Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Ilya stared at his phone. He couldn’t believe what he was reading. He had to double-check the date three times to make sure this wasn’t an April Fool’s Joke. But no, it’s January. 

Shane. His Shane. Was moving to Boston. They were going to play on the same team. Only, he wasn’t his Shane anymore. The omega had made it very clear when he’d run out of Ilya’s house like it was on fire three months ago. And then he’d started dating Rose Landry. (Ilya had promptly banned all X-Squad movies from team spaces.)

He wants to text him, ask him what the hell happened to make Montreal trade their captain. But he was afraid to open that door again. He’d laid himself bare in front of Shane, made him a tuna melt, tried to tell him he was bisexual, and then Shane left him on the couch feeling like an idiot. 

But maybe this will be a good thing. Maybe he can win the omega back, once and for all. His phone buzzes in his hand and Ilya’s heart beats out of his chest. 

Ilya should say no. He should want to seem like he hasn’t spent the last three months pining over Shane Hollander, angry every time someone mentioned his name. But Ilya Rozanov is a weak, weak man when it comes to hockey players with freckles. 

Ilya. Shane had said Ilya. Not see you soon, Lily. Or see you soon, Rozanov. Or hell, not even just see you soon. 

It felt intentional, but Ilya didn’t want to get his hopes up. For all he knew, Shane was still dating Rose Landry. She was perfect for him. Exactly what he needed. A nice female alpha to date, to marry, to have kids with. 

Someone completely opposite of Ilya. 

Sighing, Ilya stands up off the couch and decides that if Shane is going to be here in three hours, he should probably clean up. His house is…well, not a mess, but not usually how he likes to keep it.

And, he will have to burn his sheets. They smell like distressed alpha, and Ilya doesn’t want to let on just how much he’s been struggling lately. In fact, he wonders how long it would take to have a new couch delivered. He had definitely not been sitting on the couch watching sad movies and crying over the pretty omega freckles; that wasn’t what happened. But just to be sure, he should probably burn the couch. 

Or maybe he would leave everything exactly the way it was so that Shane could see just what his leaving had done to Ilya. That seemed manipulative, though. Ilya likes to think he was above manipulation, but he is only human. 

He leaves the sheets and the couch and focuses on making lunch instead. 

***

Shane, 3 days earlier, Canada

Shane couldn’t move; he couldn’t breathe. He was really struggling to comprehend what his doctor was telling him. Or what his mother was saying back to the doctor. 

“--of course, it’s early enough that you have options, Mr. Hollander.” Dr. Cline said, looking at him with those caring eyes of hers. She’d been his doctor since he presented as an Omega on his 15th birthday. He was comfortable with her. What he wasn’t comfortable with was what she was telling him. 

Shane Hollander was pregnant. Three months, according to Dr. Cline. 

“Options?” he repeats, knowing what she meant, but still in shock to say much else. “You don’t have to make the decision today, but you will need to make it soon, or some of the options will go away.” 

He knows what she’s implying, but the thought of that makes him sick to his stomach. So does the idea of having to tell his team, his coach, his–Ilya. But then he pictures a little round baby with Ilya’s curls and eyes and it doesn’t seem so terrible. 

“I uh, I’m going to…um keep the baby. If that’s okay.” 

He turns to look at his mom, who’s looking at him with tears in her eyes. 

“Honey, you don’t have to ask me permission.” His mom says, her hand moving to cradle his face. “Of course it’s okay, as long as that’s what you want.” 

Shane hesitates for just a moment before nodding. “Yeah. That’s what I want.” 

He walks out of the doctor’s office, feeling conflicted. He knows, without a doubt, that he wants to keep his baby. But Shane isn’t sure if he’ll be able to handle being pregnant. For as long as he can remember, his life has been hockey. Wake up, hockey. Breakfast, hockey. Go to sleep, hockey. But now he’s going to have something else entirely. 

“Honey, you know you can change your mind.” His mom said as they reached the car. “I know being in the doctor’s office can be a bit intimidating, and it may have made you feel pressured one way or the other. But you can–” 

“I’m not going to change my mind,” Shane interrupts, looking up at his mom. “I meant what I said. I want to have this pup. I’m just worrying over things. Running all these scenarios through my head. But…I think this is going to be okay.” 

His mom takes a moment, but Shane sees the moment it settles for her. 

“Okay,” She smiles, pulling him in and kissing the top of his head like she used to do when he was little. “So, what’s next?” 

“I guess it’s a little too late for this part, but I’m gay. In case you were wondering.” 

His mom chuckles, “I meant, what’s our next step. But thank you for telling me, and I wish you had felt comfortable enough to tell us sooner. But I can get why you didn’t.” 

Shane nods once. 

“I guess next is telling the team, and then going from there.” 

“And the other father?” 

“I haven’t spoken to him in three months. I kind of freaked out on him and ran away. He probably won’t even want to speak to me.” 

“He deserves to know, honey.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Shane sighs and gets into the car, pulling his seat belt over his chest. “I–I need to talk to Coach first and then I’ll try to get him to answer my calls.” 

“You can always go see him face to face,” His mom suggests, putting the car in drive and pulling out of the office parking lot. “I can go with you if you want me to.” 

“No, that’s okay, he’s not out yet. It’s something that I need to do by myself.” 

His mom nods and they continue to drive towards the Metro’s stadium in silence, Shane’s brain running a mile a minute.” 

In a perfect world, Shane would get to keep his baby and keep his team. But what Shane wants is easier said than done, especially when it comes to telling his coach. Who then spends fifteen minutes berating him, telling him how irresponsible it was, how this didn’t align with the team's values, how he was being selfish for wanting to keep the baby, and so on and so forth. Shane managed to drown most of it out. 

“I don’t know how we're supposed to go forward from here,” Coach Theriault says, sitting back down in his seat and pinching the bridge of his nose. “The captain can’t be pregnant. Do you know what kind of shit show you’ve caused?” 

“Trade me then,” Shane mumbles, not looking coach in the eyes. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I said,” Shane takes a deep breath. “Trade me. If my being pregnant and keeping my pup is such a nightmare for you, then trade me.” 

Coach Theriault scoffs, “Do you really think there’s a team out there that would take you in your…condition?” 

“I know my worth, even if you don’t,” Shane says. “I’m sure there are several teams that will look past the fact that my temporary absence to have a baby will not have any impact on how I continue to play for several years to come.” 

Shane isn’t sure where the cockiness or confidence comes from; maybe it’s because the bundle of cells floating around in his uterus is half Ilya Rozanov. Maybe he’s syphering some of the confidence genes from the pup.

Theriault doesn’t say much more after that other than, “Very well, I’ll make some calls. See what I can do.” 

Shane leaves without another word. 

“Boston,” Theriault says when Shane answers the phone. “The Raiders are willing to take you, with a good trade, even after finding out about your… condition.” 

There he goes, treating Shane being pregnant like it’s some kind of communicable disease again. 

“You should be getting an email soon from their management with all of the details.” 

“Okay,” Shane says. 

“Your badge will be disabled at 5 pm tomorrow. Make sure you get all of your stuff out of your locker by then.” 

“Yes, sir,” Shane says and then hangs up, having very little interest in having a conversation with someone who could throw him to the wolves over something as simple as having a baby. 

Especially when half of the team are fathers. Sure, they weren’t the ones who had carried their pups, but still. Shane doesn’t understand why this has to be any different. 

Boston was the best-case scenario. Shane would never admit this, but he was hoping that he would get traded there. It would make, hopefully, co-parenting a lot easier if they were living in the same city.

He knows why he got traded to Boston, though. Theriault probably thinks that he’s pulling one over on the Raiders, but as Shane is reading through his contract and everything, he realizes that maybe Theriault played himself. Shane is going to be making the same he was making with the Metros, plus a signing bonus, which is usually reserved for draft picks. His contract starts as soon as he signs it, but there’s a line in it that says he won’t “start” until the next season, pending clearance from all doctors. 

His phone starts to ring and he sighs, knowing what his mom is going to think of all of this. 

“Hey, Mom,” He says, reading through the list of houses that were sent to him as well.

“So, what’s the verdict?”

“I uh, I’m going to Boston.” 

“BOSTON?!” She all but shrieks. “Why on earth would they trade you to Boston?” 

“I have a pretty good idea why,” Shane shrugs, even though she can’t see him. “But I’m forwarding you the email I received from the Raiders Human Resources department. It’s a pretty solid contract. And they’re already being more understanding of the pup than the Metros were.” 

“So they know you’re pregnant  and were willing to trade for you anyway?” 

“I’m not going to be pregnant forever; they know this. It’s Theriault’s fault for not seeing that.” 

“Well, at least it wasn’t a West Coast team.” 

Shane chuckles. “That means you’re going to fly down and support me wearing gold, right?” 

“Over my dead body,” Yeah, Shane figured that was a long shot. “I’ll be at your games, of course, but you will never catch me in Boston merch.” 

“Speaking of Boston,” Shane says as a segue to the next topic. “It was kind of the perfect place for them to send me.” 

“Boston? Perfect? Honey, did you hit your head?” 

Shane takes a deep breath. “The pup, their other father, is from Boston.” 

His mom doesn’t say anything else after that. Shane can’t quite tell if the silence is a good thing or a bad thing. 

“When did you have time to have a fling with someone from Boston? Where would you have even met them? You’re there for maybe two days at a time every like three months…unless they’re also spending time in Montreal,” She lets the word drag out before she gasps. “NO!” 

“Mom?” 

“Have you been dating a Raider?” 

“Dating is a strong word,” Shane says, scratching the back of his neck. “Not the one I would use.” 

“Shane, how long?” 

“Uh, the summer before my rookie season?” Shane is afraid that if he says much more, he’ll give it away. “And that’s all I’m saying until I talk to him.” 

“Okay.” He can hear her nodding through the phone, the way she does so often when she’s not happy the conversation is ending where it’s at, but understands to give him some time. “So, when do you have to be in Boston?” 

***

Ilya is in the middle of cleaning the counter in his kitchen (for the fourth time) when his phone buzzes in his back pocket. 

Ilya takes a deep breath and collects himself. No matter what happens with this conversation, he and Shane are going to be playing on the same team. They are going to have to see each other pretty much every day until the season is over, with only a short break in the summer before they have to do it all over again next year. Whatever the outcome is, Ilya can’t let Shane see how much this is affecting him. 

Ilya watches for a few seconds as the bubbles appear and disappear a few times before the reply is sent. 

Ilya realizes that Shane may be just as nervous for this conversation as he is. He locks his phone and walks over to the front door, slipping on his slides before opening the door and walking outside. He regrets not grabbing a coat as soon as the January chill hits him. Usually, he doesn’t get as cold, being from Russia and an alpha helps, but sometimes it's too cold for even him. (Not the he would ever admit to that to anyone)

He finds Shane sitting at the end of the path to his house, his two suitcases beside him, bundled up in a heavy coat. 

“Shane?” The alpha asks, approaching cautiously. 

“H-hey,” Shane says as he shivers and it instantly has Ilya’s alpha perks up, the need to take care of his—the omega overrides any of the nerves that Ilya had previously. 

“It is freezing,” Ilya says, reaching for Shane. He offers him his hand to help him up. “We don’t have to talk if you are not ready, but you need to come inside.” 

Shane chuckles like there’s some sort of inside joke before saying, “That’s the whole problem.” 

“I don’t understand,” Ilya shakes his head and grabs both of Shane’s hands to pull him to his feet. “What is so funny?” 

Shane shakes his head and reaches for his suitcases, but Ilya beats him to it. “Go in the house and get on the couch in front of the fire.” 

Shane, ever so stubborn, looks like he wants to resist, wants to do the exact opposite of what Ilya is asking him to do. But then a look passes across his face and Shane nods, walking towards the front door as Ilya trails behind him. 

Ilya stands back and watches as Shane kicks his shoes off and walks cautiously over to the couch, grabbing a blanket and draping it over his lap. Ilya takes a moment to compose himself, Shane’s cedar and jasmine scent filling up the space and his nose. But there’s something else, something new. Ilya can’t quite put his finger on it, but whatever it is, it's probably Rose Landry’s fault. 

“Does your girlfriend know you are here?” Ilya asks, walking into the kitchen to grab Shane a can of ginger ale. Ilya isn’t really sure why he’s kept them instead of throwing them out, but he’s glad that he did. 

“Oh uh,” Shane says, taking the can from Ilya. “Thank you.” 

Shane takes a sip before laying the can on the coffee table. 

“And no,” Shane shakes his head. “I mean, Rose knows that I’m here. But she’s not…we’re not—“ 

“You’re not?” Ilya asks, perched on the arm of the couch and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“She told me I was gay and then broke up with me,” Shane says, picking at the frayed edges of the blanket in his lap. 

Ilya would like to say he was mature enough and didn’t laugh, but he is only human. 

“I know, I know. Laugh all you want,” Shane leans forward and grabs the can of ginger ale again, this time taking a longer sip. 

“So, uh, how did she realize?” Ilya says, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing any further. He watches as the apples of his cheeks turn bright red. 

“I don’t…I uh—“ Shane stammers. “I don’t want to talk about it?” 

“What?” Ilya scoffs. “Did you have a hard time getting it up for her? You know they have pills for that, yes?”

“Fuck off,” Shane says, turning his face away from Ilya and mumbling something he doesn’t understand. Either because he says it too low and too fast, or because he said it in French, Ilya isn’t sure which. 

“You what?” 

“She touched my dick and I threw up all over her,” Shane says. “Well, not on her. But I did have to get up and run to the bathroom. Which—“

The energy around Shane changed so quickly that Ilya didn’t have time to laugh at what Shane was telling. 

“After that,” Shane takes a deep breath. “We broke up but decided to stay friends because apparently I am not the only one of her boyfriends that ended up being gay.” 

“Imagine that,” Ilya says, pushing off the arm of the couch and moving to sit beside Shane instead. 

“Anyway. After that night, I kept getting sick. Not just around Rose, but over little things. So my mom made me go to the doctor.” 

Ilya’s stomach drops. If Shane is about to tell him that he’s sick, with like, cancer or something, Ilya isn’t sure he’d be able to survive that. He already had to accept that Shane Hollander is the only omega in the world for him, so if Shane goes, Ilya isn’t going to be too far behind him. 

“You are sick?” Ilya asks. “Is why Montreal traded you? They did not want to deal with your disease?” 

Shane laughs once and looks up at the ceiling. “Yes, they traded me because they didn’t want to deal with this. But I’m not sick…not permanently.” 

“What does that mean? Is treatable?” 

“Uh, not exactly. Just that there’s a nine-month cycle.” 

“What kind of cancer has expiration date?” 

Shane turns to look at him like he’s grown two heads. 

“You’re so dense sometimes,” Shane shakes his head and adjusts himself on the couch and Ilya gets another whiff of his scent. 

And that’s when it hits him. 

The something else he’d smelled earlier was a milky undertone. The universal sign that an omega is carrying a pup. 

“I don’t have cancer, I’m—“

“Pregnant. You are pregnant,” Ilya says after putting the pieces together. Shane nods. “And you were traded to Boston because of this?” 

“Coach gave me two choices,” Shane shrugs and Ilya instantly knows what he means, and something deep in his chest makes him want to go to Montreal himself and give Theriault a piece of his mind. 

“Relax,” Shane says, reaching up and putting his wrist against the scent gland in Ilya's neck, instantly soothing the rage he felt. “This was a better choice anyway.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, we’re in the same city, Ilya. We play on the same team.” 

“You want to tell people about us?” Ilya asks, turning to face Shane. “Is there even an us to talk about?” 

Shane looks up from the blanket and there are tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry. For that day. For running out.” 

“Shane—“ 

“I just, I uh—“ Shane takes a deep breath as a tear slips out. “My omega kept screaming at me to bite you, to make you mine forever and I…I freaked out.” 

“I would not have minded,” Ilya says before he really thinks about it. 

“Really?” Shane scoffs. “I couldn’t tell with the way you were telling me about all the women you sleep with not even five minutes before then.” 

“I was trying to–” Ilya pauses to find the right words. “Come out, I guess.” 

“What?” 

“I sleep with women, yes,” Ilya says, taking another step towards Shane. “But equally with men. That is what I was trying to say.” 

“You were trying to tell me you’re bisexual?” Shane shakes his head in confusion. “I already knew that.” 

“But I was also trying to see if it was the same for you,” Ilya sighs, sitting back down on the couch. “If you like both.” 

“Well, that was a very convoluted way of asking,” Shane says, sitting back down beside Ilya, closer this time than before.

“Convo–What?” 

“Convoluted. It means like folded, twisted, fucked up.” 

“Oh,” Ilya chuckles. “Then yes, it was very convoluted. I realize that now.” 

Shane let the silence between them linger a short while, his fingernails tracing the fabric of the couch cushion between them. 

"I'm not equal opportunity." He said eventually, looking at Ilya whose head tilted to the side slightly, reminding Shane of an overgrown puppy. 

"I'm gay." Shane continued, smiling now that Ilya looked at him hopefully. "Mostly, I'm just interested in you."  

He reached across the gap between them, taking Ilya's hand and resting it on his abdomen. "And our pup."