Chapter Text
Shane felt more nervous than he had during the draft when he was eighteen. Holding Logan’s hand, he lead the family through the crowd of the auditorium, trying to find the perfect seats. He and Ilya had promised one another earlier that morning that they would remain composed today, they wanted it to be all about Nikolai and his accomplishments, the image of the famed Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander crying like babies wouldn’t help.
Next year Nikolai would head off to college. Neither Shane or Ilya were sure of how they felt about it. They were so proud of their eldest, and yet every time they looked at him all they could see was the pale faced little boy, with sad blue eyes and blonde curls that they spent long nights sitting up with when the nightmares were too scary. They wouldn’t be left with an empty house yet, far from it. Emi was only fourteen, and the twins twelve. But even having just one of their children grow up and move out for most of the year was enough to bring them both heartache.
“He has speech?” Ilya asked for the tenth time as they settled into seats; he took special care to make sure he put himself between Luke and Logan to avoid any mid-ceremony fighting.
“He has a printed copy and a copy on his phone.” Emi assured her Papa with a sympathetic smile. “Relax you two, he has it handled.”
“How would we know?” Ilya pouted. “Refused to practice in front of us, or share speech with us…”
“Like neither of us have given speeches before.” Shane added grudgingly.
Emi rolled her eyes. “Yes, we’ve all seen the clip of the award presentation from 2014. Hate to break it to you, it was awful.”
“Don’t forget the award presentation from when they helped to induct Scott into the Hall of Fame.” Luke chuckled as he scrolled his phone. Shane shot his son a warning look that went completely ignored.
Emi cringed. “Papa called him a T-Rex.”
“It was a fearsome dinosaur!”
Logan sighed. “It was on ESPN.”
Shane was ignoring the back and forth while flipping through the program; there was the order of ceremonies at the front, laying out who was speaking and in what order. He scanned down the page, until the name he was looking for caught his attention:
Speech by Class President
Nikolai David Hollander-Rozanov
“The Men Who Made Me”
***
Nikolai walked up to the podium and looked out over the crowd, easily finding his family. Even a handful of years into retirement his fathers still cut imposing figures; Dad was holding up his phone, recording the stage, while Papa reached over and took something from Luke without even sparing a sideways glance. When Nikolai made eye contact, both men waved enthusiastically. Their faces splitting with smiles and beaming with pride.
“Hello.” Nikolai greeted somewhat unnecessarily. “Thank you all for being here today, thank you to the teachers and faculty who helped all of us reach this milestone. My name is Nikolai David Hollander-Rozanov. It is not uncommon for people to recognize me by my name alone, not because of me, but because of two men who I’d like to talk about today.”
Looking over the heads of their daughters, Shane and Ilya shared a look of uncertainty. Nikolai had been uncharacteristically tight lipped about his speech for today. Typically their eldest was the first to come to his dads' to brainstorm an assignment or talk through a major life event. But from the day it was announced he would be giving a speech at his commencement ceremony, he has refused to say word one to either of them about it.
“Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov need little introduction in most circles. Combined during their professional hockey careers, they won sixteen Stanley Cups, and hundreds of individual awards for everything from advanced skill, to superior sportsmanship. They were the top of the league for the entirety of their careers, building three of the most impressive franchise the NHL has ever seen. In retirement they turned their attention to developing new talent, becoming coaches for both mens and women’s professional and amateur teams.
“As impressive as all of that is, it is not what they will go down in history as the best at. You see, for the past seventeen years, at the beginning of each day, before they are Coach, they are Dad and Papa.”
Ilya couldn’t stop the tears. Shane feared he would pass out from not being able to draw a full breath.
“When I was thirteen months old I was adopted by my fathers. They knew they were adopting a child who had been neglected, and yet faced each challenge head on. I never felt like a burden, they never took me for granted, they never felt entitled to be my fathers, they never embraced a savior complex. They simply took me in, loved me, supported me, and gave me every opportunity to become the best possible version of myself.
“I didn’t speak until I was three. I didn’t make a friend until I was nine. Yet through every season of my life they met me with love, compassion and patients. Something that once was seen as weakness in the profession they so closely identify with.
“They introduced me to my first real love, hockey. Teaching me everything they knew—which is a lot. They were there for every early morning skate, late night game, and long day of travel. Thanks to them and their support and guidance, I will be playing hockey at McGill beginning in the fall, following in my grandfather’s footsteps.
“My fathers have faced adversity throughout their lives and careers. Together with some other amazing men they have forever changed the future of an entire sport. It is through overcoming the misogyny, homophobia, and prejudice together that they set an amazing example for myself and my siblings. These two men are so much to so many; leaders, professionals, athletes, and coaches. But they are something so much more, they’re the men who made me who I am.
“Dad, Papa.” He looked directly at them. “You’ve never made me feel that I needed to thank you for finding me. But I want to. Without you, I would have never become me. Thank you. I love you.”
As Nikolai folded his paper and stepped away from the podium, the room erupted into applause. Emi glanced from her Dad to her Papa. "Told you have had this handled."
Ilya wiped the tears from his face. "Warning would have been nice."