Work Text:
Shane was crying.
He had been doing a lot of crying lately, but this was different. That had been angry crying. This was…well a little bit angry crying, because fuck Ilya for sending this to him today.
They hadn’t seen each other in almost a week because they were trying to stay focused for the playoffs that were starting tomorrow.
Tomorrow! Ilya fucking sent him the most romantic video he’d ever seen the day before the playoffs started!
It was an alternate version of a video that Harris had posted to the Ottawa Centaurs’ YouTube channel, a highlight reel of moments between him and Ilya on the ice during Ottawa/Montreal games over the last three years. Shane had watched the original that featured epic, movie-trailer style music, but Harris had switched out the music on this version, and it became something entirely different.
Shane didn’t know any songs, and he’d never heard this one before. It was called “The Story” by Brandi Carlile, and Shane was crying again just thinking about it. The lyrics talked about how one person brought meaning to everything else in the singer’s life, and how that one person knew them better than anyone else.
That was his Ilya.
And hearing those words sung over all of these moments of them playing hockey, it was like Harris saw something that Shane didn’t think anyone else understood: hockey was their courtship.
These clips were only from the last few years since Ilya had signed with the Centaurs, which made sense. It was originally created for their channel.
Also, Harris had no idea how far back this went. No one did, really.
From the first time they’d ever played against each other when they were 17, Shane was so taken by this guy who could actually keep up with him, who had beaten him that first time they competed for a championship.
Shane had been so angry to lose that game, but he couldn’t stop thinking about that smug asshole.
Over the years, hockey had been a form of foreplay for them. They were both really competitive, and nothing got either of them going more than that competition. But it had been more than that, too. Being on the ice with Ilya was one of Shane’s favorite places on earth. It often felt like they were the only two people who existed in those moments when they were facing off or fighting for the puck or slamming each other up against the boards.
Shane was so surprised and touched that Harris seemed to see that.
What was making Shane the most angry since they’d been outed (and a lot of things were making him very angry) was the fact that people were questioning his and Ilya’s competitiveness. They were wondering if they could be trusted to play fairly against each other. What those people didn’t get is that hockey was a part of it. He and Ilya would both rather die than let the other win on purpose. It’s disrespectful, and they had so much respect for each other as athletes.
Harris seemed to get it though, and Shane was crying again. He was not used to being seen and understood by anyone but Ilya and his parents. Hayden didn’t understand. J. J. was still barely talking to him right now because he didn’t understand. And Shane longed to be understood, for people to see his relationship with Ilya for everything it was.
Since he and Ilya had been outed, Shane’s teammates were mostly being cold and distant. They definitely didn’t want to talk about it, and it had Shane on edge…well, more on edge than he already had been. Shane had led this team to three Stanley Cup victories, but he still always felt like he was just one slip-up from losing their respect.
He was worried this had been it. It felt like nothing he could do was enough anymore.
They didn’t get it, but he wanted a token to show he belonged to Ilya anyway, that he always had. Whether they liked it or not, these guys had never known a Shane who didn’t love Ilya, and he was done being ashamed of that, of hiding it from the world.
This was probably a bad idea.
The last thing Shane needed to be doing the night before the playoffs was to be driving into downtown Montreal to go shopping, but he was determined. The jewelry shop where Shane had bought Ilya’s engagement ring closed at 8, so he had a little over an hour, which should be plenty of time, but of course traffic was terrible.
As he inched slowly over the bridge, Shane was listening to that song on repeat. He never really connected with music. He rarely listened to it. He was easily overstimulated and preferred to work out and drive in silence, but something about this song had grabbed onto him, and he needed to keep listening.
He had crossed lines and broken all the rules for Ilya, because he was made for him.
These last couple of weeks had been every bit of the shit show Shane had expected them to be, but if he had the chance to do it all over again he would. Nothing else in his life—his cups, his olympic medal, every goal he’d scored, every record he’d broken—meant anything without Ilya.
Shane didn’t really believe in fate or the universe pulling strings for people, but he also couldn’t deny that it felt like there were greater forces working to bring him and Ilya together. He’d already been obsessed with Ilya before he ever introduced himself in that parking lot in Saskatchewan. They didn’t make sense, but there was also no other way things could have gone. They would have always found a way to each other.
When Shane finally got to the shop, he bought himself a matching ring to the one he’d gotten Ilya, as well as a gold chain to hang it around his neck. He was hoping Ilya would see it during the game tomorrow and get distracted. If Ilya was going to play romantic mind games with him, he was going to do the same in return.
This was their dance. Their rivalry may have been manufactured by marketing professionals, but it was also their story, and they were made for each other.