Chapter Text
Shane has, no so subtly, been counting down the days to their first match of the season. He’s practically vibrating with excitement when he slips out of his hotel room, ignoring Hayden's taunts. He gets into an uber to Ilya’s apartment, texting the man that he’s on his way.
He doesn’t bother to hide the grin on his face when Ilya opens the door shirtless. He practically pounces on the man, desperate to bring their lips together. Ilya is more than happy to comply, pulling Shane into the room as they make out.
Ilya pulls away from him for a moment to close the front door and Shane pulls his jacket off to hang up. He looks into the apartment, freezing when he spots a woman at the end of the hall.
‘Rozanov, what the fuck?’ He hisses reflexively. ‘You have company?’
Shane can’t believe that Ilya would let him barge his way in like that when someone else was there. They’ve worked so hard to be discreet and now there’s a stranger standing in the room, watching him with wide, shocked eyes.
‘The fuck are you talking about Hollander? Is just you and me here.’
Shane looks away from Ilya’s bemused face, back to the blonde women. She’s watching him with a fierce intensity that Shane’s seen a thousand times before. The look of someone who isn’t used to being seen.
‘Fuck.’ He takes an involuntary step back as the woman's form shimmers and suddenly reappears directly next to Ilya. Shane jolts at the sudden movement, his heart pounding in his chest. ‘Shit!’
‘Hey, hey.’ Ilya steps closer, putting his hands on Shane’s shoulders. ‘How about you come inside before you have panic attack, hm? What’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘That’s because you brought one back with you from Russia you asshole.’ Shane snaps at him, freezing when he realises what he just admitted.
‘The hell is going on with you Hollander?’
‘We- ah- we should sit.’ Shane manages to say weakly, impossibly grateful when Ilya takes his hand and leads him to the couch.
The ghost follows them and Shane takes the opportunity to get a closer look at her. She doesn’t look angry or upset like a lot of the spirits he’s come across. She’s mostly just watching Ilya with a curious intensity. It takes him a second but Shane recognises that look. It’s the same look his mom gives him when she thinks he isn’t looking.
He should have recognised her instantly. Same blonde curls, same sharp eyes and high cheek bones. It’s unmistakably Ilya’s mother.
They sit a comfortable distance apart on the couch, probably because Shane is visibly freaking out and Ilya doesn’t know what to do about that. He waits patiently for Shane to speak. His mother hovers behind him, her eyes now fixed on Shane. She says something in Russian so Shane shakes his head to silently indicate that he doesn’t understand.
Shane clears his throat. ‘If I tell you something, can you promise me you wont tell anyone? Promise that you wont try to get me booked into a psychiatric ward or something.’
‘I don’t know this word. Psy-what?’
‘Like… a mental hospital.’
‘Ah.’ Ilya nods, eyebrows furrowing.
‘I need you to promise Rozanov.’
Ilya holds his hands up. ‘I promise I will not call the psychics Hollander.’
‘Psychiatrists.’
‘Same thing.’
Shane blinks. ‘What? No it’s not.’
Ilya is grinning at him and Shane realises that the man is being a dick to him to try to ease some of the tension. It would probably work if his dead mother wasn’t hovering over him.
‘Okay.’ Ilya says more seriously. ‘You already know I can be discreet. I will tell no-one.’
Shane exhales, steadying himself. ‘Okay, so, fuck.’ He rubs a hand over his face, pushing his hair back. ‘I have this family… thing.’ He settles on weakly. ‘Comes from my moms side. I, uh, I can see ghosts, sometimes.’ He blurts out all at once.
Ilya blinks. ‘Fuck of Hollander. I thought you were being serious.’ He laughs.
‘I am!’
‘Oh, what? You are like little kid in movie? “I see dead people”.’
Ilya’s mom leans in, her golden hair falling over her shoulder. She starts speaking to Shane again in a rapid string of Russian.
‘I know how it sounds…’ Shane winces, trying to tune the woman out so he can focus on Ilya.
‘Because it sounds fucking crazy.’
Shane flinches at the word crazy, of course Ilya notices. He looks at Shane closely, eyes flicking over Shane’s face.
‘You are serious?’
‘You ever known me joke?’
Ilya lets out a little huff of a laugh. ‘I guess not… Prove it.’ He says as a challenge.
‘What?’
‘You heard me. You see ghost? I want proof.’
Shane bites his lip, looking over at the woman. ‘What was your mom’s name?’
Ilya frowns, eyes narrowing. ‘I have never told you about my mother.’
‘Irina.’ The woman replies with an encouraging smile.
‘Irina, okay.’
Ilya’s head snaps up at the name. ‘What the fuck? What, you google me? Look up my dead mother for cheap trick?’
‘She has a mole?’ Shane offers, scrambling for something he can use to prove to Ilya that he isn’t fucking with him. ‘Same cheek as yours but higher, closer to her eye.’
‘… How are you doing this?’ Ilya asks flatly, emotionless.
‘She’s right next to you.’
Ilya turns, looking directly at his mother but seeing nothing. He looks backs to Shane, raising an eyebrow.
‘Humour me for a second? Can you say something in Russian for me?’
Ilya looks like he has a lot to say, but he restrains himself and just nods.
‘Okay. Great. I need you to say “He doesn’t speak Russian. Speak slowly and he’ll try to repeat what you say”.’
Ilya’s eyes don’t leave Shane’s face as he speaks in Russian, searching for something. Shane can only hope he can see that he’s telling the truth.
He reluctantly pulls his gaze away from Ilya to look to Irina who grins at him. She moves quickly, kneeling down in front of Shane and taking his hands. They’re ice cold, Shane does his best not to flinch at the contact.
She starts speaking, slow and exaggerated. Shane really hopes he’s not fucking it up and speaking gibberish as he does his best to parrot what she’s saying.