Work Text:
“How about we…”
Shane doesn’t hear the words that end Hayden’s sentence as a steady clattering suddenly fills the background noise. What could be making that sound? It’s not coming from inside the art room Shane is currently in with Hayden and JJ, supposedly testing out new projects that connect with the next art exhibition opening next week. Curse this studio for not having any windows for him to peek outside.
Shane typically loves his job as an art educator at a museum. Figuring out intriguing art projects excites him, getting the opportunity to dive into new art styles or mediums he might not have used before. Right now, he doesn’t really care. There are fewer than 30 minutes until this meeting ends, which means fewer than 30 minutes until his work week is over. It's been a busy week.
Shane wants nothing more than to go home, quickly eat some food, and head to his weekly hockey game. It definitely has nothing to do with the fact that this is the night he gets to play on the same team as a certain security guard. The guard that he has barely seen all week. This doesn’t mean Shane misses him or anything. The week just feels longer when none of the time is spent in the tiny world the two of them get absorbed into whenever they chat – where it feels as if a few minutes have passed when actually it's been closer to 20.
“Shane?”
Hearing JJ say his name snaps him back into focus.
“Yeah?”
“What do you think? Should we go with Hayden’s idea?”
Crap. Shane has no clue what Hayden’s idea is. He could just agree and go with whatever the idea is, but sometimes Hayden’s project suggestions are a bit out there. Admitting he wasn’t paying attention doesn’t seem like a good idea either.
“Uh, could you repeat it, Hayden?” Shane asks, scratching the back of his neck.
Hayden sighs dramatically, slightly flopping over in his chair. “Buddy, focus. Once we agree on this project, we can get out of here.”
Shane has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. The first half of this meeting was JJ and Hayden making jokes while Shane tried to get them to focus. But now he is the problem, sure.
“So the project idea is?” Shane asks, trying not to let his frustration seep into the words.
“Collaging.”
Shane waits a beat for Hayden to add any kind of details. None come. Shane has to take a deep breath before he speaks or else something not so nice will come out of his mouth.
“What kind of collage? Mixed media, assemblage, figurative, Mosaic, or?”
Hayden blinks at him. “Sure man, whichever.”
The steady clattering in the background has now shifted to a dull roar. Shane’s curiosity about the noise feels more important than trying to push for more specifics. Besides, it might be fun to watch their boss’s face during their next department meeting when Hayden tells him about his project idea.
They quickly clean up the lingering materials from the earlier classes in the studio before packing up to head home. As they enter the hallway, Shane groans. Ridiculously dark clouds fill the entire visible sky. Rain is pouring down steadily. At what point is heavy rain considered torrential? Usually, Shane appreciates the large windows that take up the end of this hallway. Currently, the sight frustrates him.
Any other day, he would still be annoyed having to walk to his car in the rain, but usually his car is parked nice and close to his office. Three meters max that he could quickly dash across to get to his car, perhaps getting just a bit wet. Today though? He parked in the back of the museum because he had to teach an art class first thing in the morning and the back lot is closer to the art school side of the building than the side lot closest to the education department office. It does mean that his car is a good 50 meters away from the closest door.
This morning it was nice and sunny. Shane didn’t even grab a coat on the way out of his apartment. He is usually great about checking the weather, but he has no recollection of there being rain predicted for this afternoon. He is woefully unprepared. His umbrella is happily sitting in his car - no help there. Looking down at his feet, Shane has to hold back another groan. He’s wearing canvas shoes which definitely are not the best for trudging through a wet parking lot.
Hayden and JJ say their goodbyes as they walk back to their department. They luckily parked in their usual spots today. Shane has to walk in the opposite direction because he was apparently an idiot this morning. Grabbing his phone out of his pocket, he opens his weather app to check the radar. Over the years, Shane has gotten pretty good at interpreting the radars and understanding what it means for the timing of rain or snow. Based on his estimations, plus the app’s guess, there will soon be a short window where the rain will slow down. That will be his best bet for making a run to his car and hopefully not getting completely drenched by the time he makes it there. He goes to the staff lounge to refill his water bottle with the nice, cold, filtered water before meandering to the back door, trying to time it just right.
A small ramp leads down to the back entrance of the building, with only one room tucked directly before the exit. Shane has stopped by the security office only a handful of times since he started working at the museum a couple of years ago. He’s never really had much of a reason for going there. If he needed to give them a heads-up about a school group coming a bit early, before the galleries opened, he typically ran into Wiebe, the Security Supervisor, around the galleries and would let him know then. Though Shane is friendly with most of the security guards, some of them are a bit ... odd. Some of the older guards struggle with the concept of personal boundaries and like to stand way too close to Shane, slapping him on the back when he’s supposedly said something funny. Most of the guards around his age are nice enough. Even though it sometimes feels like Shane is missing something based on some of their comments. Sometimes they look at him as if they are trying to figure him out. Though Shane is used to people looking at him as they determine whether he is more robot than man. Their look is a bit different.
This doesn’t even include the one security guard that perhaps a small part of Shane is wishing is currently in the security office, while another part is hoping he is far away from it. After Rozanov gave Shane a lift home after a hockey game several weeks ago, a steady friendship has developed between them. It was as if finally having the opportunity to have a real conversation, beyond the few words they exchanged at work or during hockey, opened the floodgates. Now it seems more rare if any interaction between them is just a few words, not including chirps on the rink. If Shane stumbles upon Rozanov guarding a gallery, they strike up a chat now. Getting a chance to talk with Rozanov before hockey tonight would be quite nice, Shane must admit. But also, if they do chat, Shane might miss the slim window of opportunity when the rain is supposed to slow down. Plus, Shane really doesn’t need Rozanov witnessing his idiocy.
Shane walks down the ramp and stops at the base, staring through the automatic doors at the continuous rain. According to his calculations, he has about three minutes before the rain should slow down. He can’t help himself, he peeks into the security office. Only the top half of the door is open. They keep the bottom half closed so people don’t wander into the security office but are still able to talk to the guards if need be. To Shane's luck, whether good or bad, the only person sitting in the security is Rozanov. His back is to Shane as he watches the security cameras. Before Shane can decide whether he wants to say something, Rozanov breaks the silence.
“Hello, Hollander.”
Rozanov swivels his chair so he is facing Shane.
“Hey, Rozanov.”
Rozanov smirks. “What brings you to security office? Do you have problem?
Shane shakes his head. “I’m just waiting for the rain to slow down a bit before heading to my car.
Rozanov tilts his head. “Rain is not going to stop.”
Shane huffs, unable to help himself. “I said slow down, not stop. I don’t need the rain to fully stop, even if that would be nice. I just need it to slow down enough that I won’t be soaked by the time I get to my car.”
“Where is your coat?”
“I don’t have one today.”
Rozanov says nothing as he stands up, walking across the small office to grab something that Shane cannot see with the half door blocking his view. Shane frowns at him as Rozanov unlocks the bottom door and opens it. He’s holding a large black umbrella. Perhaps he is going to let Shane borrow it. But Rozanov takes a step forward, prompting Shane to take two back. Rozanov closes both halves of the door, locking them.
“What are you doing?” Shane asks. His brain unable to process what exactly is happening.
“Walking you to your car.”
“What? You don’t need to do that. I told you, the rain is going to slow down any second now.”
“Okay,” Rozanov says as he walks out.
Shane follows him out because what else is he supposed to do? Shane’s frown deepens as his prediction was correct. The rain that was pouring down just moments ago is now barely trickling down. Rozanov doesn’t even open the umbrella but keeps walking towards the parking lot. What is going on? Did Rozanov also notice they haven’t had a chance to talk all week? Shane immediately stops that train of thought – it’s too dangerous.
Shane sidesteps to avoid a puddle in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Did you forget how to walk?” Rozanov chirps.
“Yeah, clearly. I just didn’t want to step in the puddle.”
Rozanov looks down at Shane’s shoes and frowns. “Who are you and what have you done with Hollander?”
“I am Hollander.”
“No, I do not think so. Hollander is overprepared. Like boy scout. You are not prepared for rain. Means you are not Hollander.”
Shane rolls his eyes. “It was nice and sunny this morning. I guess I somehow didn’t see that it was supposed to rain this afternoon.”
“Which team has won most Stanley cups?”
“That’s easy, Montreal.”
“Which NHL team has record of most points in one season?”
“Boston.” Shane chuckles. Shane cannot help but support his home team of Montreal. Rozanov roots for Boston, which he claims is because his best friend, Svetlana, works for the team in some kind of managerial role. Shane can’t help but wonder if Rozanov just enjoys rooting for Boston because they are Montreal’s rivals.
“Those were easy questions. Warm up. Still not proof you are real Hollander.”
“Try me.”
Shane will never know which difficult questions Rozanov was going to ask him, as they have stopped walking a few spaces away from his car. His car which is practically an island. Yep, Shane was a complete idiot for parking in the back lot today. Especially because he apparently chose the one spot in the lot that floods. His car is surrounded by water. So much that it surely cannot be classified as a puddle. What’s bigger than a puddle? A pool of water? A pond? Shane is not entirely sure. What he does know is that the water is deep enough to at least hit his ankles.
“I am sorry I do not have extra shirt to set down for you like white knight does for damsel in distress,” Rozanov says.
Shane looks up at the sky, the clouds now more of a dull gray instead of their earlier almost black.
“Really?” Shane asks the sky, the universe, whatever. This would be his luck.
Shane takes a few deep breaths, trying to steady himself. Okay, he has two options. One, trudge through the practically a pond of water to get to his car, then take off his soaking wet shoes and drive home barefoot. He can wear different shoes to hockey tonight. Though the idea of touching the gas pedal and brake with his bare feet does not seem appealing. Option two is taking his shoes off to walk through the water and putting the dry shoes back on when he gets in his car. But who knows what lurks in the water? Parking lots aren’t exactly known for being trash-free. To Shane’s luck, there will be a nail or something that he will step on without a shoe to protect him. And the water has to be filthy. This is also not an appealing option. Great. Both possibilities suck. Shane will just have to suck it up and drive home with wet shoes. He steels himself, but movement in the corner of his eye catches his attention.
Rozanov is holding his hand out, an unreadable, intense look on his face. “Keys.”
“What?” Shane has no idea why Rozanov wants his keys.
“You have keys? Give.” Rozanov narrows his eyes a fraction, but the intense look remains.
“Why?” Shane cannot help but question as confusion swirls through him.
“Hollander. Give me keys.”
Shane grabs his keys from his pocket and hands them to Rozanov, not entirely sure what is happening. He probably should keep questioning until he understands, but finds himself not really caring at the moment. He somehow trusts Rozanov and is kinda of curious to see what is going to happen. Rozanov takes the keys, his fingers slightly dragging across Shane’s palm. Shane just stares at him in shock as Rozanov heads to his car, slogging through the water. It’s deeper than he expected, water sloshing everywhere as Rozanov makes it to Shane's car. Rozanov mutters something in Russian as he slides into Shane’s car and starts it.
“What are you doing?” Marleau shouts from across the lot.
Shane jumps, somehow not expecting to see any of his coworkers. Even though many park in the back, including all of the security guards. Of course it has to be Rozanov’s best friend who witnesses this. Marleau is one of the guards Shane would consider a work friend. He only gives Shane the odd look sometimes, but it is always in the galleries. Definitely is in no way connected to his gallery chats with Rozanov.
Before Shane can respond, Marleau bursts out laughing as he gets closer. “Can’t reverse your own car, Shane?”
Rozanov is slowly reversing until Shane’s car is safely on dry land. Even though Shane has just watched it happen, he still cannot believe it.
Rozanov opens the door, leaving the car running. He gets out of the car.
Marleau snorts, “Of course. I should have known.”
Shane feels heat creeping up his neck. Oh great, this is going to be a straw too much and break the budding, easy friendship they have stumbled into. Shane doubts Rozanov will enjoy having a witness to this.
To Shane’s utter shock, Rozanov just hands Shane his keys, his fingers lingering a fraction longer than would be expected.
“Thank you,” Shane says, his voice barely audible.
“Marleau,” is all Rozanov says as he steps away from Shane’s car.
Marleau laughs as he gets into his car. Shane might be frozen to his spot. What the heck just happened?
Rozanov takes a few steps back toward the museum before stopping, looking over his shoulder.
“I will see you at game tonight, yes?”
“Yeah.”
“See you then, Hollander.”
Rozanov walks away without looking back, carrying the umbrella that was never even opened. Shane forces his body to move, getting into his car. Seriously, what just happened? Shane somehow manages to drive home safely even with his mind reeling. He needs to do something for Rozanov. He can’t just rescue Shane like that. Who does that? Chivalrous is not a word Shane would have ever thought to use to describe Rozanov. Now it seems fitting. With their chats and now this, Shane is starting to realize there is much more than meets the eye when it comes to the suave Russian.
**
On Monday morning, Shane passes Marleau in the galleries. Shane practically scurries away after Marleau asks whether or not Friday means Shane and Rozanov are now work husbands. Marleau doesn’t need to see how those words affected Shane. It’s not disgust. No. Somehow, the words “husband” and “Rozanov” in the same sentence do not seem completely wrong. Instead, there’s a nice ring to it…