Chapter Text
"Shane, can you do press in ten?"
Shane did not want to do press in ten.
"Sure thing," Shane replied.
One of the many, many, many benefits of trading to Ottawa was the fact that he no longer had to do 90% of the pre- and post-game interviews. Here, division of that responsibility was more balanced, and while the captain did do a bit more of the, Shane was no longer the captain.
He wasn't exactly happy about it, but he also didn't spend time wailing about it in bed. Ilya was a good fucking Captain, and while Shane missed the C, he had to admit that his husband was doing his job well.
His husband.
Shane still felt giddy thinking about it.
They've been married for more than half a year now, and still, whenever he thought about the fact that Ilya was his husband, he couldn't stop a smile from spreading on his face.
"You don't have to if you don't want to do press," Ilya said, quiet enough for only Shane to hear. "I can go out there, or we can send-"
"Ilya," Shane put a hand on his shoulder in a rare display of affection in the locker room. "It's fine. It was a good game. I'll entertain them for five minutes, then we can go pick up Anya."
"Who are you and what have you done with my Shane?" Ilya smirked, tilting his head so his cheek would touch the back of Shane's hand.
"Oh my god-" Shane pulled his hand back and began pulling on a clean shirt.
"First you kiss me after my goal, now this-"
"-It was a good goal."
"What about being professional? Have you no dignity, Shane Hollander?"
"I hate you."
"No you don't."
"No, I don't," Shane admitted. "But that was certainly the last kiss you'll get from me."
"Noooooo," Ilya whined. "No, you misunderstand me, I said you are so very professional, everybody in the league thinks so. They look at you and say, 'Oh yes, that's Shane the professional.'"
"Shut up," Shane laced up his shoes.
"Hr is calling, asking for tips on how you manage to stay so professional-"
"Hr is too busy dealing with you to call me," Shane rolled his eyes as he rose to his feet. "Ok, let's get this over with. You'll go take a shower so we can get out of here as soon as I'm done?"
Ilya sighed heavily. "Anything for you, мой дорогой муж."
"Oh, so you are doing that?"
"Doing what?"
"Pretending like you aren't the one who wants to go home and watch the new episode-"
"I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Ok," Shane said before turning to Wyatt. "Hey, Wyatt? looks like we can make it to movie night after all-"
He was then grabbed from behind and lifted off the floor.
"Sorry, sorry, my husband has too many concussions to the head. Doesn't think normally-"
"We could even watch lord of the Rings-" Was all Shane managed to get out before Ilya shut his mouth with his hand.
"Fucking lonatics," Wyatt rolled his eyes and smiled.
"So..."
"Ok, ok, you won I want to go home and watch the new episode."
Shane raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
"But it's just because I feel like today will be the day those idiots will get together-"
"You've been saying that for five seasons, and so far, those firefighters are barely-"
"They have a child!" Ilya was scandalized. "We would also take a long time to be together if we had a child, Hollander. Don't be rude."
"It took us seven years," Shane pointed out.
"Don't you have press to talk to?"
"I'm just saying, don't get your hopes up-"
"They are in love!"
"You do that every episode and then every time you cry when they don't kiss."
"It's sad!" Ilya protested.
Shane was more than happy to continue that ridiculous argument, but Harris had just entered the room, and Shane had a feeling his husband was pissing that man off enough for both of them.
"Whatever you say," Shane smirked as he walked to the door. "As long as you are not crying about the 'cruelty of queerbaiting' again."
Shane didn't love doing press, but tonight he was in a good mood. The game was great, His husband was happy, and most importantly, Shane scored a hat trick.
So he was in a good mood. Sue him.
He answered questions about the game with practised ease, wondering, not for the first time, why they even bother to do this if the press keeps asking the same question and he keeps giving them the same answers.
His good mood vanished when he heard the question the short reporter from MSN, Trent Higgins, asked.
"Excuse me?"
The reporter, either incredibly dumb or incredibly brave, repeated his question.
"Do you think you and your husband's public displays of affection distract the team, and what are you planning to do in order to maintain a safe working environment for everyone around you?"
It was one kiss.
One small fucking kiss. Their lips barely fucking touched.
J.J once almost French-kissed Olsson on the Ice after he scored the winning goal in a game against Boston, and no one batted an eye because that was just two straight dudes celebrating.
But he gives his husband one tiny little kiss-
"Showing affection while celebrating is pretty common in hockey," Shane kept his voice steady. "I see no reason why this case should be any different. As for the safety of the workplace, I think in a sport where we crush into each other with knives on our shoes, we have bigger safety concerns than me kissing my husband."
"Mr. Hollander, with all due respect, there is a very clear difference here. No one is stopping you and Mr. Rozanov from doing whatever you want in your free time, but this is a workplace. Many players and fans feel uncomfortable watching that kind of behaviour-"
"Then they can close their eyes," Shane interrupted in a very uncharacteristic manner.
"-And I think it is only fair to ask you about the influence the lifestyle you chose has on this game."
"I didn't 'choose' a lifestyle, I simply lived my life. As for the players and fans, nobody is forced to like me or watch my games. If it bothers them, they can sell their tickets or turn off their TV's."
Shane got up to leave when the reporter said something that froze him in his spot.
"Mr. Hollander, like it or not, there are consequences to making a choice like that. If you marry a fellow player, this is one of the things you need to think about beforehand. Your lack of preparation and caution is not the responsibility of the fans and league."
Lack of preparation and caution.
After 13 years of nothing but preparation and caution.
Something in Shane broke, and he sat back down.
“Do you have a wife, Mr. Higgins?” He asked after a moment of silence.
“Yes, I do,” the reporter hesitantly replied.
“Wonderful. How long have you been married?”
“Five years. I’m sorry, what does this have to do-”
“Five years,” Shane mused. “That’s a long time, Mr. Higgins. How long have you dated before getting married? A year, maybe two?”
“I don’t see-”
“You probably moved in together after dating for a year, didn’t you? That must have been nice, living with the person you love most in the world.”
"This is highly-"
“You two probably go on dates, right? A nice restaurant, a stroll in the park, a movie. You got to meet her friends... three months into dating her? And she got to charm her way into your parents’ hearts. Her coworkers teased her about you, about the way she’d blush when you text. You had a drawer in her place, since you spent so long there. You loved spending time there, waking up with her in your arms,"
Shane paused. Higgins did not interrupt him again.
"She met your friends, those who heard you complain about the way she leaves the laundry scattered around the apartment, and they all loved her immediately. When you moved in together, you probably threw a party for your friends and family. Got a few housewarming gifts, a plant, maybe a set of nice kitchen knives?”
Shane's voice was steady, almost thoughtful.
“When you fought, she could talk to one of her friends, have them calm her down, help her, didn’t she? And oh, when you told your friends that you were looking at rings, they all cheered, didn’t they? She was probably so thrilled the day you got engaged, took a picture with the ring and posted it. Probably got a thousand different comments congratulating you two. And when you got married, the venue was probably full of all the people who love you. Such a perfect relationship, don’t you think?”
The room, full of reporters who usually never shut up, was silent.
“But imagine for a moment that you couldn’t have that beautiful relationship. That the first seven years of knowing her, you never even got to wake up next to her. You couldn’t take her to a restaurant, that was too risky. You did manage to go on walks together, if that’s what you call it when you are thousands of miles apart and can’t even talk on the phone. Her friends have no idea you exist, of course, and your parents don’t know about her either. It’s safer that way, and so you go on for years, only having stolen moments with her, but it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.”
Shane leaned forward.
“And you are so tired of this, of having your heart belong to the ‘wrong person’. So you do what you can, you convince yourself you can be something you are not, and for a moment, you think it worked, that you can be normal. But it hurts, Mr. Higgins. It hurts so much, and you can’t keep pretending you don’t love her, because it’s killing something in you. So you two are back to stolen glances and kisses behind closed doors, secret phone calls on the staircase. When her father dies, you want nothing more than to be with her, but the only thing you can do is call her from a different continent. And you tell yourself it’s fine, that you can do it, but you ache for more.”
He leaned back, reaching to fill his cup with water from the pitcher on the table.
“You get hurt, and she has to sneak into the hospital after a night of being terrified out of her mind because no one knows to call her, no one can know to call her. And the distance is killing you both, so she gives up her excellent job, the place where she spent her entire adult life, to move closer to you. And it’s better. Now that she’s close, you feel like you can breathe again. But it’s still not enough. It’s still weeks sometimes before you get to see her again, and even tho you want nothing more than to fall asleep next to her, every morning you wake up to an empty bed and an aching heart."
For the first time that evening, Shane's voice wavered slightly. But he was determined to end this, to make them understand a fraction of what Shane and Ilya had to go through.
"And she’s brave, she’s so damm brave. She’s braver and stronger than you’ll ever be, and she’s ready to tell the world how much she loves you. But you are too afraid. You know if the world knows how much you mean to each other, she’ll never be able to go home again. Her country is a fucking dictatorship; there is no telling if they’d decide to ignore it or make an example out of her. She won’t be safe, she’ll never be safe. And you are not brave enough to be the reason she’ll never see her mother again, so you stay silent, you make her stay silent even tho you know it’s killing her, all because you are a fucking coward.”
Shane forced his voice to stay clear.
“When she almost dies, and you want nothing more than to hold her and feel her heartbeat against you, you have to make do with a short phone call. When you get engaged, there are no photos, no Instagram posts, you two get to tell five people. But you are happy, because this is more than you two ever thought you’d get, and so you keep going, missing and craving.”
He took a deep breath, continuing to look straight at the petrified face of Trent Higgins.
“Then everything changes. Everybody knows you love her, and she isn’t safe; she’ll never be truly safe ever again. Her friends are happy for her tho, so you take small comfort in that. Meanwhile, you are losing people you have considered family. Your wedding, the happiest day of your life, doesn’t have chairs because she doesn’t want to see your heartbroken expression when you see how many of them would stay empty. You lose the team, the people you have dedicated the past 10 years to. People who had called you when their kids were born suddenly have you blocked, your friends start questioning your integrity, people who used to cheer your name seek you out in order to tell you how you disgust them, how they hope you’ll die for being in love.”
And then, Shane smiled.
“But it’s still the best time of your life, because for the first time, you get to wake up in her arms every day. You get to open your eyes and see your entire universe looking back at you. And it suddenly doesn’t matter that you lost everything you worked so hard to build, because it is worth it to see the smile on her face when you go to work together and when she holds your hand in public.”
Higgins's face was turning a very nice shade of purple.
“So, after years of having to hold yourself back from loving her, you don’t. And when you go out with your friends, you let her hug you - no, not let her; you want that, you want her proximity more than anything because now you can, you get to have that. And you kiss her, because you want to, because she is your wife and you love her, and you are happy.”
Shane leaned forward in his chair, lips almost touching the microphone.
“And, after all of that, imagine a reporter who never had to hide, who always got to live freely, asking you if you think you two kissing makes people uncomfortable.”
The room was still noiseless.
"That's what I have to say regarding our 'preparation and caution'. As for distractions to the team, I will let the scoreboard speak for itself."
Shane finally tore his eyes from the reporter's ugly face. "Now, if anyone has any hockey-related questions-"
Five different arms shot up.