and slipped into the booth opposite the men.

"Nice to meet you." Shane offered his hand to shake and Marleau took it, nodding at Ilya.

"So this is where you've been hiding, was wondering when we'd see you Roz."

"Not hiding Marly, just making sure I am sober enough to enjoy tonight. Want to make it last."

Shane's foot came down hard on Ilya's, making him wince as Cliff laughed.

"I hear that. Still surprised to see you here now that you don't have to try and get a girl for the night like the rest of us."

"Well I had to leave some fish in sea for you Marly."

"Damn right brother. Speaking of which Hollander, do you know if Rose Landry's around tonight?"

"She should be, last I saw she was on the dancefloor trying to find a hook-up for tonight."

"So she's single?" Cliff's head instantly perked up and started scanning the crowd.

"Yeah, I think she's just doing hook-ups right now cause she's just started filming a new movie and a relationship is too much to try and handle alongside it."

"Who's single?" Connors had appeared at their booth and sat down next to his teammate.

"Rose Landry, she is only doing hook-ups, not relationships." Ilya caught him up to speed so Shane didn't have to repeat himself.

"Oh shit, is she here?" Connors joined Cliff in looking over the vast groups of people.

"Well she came here with us and she hasn't texted me that she's left yet so..." Shane shrugged, checking his phone to see he had no messages from her letting him know she'd left with anyone.

"So Shane, how's life been since everything imploded?" Connors asked, abandoning his search for now.

Ilya shot his teammate a glare but Shane was unfazed by the question, he'd been asked a lot worse recently. "You know, it's not great. Coach Theriault is really kicking my ass in practice but that's to be expected."

"Man I hate Theriault, he's an asshole." Cliff commented, taking a drink from his beer.

"You have no idea, every time Comeau doesn't stop me from scoring we have to do suicide skates and checking drills."

"Wait wait, you still do Gauntlet's?" Marleau asked with raised eyebrows; as far as he was aware it wasn't a drill that was done very often, if at all.

"What is Gauntlet's?"

"It's where players stand in a line and get the puck shot at them, you're basically living target practice." Connors answered his Captain, looking very concerned at a not-at-all worried Hollander.

"We have to do them when Coach is pissed off about something, which is pretty common these days." Shane tried to laugh it off but the faces of the other players at the table made him realise it was perhaps not as amusing as he was trying to make it seem.

"How often?" Ilya pressed.

"I don't know, it depends. It doesn't happen all the time."

"Well how often does it happen?"

"Ilya-"

"How often, Shane?" It was clear the Russian wasn't going to let this go and neither were the other two players.

"Like, every other practice."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"How is he getting away with that?"

"Your ribs-" Ilya was trying to pull up the side of his shirt to check the bruising he'd seen glimpses of earlier in the week but Shane stopped him by gripping his wrists, pulling them away and holding onto them under the table, smoothing his thumb along the small veins under soft skin.

"I'm fine, I appreciate the concern but it's nothing I can't handle."

"They really have that much of a problem with it?" Cliff directed his question to the Montreal player.

"Kind of, it's moreso that it's Ilya, I think. They think I've thrown games in the past so you guys could win."

"Are they fucking stupid?" Connors couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You do realise the words 'Montreal goes home crying, please, please' actually came out of this guy's mouth before we played you, right?" Cliff pointed at Ilya who was smirking at him.

"I'm sure it did, I've heard a lot worse come out of him when we've faced off against each other."

Ilya moved to grin at Shane instead, swinging an arm around his shoulders to plant a wet kiss on his cheek with a loud mwah.

"I know you like it Shane, is good foreplay for after game."

"Shut up." Shane chuckled, looking down at their table to hide his smile.

"Alright, it's decided. You are an honorary member of the Boston Raiders until your thick-as-shit teammates get their heads out of their asses." Connors announced, throwing back the last of his drink and heading to the bar for a round of shots for the table.

"Marly?"

"I'll accept, if you help me score with Rose Landry tonight."

"Tell her you think her hair looks great, offer to buy her another drink and if she accepts say you know a great Haitian restaurant if she wanted to grab some food. Do not say you are a big fan of her movies, she'll immediately think of you as a fan and won't give you a chance."

Ilya stared slack jawed at his boyfriend as the very strict instructions rolled off his tongue leaving no room for doubt; Cliff seemed to be very much in the same boat as he mentally processed the fact that Shane fucking Hollander had essentially given him a step by step guide on a silver platter to sleeping with Rose Landry.

"Shots boys, drink up!" Connors chose their moment of stunned silence to come back with four shots of vodka, handing a glass to each of them and holding his own aloft.

"To Shane Hollander, honorary Boston Raider."

"To Shane!" Ilya agreed, cheersing his shot against Shane's.

"To Shane fucking Hollander." Cliff nodded, downing his shot with the rest of them. "Now if you excuse me boys, I have a movie star to seduce. If this works Hollander, you're my new best friend."

"What the fuck Marly?" Ilya frowned in disbelief.

"Sorry bro, but I'm pretty sure fucking Rose Landry is gonna be better than fucking you."

"Oh really? Ask Shane, he does not agree and he has experi-"

Shane slapped a hand over the Russian's mouth and did his best to ignore the feeling of him licking his palm. "Go Cliff, she just walked up to the bar."

The Raider snapped his head over to see Hollander was right, Rose was stood there alone waiting for a bartender.

"See you later boys."

"I'm off too, want to check out the dancefloor before everyone's too drunk to stand up." Connors excused himself, running in the direction of a group of borderline drunk women who cheered when they saw him coming.

"I don't know why you stopped me Hollander, you know I was telling the truth."

"Yes but it doesn't mean I want your teammate to know that."

"He is your teammate too."

"Not officially. I don't have practice with him tomorrow."

"You should come, meet the rest of the boys. If Marly puts in good word for you they'll be dying to meet you too." Ilya rested his head on Shane's shoulder, looking up at him imploringly.

"I think that might be rubbing salt in the wound if the guys found out I was at a Raider's practice."

"Is private practice Shane, no phones allowed so no one can take picture."

"I'll think about it."

"Okey. I would like kiss now." Ilya pouted his lips and hummed when Shane granted his request, smiling as the kiss naturally deepened.

"Okay Captain Rozanov, I think we need to get you home." Shane broke their kiss and held his hands out for Ilya to grab on to, hauling him up from his seat.

"Shane look," Ilya was pointing at the bar where Rose was waving for his attention, signalling at the door to show she was leaving with Marleau, "I think you are going to be very popular tomorrow Hollander. I will have to make most of having you to myself tonight."

The Canadian laughed, pulling his nightmare of a boyfriend out of the booth. "Come on, lets go."

"Yes we must go. I want you to call me Captain Rozanov next time we fuck Shane, you must remember."

"Shut up Ilya."

"Remind me Shane, promise."

"I'll remind you, now please walk."

"I am walking, Captain Hollander."

"Oh my God."

.

"Well look, I don't think you should do anything rash but is it something to consider? Absolutely. I hear one of the lesser performing players is getting traded which would create an opening." Yuna drank from her glass of wine as she sat at the table with her son, who was enjoying his own glass for a change. The Montreal-Boston duo had been invited over for dinner since Ilya was in town for a game; Shane had immediately kidnapped his mother to the table while David and Ilya were outside at the grill, giving mother and son a chance to talk uninterrupted.

"You think they'd take me on? The rivalry isn't exaggerated mom, some of the guys there really don't like me." Shane picked at his lip as he thought of the vicious words his own team had said over the years in the privacy of the locker room.

"Have they told you they don't like you, or is it your team that have said they don't like you? You've been to their practice and met the team Shane, if they didn't like you that was the chance for them to say something." Yuna leant across the table to stop her son's assault on his lip, stroking his knuckles with her thumb.

"They haven't explicitly said anything to my face but it doesn't mean it's not true. What if they waited until they went back to the locker room so I couldn't hear it? That's what the Metros do with new players."

"You seriously think Ilya would just stand there and let the other players talk shit about you in his vicinity? He'd be in jail for attempted manslaughter."

Shane took a drink from his glass, looking out to the man himself who was currently laughing with his dad about something; letting a small smile grow on his face as he watched his family and the man he spent years loving privately be so happy together in public.

"Didn't Ilya take a photo of you with Cliff Marleau while you were at their practice?" Yuna pulled his attention back to her.

He snorted at the memory. "Yeah, he's started this on-again off-again thing with Rose after I helped him score with her at the club one night. Ilya's got the picture saved on his phone for 'when I can shove it in the Metro's stupid faces that you are better friends with Boston than Montreal'. I think he sent it to Cliff as well."

"Ah I see, who knew you were such a matchmaker?" She teased Shane, taking her own sip of wine as Shane sarcastically laughed, looking back outside.

"Yeah, who knew your ex-girlfriend and boyfriend's best friend would make such a good pair."

At that moment David poked his head inside the door. "Dinner's ready."

"We'll be right there."

The mother and son shared a quick embrace before picking up their wine glasses and heading outside, Shane immediately being stopped in his tracks by a certain Russian.

"You are hurt?" Ilya's eyes flicked repeatedly from his eyes to his lip.

"Oh, no not really, I just picked it earlier by accident."

"This will not do Shanya, I cannot leave you hurt like this."

"Well what do you propose to do about it?" After the glass of wine and reassuring talk with his mother the Canadian felt considerably more at ease than when they first arrived, as evidenced by him throwing his arms around strong shoulders as he got closer to his boyfriend.

"There is only one thing Dr Ilya can prescribe to fix this." The Russian moved to cup Shane's gloriously flushed cheeks between his hands, thumbs stroking reverently over those damn freckles that made him lose his mind.

"What's that?" Shane croaked, leaning into the hold on his face.

"I must kiss it better. Many times, over and over until you are healed. You cannot play game in this state Hollander, you will distract me too much so it will not be fair match."

"You'd better get on with it then, you don't have long to fill your quota." It was rare when Shane teased him like this, all heavy limbs and soft eyes but mixed with a sharp tongue, and by God was it Ilya's favourite thing in the world.

Ilya huffed out a laugh as he brought their faces closer, managing to get about ten kisses in before they were interrupted by his wonderful in-laws.

"Not that we want to interrupt anything, but the food's getting cold and I fully intend on playing a full game of cards against you two this time."

"Yuna leave them to it, it's only because they won last time and you want to redeem yourself."

"No it isn't, I just want to enjoy a nice meal with my boys, is that too much to ask?"

Shane chuckled disbelievingly, pulling his boyfriend by a couple of fingers to the table and taking a seat, relishing in the taste of homecooked food and Ilya's thigh warm against his own.

"Connors wanted me to tell you he wants to go out clubbing with us again when you come to Boston." Ilya told him through a mouthful of burger.

"Really?"

"Who's Connors?" David asked.

"He's a Boston player." Yuna whispered to her husband.

"Yes, he would like to show you different cocktails he can make. They taste like shit but usually you are too drunk to notice." He shrugged, taking another bite out of his burger.

"Fine, I'm back in Boston in two weeks so I guess then?"

"I will text him and let him know. I think is mainly because Marly got photo with you but he didn't."

"You are not taking a photo of me drunk."

"Maybe I will, maybe I send to Yuna to blackmail you with when you win card game." Ilya teased, winking at his boyfriend.

"Then I'll send dad that picture of you holding a framed copy of the New York-."

"Is enough now, no blackmail pictures being sent we agree." Shane tried to laugh but couldn't when Ilya shoved a piece of burger in his mouth.

Yuna and David smiled as they watched the two boys jokingly roughhouse with each other, Yuna freezing momentarily as an idea came to her.

"Shane, remind me after dinner to find your Montreal contract. There's something I want to check."

.

Hayden's phone was blowing up with notifications. Some from individual Metros, most from the Metros group chat and numerous missed calls from his Coach. When he opened his phone, he realised why.

One new photo posted on BostonRaidersOfficial. It was a photograph of Shane smiling as he shook hands with various members of the Raiders.

'Great to have Shane Hollander join us for practice this morning, the boys were very excited to meet him'.

One new photo posted on Marly_7_Boston. Cliff had his arm thrown around Shane's shoulders, smiling at him as someone else (probably Ilya) was taking the picture.

'Everyone be nice to Shane fucking Hollander, best wingman a guy could ask for (apart from Rozy)'.

One new photo posted on ShaneHollander24. Shane was sat next to Yuna looking over some paperwork.

I know it will come as a surprise to a lot of people to find this out but effective immediately I am no longer signed to the Montreal Metros. I don't know where I'm going next, but when one door closes another opens. See you all soon, thank you for your continued support throughout the years.

One new photo posted on Raider_Connors. Someone had taken a photo of Connors and Shane stood side by side as they pointed at different drink options at a bar.

My man, celebrating a free agent!

One new photo posted on Rozanov81 Ilya had his face pressed against Shane's with his hand holding his neck, sat as close together on the bench as they could possibly get.

Actually @Raider_Conners he's my man. Second best hockey player in NHL, where should he go? Write suggestions in comments, we will take vote. Perhaps make Boston unbeatable with top two players in the league 👀

.

"Are you nervous? Is perfectly normal to be nervous for first game."

"Nah, he's not nervous Rozy. He's Shane fucking Hollander and now he's a Boston fucking Raider." Marly slapped Shane's shoulder pads as he walked past, barely managing to avoid Rozanov's punch aimed at his stomach.

"Shane fucking Hollander can still be nervous," he turned back to his boyfriend who was messing with the jersey hung up in front of him, "is okay if you are."

"Actually I don't think I am." Shane admitted quietly. He'd been mulling over the thought on his way over here and was fighting with the instinct telling him he should be regretting this, that he should've stayed loyal to Montreal. But he gave those guys everything he had, he won them multiple cups and they repaid him with slurs and insults and bruises.

"You're goddamn right! Those fuck-knuckles don't know their ass from their elbows without you Hollander, this is gonna be a fucking landslide." Connors pat him on the back, waving his hands to increase the jeering from his teammates.

Shane tentatively squeezed Ilya's hand in his. "I promise, I'm all good."

After scanning his eyes for any hint of a lie, the Russian squeezed his hand back then pulled him in by the scruff of his neck. "Then put that fucking jersey on Hollander, it has your name for a reason."

"So everyone knows who to congratulate for the Boston player who scored the most goals in a single match?" Shane tossed the fabric over his head, finding Ilya stood much closer than he was before.

"You are beautiful when you are angry Shane, but stop now or I will be hard for whole game." He whispered to him, sneaking in a slap to his ass when he knew the team wasn't paying them any attention.

"Okay boys listen up!" Roz called his players to attention, taking his place in the centre of the locker room. "1000 dollars for every hit to a Montreal player tonight, okay? You want to make some money you know what to do, Shane would you like to say special words as our newest player?"

Shane looked a little hesitant when all heads turned to him.

"Think of it as a Boston initiation." Marly offered, grinning when Hollander's shoulders fell away from his ears.

"Montreal goes home crying."

"Please boys, please!" The Captain begged, getting lost in the cheering from his teammates and the smile on his boyfriend's face as he was brought into the crowd to join in.

"Let's go boys!" Connors shouted, leading the way out of the locker room.

"Ready to get your revenge, Hollander?" Ilya walked out next to his Shane.

"Long time coming, Rozanov."

Boston won the game in a momentous landslide, at times almost all of the players were in the penalty box but it made no difference, it just confirmed what everyone knew (what Ilya knew) in the first place.

Montreal was nothing without Shane. And thanks to them, Boston was going to be unbeatable.