Work Text:
“You want to go to the Tulip Festival?”
Shane was pretty sure he hadn’t had enough coffee yet because he was sure he had heard Ilya wrong. He had had to hear Ilya wrong.
They had finished the series against Toronto in a quick four games and it had bought them some time before starting the next round of the playoffs. It meant they had a bit of a spring break, although they had practice later today. He and his husband had had quiet morning sex, and then he had slipped out of bed for his morning run with Anya while Ilya went back to sleep for a bit. He came back, showered and started breakfast and Ilya had just joined him, looking adorable soft and sleep rumpled. Shane thought morning Ilya may be his favourite version.
Even if his husband had looked up from the omelettes he was making to suggest a morning plan that felt out of the blue.
“Yes, why not?”
“You want to go and walk around flowers?” Shane frowned as he poured their smoothies into glasses.
“Yes. Is that that shocking?” Ilya frowned in return.
“I mean…” Shane sighed, watching as Ilya served up their omelettes. It had been years since he had realized that the asshole partier was just a part of who Ilya was, and one that he had leaned into for a long time. Ilya was much softer and gentler than anyone on the ice would ever expect and was far happier to stay in and watch a movie or sit by a fire than he was to go out clubbing now (not that he had given that up entirely). Shane was used to him, to the multitudes that made his husband his favourite person, but even with all that, the Tulip Festival was not something he had expected. “I guess not shocking but…”
“Still surprising you,” Ilya grinned at him.
“Always,” he smiled back. “Why do you want to go?”
“It’s nice day and we do not have practice till later, seems like a very Ottawa thing to do…”
“It is,” Shane agreed. “It’s been years since I went.”
“Between hockey, the camps and the cottage we do not get much time to spend here and it sounds like good way to relax,” Ilya shrugged.
“I know,” he agreed, taking the omelette Ilya handed him. They didn’t talk about retirement often, they still hopefully both had some hockey left in them. But the little they had it had been clear that they were going to stay in Ottawa. It felt like home in a way that neither Montreal or Boston ever had but it was true they currently didn’t get to spend that much time just relaxing. “It sounds good.”
“Perfect,” Ilya grinned, before taking a sip of the smoothie and making the face he always did, despite drinking them every morning.
“We should stop at the Market too, see what early produce they have.”
“Good idea.”
“Maybe stop at Pie Roques for pirozhcki for lunch?”
“Shane,” Ilya groaned, closing his eyes. “I would marry you again just for suggesting that.”
“Ilyusha, you tell me you’d marry me again almost every day.”
“Is true,” his husband shrugged. “Would marry you every day.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“You know I can never say no to Irina’s pies,” Ilya grinned, his eyes bright and Shane knew it was true. His mom had discovered the bakery when Ilya had first been moving to Ottawa and she had been looking for places for him to find Russian food. There were a few Eastern European grocery stores that they both frequented but Shane didn’t think anything compared to the small cosy bakery for his husband. It was owned by a wonderful Russian who shared his mother-in-law’s name and Ilya would gladly stay there for hours eating anything she would feed him and speaking in his own language. It all gave Shane a nice chance to practice his own Russian. And honestly, Irina’s pies were worth cheating on his still tightly watched diet for.
“So Tulip Festival, Market and pirozhcki,” Ilya smiled. “And then home to walk Anya again and practice.”
“Sounds like a good day,” Shane smiled, grabbing their empty plates. “Now go shower so you don’t smell like sex at the Tulip Festival.”
“Would be fun scandal.”
“I don’t think anyone from the Cens would agree.”
“Some would find it very funny. Bood, Barrett, Hazy would laugh…”
“Ilya, go shower,” Shane rolled his eyes at his husband. “I will clean up in here.”
“Fine,” Ilya rolled his eyes back, leaning forward to kiss Shane quickly. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Ilya smiled quickly before turning and heading toward the stairs. Shane watched his husband walk up the stairs - admittedly enjoying the view - before turning toward the breakfast dishes.
He really had kind of figured they’d have a quiet day at home before they headed to practice but going to one of Ottawa’s many festivals was probably a good idea. They’d probably get stopped a million times, especially with how many tourists would be there, but it would be fine. Day to day life in Ottawa never felt too crazy. People would talk to them and kids would sometimes ask for a picture or autograph but that was fine. Sometimes when they went out for dinner, Shane was aware people took pictures of them which felt strange but perfectly harmless, especially since they usually ended up online with tags about the first husband’s of hockey. After the year in Ottawa playing with his husband he had adjusted to the idea of being a local queer icon. They still got some homophobic comments but not too many, at least not in Ottawa. So it shouldn’t be bad. It’d be nice to spend some down time with his husband before the chaos of the next round started.
Besides, Ilya had been on him to relax about watching the tapes of the teams they might be mixing nice so this was probably be better than that argument again.
He finished the omelet pan and slid it back into the rack and moved to put their plates and glasses in the dishwasher, smiling at the sound of his husband’s footsteps on the stairs, followed by their dog’s lighter steps.
“Anya wants to come with us,” Ilya announced.
“Anya can’t go to the bakery,” Shane reminded him, not turning to look at him while he wiped down the counter. “Not if you want pirozhcki.”
“I am very sorry, Anya, but I need my pie so you must stay home,” Ilya sighed. “We will go for walk when we get back.”
“We will,” he agreed, turning to his husband. “Ilya.”
“What?”
“You know what,” Shane sighed, because his husband’s eyes were sparkling in the way they did when he knew he was being a menace. Which he was, since he was standing in front of him wearing a Centaurs cap over his still wet curls. “Do you want to draw attention to us? That hat is going to make sure everyone recognizes us.”
“Shanya, you are very good looking, I am very good looking, we are first husbands of hockey. People are going to notice us no matter what we wear.”
“Okay,” Shane nodded slowly because he did have a point. “But that’s not going to help.”
“They will just know for sure and not think they are going crazy,” Ilya shrugged.
“That makes no sense.”
“I am proud of team and want to celebrate with city.”
“Oh…” Shane breathed because that did make sense. Ilya had switched to a bad team to be closer to him and he knew that the team’s struggles and losses had weighed heavily on Ilya. He and some good trades had the built a team that had a chance at winning the Cup this year (although the odds weren’t exactly in their favour but they were okay with being underdogs) and he really did deserve the chance to show off a bit. “Okay. I get that.”
“Good,” Ilya shrugged, grinning and pointing to his number on the side of hat. “Maybe people will think I am biggest Rozanov fan.”
“You probably are.”
“Not true!” Ilya protested. “You are biggest Rozanov fan and I am biggest Hollander fan.”
“I can’t argue that point,” Shane smiled at his husband, and he was sure that if any of the team was here they’d groan at how disgustingly fond it was. “Ready to go?”
“Yes,” Ilya nodded, walking over to where Anya had moved to her bed and he bent over to kiss her head. “We will be home later, Лапочка, please make good choices while we are gone.”
(It was how Ilya always said goodbye to their dog and always made Shane feel a little too soft.)
“Bye Anya, love you,” Shane called to her as he moved toward the front door and slipping on his shoes.
Ilya followed behind them and they headed outside, where Ilya immediately led them toward his 911, which felt fine today. They climbed in the car, immediately greeted by some too loud Russian rap that Ilya quickly turned down before pulling out of the driveway. The drive to Dow’s Lake from the house wasn’t far, although parking would probably be a nightmare that his husband - who he did love more than anything - definitely hadn’t considered. Or may have considered and figured he would just charm his way into using someone’s driveway. He enjoyed their popularity in Ottawa a little too much.
“Stop stressing about parking.”
“How did you…I wasn’t stressing about parking.”
“You had stressed look on your face and we are going to event,” Ilya shrugged. “You stress about parking.”
“It’s gorgeous out today, the festival is going to be crazy,” Shane pointed out.
“We are Ottawa royalty, we will find parking.”
“Or spend hours driving in circles.”
“Do not be ridiculous, you will get angry kitten face and make us stop searching long before then,” his husband laughed. “We will find parking.”
Ilya was definitely going to flex his captain status to get them somewhere to park.
In fairness, he didn’t actually take advantage of their popularity in the city. They never accepted anything for free, and if a restaurant insisted, they tipped what they would have paid to make up for it. They didn’t skip lines when Costco was insane. They tried to be normal and live as normally as they could, in a city that was a little hockey crazy, especially when their team was doing well. Ilya really only used his power in traffic and parking, and in Ottawa, Shane didn’t think anyone would blame them.
Ilya turned onto a side street, with cars already lined up on the side of the road. His husband rolled down his window and they drove slowly along the street, before turning down another one. Shane would be worried about where they were going to park if he didn’t know exactly what Ilya was doing.
They turned another corner when the plan snapped into place. “Rozy!” a man who was working on his garden called and Ilya stopped the car. “What a sweep against Toronto!”
“Thank you, we appreciate it,” Ilya yelled back, and Shane leaned forward to wave at the man.
“Hollander!” the man smiled widely, moving toward. “You coming home is the best thing that’s happened to this city.”
“It’s good to be home,” Shane grinned.
“Can’t wait till the next round,” the man nodded. “Are you guys headed to the Tulip Festival?”
“As soon as we find parking.”
“You can use my driveway,” the man offered. “I’m just working on the yard today so I won’t need it.”
“Oh, we would not want to bother you,” Ilya shook his head - although Shane knew this was exactly what Ilya had planned when he had pulled into the neighbourhood.
“Not a bother at all, don’t need you guys wasting time looking for parking.”
“Thank you, we appreciate it,” Ilya smiled as he pulled into the driveway to park the Porsche.
“When you win the next round, it will be the good luck of the driveway.”
“Than we will need to park here all the time,” Ilya laughed as they both climbed out of the car. Shane walked over to Ilya, not surprised to find his husband already In conversation with the fan who had helped them out.
They talked a bit longer, posed for a quick selfie and then left to walk toward the heart of the Tulip Festival. Shane could hardly remember the last time he had come to it, although he was sure he must have when he was younger. It would be a nice way to spend the Saturday of the Victoria Day weekend and it was perfect weather for a day outside, sunny and a little warmer than you’d expect in May. Ilya really had had a good idea to come today.
“Awesome job against Toronto,” someone greeted them.”
“Thank you,” Ilya grinned as they made their way into the main area of the festival. There was a sea of people and Shane slipped his hand into Ilya’s. He wasn’t a big fan of crowds, he had learned cope with it years ago but still wasn’t his favourite thing. Ilya made it easier.
“Wow,” Ilya breathed, looking around at the fields of tulips that surrounded them. “It’s beautiful.”
“It is,” Shane agreed as they moved toward the patch of yellow and pink tulips.
“I did not expect this many.”
“I think there’s close to a million between here and by Parliament,” he explained, because he was sure he had heard it on the radio.
“It’s very nice,” Ilya nodded. “Mama would love it. She loved flowers.”
“Well then, she’d be happy we came,” Shane smiled, giving his husband’s hand a tight squeeze.
“She would be,” Ilya grinned at him.
“Good luck next round!” a woman offered as they passed by her.
“Thanks,” Shane smiled.
They moved along the flowers, stopping to take pictures of them and a couple of selfies that Ilya insisted on, one he immediately sent to the family chat and the team chat. Shane had never really cared about flowers but the rows and rows of them were really beautiful. It was relaxing which was not something he usually felt in the thick of playoffs. It was probably a good thing.
He didn’t even mind how many times they got stopped to wish them luck or congratulate them on the victory, or just tell them how much they loved them. Ottawa fans were polite, they only kept them for a second and no one was crowding them so it felt good.
“Maybe we should go to Cens Mile after, let more people tell us how much they love us,” Ilya laughed as they said goodbye to another fan.
“You are basking in the attention.”
“It is good,” Ilya shrugged. “Boston is a great hockey town but nothing like here. You are used to it because Montreal is…Montreal but this is nice for me.”
“This is actually calm compared to Montreal,” Shane laughed. “Especially during playoffs.”
“Oh I know.”
“It is nice,” Shane nodded.
“And it was…I was happy to move to Ottawa because it was closer to you but the team was not good and I did not like losing so much,” Ilya sighed. “I am happy to be able to enjoy the success with the city.”
“They love you here,” he smiled, squeezing his husband’s hand.
“I know and I am happy I helped rebuild the team,” Ilya laughed. “And brought the hometown hero home. It feels very good to share this with you.”
“It’s amazing. I can’t wait to win the Stanley Cup with you.”
“This year.”
“This year,” Shane grinned, pulling their hands up to press a kiss on the back of Ilya’s hand.
They continued walking along the tulips and other flowers and stopped at some of the vendors along the way. Shane bought some wooden tulips for their place and another set for his parents. The entire walk they kept getting stopped, fan after fan, just wanting to say hi, some kids wanting pictures or autograph. It felt calm though, nothing crazy and maybe that was because Shane was enjoying the way his husband’s smile was growing wider and wider. There really wasn’t much he loved more.
Shane handed his phone to a fan that had approached them and they went and posed by a decorate door that was set up for photos. He had been aware all day that people had been snapping some pictures of them, he was used to it, but now that they were posing, people weren’t being nearly as subtle. It was fine but impossible to miss.
And Ilya only smiled wider.
“Ilyusha?” Shane asked as they walked away from the set up.
“Yes?”
“Did you want to come here just for this?” he asked in Russian. “Just because you knew everyone would be excited to see us?”
“What? I can not believe my own husband would accuse me of such a thing,” Ilya responded in Russian. “I just want a romantic day with the love of my life…”
“So that’s a yes.”
“I have never been more insulted.”
“Ilya…”
“Okay, maybe was a bit of the reason but I also wanted to see the tulips and enjoy the day with you.”
“That’s fair,” Shane nodded, before switching back to English. “It has been a nice day.”
“I know,” Ilya smiled, tugging Shane closer to him to kiss him gently, although maybe a little more than a public kiss needed to be. Not that Shane minded all that much, they had spent too long hiding.
“I’m glad we came,” Shane smiled, staying in his husband’s arms.
“I know.”
“It was a good idea,” he shrugged, pulling back from Ilya. “Did you know that this is all because Canada sheltered the Dutch royal family during World War Two? And helped liberate the Netherlands?”
“Shane, you are so boring,” Ilya groaned, before kissing him quickly.
“Fucking hockey f*gs now have to shove it in our faces everywhere,” a man grumbled as he walked past them.
“Do not be jealous that you do not get to kiss a Cup champion,” Ilya called after the man.
“If you have a problem with them, you should probably just leave Ottawa as they will be shoving it all over the place when they win us the the Cup,” a man standing near them called to the retreating back of the man who had made the comment.
“I heard Montreal fans will take you in,” a woman called, and Shane couldn’t help but laugh at the comment.
“Sorry, guys,” some else said. “We love you.”
“Thank you, we appreciate the support,” Shane smiled at them.
“Are you okay?” Ilya asked.
“I’m okay,” he assured him, squeezing his hand. He was. He hated it, of course he hated it. It stung and Shane was sure it always would but it was…not okay but nothing he couldn’t handle. Not when he knew most of the city supported them and he finally got to love his husband out loud. The rude comments felt worth it.
“Good,” Ilya smiled. “Asshole.”
“No, you’re an asshole, he was something far worse,” Shane laughed.
“Is true,” Ilya grinned.
“Hollander! Rozanov!” a small voice interrupted them and Shane turned to see a young kid running toward them, a Cens hat on his head. “Oh my god.”
“Oh my god,” Ilya echoed the kid, kneeling down to the kid’s level. “I am so excited to meet you.”
“You’re Rozanov,” the kid gasped.
“I am, and this is Hollander,” Ilya nodded as Shane kneeled down. “What your name?”
“I’m Will,” the boy grinned. “The Cens are the best.”
“We agree,” Shane laughed. “I like your hat.”
“Oh,” the boy smiled, reaching for the hat like he had forgotten. “I told Dad I’m wearing is every day until you guys win the Cup.”
“That he did,” a man laughed, walking up to them. “Sorry, he saw you guys and he just ran.”
“No, no, it is fine, we’re very happy to meet Will,” Ilya assured him. “I appreciate a kid who understands the importance of play off routines.”
“You’re going to win the Cup.”
“Well, hopefully the hat helps,” Shane smiled. “Like a play off beard.”
“Exactly!” Will gasped.
“Want us to sign the hat? It might bring some more luck?” Ilya suggested.
“Can you?”
“Of course,” Ilya nodded, pulling the sharpie he always carried in his pocket out. It had never really occurred to Shane to do that but Ilya liked to always be ready for fans, especially the kids. “Hat even cooler now.”
“Has to bring us luck,” Shane smiled, taking the marker from his husband and signing it.
“Thank you,” Will grinned widely.
“Thank you for being a fan, we really appreciate it,” Ilya nodded.
“Thanks, guys,” Will’s dad said.
“Not a problem,” Shane smiled.
Will and his dad moved away and Shane slipped his hand into his husband’s again. Ilya may have not been completely clear on why he wanted to come today but it had been a good idea. It felt good to enjoy the city that had welcomed them with such open arms.
“Ah, food!” his husband suddenly announced as they came up to view of a some foot stands.
“Ilya…”
“What? It is traditional Dutch food, we must try it,” he shrugged.
“We’re going to get pirozhcki,” Shane reminded him.
“Yes, I know. But we can have appetizer here.”
“An appetizer?” Shane laughed.
“We are big hockey players who have a Stanley Cup to win, we need to eat lots of strength,” Ilya grinned.
“Okay, let’s go get food,” Shane nodded. Arguing with Ilya about his eating habits was never worth giving that he would never win the argument.
Not that he really wanted to.