Work Text:
The elevator was cold, Ilya noticed. He pressed 14, the button shining a bright red as the doors closed. The numbers ticked up, from 4 to 5, all the way to 14 at a tedious pace. His heart was racing– this was more than a night with Sasha, knowing that his secret was safe. This was… different.
Ilya tried to ignore the way that Hollander lit up his stomach with sparks every time he looked at him. Every stilted comment, the way his face was dotted with freckles that seemed to form constellations across his cheeks, all of it built to where he couldn’t ignore what he felt.
And so he was here. Leaving an elevator on a floor that was not his own. Thankfully, the hotel was quiet at this time of night. No one to see him, no one to ask what he was doing. No reason to defend himself in a language he wasn’t comfortable with. He chuckled, thinking, ‘if it really came to that, I could just pretend not to understand at all and run away.’
Hollander’s room was near the end of the hall, giving his brain time to think of the worst that could happen. He could have given the wrong room number, let him embarrass himself in front of strangers. He could get to the room only for Hollander to not open the door. He could have Hollander there, in front of him, only for him to backtrack and report him to the MLH for his stunt in the locker room.
Worse, he could catch feelings.
With Sasha, their relationship was physical. Ilya was closed off, and Sasha- well, Sasha was Sasha. He lived for the risk, the secrecy of it all. The attraction between the two of them came from a common love for secret rebellion, rather than genuine feelings. Sasha would always be a friend, one of the very few people who knew about Ilya, knew who he truly was, what he had been through. But he would never be more than that.
Ilya worries that Hollander would be different. He was just so sincere in everything he did. From the moment he told Ilya to stop smoking in Regina, to the way he seemed so much like an angry kitten, to his fierce competitiveness in that gym, Shane Hollander haunted Ilya's mind like a ghost. And even so, Ilya still wanted Hollander so badly. Those toned legs, that defined chest, his lips that look so soft that he just wants to pull him in and-
1420.
He knocked.
And Hollander answered.
Ilya felt like he was floating. The sex was good. Better than it should have been. It was clear how new Hollander was to being with a man, but his sincerity and determination were just so hot. Ilya walked down the hallway, very much aware of the fact that he should probably shower once he got back to his room. Блять, he really didn't want to wash his hair again. Maybe he could see if the front desk had a, how do you say it in English? Шапочка для душа? Shower caps? It was a fancy hotel, so probably. He pressed the button for the elevator, his worries from earlier all melted away.
The doors dinged open to reveal an empty elevator. A relief. He debated just going back to his room on the fourth floor and redoing his entire curl routine, but he really wanted to just shower off the sweat and go to bed. No time for his ten-step wash and dry hair routine. He pressed one for the sake of the sleep he wanted to get. The numbers ticked lower as he leaned against the back wall, letting his head fall back.
Ilya felt the elevator stop. He straightened up, making sure he looked like he didn’t just hook up with someone.
“Going down?” Yuna Hollander stared back at him. Great.
“Um, yes. Down.”
She nodded and entered into the elevator next to him. As the door shut, she extended a hand.
“I’m Yuna Hollander. Shane Hollander is my son.”
Ilya took her hand. “Yes. Is very good to meet you, Mrs. Hollander. Your son is good to play against.”
“Oh, please, call me Yuna. Mrs. Hollander makes me feel so old. Although with as much complaining I do about how hotels never have enough towels, I am probably getting a bit old.”
“No, is bad problem. You are right. I never have enough for hair. And you are not so old.” Yuna laughed at that.
“Well, that’s very nice of you to say. So what brings you down to the lobby at this time of night?”
“I um- if I say truth will you not laugh? I could be going to bar?” Yuna looked skeptical, but gestured for him to continue.
“I need to shower, but I do not want to wash hair again. I am hoping they have a, um, shower cap,” he gestured to his hair, “at the front desk.”
“Wow. I was not expecting that.” The door opened and Yuna and Ilya stepped out, both heading towards the front desk. There was no attendant currently standing there, so Yuna rang the bell as Ilya stood awkwardly at a respectable distance.
“So,” Yuna started as she turned to face him, “when did you find out that you and Shane would be shooting the commercial together?”
“Probably before than him. I actually asked if we could do shoot together.” Ilya looked at Yuna, searching to make sure that he didn’t say the wrong thing.
“Oh. That’s not- wow. You’re very different than I thought, Rozanov.”
“Ilya.”
“Ilya?”
“My name. I call you Yuna, you should call me Ilya.”
“Alright, Ilya. I know you joked about the bar earlier, but this is taking forever. How about I buy you a drink while we wait for someone to show up?” Ilya nodded and let Yuna lead him to the small bar. She waved the bartender over and ordered a wine for herself. “What would you like?”
“I will have same. Wine is good to me.”
“I would have expected you to go for vodka.”
“Is different. Yes, I do drink vodka, but– I do not have words to explain. Is different, goes with meals, we toast and have small foods. After all that we have big meal. I drink wine some now when I am here, is different.”
“We have a similar thing in my family. We drink sake, and there are so many rules about how it’s poured, how you drink it, when you stop. It took me forever to learn when I was old enough to join in. I get it.” Ilya smiled. He could see where Shane got his personality from. Yuna was smart and regimented, but so warm. She reminded Ilya of his own mother.
“The shoot today went well. CCM is a big deal, so you and Shane should get good money from that. I’m his manager, so I’m starting to try to get him more brand deals like this. Reebok just agreed to sign him as a brand ambassador, which I am so proud of. He’s the youngest hockey player they’ve signed.”
Ilya sat with that for a moment. His agent had barely reached out to him to let him know about the CCM shoot, and even so, the money from it didn’t seem like that much.
“Are there supposed to be that many brand deals? I do not have much other than this to do. I did get paid enough from this to get good apartment close to rink in Boston. Is nice. Good to have extra money like that.” Yuna looked at him, her eyes searching his face, as if waiting for him to laugh it off as a joke. When that didn’t happen, she set her drink down and put her palm on the bar near where his arm was resting.
“Ilya, you’re the number one draft pick from this year. You should be lined up with deals before the season starts. Shane already has multiple brand deals, and as much as I love him and want him to succeed, you should be getting the same opportunities, if not more.” She paused, as if remembering something he said, “You said the money you got was enough for an apartment. Are you not getting residuals from commercial airtime?”
“What is this? Residuals? Air time? I do not know this.”
Yuna tutted at his response.
“Air time is whenever the commercial is played on TV. I guess you also have the still images from the shoot that also count, but anytime your likeness is used, you should be getting paid. That’s what residuals are. You’re a high-profile athlete who will probably be used as the face of the league for a while. Any good agent would be able to understand that you should be getting residuals rather than a check for a deal this big.”
“My agent is Russian. He handled work permit and everything. I admit, I do not know about things like this. I get money, I pay for what I need, and I send things back home to my family. It is enough for me.”
“But, you’re worth more– to brands, to the league. You should be paid what you’re worth.”
“I do not know who else would help me. I do not understand English very well, the lawyers here talk very fast. At least I can understand my agent.”
“Yes, but you can only understand what he tells you.” She looked at him for a while. Yuna finished her drink, then grabbed a napkin. She grabbed a pen from her purse and started writing something on it.
“Here. This is my work email. This may be a little weird, seeing as you and Shane are rivals in the league, but– well I don’t know what to say to make it less weird. Just, if you ever want me to look over your contracts, I’m willing. It doesn’t seem like you have a lot of people helping you out here. Just, if you ever get the feeling that you want a second opinion, send it over to me.”
“I don’t know what to say. This is very nice of you. Thank you, Yuna.” Ilya quickly wiped at his eyes to dry the moisture that had collected there.
“Well, I should probably grab those towels and head up to bed. My husband, David, is probably thinking I’m using the computer to send more emails. He always tells me I work too hard.”
“No. Is good your son has someone like you. To look out for him.”
“Thank you, Ilya.”
Yuna rang the bell once more and an attendant finally showed up. “Could I get two more towels and washrags? Thank you.” The attendant nodded and headed to a nearby linen closet for the towels. He handed the towels to Yuna and then turned to Ilya behind her.
“And how may I help you?”
“I– do you have shower cap?”
“Yes we do. How many do you need?”
“Just one. Thank you.” As the attendant left once more, Ilya turned to Yuna again.
“I can help carry towels to your room?”
“I’ve got it. Thank you for offering, though. Maybe that Canada nice is rubbing off on you.”
“Ah. I do not think so. I am still scary Russian who plays hockey.”
Yuna rolled her eyes. “Yes. Very scary with your shower cap.” Ilya laughed as they walked towards the elevator, goods secured. Ilya realized that Yuna saw him coming down, so he would have to press a button to go up. Yuna pressed six, then looked to him to ask his floor number.
“Nine please. Thank you again for the drink. It was nice to talk with you.”
“You too, Ilya. I mean it, if you need anything contract-related, do not hesitate to email. I’m willing to help you out.”
“I appreciate this. Good night, Yuna.”
“Good night, Ilya.” The door closed behind her and the elevator continued upward. Ilya pressed the button for four, and waited for the elevator to go back down. He leaned against the wall, letting out a sigh of relief. He looked at the napkin, still in his hand.
Yuna Hollander (Shane’s Mom)
It would be nice, he thinks, to have someone on his side.