Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Something both Shane and Ilya understood about hockey that many other players didn't was that what separated good players from the greats was the ability and willingness to plan and engage in psychological warfare. 

Shane and Ilya went about it in different ways but that didn’t change the fundamental truth: to be the best hockey player was to be ruthless.

Ilya's approach had always been to say something so off the wall it left other players off kilter. He wouldn't say he fucked your girl, no, he would say, ‘I'm going to buy your kids $800 Titanic Lego set.’ And while the other player was trying to figure out exactly what that meant, Ilya would be off, skating for the net with the puck on the end of his stick.

If it was simply words Ilya would have been seen as weird, not an asshole. What made him an asshole in the eyes of most of the league was the fact that he always went through with what he said. That Lego set? Well, Florida's 1st-line center had to try explaining to his twin sons why they couldn't keep the ‘totally awesome’ gift, only to cave after two minutes of hysterical crying. Ilya Rozanov was an asshole because he, somehow, knew what everyone in the league's family liked and was up to. And he used that information ruthlessly. ‘Hey Johnson, you forgot to buy mama bag for Mother's Day. I did it for you. You need to be better son.’ Or ‘I sent flowers for your son's piano recital you are missing while losing to me.’ 

Shane Hollander, on the other hand, studied an opponent's every move until he knew what you would do before you did. He watched for any physical sign of weakness and used it without hesitation. ‘Hayden, Mazur's left ankle is bothering him. Force him to rest most of his weight on it.’ ‘J.J, Quinn's favoring his right side. He took a nasty hit to the ribs last week, and they might be cracked. Slam him into the boards.’ ‘Comeau, Smith hates mouth breathers. You know what to do.’

Shane Hollander knew perfectly well how to use an opponent's weakness until the whole opposing team felt on edge. Shane Hollander looked innocent, but he was a wolf at the head of a near-feral pack only held back by the pretense of Canadian politeness. Shane Hollander never needed chirps to distract anyone when an opponent was too busy to focus while feeling hunted like prey.

In the first game the two had played against each other they both recognized that same ruthlessness in the other’s eyes. But where Ilya had carefully watched the competition in the days leading up to the games, Shane had been unable to do the same. Getting juniors' tapes from other countries to study was impractical if not impossible. The only time he got to study up on the other teams was by sneaking into practices and during the official games. All of which he secretly recorded to watch obsessively later. But it hadn't been enough, and Ilya had easily unsettled most of Team Canada. He had even caught Shane by saying, ‘Your dad has good taste of vodka. Maybe I should buy him nice bottle?’ Shane had been so stunned that it had taken him a whole two seconds to react to puck drop, and by then Ilya was already in control. 

The next time they played against each other, Shane was prepared, his laser focus easily drowning out whatever Rozanov said. And between line changes, he was rushing up and down the bench whispering observations into his teammates' ears. He refused to lose a second time. 

They only got better at their preferred methods over the years, while also evading others' tactics. Ilya learned how to be so unpredictable when playing against the Voyageurs that studying tape was nearly useless and sometimes even worked against Shane. And Shane had learned to take every word Ilya sent him without flinching or pause, and had even learned how to tease Ilya back. Shane could usually get an edge in at least one face-off a game that way. The first time Shane did it, ‘What do you plan to eat after this? Me? I'm thinking Russian.’ Followed by the barest flutter of lashes left Rozanov so gobsmacked Shane was already three strides in front of him before he remembered how to move. 

Of course, Shane didn't get away with this unscathed. Just like he had learned from Rozanov's tactics, Ilya had done the same. He obsessively reviewed the Voyageur’s tape in the days leading up to every match, focusing on any possible physical weaknesses. He went so far as to host watch parties with the whole team at his home. 

Their rivalry wasn't just something the league made up for views, but an intense need to grind the other into the ice. The harder the game, the sweeter the reward. Ilya would slam him into the boards, darken already existing bruises, only to kiss them gently when they were alone.

So now that they were finally together, no more games of ‘What are we?’ or ‘This is just casual,’ they knew what the biggest hurdle for the plans of their future was. Their own teams. There was no way that one of them moving to a different team would cool the narrative of their rivalry, because their actions would fan it back to life. They refused to go easy on each other, and that meant being as ruthless as possible. 

They both loved their teams but also knew their flaws well. The Voyageur, though they were like family to him, had a mean homophobic streak. Some of them meant it, and others just didn't think about how their words might affect others. And the Bears, while not nearly as bad, still had their bad apples. But both Montreal and Boston were, on the whole, extremely accepting cities. Outside of the direct hockey sphere, most people wouldn't have a problem with the fact that they were in a same-sex relationship. No, the problem for most people would be that they were Shane and Ilya. 

They weren't sure yet how to solve the second problem, but they had a solid plan for the first. 

Whether hockey players recognized it or not, WAGs were a major part of the backbone of what made their careers possible. They kept the homes running. Food, shopping, kids, and social obligations were usually left almost solely in their hands. It wasn't fair, but it also wasn't fair that hockey demanded your youth and health. By the time most players retired, their bodies, and sometimes their minds, were damaged beyond repair. Hockey, unlike most other major sports, was extremely high-contact and violent. Even the most cautious player's body would be worn thin by the time they hung up their stick for good. But that was something players knew going into the game, just like WAGs knew, or quickly learned, the sacrifices they would have to make. So with WAGS taking over the majority of domestic duties, they inevitably had a lot of sway over their partners' behavior and beliefs outside the rink. If you could win over the WAGs, you could get them to win over their partners. 

So with this in mind, Ilya and Shane started: Mission WAGS. ‘Win All the Girls' Support.’ 

Usually, the head WAG was the partner of the captain of a team. Since neither Shane or Ilya had ever had one, that job had fallen to Jackie Pike and Elizabeth St.Simone, respectively.