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Shane has had a few life-changing texts in his life, but he really hadn’t clocked this one when it first came in.
Rose: Bestie, you have to come over to my apartment, my neighbour discovered kittens in the alley and brought them up and we’re fostering them!
He’s tired after the game - a 4-2 bloody fight against Toronto and fucking Dallas Kent, but he’d scored three of those four points - and although he’d rather just go home, it’s actually the perfect excuse, because-
“Shane, mon homme, mon bel homme, mon plus bel homme, tell me you are coming out to celebrate your beautiful fucking hat trick with us tonight!”
So while he doesn’t especially want to go to Rose’s apartment, he really doesn’t want to go to out with JJ. “Sorry, going to Rose’s.”
That garners a round of catcalls that he ignores. The press hasn’t reported on their breakup - probably because he’s still hanging out with Rose as much as he had before, and they still hold hands and kiss each other’s cheeks and go dancing when Rose and Miles can pull him out, but now it’s all without any of the pressure he felt before.
“Okay, okay, fuck off, that’s a good way to celebrate, too,” JJ concedes before turning to the rest of the crew to figure out where they’re heading for the night.
Freshly showered and changed after the game, Shane shrugs his shoulders to release the pent up energy there as he stands in front of Rose’s apartment door.
“Shane!” she answers, pulling him in with her effervescent energy. “You have to meet the babies. Oh, and Louisa and JoAnna, my neighbours. Louisa discovered the mama cat and the kittens on her way home from school this morning and her mom has fostered before, so they got it all set up. I’m not actually fostering because I’m gone a thousand hours a day, but I’m helping to socialize them!”
Shane laughs at the stream-of-consciousness that spills out of Rose’s mouth as she leads them to her living room. There is a baby gate across the door that Rose and Shane step over easily. Shyly, Shane gives a small wave at the two strangers: a preteen in braces and her mom, both of whom look a little starstruck despite apparently being friends with a big name actor like Rose.
In the center of the living room floor, in a pile of blankets and sheets, a large, fluffy cat with brown and gray stripes swirling over her body is letting a litter of four little kittens nurse from her. All of the kittens are little fluff balls of different colors, only one with the coloring of their mom. They’re all so small they look like they could fit in Shane’s palm.
And like, he’s seen videos of cute animals, obviously, and he’s been to the zoo, but the Hollanders had never been pet people, so he doesn’t remember if he’s ever actually seen a kitten before, and something clicks deep inside him.
“Oh. Oh, wow,” he murmurs, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You can pet them really gently if you want, Mr. Hollander,” the preteen, Louisa says with a braces-full grin.
“Oh, uh, you can call me Shane, actually,” Shane replies automatically, going down to his knees and reaching out, running one finger over one of the quivering kitten’s backs. It’s one of those kinds that are white but have brown paws and ears and tail, Shane doesn’t know the name.
Its fur is the softest thing Shane has ever felt.
“Oh,” he says again, breathing out.
“They’re only about a week old, probably. One has opened its eyes, the others should follow soon,” JoAnna says with a grin and a pet of the mama cat from head to tail. The mama cat barely acknowledges it, her pink tongue sticking out of her mouth a little.
“I can’t really adopt, not with how mobile I have to be for my job, but JoAnna said I can help socialize them whenever I want, which means I get kitten cuddles for like the next six weeks.” Rose raises her eyebrows and grins, and Shane can’t help but grin back at her enthusiasm.
“Could I help? Uh, come over and help socialize them?”
“Obviously!” Rose responds brightly. She ruffles his hair and presses a kiss to his head. “You’re always welcome here.”
He takes some flak from the guys for always being at his ‘girlfriend’s’ place, but the kittens quickly become his new fascination. They’re just so cute. He has a million pictures already.
It’s not for a few weeks, though, that he cements his bond with Vincent.
“Vincent is a terrible name for a cat,” Rose mutters as she watches all four kittens and one full-sized hockey player play around on her living room floor.
“After Vincent Drake, the star center from Ottawa? He basically built the team back in the ‘90s? His was the first rookie card I ever bought with my allowance money.”
“Okay, that doesn’t explain why you’re naming a kitten after him.”
Shane grins as he tosses a plastic water bottle lid for Vincent, the kitten with Siamese markings (yes, he’s done his research now). “Because look at him. He’s an awesome hockey player.”
Vincent chases the lid across the wood floor, slipping and sliding everywhere and flipping it up in the air and then ramming into the wall with his enthusiasm.
“It’s okay buddy, that’s what the boards are there for. Use them for leverage.”
“Oh my god, I can’t believe you found a little hockey-player cat. You’re too fucking cute.”
Thirty minutes later, Vincent - and the rest of the crew - are all tuckered out, draped in various napping positions on and around Shane and Rose as they watch TV quietly. Vincent takes a position curled right on Shane’s shoulder, tucked in against his neck after a session of making biscuits and purring. He’s still vibrating there against Shane’s skin.
“Okay, I have to get a picture,” Rose murmurs. Shane leans his head against the fluff ball and closes his eyes, and Rose snaps a photo of the kitten and Shane, snuggled together.
Needless to say, Shane quickly moves from helping socialize kittens to fully figuring out exactly how he can fit Vincent into his life. Road trips are his biggest worry, but his mom helps him find a trustworthy service who can come in and change litter and feed Vincent when he’s gone. Rose also promises to help when she’s in town.
And so, after Vincent’s weaned, Shane becomes a full-time cat dad, and he loves every second of it. He has optimal feeding schedules and researched different enrichment activities to best help Vincent develop all of his skills, and a set of appointments for his shots, and also his neutering scheduled for a time when he’ll be in a series of home games and will be able to look after him. He does kind of get the ick from changing the litter, but he invests in one of those automatic boxes that at least cuts down on the ick factor a little. Yuna and David have already started calling him their grandson, promising to visit in a few weeks when Vincent is more settled into his new home, and Shane is more settled into the new routine.
It’s, in a word, wonderful.
He watches as the now several-month-old kitten jumps into his empty suitcase and looks up at him, striking him right in the heart with guilt.
“I know, Vinny. But Yuyu and Grandpa are coming, and you love them.” When he’d first started talking to Vincent out loud in his house, he’d been embarrassed, but that had faded quickly. “Papa just has to go to Florida real quick. And, you know, maybe apologize to the guy I like for running out on him.”
With that reminder, he carefully folds the wardrobe his new stylist had helped him curate for All Stars weekend, including some swim trunks that he knows will show off his body, and carefully removes the kitten from the suitcase, though not before snapping a pic and sending it to Rose and his mom and dad with the message, ‘He doesn’t want me to go.’
He distracts Vincent with a wand - a mouse on a string - while he packs with his other hand. When he’s done, he and Vincent run through their new nighttime routine together, because Vincent absolutely must be in the same room as Shane at all times. He does his skincare routine while Vincent bats a toy around his feet, and he climbs into bed with his book, only for his feet to get attacked through the sheets. Eventually, the kitten settles down in the crook of Shane’s neck, and they fall asleep together.
-----------------------------
Ilya is not looking for Shane Hollander, no, he’s not. It’s just that, Shane Hollander happens to look so fucking good in his cream suit that no one, not even Ilya Rozanov, could be blamed for staring. He catches himself, taking a long pull off of his Corona, and determined not to initiate anything with Shane.
If Shane sits down next to him, well, that’s none of Ilya’s business.
“Hey,” Shane offers as he signals for a beer.
“Hey, Cap.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Shane replies with a laugh, pulling his Corona closer and taking a sip.
“Beer, hmm?”
“Just trying to, you know, fit in with the guys.”
Ilya takes a moment to read him, then, and sees how stiff his shoulders are underneath the designer suit. His eyes are tense, too. It shouldn’t surprise Ilya that Shane is nervous, whether it’s in the room, or around him specifically, he’s not sure.
“You look festive.” Shane’s eyes run over his body and Ilya feels them like little lasers leaving heat as they go. This is not the gaze of a man who is happy to be dating a famous actress, in Ilya’s opinion.
He has to decide if he’s okay with being the other guy, then. Which, well, he does have some experience with, unfortunately. He’s old enough now to try and avoid that shit, but he’s always been stupid for Shane Hollander.
“Thank you, I thought so. You look…good.” Ilya lets his gaze linger as well, trying to clearly communicate with his eyes. “Did you come alone?”
Shane takes another sip of his beer and nods his head. “Yeah, my parents have done this whole thing before, so they stayed in Canada.”
Ilya almost growls at how that hadn’t answered his question. “And Rose Landry…”
“I think she’s in LA?”
God, his beautiful, dense Shane. “You and she…”
“Oh! Oh. Um. No, we’re not together anymore. We’re not, uh, compatible.”
“Ah.” Ilya files the word away to look up later, but his heart suddenly feels ten times lighter. So, when Shane had checked him out earlier, it hadn’t been the gaze of a man looking to make Ilya his sidepiece.
“We’re still friends, though.”
“Sure, sure, of course. Good to stay friends,” Ilya babbles.
“Cats and dogs, eating together!” Carter crows, slapping both Ilya and Shane on the back. “Hey, cap! Are you guys ready to kick west coast ass?”
“Of course,” Ilya responds with a grin, only mildly annoyed at Vaughn interrupting his Shane time.
“I should, uh, make the rounds, as captain,” Shane mutters after Vaughn leaves. He gives Ilya the puppy dog eyes like it’s the last thing he wants to do.
“Go, go. I see Marly.”
“We should talk later.”
Ilya meets Shane’s eyes. “Okay.”
Shane gives him one of his small-yet-sunny smiles, and he nods.
Some time later, as Ilya is clearing out his tab, a group that includes Shane, Carter, and Scott Hunter are all waiting in line after him. As he scribbles out his name, he can’t help but overhear Shane say, “Oh, yeah, my mom and dad are hanging out with him. Look, they sent me a picture earlier.”
“Did he get moved in okay?” Carter asks, and that makes Ilya pause.
Who is this ‘he’ that apparently moved into Shane’s house? And Shane is just openly talking about it?
A spike of white, hot jealousy almost makes Ilya lose his breath.
“Yeah, he loves my place. It’s his home too, now.”
“Sir? Your card?”
Ilya starts, slamming back into the reality of the transaction in front of him instead of the conversation happening behind him. He takes his card back from the bartender as he slides the signed receipt back, and steps away for Carter to start his own transaction.
“He’s so cute. What’s his name again?” Carter asks as he hands over his card.
“Vincent,” Shane answers with a pleased blush.
“Wow, rook, you are such a dork,” Scott chirps, and Shane chucks him on the shoulder.
“I’m way too old to be called a rookie anymore.”
“It’s all perspective,” Ilya breaks in, never missing an opportunity to rag on Scott Hunter. “To Hunter, we are babies, because he is as old as dirt.”
“Fuck off, Rozanov, I’m your fucking teammate this year.”
“It is so nice of the league to let the geriatric division play.”
“I swear to god-”
“Scott, you make it too easy for him,” Carter calls over his shoulder as he signs his receipt.
Shane just watches it all, his eyes glittering as he grins at Ilya. If Ilya hadn’t just heard about the boyfriend he’s apparently moved in with, Ilya would say Shane is definitely eye-fucking him.
Maybe his assessment earlier was correct. Maybe Shane is looking for a side piece.
And all that really comes down to is, is Ilya smart enough to resist?
Twenty-four hours later, after flirting by the pool, and an amazing game where right-winging to Shane’s center had been beautiful and exhilarating and god, only imagine if they played on the same team, and a sunset beach chat, and Shane for some reason freaking out about being gay even though he’d been openly talking about his boyfriend with Hunter and Vaughn but also telling Ilya he can’t pretend he doesn’t like him anymore-
And after Shane crawls into his lap and gives him the deep, deep hug he’s been craving since he was twelve years old, soothing him and wiping away his tears and letting him break down-
After all of that, Ilya decides that no, he’s not strong enough.
He’s just going to have to prove to Shane that he’s enough to keep around, that he’s good enough for the hassle of a side piece.
“Ilya!”
Shane is very obviously high as a kite as he makes a grabby motion with his good hand from across the hospital room.
“Shhh, shhh, moya lyubov, is okay. You are okay?”
“Broken collar bone. Got my bell rung. Out the rest of the season, but-”
“Could have been worse,” Ilya murmurs, and his sunshine agrees with him with a grin. He makes another grabby motion and Ilya finally relents, coming over to the side of the bed and taking his hand.
“Better?”
“Bet-ter,” Shane says, emphasizing the Ts, looking adorable even in his gown.
“Marly is very sorry for the hit.”
Shane shakes his head. “It was clean, I just wasn’t paying attention. Looking at your pretty face.”
Ilya gives a little snort of amusement. “No, you,” he murmurs, running his finger over Shane’s freckles. Shane lets his eyes close, his eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks, the most beautiful thing Ilya has ever seen.
“I’m sorry I didn’t text last night.”
“I understand, Shane.”
“No, I was going- I was going to ask you a question.”
Ilya winces internally. He’d been trying to work up the courage to break things off with Shane last night. He’d had a heart-to-heart with Sveta, and he’s trying to believe he deserves more than to be someone’s illicit side-piece.
“Willyoucometomycottagethissummer?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t go to Russia…”
Ilya can’t believe what he is seeing on the screen - not the Admirals winning, though that is also the most boring outcome - but Scott Hunter kissing a man on the ice. In front of everyone.
And if Scott can do that in front of everyone, come out like that, what is to stop Shane from coming out with Vincent?
He dials before he can even think about it.
“Hey, what-”
“I am coming to the cottage.”
If Shane wants to come out with his boyfriend, well, then it’s up to Ilya to give him an alternative. To convince him to give them a chance. And what better way than two weeks alone with Shane at his cottage?
He deserves Shane, and Shane deserves him. Not some homebody who doesn’t even come to his games or acknowledge him. Ilya knows it, deep in his heart.
“The flight was good?” Shane asks as they drive out of the airport parking lot.
Ilya shrugs, tired from travel. “Mmm, yes. What is this car? Is American?”
“No, it’s- it’s a Land Rover. Good in the snow.”
“Mm. We are expecting snow in July?”
“You’re such an asshole,” Shane mutters, but he pulls over Ilya’s hand and brings it up for a kiss as they finally make it out of the airport. “You hungry? It’s a couple hour drive from here. Nice and isolated.”
“No, I’m good.” Ilya leans back, letting his head rest on the seat as he watches Shane drive them competently and safely. Who knew he had a kink for something like that. “What did you tell your family?” ‘Your boyfriend’ goes unsaid.
“That I’m doing a silent two week retreat. Kinda weird, I know, but it’s me, so I guess they believed it.”
Ilya laughs, happy.
“And I can’t wait for you to meet Vincent.”
All of the happiness drains from Ilya, and he sits up straight again. “Uh. Oh. Vincent is going to be at the cottage?”
“Well, yeah, I couldn’t just leave him behind.”
“Ah.”
“But don’t worry, he’s really chill. He mostly stays indoors anyway so if you don’t like him, we can go kayaking and stuff…”
“I am sure I will like him,” Ilya responds automatically, despite currently wanting to throw up.
“No, yeah, of course. He, uh, don’t be offended if he doesn’t like you right away. He’s kinda shy around men.”
“He does not like you being with other men?”
“No, no, nothing like that, just. I think it’s from his time on the streets. Or maybe trauma passed down from his mom or something.”
And now Ilya feels like an asshole for his plan to steal Shane from Vincent. Obviously Shane loves him very much. “It’s okay. I will like him and he will like me, I promise,” he says with an air of confidence he doesn’t really feel.
The next two hours feel interminable to Ilya, though he tries to keep up with Shane’s excited talk of his plans for them for the two weeks. And Shane’s hand is still wrapped around his, and his thumb is rubbing over Ilya’s, and it’s terribly distracting.
When they finally pull up to the ‘cottage’ - that’s a mansion, Shane - Ilya hesitates, gearing himself up to meet the boyfriend.
“Everything okay?” Shane asks, looking down at Ilya still buckled in.
Ilya looks out at the modern mansion of glass and wood, then back at the Montreal center he adores. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he admits.
Shane’s face falls. “Oh.” He swallows, then buckles his belt again. “Um, right. I can take you back to the airport, obviously.” His eyes gloss over as he moves to turn the car back on.
Ilya reaches over and stops his hand. “Shane, you do not understand. It is not that I don’t want you. I want you so much. I want you so much I could die, but I think…I think that I cannot share you. And if that is what you want, I cannot give it to you.”
His eyes are still shiny as he looks across the car to Ilya, then his brow furrows in confusion. “Share me?”
“You and your boyfriend Vincent want a third, okay. Threesomes are fun, believe me. But not when there are…these tensions between parties. I- it would hurt me, so much, moya lyubov. Let me keep something of my dignity, at least.”
Shane blinks at him, processing everything, then gives a stoic nod. “Of course I won’t force you into anything, but…I think you should really give Vincent a chance. Just come inside and have lunch with us, and if you still want to leave, I’ll drive you back, of course. Don’t make any rash decisions on an empty stomach.”
He leans across the console, wrapping a hand around the back of Ilya’s head and drawing him closer until their foreheads are touching. “Please?” he adds, and, well, Ilya has never been able to resist Shane Hollander.
“Fine. I will meet him.”
With a genuine, sunny smile, Shane unbuckles himself and goes to grab Ilya’s stuff before Ilya can react. “Let me take my bag-”
“I can’t believe you played with those ribs. No way. Let me do this.”
He swings Ilya’s bag over one impressive, sexy shoulder and heads up the steps. Feeling resigned, Ilya trudges up after him. Shane quickly unlocks the door and makes a clicking noise with his tongue. “Vinny!”
Before Ilya can even clock the sound of running footsteps, a fluffy, Siamese-colored cat jumps up onto Shane’s shoulder and starts sniffing Ilya’s bag strap and rubbing against Shane’s cheek.
Shane turns toward Ilya with a grin on his face as Ilya closes the door behind him. “Ilya, I’d love for you to meet Vincent.”
“This…this is Vincent.”
“Yes. My cat. I adopted him about six months ago. I post about him every once and awhile on Insta so I’m kind of surprised you didn’t know-”
“I stopped looking at your Insta after you and Rose started dating. Vincent is a terrible name for a cat.”
Shane’s grin just gets wider. “He’s named after Vincent Drake, the star forward for the Ottawa Centaurs in the 90s, he had the best shot percentage and really rebuilt the franchise from the ground up-”
“Oh my god, Hunter was right, you are a dork.”
Shane shrugs, moving the cat on his shoulder enough for him to leap down and start sniffing at Ilya’s feet curiously.
“You don’t have a boyfriend.”
“I mean…” Shane looks at him, his grin fading, but his face looking hopeful.
“You don’t want a threesome.”
“Well, definitely not with you and Vincent. If we wanted to bring someone else in, that’s something we can discuss, but-”
Ilya surges forward, pushing Shane against the wall and kissing the hell out of him. “I have been going out of my mind, Shanya, you do not even understand. The thought of someone else having you.” He moves to Shane’s neck, reveling in the sudden idea that he will be allowed to leave marks right now.
“There’s no one else.”
“For me, either,” Ilya mutters even as he moves to kiss Shane again.
“Wait, really?” Shane asks, once again looking sweet and hopeful.
“Really. Just you.”
“Same,” Shane sighs, hiking his legs up around Ilya’s waist. Ilya stumbles back, and Vincent scrambles out of the way.
“Sorry, Vinny, I must take your father to the bedroom and ravage him. Not for kitten eyes. Tell me the way, Shane,” he pants, his English short in the haste to get his message out.
Shane laughs, hugging his arms around Ilya’s neck and nuzzling in to kiss his cheek. “Up the stairs, to the right, last door at the end of the hallway.”
With his own growly-laugh, Ilya starts making his way up the stairs with 200 pounds of hockey god in his arms. His hockey god.