Archive of Our Own

It starts before their plane even takes off. 

Shane is ready to put his phone in flight mode, when he sees the message in the group chat. 

Dykstra sent it; it’s a grainy photo, captioned “Mouse!!!!” immediately followed by a video of a brown little blob skittering around the rink in panic. Shane turns the volume up, and it’s just several male voices yelling and screaming. 

He turns his phone to show Ilya, who grabs it to watch with furrowed eyebrows, then smirks. “So hysterical.”

Luca, who sits in the mid row of the plane, leans forward. “How did it even get there?” 

“No idea,” Shane shakes his head, “I’m sure they’ll take care of it.” He takes his phone back from Ilya and puts it on flight mode for real this time. 

“Harris says they’re all acting like it’s a bear or something.” Troy leans forward with a smirk so he can talk around Luca. “Apparently, Coach had to assign them gym time instead of training on the ice because it was so chaotic.” 

“Anya could catch it, I’m sure,” Ilya says proudly. Shane refrains from telling him that Anya has a horrible track record when it comes to catching small critters, and exclusively goes for birds (unsuccessfully, to no-one’s surprise). 

The pilot announces their departure towards LAX over the intercom, and the rumbling of the engine becomes louder. Ilya reaches over the arm rest, grabbing Shane’s thigh, and Shane wraps his hand around Ilya’s, then leans into his shoulder. Ilya turns his head and kisses Shane’s hair. 

“Love you,” Shane whispers for good measure, and Ilya repeats it back to him. 

Flying still makes Ilya slightly uncomfortable, and Shane is glad he can be there with him for almost every flight now. 

Across the aisle, Luca has put on his noise-canceling headphones and closed his eyes; Troy is still texting Harris. 

They’re all invited to the GLAAD awards, which feels both like a huge honor, and a big scary thing. Shane still feels vaguely uncomfortable knowing that people perceive him as gay (because he is gay), but he also knows hiding forever won’t help this. 

Scott and Kip will be there, too, and so will Ryan and Fabian because Fabian is nominated in the Music category. Rose will be there, too, because she is now nominated for a tv show she starred in. So not going really isn’t an option, even if it’s just for their friends. They’re only really missing Max and Leah, because they just had twin babies. 

If he thinks about it too hard, it gives Shane whiplash that half of their friends are some form of queer. Eighteen year-old Shane couldn’t have imagined. 

Fortunately, the flight is quiet and calm. 

The plane touches down in LA, and when Shane turns flight mode back off, he is met with a barrage of notifications. Most of it is about the mouse; apparently the kids have named it Kyle. There's already a social media post about Kyle which has gone semi-viral. Fans apparently think that the most random things always happen to the Cens. 

They pick up their luggage and order a Lyft. They're all staying at the same hotel, but Shane and Ilya have plans to see Rose and Svetlana before the event. Just when the car pulls into the hotel driveway, Luca lets out a low “Uh-oh” under his breath. 

“What?” Shane asks. 

“Apparently, Bergy got startled so badly by the mouse that he tripped and hit his head.” 

Shane groans. “Is he okay?” 

Luca taps away at his phone, frowning. “He says he is, but they’re having Terry take a look at it regardless.” 

Shane catches Ilya’s eyes; Ilya mouths “It’s okay!” and “They’ll be fine!” at him. Shane rolls his eyes, huffs. Looks at his own phone, which is suspiciously silent. 

“We’re never letting him live this down if he let a mouse give him a concussion,” Troy remarks dryly. 

“Let’s hope he didn’t,” Shane tells him, hearing how tight he sounds. 

They check in and drop off their luggage. In their (admittedly, nice) hotel room, Ilya steps in front of Shane and grabs both of his hands. Shane huffs and rolls his eyes, but doesn’t try to pull away. The flight and the change in climate, cool Ottawa versus dry and hot L.A., have him feeling like he’s about to itch out of his skin every second. 

“Solnyshko,” Ilya murmurs, bringing Shane’s knuckles to his mouth. “They’ll be okay.”

Shane rolls his eyes again; he can’t stop himself. “I know, it’s just a… fucking rodent.”

“It is, they’re fine.” Ilya gives his knuckles another reassuring squeeze. 

Shane huffs, shifts. Shifts again. “I just. I feel bad about going to an event this late in the season.” 

“I know,” Ilya says, like it’s obvious. Maybe it is. “But we’re good, Shane. We’re well on our way to the playoffs. We’re only missing two days of practice, and it’s for a good cause.” 

Shane grumbles and closes his eyes. Rationally, he knows Ilya is right. He’s talked about it with his therapist, even, because it seemed to be the correct thing to do. 

“How much of this is about going to a queer event?” Ilya asks softly. 

“None!” Shane says, way too fast, way too defensive. Ilya just raises his brows at him; Shane avoids his eyes. “Not… not much of it.”

“Are you sure?” 

Shane doesn’t answer right away, eyes still going anywhere but to Ilya’s face. “It’s dumb,” he says after a moment, and it comes out pathetic and whiny. 

“Is not dumb,” Ilya disagrees. But Shane thinks it is. They’ve had this conversation in a dozen iterations by now; Shane and his internalized homophobia and fear of being perceived as anything but a sexless hockey blob. It’s a remainder of days long past, one that’s particularly hard to shake. “But hiding won’t make you feel better.”

Shane wants to disagree; at least hiding would spare his nerves. But Joy (his therapist) says the only way out is through, so. Shane lets out an unhappy noise and allows himself to lean into Ilya, who immediately wraps his arms around him, pressing his lips to Shane’s temple. 

“We’re good, yes?” His voice is a soothing rumble, and Shane closes his eyes for a moment. “We will have nice evening, we have fantastic outfits, it will be fun… Our friends will be there, I will be right next to you. I can hold your hand the whole night if you want me to.” That makes Shane smile. 

“Even when I go to the bathroom?” 

“Especially when you go to the bathroom.” Ilya slides a hand across Shane’s hip while Shane laughs into his shoulder. 

“And the idiots at home will be fine,” Ilya continues, “They do not need us to handle a mouse. Or one concussion.” 

“You’d be scared of the mouse, too,” Shane smiles. 

“Yes, but you would not. You could probably trap and release it with your bare hands.” Ilya nudges Shane’s chin and kisses him. “My strong manly Canadian man. One with nature.”

And this makes Shane really laugh. 

-

They meet Rose for lunch. 

Unfortunately, Svetlana can’t be there because she’s working; it makes Shane a little sad for Ilya. It feels unfair that he gets to see his best friend and Ilya doesn’t. Or maybe he’s just being extra sensitive at the moment. 

Conversations with Rose are always easy. She’s great to talk to, and everytime Shane sees her, he wishes they could spend more time together. So he tries to cherish the time he does have with her. Now that Ilya has long gotten over his jealousy, he and Rose get on wonderfully as well. 

“-so they offered me the part but they’re like, you need to lose twenty pounds for it.” She taps her finger against her forehead in outrage as Ilya lets out a disbelieving “No!”. Rose throws her hands in the air. “I told them to fuck off, the character is supposed to be freshly post-partum and they want me to lose weight for it?! What the fuck, right?” 

“What the fuck indeed,” Ilya agrees, shaking his head. “Did you decline?”

“Yeah, I told them they could look for someone else.” She rolls her eyes; Shane can tell this really bothered her. She’s been declining more and more roles lately, since her offers have become odder as she ages. 

“I’m so done with Hollywood at this point,” she sighs, “I wish there were more roles like what I did in The Sound of Melting Ice.” It’s the movie she’s nominated for tonight; Shane hasn’t seen it yet (to his shame) but apparently it’s about a transgender climate scientist. Rose plays her lesbian climate change denying sister. 

“What did you like about it?” Ilya asks with real interest. 

“It was just more of a challenge, and it wasn’t… y’know, mother. Ex-wife. MILF.” She takes a long sip of her ice water. “Evil thirty year old woman who struggles because she’s aging.” 

“Yes,” Ilya agrees seriously, “After all, you are an evil thirty-two year old woman.” 

“Ilya!” Shane chides, but Rose laughs so hard her eyes crinkle. 

“Cheers to that!” 

While Ilya and Rose clink their glasses, Shane checks his phone for the time. He notices a very suspicious notification.

baby centaurs + responsible adults 🦫

LaPointe: oh no oh fuck 

Luca: what now 

LaPointe: Young broke his stick [image attached]

Luca: shit 

Young: fuckkkk noooooooo fuck fuck 

LaPointe: we’re freaking out fr this cannot be good 

Holmberg: FUCK 

Young: this is a bad oh man for sure 

Luca: do you mean a bad omen [Young reacted to this message with a thumbs up emoji.]

Smith: it can’t be that bad, chill 

Bolduc: the last time this happened we lost our next game 6-0 and Roz got a concussion and couldn’t play for two games, it was horrible 

Smith: …fuck

Holmberg: is this a bad time to tell you terry said i do have a concussion

“Shane?” 

Shane looks up to find Ilya and Rose both looking at him questioningly. 

“You’re frowning,” Rose notices. 

“More drama at home.” Shane pushes his phone towards Ilya, who doesn’t look at the screen. Instead, he locks and pockets it. 

“Hey!” Shane protests. 

“No, you have screen time limit now. The children are fine.” Ilya shakes his head. 

Rose smiles, clearly amused. “Aw, are they struggling without you there? Must be nice to be needed.”

“It’s fucking annoying is what it is,” Ilya holds out a hand. “But they will have to deal without us for now.” 

Shane chews on his bottom lip, shifting in his seat. “Holmberg has a concussion. And Young broke his stick.”

There’s the briefest moment of worry ghosting across Ilya’s face before he schools his features back into inscrutable calm. 

“That’s bad?” Rose asks. 

“They say it’s a bad omen,” Shane tells her. It makes her laugh. 

“I swear, you hockey players are more superstitious than all the spiritual Hollywood folks. I have a lady who does my horoscope every month and not even she is that superstitious!” 

“Yes, exactly,” Ilya agrees. 

“Stop teaming up with my best friend on me!” Shane complains, pinching Ilya’s thigh under the table. 

“You love it,” Ilya teases him, grabbing his hand and pulling it to his mouth for a kiss which softens Shane’s tense shoulders considerably. 

Rose sighs. “You two are literally the cutest.” She frowns. “I miss Lana.” 

“Welcome to the club,” Ilya tells her dryly. Then, to Shane, he says, “It’ll be fine, stop worrying.” 

-

In the Uber back, Ilya casually pulls out his phone, checking the group chat.

“You fucking traitor!” Shane lunges for it, but Ilya pulls it out of his reach. 

“I am just looking-” His voice pitches high when Shane tries to grab for his phone. 

“You don’t get to look if I can’t-” 

“Shane, we are in public-” 

“Oh fuck you!” But he leans back in his seat, crosses his arms and lets out a frustrated huff. 

They look at each other across the seat. 

“You’re worried, too!” Shane jabs an accusatory finger at Ilya. 

Ilya rolls his eyes. “No,” he replies, clearly lying. 

“Liar.”

Ilya rolls his eyes again, harder this time. “Okay fine. Yes. But I’m sure Bood and Coach have it under control.” 

“We need to let go,” Shane says, fully aware how insane he’s sounding, “It’s just one weekend.”

“Yes, exactly.” Ilya reaches across the seats and grabs Shane’s hand, squeezing it. “Our children are old enough to be left alone for two days.” 

That gets a nervous chuckle out of Shane. 

-

Luca and Troy meet them in the hotel lobby, both in their gala outfits. They clean up nicely; Luca is in a navy blue suit and a matching bowtie, looking like the human version of a golden retriever. Troy’s outfit is more risqué, a black suit with an almost sheer shirt underneath which has black floral embroidery on it; together with his black hair and black eyeliner, it makes him look mysterious and, admittedly, very sexy. They are, however, wearing matching worried looks on their faces. 

“Did you see-” Luca gasps the second Ilya and Shane are within earshot. 

“Yes.” Ilya holds up a hand to cut him off. “Nothing we can do about it now.” 

Luca chews on his bottom lip; Troy crosses his arms. “They haven’t caught the damn mouse yet, either,” he tells them. 

“We need new mascot anyway,” Ilya replies dryly, reaching out and wrapping a comforting arm around Shane. 

“What if-,” Shane starts, feeling his worry spiral starting up again. 

“Okay!” Ilya holds out his hands. “Listen. We are here, we cannot help them now. They will deal with it somehow.” He pulls a face, but continues talking. “We will have a good night, we look sexy as fuck, we must represent queer hockey, yes? This is what we should worry about now.” 

Troy and Luca both nod, not looking entirely convinced. Ilya pulls Shane close, squeezing his side until Shane relaxes, and gives him an intense look. “You, too.”

“Yes, okay.” Shane sighs softly, trying to shake off the bad feeling. 

Ilya gives him a brief peck on the lips; Shane feels himself relax further. “Okay, let’s go.”

-

Ilya’s outfit definitely helps distract Shane. 

His suit is a dark aubergine color, and the button-up he’s wearing underneath is, Shane has learned, ‘dusty rose’. Instead of a tie, Ilya wears the first few buttons unbuttoned, a thick diamond choker wrapped around his neck, just below his Adam's apple. It makes Shane want to lick the skin underneath. It’s a women’s necklace, but it doesn’t look girly on Ilya at all. 

Shane’s own outfit isn’t quite so bold, but bold enough for him. It’s a japanese-cut suit, which ties in the front instead of buttoning. The fabric is much softer and lighter than any other suit Shane owns, which is also a relief. His stylist chose it to represent his Japanese heritage, but also to be as comfortable and low-sensation as possible to make him feel more at ease. It’s a dark denim blue, almost black, and has tiny cherry blossom embroidery in some places, the color matching Ilya’s outfit. It’s one of the most adventurous pieces Shane has ever worn, but it’s beautiful. 

It’s a miracle they even made it out of the hotel room on time, to be honest. 

Shane’s phone, which Ilya begrudgingly gave back, vibrates in his palm. 

Hockey Stonewall 🏳️‍🌈🏒 

[Ilya Rozanov has added Fabian Salah and Ryan Price to the group chat.]

Kip: almost there

Shane: Same here. 

Fabian: Hi everyone :) thank you for adding us, Ilya. Looking forward to seeing you all! [Ilya Rozanov has heart-reacted to this message.]

Shane looks up at Ilya, narrowing his eyes. “Why did you heart Fabian’s message?” 

Next to him, Troy sucks in a breath but pretends he didn’t hear anything and just sinks deeper into the seat. 

Ilya gives Shane a confused look. “Is polite, no?” 

Shane knows he’s being a bitch, and he also knows ninety percent of it is coming from being nervous and tense. He huffs, crossing his arms. “You could have given it a thumbs up.” 

Ilya, obviously biting back a smile, reaches out for him. “Solnyshko, don’t be jealous.” 

“I’m not jealous,” Shane grumbles. Ilya pries his hand from his chest, wrapping it in his and lightly massaging Shane’s knuckles until he relaxes. In Russian, he says, “Be nice.” 

Shane frowns at him. Ilya reaches out and runs his thumb over Shane’s forehead, smoothing out what must have been a wrinkle. Beside himself, it makes Shane smile. Ilya returns the smile and nudges Shane’s cheek. 

Just when the car pulls into the line for the event, Luca frowns at his phone in the front seat. 

“Why is Bolduc calling me?” he asks into the space of the car to no-one in particular, voice filled with confusion. 

“Nooooo,” Troy groans, covering his face with his palms. 

Luca answers. All they can hear from the backseat for a minute is a lot of “Uh-huh.”, “Oh, no.”, “When?” and then one very emphatic “Shit.” 

“Uh-oh,” Ilya sing-songs. 

Shane can feel his heart rate spike. 

“Okay-” Luca holds up one hand, clearly trying to calm down an agitated Bolduc. “-can you-” He pauses, and his shoulders tense. 

Shane is starting to get nauseous. 

“-the whole street?!” Luca groans. “Fuck. Okay. Okay. Dude, let me call you back in a second, I need to talk to the dads.” 

The fact that he’s using this in a completely unironical way would surely be hilarious in any other situation. 

“What now?” Shane asks tensely. 

Luca turns around in his seat, his face almost apologetic. “So, there’s an underground gas leak near where Smith and Bolduc live.” Shane knows the two are roommates. “And apparently they now have to evacuate the whole street, and the surrounding area. Young and LaPointe live close-by, so they’re also being evacuated.” 

“Why are they calling you?” Ilya asks, his voice flat. 

“Because my apartment is empty and they need a place to stay,” Luca explains. 

“Why don’t they book a hotel?!” Shane asks, suppressing the urge to hit his head against the back of Luca’s headrest. 

“Taylor Swift concert tonight, huge one,” Troy answers for him, “Everything’s booked.” 

“What about Holmberg?” Ilya asks. 

“Supposed to be at the concert with his girlfriend,” Troy answers at the same time Luca says “Recovering from his concussion.” 

“The WAGs organized the concert thing, almost all of them are going. Everybody with a wife or girlfriend is either at the concert or has their kids for the night.” 

“Harris is there, too,” Troy adds. 

“But can they go to your apartment?” Shane asks Luca; he is starting to feel like he is losing brain cells. Ilya wraps his hand around Shane’s knee; he realizes it’s been shaking for the past few seconds. 

“I don’t have a spare key,” Luca confesses, clearly embarrassed. “Yannick has my spare, and I’ve been meaning to get one re-made but I haven’t.” 

Ilya groans and curses in Russian. 

The car slowly crawls forward in line while nobody says anything for a second. 

Ilya gives Shane a look. 

Shane looks back at him, and Shane knows exactly what Ilya is thinking. 

“Are your parents home?” Ilya asks. 

“They should be.” Shane feels horrible for springing this on his parents. 

“They have our spare key,” Ilya says slowly and in Russian. Shane appreciates the potential out. 

They’re the next car in line. 

Shane feels like he’s going to explode out of his skin any second. He closes his eyes for a moment, trying to focus. Ilya’s hand on his knee is grounding him, thank God, and counting to ten in his head like he talked about with Joy also helps a tiny bit. 

“Okay.” He opens his eyes. “Can you tell Bolduc to hold on? We’ll find a solution.” 

Luca nods quickly and starts typing away on his phone. 

In front of them, two people Shane recognizes as olympic downhill skiers exit the car. Then, their car crawls forward and stops. 

“Deep breath,” Troy mutters quietly, more to himself than to everyone else. They all fix their hair and clothes for a second, and Shane visualizes himself pulling up an internal wall. 

Ilya grabs his hand and holds it firmly, then opens the car door. 

-

Luca’s POV

Luca still remembers what it felt like to go to the airport with his parents whenever they’d go on vacation. The way his mother would prepare breakfast for them, urge them to lay out their clothes and wake them in the morning. The way their father would drive, all focused and always worried they were running late, even if they would arrive at the airport three hours before their flight. The way his parents would hold on to their tickets (back before you only got them online) and usher them through check-in. One time, their flight was delayed by hours, and there were problems with their seating, and Luca vaguely remembers his father becoming more and more stressed while his mother desperately tried to keep Hannah and him occupied. The memory is hazy, and mostly bolstered by how their parents told the story years later. What Luca actually remembers is running around the indoor playground, playing on the moving walkways with Hannah and having a McDonald's meal. 

This is the adult version of that. 

How Shane makes it down the red carpet, Luca has no idea. He’s clearly very stressed (Luca can see the red spots on his neck), but he stops and smiles and poses with Ilya and Troy and him as the photographers yell at them. Ilya’s hand rests firmly on Shane’s waist. 

Ilya, meanwhile, plays up his hot Russian playboy persona, garnering all the attention. It’s a neat trick, Luca thinks, to divert it away from Shane. He sticks out his tongue, winks, calls out flirty little one-liners. And of course, the cameras eat it up. 

In front of him, Shane twirls a little stiffly, showing off his suit, gushing about the designer. Luca knows Shane has done a ton of sponsor work, has been in a million ad campaigns. And for the first time, Luca realizes that he’s probably learned to keep a straight face, to pose and smile and show off a product, no matter if he was feeling alright that day or not. 

The thought makes Luca want to give him a hug. 

They make it down the initial section of the carpet. Troy and him make sure to stay on opposite sides of Shane and Ilya. They talked about it earlier, and with neither of their boyfriends present, they don’t want to make it weird. For some fans, them simply existing in the same space is enough to spark dating rumors, nevermind Troy is literally engaged. It’s something Luca wouldn’t have anticipated in a million years. 

He can feel his phone vibrate in his pocket again. 

“Shane!” 

“Oh, thank God,” Shane mutters under his breath. From the edge of the mingling crowd, Fabian Salah is waving them down. Luca has only ever met him in person once, at a party at the Kingfisher, but Fabian is hard to forget. Tonight, he’s in jewel-green, wide-cut dress pants and a skin-tight, silver crop top, his make-up matching his outfit. Ryan Price is there, too, dressed in all black with a brooch on his lapel which matches Fabian’s pants. With them are Scott Hunter and his husband Kip. The whole group chat, minus Harris. 

Scott gives Luca an excited wave and a smile. 

“Hi, love!” Fabian pulls Shane into a hug, then immediately asks, “Are you alright?” 

“No,” Shane answers honestly, hugging him back. “I need to…” He trails off, seemingly frazzled and distracted by all the noise. 

“We have a situation at home,” Ilya leans in and kisses Fabian’s cheek, before reaching behind him to shake Ryan’s hand. Then, he immediately runs a hand down Shane’s arm. “Go call your mom now.” 

Shane nods. “Excuse me.” Then he steps away, pulling out his phone. 

Everybody looks concerned now. 

“Everything alright?” Kip asks, sounding worried while he gives Luca a brief side-hug. 

“Some of our teammates are being evacuated,” Luca explains, “They’re alright, but it’s a whole thing.”

“A bunch of things have gone wrong in Ottawa while we’ve been here and it’s been kind of stressful,” Troy explains. He’s fanning himself with his hand; Fabian watches him for two seconds before reaching into his purse and producing a fan. 

“Oh my god, thank you.” Troy takes it gratefully. 

“Young broke his stick in practice,” Ilya says darkly. His eyes are on Shane, who has placed himself in a corner and is now talking on the phone. “Is curse.” Both Scott and Ryan wince in shared understanding.

“You said it was going to be okay!” Troy exclaims, accusatory. Ilya throws his hands up. 

“I lied for Shane.” 

Which, admittedly, is cute. 

“Oh my god, sounds serious.” Fabian looks between them, then exchanges a brief ‘we’re both trying not to laugh’-look with Kip. “Do we need to call in an Etsy Witch?”

“Don’t joke about that,” Ryan tells him with a very serious tone. 

“Honestly, at this point…” Luca sighs. 

Ilya stares at Shane for another moment, brows furrowed deeply, then suddenly stands up straight as if he’s shaking it off. “Now, let me say hello to the first lady of gay hockey.” 

Kip rolls his eyes with a laugh but hugs Ilya back; Ilya and Scott clasp hands. Scott is in a brown suit with a shirt in the same color, and Kip is wearing a matching tweed one which would make him look like a hot professor if not for the low-cut tank-top he’s wearing under the suit jacket instead of a button-down. 

“I haven’t forgiven you for trying to steal Luca, yet,” Ilya tells Scott, flicking his chest. Scott laughs. 

“I think Luca can decide for himself where he wants to go when it’s time for a new contract.” Scott reaches out to clasp Luca’s shoulder; Ilya bats his hand away.

They both look at him, and Luca feels himself blush. Kip gives him a pitiful little smile and squeezes his arm. “Yannick couldn’t make it?”

“No,” Luca replies, a little sadly, “he’s been so busy, we haven’t seen each other in like, a month.”

“You could see him every day if you became an Admiral-”

“Nobody wants to be an Admiral-”

Luckily, Luca is saved by Shane returning to the group with a slightly less tense expression. Ilya asks him something in Russian, and Shane replies in Russian, then adds in English: “They can pick them up.” 

While they’re talking, Luca’s phone starts vibrating again. He fishes it out of his suit pocket. “It’s Bolduc again.”

Ilya holds out a hand, and Luca hands the phone over. 

“It’s me,” Ilya answers the phone, his accent making it unmistakable who ‘me’ is here. “Yes, shut up. Listen, you can stay at our house. Shane’s parents will pick you up. Go to the Tim Horton’s at- …yes that one. They will pick you up and drive you to our house. You better be nice to them.” The or else is implied. “They have our spare key. You can sleep in guest rooms.” He pauses while Bolduc talks on the other end. “I do not care. Do not sneak around, do not open drawers, just fucking behave yourself, yes? Okay. Stop calling. Bye.” 

He hangs up, handing the phone back to Luca. 

“Wow, you’re a strict dad,” Kip notes. 

Ilya nods. “They need a heavy hand.” He reaches out, placing his palm on the back of Shane’s neck; Shane melts into him. Ilya pulls him close and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Is okay now,” he tells Shane quietly, and Shane nods, closing his eyes for a moment. Ilya cups his chin and kisses him; Luca looks away.

“So hard being a parent,” Fabian sighs exaggeratingly, breaking the ice and making them laugh. “Come on, let’s get some champagne in you.” 

They mingle and talk, and eventually, they’re all being ushered inside for the actual event. Rose Landry has found them, and it seems to relax Shane further when she hugs him and holds his hand. 

As they slowly move inside to find their seats, Luca nudges Shane. “Hey.” 

Shane half-turns, giving him a smile. Luca can see the exhaustion in his eyes. 

“That was really nice, what you did,” Luca tells him, meaning it. “The team can be glad to have you two.”

Shane’s smile softens and he lets out a little sigh. Luca gives him a quick hug; Shane is stiff for a second, but then squeezes him back. 

-

Shane’s POV

Shane claps and cheers when Rose is on stage with her co-stars and directors from The Sound of Melting Ice. She looks beautiful, of course, and so happy and proud. 

Fabian wins Outstanding Breakthrough Music Artist, and it’s very cute to see huge Ryan Price shed tears of happiness and pride as Fabian stands on stage and thanks him for supporting him. 

Ilya does hold Shane’s hand throughout the entire ceremony. 

“Feeling okay?” he asks in a quiet moment. Shane nods in reply, giving him a smile. He still doesn’t feel like talking, but that’s okay. 

“You look very pretty tonight,” Ilya adds with a handsome smile. “Very beautiful.” 

Shane’s own smile broadens and he leans in, briefly bumping his head against Ilya’s shoulder in a gesture of affection. Then, it occurs to him: this isn’t the MLH awards. Nobody would mind if they just… 

He tips his chin up, stealing a soft, chaste but lingering kiss. It feels amazing after all the night’s stress. Ilya lets out a tiny, pleasantly surprised noise and kisses him back; Shane can feel him smile against his lips. 

Later, during another brief moment between categories, Shane checks his phone. 

Yuna Hollander (Mom): We have secured the goods 🥰 [image attached: A selfie of Yuna and David, with Bolduc, Smith, Young and LaPointe in the back of the Hollanders’ mini van. They are all smiling very politely at the camera. Young is throwing up a peace sign.]

Additionally, the group chat has been going off. 

baby centaurs + responsible adults 🦫

LaPointe: dude holly your parents are awesome 

Bolduc: yeah thanks, really appreciate it, saved our asses today

Young: you’re parents took us through the mcdonald’s drive thru 

Smith: thank you :) they’re freaking awesome

Shane smiles at his phone before he types a quick Be nice to them and behave. After a second, he adds, Clean bed sheets are in the guest room closet. You can take some of Ilya’s frozen waffles for breakfast from the freezer tomorrow.

“Are the children alright?” Ilya asks quietly. 

“Yes, grandma and grandpa picked them up,” Shane jokes, making Ilya laugh. 

-

Later, they’re lying in bed, their fancy suits hung up carefully in the closet (Shane wouldn’t stand for just dropping them on the dirty hotel room floor). It’s four in the morning; the afterparty was still going strong when they left, but they decided to have their own private afterparty instead. 

Now, Ilya is half-sprawled on top of Shane, weighing him down comfortably, scrolling through his instagram. 

“Aw, look.” With a grin, he holds up his phone; it’s a photo Bolduc posted, sitting on the edge of their guest bed, Smith tucked into the blanket on the other side of it, sleepily smiling into the camera. It’s captioned ‘bout to honk shoo up in this bitch’.

Shane snorts. “That looks like-” He stops himself, just shaking his head with a laugh. 

“Like they just fucked,” Ilya finishes the sentence; Shane lightly slaps his chest. 

“What, you were thinking it, too!” 

Ilya keeps scrolling. “Oh, Leah just posted.” Shane can see the ‘close friends’ icon in the corner of the post. It’s a photo of their twin boys Henry and Fynn lying on a blanket, faces not in the picture, in matching hockey stick-patterned pajamas which say ‘mama’s #1 rookie’ and ‘daddy’s #1 rookie’ respectively. “Aww,” Ilya sighs, holding his phone up so Shane can see. 

“Cute,” Shane says, pressing his lips to Ilya’s curls. 

Ilya lets out another soft sigh; Shane thinks it sounds kind of longing. 

“Soon,” Shane whispers into Ilya’s hair. 

“Cup first,” Ilya whispers back. He’s still looking at the photo. “We should get a t-shirt like this for our rookies. But only one for all of them. Like, employee of the month.”

Shane chuckles, closing his eyes. He’s so tired. “This month, it should go to the damn mouse.”

“Kyle. He has a name, Shane,” Ilya chides, making them both laugh. He tosses his phone on the nightstand and turns in Shane’s arms, cuddling close. 

They fall asleep like that. 

-

“Hey, look.” Troy holds his phone out with a smirk. His voice is a hoarse rasp. 

They’re all kind of beat, in their sweatpants on the plane; Luca and Troy came home at seven in the morning and didn’t even sleep between the party and their flight. Shane can’t imagine doing that at his ripe old age.  

It’s a photo of a bunch of their teammates posing around a small catch-and-release trap with the infamous rink mouse in it. 

“Harris says they’re asking if they can keep him.” 

“I thought they were scared of it,” Shane says. 

“Apparently he’s kind of cute up-close,” Luca shrugs. He’s pale, and chewing on a twizzler.  

“Aw.” Shane turns to Ilya, who’s half-dozing in the seat next to him, “Just like you.” Ilya gives him a smirk and blows him a kiss in reply.

The intercom crackles to life, announcing their departure from LAX. 

With a deadpan look, Ilya turns to Shane. “You know, all things considered,” he says, gaze flatly fixed on Shane, “I think this was a very nice and relaxing trip.” 

Shane has to laugh so hard he doesn’t hear the rest of the announcement.