Archive of Our Own

The best thing about being Canada’s Golden Boy aka Shane Hollander was that no one ever assumed he was doing something with ill intent. This meant that acquiring Scott Hunter’s address was almost a little too easy. At the end of this, Shane might even feel obligated to inform him. He probably needs to install a security camera to the door of his apartment. Shane had no intention of murdering Scott, but if he had, well, he’d be a goner as a direct result of his lack of security. No one should ever victim blame, but sometimes a side-eye at the victim should be acceptable. 

Shane not showing up to murder Scott was a win for the older man, but maybe not so much of a win for Shane. A common and apparent theme for the day. Scott Hunter wins the game and doesn’t get murdered by Shane. It would be easier if Shane could sneak into his stupid penthouse apartment and kill him, but unfortunately it was illogical. Also, illegal. It was both illogical and illegal. 

Shane prided himself on being a logical, competent, and completely rational person. 

This fact made what he was about to do very confusing. Even Shane could admit that this plan hardly seemed logical, competent, and probably would not be regarded as rational. But he had to do something. He hasn’t kept this secret for as long as he has, just for Scott fucking Hunter to come and wreck it. 

Shane got out of the elevator and stared at the door, lifted his hand and lowered it back down again. 

Was this a stupid idea? It was starting to feel like a stupid idea. 

No. He needed to do this. It wasn’t even just about him, it was about Ilya too. He was brave. He could be brave. 

Before he contemplated it any longer, he knocked on the door and took a step back. 

It took only a couple of seconds for the door to open and even Shane could tell from Scott’s face that he was the last person he expected to see at eleven in the evening. From his crestfallen expression, Shane can only assume the man had been hoping for someone else. 

Well, it wasn’t like Shane wanted to be looking at Scott Hunter right now either. The feeling was mutual. 

“Hollander.” Scott said confused, slumping against the doorframe. “What are you doing here?” 

Shane hesitated. It was a good question. He hadn’t thought this far ahead, a level of poor planning on his end that he wasn’t used to. What exactly did Shane want to achieve with this visit? 

“Hunter, we need to talk.” 

Scott just stared at him. 

“This game, this fucking mind game, you’re playing,” Shane huffed. “It needs to end. I get it! You know!” 

He remembered now. This was why he was here. Scott Hunter knew about them and he had been telling Shane, with as much subtly as a puck to the head, that he knew. 

Today at the game, he had asked Shane if he knew of any good Russian restaurants around Montreal. 

He’s not a fucking idiot. 

Scott hadn’t said anything yet, instead he was just staring continuing to stare at him. This level of inaction only makes Shane’s blood boil even more. 

So he continues, undeterred, hands flinging around animatedly. “Congratulations! You fucking got it! I’m not going to give you an award for having better observational skills than the rest of the concussed men we play with, but can you please have some fucking consideration? You’re not being fair! Have you even taken into consideration, Ilya’s situation-“ 

Scott’s eyes widened. 

“I know that you’re so fucking old, that maybe the dementia has come in and you’re starting to forget things, but Ilya is Russian! They could get him for fucking promoting homosexuality, and then he’s gone. You understand that? I need you to fucking understand that.” Shane took a sharp intake of breath, preparing for his next wind. “It won’t be, oh no, he sucks cock! It’s not just going to be some homophobic bullshit chirping. He won’t be here! No one will be able to fucking chirp him, because he won’t be playing for the NHL! He won’t be playing hockey at all. He’ll be sitting in a cell in prison!” 

Scott nodded his head and whispered to himself. “I understand that.” 

Far too gone to care, Shane continued. “And I’ll be grateful for it! Better him in a cell, than one of those insane stories of being there one day and gone the next. Gone! They just fucking disappear forever!” Shane looked at him, eye wide open, nodding his head slowly for emphasis as if he was talking to a toddler. “What happens then? What the fuck happens if he just disappears forever? That shit happens, Hunter! I could lost Ilya to your big fucking mouth.” 

Shane’s face had taken an incredibly bright red disposition as he ranted, and Scott was staring at him so bewilderedly, that Shane took a moment to steady himself. 

Scott continued to stare at him. 

Shane stared back. 

Scott frowned at him. “You got anything else you need to say?” 

“Yes!” Shane spluttered indignantly. There were a lot of things that Shane would like to say, but there were never going to be enough hours in the night for him to do it. “Give me a minute.” 

Scott blinked at him. “Take all the time you need.” 

“I will!” 

Scott itched his back against the doorframe. 

“I expected better from you.” Shane started back up again, his face had slowly returned back to its normal colour. “You of all people know how hard it is to be in the fucking closet. Just because you’re out of it, doesn’t give you the fucking right to be an asshole and shove the rest of us out with you. That’s not fair!” 

“I completely agree,” Scott said simply. 

“If you as so much whisper a word of Ilya and I to anyone, even your goddamn boyfriend, I’ll fucking come for you, Hunter. I’m not scared of you. You do anything to put Ilya in danger, if you’re that much of an intellectually stunted dinosaur, literally if you do anything that could lead to Ilya getting hurt, I will fucking kill you. I’ll rip off your arms, then your legs and the rest of you, they can find in the river.” 

Scott cocked his head to the side, he looked like he was fighting the urge to smile. “Thanks for the warning, Hollander.” 

Shane faltered for a second. Honestly, he’d been expecting Hunter to maybe say a little more than he had. In fact, he had half expected Hunter to try and defend himself in some way but instead, he had just kind of stared in bewilderment and nodded his head a lot. 

Shane narrowed his eyes and really looked at Scott.  

Scott smiled back. It was a sheepish smile, but a smile nonetheless. 

A strange, almost cold sensation dripped down his back. It felt like someone had just thrown a bucked of cold water over him. It forces him to straighten his back, and reached his full height. He clenches his jaw whilst he stares at Scott. He fights the urge to punch Scott in the jaw. 

Shane swallowed, he didn’t particularly want to hear the angry to his next question. “Do you have any idea what the fuck I’m talking about right now?” 

“I think I’ve put some bits of it together.”  

Shane was going to throw up. He stared at Scott before asking numbly, “Hunter, before I came here. You didn’t know about Ilya and I, did you?” 

“No.” 

Shane frowned. “Right, okay.” 

What the fuck did Scott mean, he didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about? 

Shane was going to kill himself. There was no other choice. 

“I’m touched you think I’m this clever, Hollander, but your hockey IQ must be going down. I’ve had a fair few concussions by this point, I don’t think I was connecting the dots in the way you thought I was.” Scott mutters wryly.

Shane blinks at him, hard. He wanted to say something but his mouth wouldn’t open and even if it did open, he wasn’t convinced that anything other than a loud scream would come out. In fact, Shane wasn’t convinced that he was going to ever be able to say anything ever again. Maybe for the best.

He shoved his face into his hands, hoping and dreaming and praying that the ground would swallow him up and allow him to disappear forever. 

Scott broke the silence. “Rozanov, huh?” 

Aligning with everything Shane already knew, even though his physical presence was not in the room, Ilya’s name was enough to un-tie his tongue. He took a deep breath. 

“Yeah,” Shane mumbled into his hands. “Rozanov.” 

He didn’t know. He hadn’t known. Scott hadn’t known and Shane came they, when he was meant to be in bed. He was meant to be tucked up in bed, resting, in preparation for their flight tomorrow, but no. Instead Shane was here, and had just revealed his biggest secret, Ilya’s biggest secret, to Scott Hunter. Stupid, fucking, old-man, Scott fucking Hunter. 

Shane was going to kill him. Or himself. But, probably just Scott. As far as anyone was aware, Shane was in his hotel room fast asleep. Maybe be could kill Scott? How long would it take for anyone to realise that he was dead? Shane could be safe and sound back in Canada by the time the news broke. 

No. 

This was stupid. 

He couldn’t kill Scott Hunter. He was a rival Captain; a rival Captain that had just lost a game against him. It might be too obvious. 

Fuck. 

Shane would never refer to himself as a religious man. He had never needed religion when he had hockey, but here he was, with a newfound interest in praying. Praying that he could rewind the clock, praying that he had never made the rash decision to show up at Scott Hunter’s door in the middle of the night, and praying that he could convince Scott to forget about this entire encounter. 

“You and Rozanov is going to be an image that’s going to take a long time to disappear from my brain.” 

How did anyone expect Shane to believe in God when he never came when he needed him most? How does he get any recruiters if he doesn’t arrive when people need him most?

”He’s-“

”Don’t.” 

“He’s an interesting choice.” 

Lots of words had been thrown around when describing Ilya, but interesting was a new one. It definitely wasn’t the worst one, but still. But it still didn’t sound complimentary and Shane didn’t appreciate his fucking tone. 

Shane looked up again, sharply. “He’s not like how you think he is.” 

Scott nodded firmly. “I know he’s not.” 

“You don’t know fucking anything.”

”Okay,” Scott clears his throat and takes a step towards Shane. He moved as if Shane was a wild animal he was trying to not scare. He reached out slowly to put his hand on Shane’s shoulder, and gently guided him into the apartment. “We’re going to have a drink together. Or at least, I’m going to have a drink, and then we’re going to talk and then go from there.” 

Before Shane can even register what’s happening, a strong and hand is leading him into the apartment and the door is firmly shut. 

“Shoes off?” Shane asks, as Scott turns the corner and leaves Shane in the hallway. 

“No, it’s fine.” 

Shane wanted to kick his shoes into the back of Scott’s head. What a fucking life this stupid American man got to live. He got to kiss his boyfriend in front of the world, and now he was so blissfully unaware, so ignorant, that he didn’t even care about the dirt from outside being brought into his house. 

He followed Scott into the kitchen. If anyone deserved dirt in their house anyways, it should be Perfect Scott Hunter. 

“I’m going to have some vodka, you want some?” 

Shane wasn’t a big drinker but if there had ever been a time for it, it was now.

The last he had drank any alcohol had been when his parents had found out about Ilya. It had been vodka then too. Shane was starting to sense an annoying theme. 

“Sure,” Shane said. 

Shane watched as Hunter went to his cupboard and grabbed a bottle of vodka, he turned and looked at Shane, giving him a small smile. “Sorry, it’s not Russian.” 

Shane was going to kill him and if he did get caught, he was sure that if he told Ilya why he had done it, he would have his full support. Ilya would visit him. He could make Ilya some art with his newfound free time as tokens of his love. 

“Can you grab two glasses out that cupboard next to you?” 

Shane nodded his head and turned to grab the glasses. 

A perfect weapon. 

“I don’t buy into his whole persona, you know. He’s an asshole, but he’s not as bad as he wants people to think he is.” 

Finally, Shane thought to himself. This was the first thing that Scott had said that made actual sense. It was a slight relief to find out that someone who he used to look up to wasn’t a complete idiot. 

Maybe a glass is just a glass and will be used just for drinking. 

Shane followed Scott to his couch, and placed the glasses on the table. “Well, that’s something I guess.”

Scott looked at Shane for a moment. Shane was suddenly uncomfortably aware of their close proximity on the couch. The man was a millionaire, why has he bought such a small couch? He was hardly poor. 

“What made you think I knew about the two of you?” Scott finally asked. 

“You asked me today! You asked me if I knew any good Russian restaurants in Montreal!” Shane exclaimed, maybe a bit too loudly.

Scott nodded at him thoughtfully. “Right, and me asking about certain cuisine in a city that I know you live in, made you immediately think that I knew about your Russian lover?”

Again with the word lover! Why is everyone so obsessed with that word? 

Shane grimaced. 

“I was just asking,” Scott said. “You know, generally.” 

Shane huffed. “Well Russian cuisine isn’t one of the more famous ones, so excuse me for immediately assuming you were being an asshole.” 

Scott raised an eyebrow. “I wasn't expecting Rozanov to be the smarter one in your relationship.” 

“Fuck you!” Shane snaps. “Russian cuisine? The fucking ‘where’s your boy Rozanov?’” Shane does a poor initiation of Scott’s voice, and hopes he fucking hates it. “Not to mention when you were all like, ‘you’re starting to sound like him?’” 

”Those are your great grand clues, Sherlock?” Scott asks in disbelief, cocking his head and staring at Shane harder. He gives him a long once over, he looks like he’s searching for something but Shane doesn’t know what. Shane resists the urge to squirm under the scrutiny, he just looks back at him scowling. 

Yeah, those were his clues. That was three separate incidents where Scott had said something that directly tied back to Ilya… or at least, that’s what he had thought. 

After a couple of seconds pass, Shane finally asks, “Hunter, what the fuck are you looking at?” 

“If you’d have never shown up here tonight, if you’d never gotten into your own head about the stupid Russian restaurant comment.” Hunter grinned. “I would have never guessed you were gay.” 

That was both the best and the worst comment anyone had ever said to him. If Scott Hunter, certified Gay™, couldn’t tell that he was gay, this must’ve that meant he had been doing a better job of hiding this than Shane gave himself credit for. This was good. This was comforting to know. What was less comforting, and what he could have really done without knowing was the confirmation that if he had never shown up here, Scott really would have never have known about him and Ilya. 

Shane groaned loudly and put his head back into his hands. 

Scott poured himself a drink. “When I first came out, before the whole kissing Kip on the ice thing-“

”Real subtle by the way,” Shane grumbled into his fingers. “You went from zero to a hundred with that one. Just straight onto the Jumbotron.” 

Scott gave Shane a long look before giving a small smile. “See, this is what I meant that time, you are starting to sound like him.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“What I was going to say was, when I first came out, people asked me if I was dating Rozanov.” 

Shane lifted his head and blanched. “They thought you were dating Rozanov? What? Why?” 

“Dunno, maybe cause sometimes he pretends to flirt with me on the ice?” 

Shane was going to kill Ilya. “He flirts with you?” 

“He pretends to flirt with me. I think he thought it was an effective method of getting under my skin, and guess what, it fucking worked. Every single time.” 

“Idiot.” 

Scott laughed. “Hey you said it, not me. But you know, he’s lucky cause he can get away with it.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Age old question I guess, is he gay or European?” 

Shane wasn’t in the mood for fucking riddles. 

“I‘d never noticed,” Shane muttered to himself before glancing at Scott curiously. 

“Well, he wears a lot of designer silk shirts-“

”It’s not a crime to like fashion.” Shane says defensively. He quite liked Ilya’s silk shirts. Sure, he’d never wear them himself but Ilya always made them look good. The man could be a full-time night if the hockey career hadn’t worked out.

“Ilya flirts. He’s a bit of a diva.” Scott notes thoughtfully. “His hair, well do you see any other NHL players looking after their hair to the degree he definitely does?” 

“He has very nice hair, he has to look after it,” Shane starts. “Curly hair is a whole other thing. You wouldn’t understand, it’s curl patterns and making sure it’s not too crunchy, and-“ 

“All I’m saying is,” Scott cut in, raising his eyebrows a little at Shane. “In this sport, any man who looks like they give a shit about hygiene and fashion, well, people just start to assume.” 

“He’s Slavic, what do people expect?” 

Scott snorts. “Exactly! Is he gay or European?” Grabbing Shane’s glass, Scott pours him a drink. “Rozanov is smart though, he’s built up this perfect womanizer persona alongside all of that, so, everyone nods their heads in agreement and say, ‘well clearly he’s just European.’ Because that’s much easier to stomach than him being gay.” 

“Bisexual,” Shane mutters, poking the rug with his shoe.

”Naturally.” 

Shane wanted to punch him, but instead he downed his drink in one and warned. “You can’t tell anyone this shit.” 

“You know what Rook, I thought you were smarter than this,” Hunter smiles sympathetically, he looked like there was more he wanted to say but he appears to take pity on Shane’s miserable demeanour. “Why would I tell anyone?” 

“Because-, uh-, you fucking hate Ilya and this would be a very effective method of getting him gone.” Shane hissed, his nostrils flaring with annoyance. He couldn’t believe that Scott wasn’t taking this seriously. “This would be the shittiest thing you could do.” 

Scott lifts up a hand to placate him. Shane debates biting it. 

“First of all, I don’t hate Rozanov,” Scott insists. 

Shane wanted to die. He wanted Scott to die too. “It seems like you hate him.” 

Hunter looked a little too happy about this whole situation for Shane’s liking. “Hate is a strong word. I get annoyed by him, fuck, show me someone who plays hockey who doesn’t.” Scott took a sip of his drink before continuing. “But I reckon that just means he’s good at his job. Well, you know that already, he’s one of the best in the league.” 

“Might be the best.” Shane mutters. 

“You’re really in it, huh,” Scott muses with a laugh, and Shane clenches his jaw. “It’s funny to see, I don’t know, just not used to you displaying so much emotion. You’re hardly known for it.” 

Shane grabs the vodka bottle and pours himself another sizeable drink. “Yeah, well, some of have some sense of control and don’t snog our boyfriends on the ice.” 

“Boyfriends, eh?” 

Shane wanted to punch him so fucking badly. 

“Hard to imagine Rozanov as someone’s boyfriend.” 

“He’s a good boyfriend.” 

Scott nodded his head and shrugged. “You don’t have to defend him to me.” 

This was uncharted waters. There was only five people in his life before tonight that knew about his relationship with Ily, and with nearly all of them, at some point, Shane has had to defend his boyfriend. It was with his own best friend that he was still having to defend Ilya on a weekly basis. 

Shane unconsciously deflated a little, a small level of relief seeping int his bones., 

“He’s an asshole, and I think some of the lads thought he is homophobic, but I never did.” Scott grinned. “I could always appreciate that he was funny with his lines and seemed to have some morales about where the boundaries are.” 

“You think he’s funny?” 

Scott paused and pulled a face. “Funny might have been a step too far. He has his moments.” 

“You think he’s funny.” 

“You’re the one sucking his dick.” 

“Two things can be true at the same time,” Shane mutters with a huff. “You think he’s funny and occasionally, I suck his dick.” 

This really was one of the weirdest days of his fucking life. He just admitted to Scott Hunter that he, Shane Hollander, sometimes sucked Ilya Rozanov’s dick. A half-truth. Shane did indeed suck Ilya dick but to say he did it occasionally was a gross understatement. But now Scott Hunter knew that he sucked Ilya’s dick. At this rate, he might as well just show him their fucking sex-tape or have him sit in a goddamn cuck-chair. It might be less humiliating. That could probably even be a little bit hot. This current situation was definitely not hot. 

“You know, when I said that you were starting to sound like him, maybe next time someone says something like that,” Scott smiled. “You should just ask, who?” 

There were over 700 hundred players in the league last time Shane checked. That’s 700 hundred different men Scott could have been comparing him to. 

That made sense. He should have asked who the fuck he was talking about. 

Before Shane was able to get through his internal buffering Scott asked, “Hollander, when?” 

“When?” 

“When did the two of you start…” 

That was a complicated question to answer even between himself and Ilya, so he went with the easiest answer. “Rookie season.” 

Scott’s eyebrows raised with such a sudden vigour that Shane imagined them flying away. “Rookie season?” 

“Give or take, I guess.” 

“Okay, so now I’m starting to see a fair few problem with this,” Scott mutters, rubbing his face tiredly, he leans back onto the couch. 

Shane was slightly infuriated seeing Scott be tired. What the fuck was he tired over? He won the Cup last year, he’s just won another game, and he gets to kiss his stupid boyfriend whenever the fuck he wants. So, as of right now, if anyone should be tired, it should be him! 

But Shane is a well-trained Canadian Golden Boy so instead he nods and mutters, “I guess I should be happy it’s only a few.” 

Nearly every night a new problem reveals itself to Shane, and most of these problems were related to his relationship with Ilya. Suppose it was quite nice for someone else to see what he was dealing with. 

“A fair few.” 

Shane has never been good at social queues or reading rooms, and this has always made him feel like even more of an outsider than he already (secretly) is. But Shane was quickly realising that Scott clearly suffered from the same ailment. 

Scott continued. “The two team Captains issue. The rivals issue. I suppose there’s also the Russian issue, and then you have the other Russian issue, but clearly you don’t seem to that as too much of an issue.” 

Shane raised his eyebrows. “The other Russian issue?” 

“The only people who don’t think Ilya Rozanov as an issue is his own team, and even then I’m not entirely convinced.” 

“Go fuck yourself Hunter,” Shane huffed, narrowing his eyes at Scott dangerously. He drank more of the vodka. He usually only drank this much when it was a special occasion, and whilst Shane wouldn’t describe this as a special occasion, it was certainly an insane one so it still feels appropriate. “You said yourself, you don’t believe the whole persona thing.” 

“I don’t believe the whole persona thing.” Shane pours Scott more drink too and Scott clinks their glasses together before continuing. “Rozanov is still Rozanov though. He’s not quite as big of an asshole as he would have everyone believe, but he’s still an issue.”

Shane takes another sip and raises an eyebrow at Scott. “In what way?” 

“He’s just fucking annoying. Rozanov is annoyingly good at the game, but we’ve established that, he’s annoyingly arrogant, annoyingly-“

”Handsome.” Shane chimes in. The alcohol was really starting to hit him now. 

The alcohol was also starting to Scott as he let out an uncharacteristically loud laugh. “Yeah, alright, he’s good looking. I’ll give you that.” 

Shane grinned. 

“He can be kind of mean though,” Scott muttered to himself, but Shane caught it. 

He fought back the urge to grin even wider and brought the glass back to his mouth, before taking a sip, he mumbled into the glass. “It’s kind of hot though.” 

Scott shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck, grinning lazily. “If you’re into that I guess.” 

Shane was very much into that and he was drunk enough now to be completely unashamed of this fact. 

“You’re just upset that he’s found a million different ways to call you a dinosaur.” 

“He’s not very original.” 

Shane disagreed with this. He couldn’t imagine finding that many different ways of calling someone old. Shane was endlessly impressed. 

It was imaginative if anything. 

Shane looked at one of the ugly painting on the wall because he’s tired of looking at Scott’s smiling face. He wants to inform him that Ilya has better taste in art than he does, but he restrains himself. No sense in just being petty. 

“Oh my God,” Scott practically shouts, sloshing his drink on the floor as he sits upright. 

“What?” Shane asked, blinking at him bewilderedly. 

“IT WAS THE TWO OF YOU!” 

“I don’t know what you’re on about here, Hunter.” 

“Don’t fucking Hunter me, Rookie.” Scott hisses back, slamming his drink back down onto the table. “1221.” 

The colour drained out of his face. 1221. Scott was 1222. Shane had known this. This was one of the stupid reasons he was here, yes, in the back of his mind he remembered being pissed with Ilya for making him stand in the hallway of the stupid hotel because Scott was next door. He remembered Scott telling him explicitly which room he was in. He remembered that information disappearing from his brain the minute Ilya had his mouth on his. But they couldn’t have been that loud-

“I head the two of you-“

Shane stomach churned. He was going to be sick. He was going to be sick all over this very nice rug. The only thing that Hunter seemed to own in this living room and Shane was going to throw up on it. 

“What the fuck do you mean you heard us?” Shane practically yelps in genuine distress. “The walls couldn’t have been that fucking thin.” 

“The walls are always that thin! It’s a hotel room, Hollander! I thought you were smarter than this at least,” Scott shouted back, frowning and rubbing the back of his head. “It’s a goddamn miracle the two of you haven’t been found out.” 

“You didn’t know!” 

“I didn’t know! But now I do know, and it’s all fucking connecting!” 

“Well,” Shane spluttered. “Stop connecting!” 

Scott tosses a hand up in defeat. “Why would you have sex at the All-Stars? Why would you have sex with him when you knew my room was the next one?” 

“There are walls! I just went ahead and assumed that you hadn’t cut out your own peephole to look into Ilya’s room!” 

“I didn’t even need a peephole because the two of you were so loud!” 

Shane huffed, leaning himself back against the couch and stared up at the ceiling. “I’m not that loud.” He looked at Scott. “We couldn’t have been that loud anyways, you still didn’t realise at the time that it was us.” 

Scott looked back at Shane, leaning back on the sofa as well. “I mean, I knew it was Rozanov. His reputation was proceeding him even then. I remember I wanted to scream at him to shut the fuck up.”

”He’s not that loud.” Shane muttered, and he knew that as a fact. Out of the two of them, Shane was definitely the louder one. Ilya loved to remind Shane of this fact on a near daily basis. 

“Oh Rozanov!” Scott let out an exaggerated moan. 

Has there ever been a hockey player in-prisoned for murder of an opposing team Captain? He would have known about that right? It seems like the type of thing he would have found out about. If the answer is still no, well, Shane was used to making history.

Shane should fucking kill him, skin him and wear his face like a mask. Maybe he would send a quick selfie to Ilya who had once admitted to Shane that he thought Scott was hot, so maybe he would be into it.

Shane was suddenly immensely grateful that Scott never did shout from the other side of the wall. He remembered how immensely paranoid he had been at the time of the All-Stars. Everything had been still so new, his career and his relationship, or whatever it was then, with Ilya. Shane knew that he probably would have been easy to spook at the time, and imagined he would have done something incredibly stupid like try and end it with Ilya. 

“Should I leave? I imagine the nursing home is looking for you at this time?” 

It was weak and Shane knew it but it still got what he wanted. 

“Fuck you Hollander,” Scott sighed. 

“I don’t think Ilya would appreciate that.” 

Scott cooed. “Ilya. Fuck, can’t remember hearing his first name so much in my entire fucking life.” 

Shane rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to call him Rozanov all the time.” 

“Just in bed right?” Scott winked before laughing at his own joke. 

Shane finished up his drink to disguise his laugh. He couldn’t believe that this was how his night was going. He was fucking drunk, sat on Scott Hunter’s couch, giggling like a schoolgirl about a sex joke that had just been made about him and Ilya. 

This morning the only people that knew about them were his parents, Hayden and Jackie, and his agent. Now this old man knew too. 

Ilya was going to lose his mind. That’s five people that know, and two of them he doesn’t even like. He was going to have to tell Ilya he could tell someone he likes, this seemed unfair. 

As if summoned, Shane’s phone began to ring. He fished it out of his trousers and stared at the caller ID. 

Scott leaned over and laughed even louder, “Lily?!” He exclaimed. “The two of you are about as subtle as a hockey puck to the head, fuck!”

Shane shoved him over, before standing up and answering the call.

Scott continued to laugh as he stared at Shane, so Shane put the middle finger up to him.

“Shane, who are you with?”

Shane took a deep breath. “I’m going to tell you something and you’re not going to like it, and I’m really, really, sorry okay! But honestly I thought something else was happening but I was wrong and now I’m here with-“ 

“You are with another man?” Ilya interrupted. 

“No, no, well yes, but no,” Shane gasped in shock. He was fucking this all up already and he hadn’t even managed to tell him what was happening. 

Before he could try to explain further, Scott had stood up and snatched his phone out of his hand and put the phone on speaker.

“Rozanov!” 

There was a beat. “Shane, why does Scott Hunter have your phone?” 

Seeming to be the theme of the day, Scott was faster than Shane and responded for him. 

“You’re on speakerphone. Hollander is a little drunk,” Scott rubbed at his face. “Fuck, I’m a little drunk too. Had to be a little drunk honestly, I’ve got Hollander here accusing me off fucking with him about knowing about the two of you!” Scott laughs as if the incredulity of the situation was hitting him all over again. “Can’t believe that there’s a two of you! Crazy night, but yeah, he came here with the best intentions-“

”Of course he had best intentions Hunter,” Ilya interrupted flatly. “Hollander always has best intentions.”

That wasn’t necessarily true but Shane was touched that Ilya was so quick to defend him, even when it wasn’t necessary. He wasn’t sure if before tonight, Shane would have been so quick to defend Ilya. In fact, Shane was sure that if the roles were reversed, he probably would have been pissed and shouting at Ilya at this point.  

“Yeah, yeah, defend your boy.” Scott waved his hand around dismissively. “I’m just trying to tell you that your boyfriend isn’t cheating on you-“

Ilya interrupted again. ”Of course he would not cheat on me. He is not cheater.” 

Shane’s heart fluttered a little. He really would never cheat on Ilya, but something about the certainty and slight indignance at the idea made him want to kiss him. God he wished he was here to kiss him. Everyone in the world got to see Scott kiss his boyfriend, it seemed only fair that Shane got to subject Scott to watching him make out with Ilya. 

Scott took a long deep breath and began to massage the bridge of his nose. “I know that Rozanov.” 

“That must be refreshing feeling. You are not used to knowing things with the dementia, I know this.” 

Scott rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, what the fuck is the plan here boys?”

”Plan?” 

Shane stared at Scott in confusion. “What do you mean what is the plan?” 

“You have a plan to be together properly, right?” Scott prompted. 

“Hockey world isn’t the most welcoming to this kind of stuff, so, wait until retirement.” 

Scott looked back at Shane in an almost pitiful way and the anger that had slowly drained from Shane’s body began to return. 

“You're very negative Hollander. Has anyone ever told you that?” 

“He is not-“

”I’m just-“ 

Both Shane and Ilya took a moment to let the other one speak, before speaking in unison again. 

“Shane you-“

”Ilya finish-“ 

Scott laughed again, grinning at Shane with all his stupid perfectly white teeth. He was taking too much amusement from this situation and it was only pissing Shane even more.  

Shane took a breath and spoke again when he figured that Ilya was waiting. “I’m not negative, I’m just trying to be realistic.” He nodded to himself. “It makes sense to at least try to be logical about the whole situation.” 

“Logical?” Scott questions. “It’s love, nothing logical about it.” 

Ilya scoffed down the phone. “Ah yes, Mr. Jumbotron, I must kiss my boyfriend in front of the whole world. Not all of us get that privilege. It was brave, yes. You are brave man for that, I was very impressed. But this is different. We have careers, I have Russia. They come and arrest me, if not worse, I don’t know. I wouldn’t like to know.”

Scott winced and stared at his ugly painting, but Shane could tell he was listening. Neither of them dared speak whilst Ilya got this off his chest. 

“There is love. So much love, I love him so much, you will never be able to even understand how much Hunter. But, Shane is right. There has to be logic for this to work. Shane needs a plan to feel safe about this, and I want to be with him forever so I will do whatever he needs for this to work.” 

None of this was new to Shane, but hearing it this way made Shane want to burst into tears. Ilya making it so clear that he is willing to do anything for Shane so that they can be together. He couldn’t believe that he was loved this much by another person. Fuck, Shane couldn’t believe that he loved Ilya just as much, if not even more if it was possible. 

“Wow, you really love each other, don’t you?” Scott asked in awe. 

“Well done Sherlock,” Shane muttered, but it was loud enough that Ilya still heard and cackled down the phone line. 

Scott rolled his eyes. “You know what, I actually do think the two of you are perfect for each other. You’re both assholes.” 

But he doesn’t say it like it’s a bad thing. Shane was half-convinced it was almost a little bit fond. It was annoying actually. Shane was always forced to seem like Canada’s Golden Boy, but he knew he wasn’t perfect.

Scott closes his eyes and shakes his head again, he looked like he was in pain, then he opened his eyes again and sighed. ”And the two of you have decided that the best plan is to just not come out until retirement? You’re just going to continue sneaking around?” 

“Well, not exactly. Ilya is going to sign with the Centaurs-“

Scott blanched. “They’re the worst team in the league! You can’t shove Rozanov there!”

”He can shove me wherever he would like.” 

Scott gave another loud sigh. “All I’m saying is, you’re one of the best players in the league. Anyone would take you, fuck anyone would trade for you. Rozanov, if you told my fucking team that you wanted to be on it, they’d trade me in a second to have you.” 

Clicking his tongue loudly down the line, Ilya chimes in. “So sweet of you Hunter, I did not know you were such a fan. You bring jersey to our next game and I promise I sign for you.”

Shane was so in love with this man. 

“Fuck you Rozanov,” Scott muttered, walking back into his kitchen and grabbing another bottle. He didn’t bother grabbing his glass, but instead took four big gulps straight from the bottle. 

“You say this in front of my boyfriend? You want threesome, I’m sure, but Shane has no threesome rule. Is very boring like that.” 

“You’re so fucking full of yourself.”

“Hunter, you are just sad that you never got the chance to be with this Russian-“

Shane purses his lips and interrupts. “I think we’ve lost track of the night. Look, I need you to promise you won’t tell anyone about this.” 

“What happens to me if I do? You going to kill me?” Scott jokes, trying to reassure Shane. 

“Probably, I can’t have you running your mouth off.” Shane retorted simply, he didn’t even blink. 

“Right-“ Scott opens and closes his mouth. He was trying very hard to figure out if Shane was joking. 

“He is not joking.” Rozanov sing-songed. 

“Out of the two of you,” Scott muses quietly. “You’d think Rozanov was the scary one, but honestly Hollander, you really do give him a run for his money.” 

“This is lie. You are liar. I am much scarier.” 

Both Shane and Scott ignore Ilya. 

After a beat, “Ilya is a softie,” is all Shane says. 

Ilya splutters down the phone line. “Is not true. You are also liar Hollander. Both of you are liars.” 

Scott is grinning at him widely, and suddenly Shane can’t help it but he also breaks out into a matching wide grin. This was different. It was nice, but different. 

Shane wasn’t used to nice and different being in the same sentence. Different always sparked a large amount of trepidation and uncomfortableness within Shane, but this was nice. It was nice to have someone who wasn’t his parents joining in with him teasing Ilya. He didn’t get this with Hayden. When Hayden made a joke at Ilya’s expense Shane knew that there was an undercurrent of genuine dislike there. But Scott wasn’t doing it like that. Shane would go as far as to say it seemed very apparent to him that Scott was actually fond of Ilya. The same way that Shane knew Ilya was secretly fond of Scott. 

“I know he’s a softie.” Scott agrees. “I’ve said this to him before, that time he came to the Kingfisher.” 

Shane didn’t know what he was talking about but he was pissed that he never got to see Ilya’s face when Scott said that to him. He also didn’t know what the fuck a Kingfisher was. 

Ilya made a loud whining noise down the speaker and Shane grabbed the phone from Scott. 

“You shut your mouth Hunter, before I come shut it for you.” 

“Whatever Rozanov,” Scott shouted at Shane’s retreating figure, before quickly grabbing the bottle and following him back to the couch. 

“Shane I think it is time for you to leave dinosaur to wank at the idea of the two of us.” 

“No, I want to know more.” 

“Da, of course you do. You want to know how we suck each other off.” 

“No!” Shane shouted, sitting back down on the couch. 

“I meant, I wanted to know how many people know about the two of you?” Scott sighed, taking a sip from the bottle again. 

“We’ve only told five people.”

”Now six,” Ilya called out. 

Scott nodded his head and asked slowly, “how did that go down?” 

”My parents came around to it, quite quickly actually. You know, once they got past the whole Boston Raider Womanizer Thing.” 

Scott raised an eyebrow. 

“Hayden is less happy about the whole thing. His wife, Jackie, has been wonderful. But Hayden is taking longer to come around to it.” 

“His wife is much hotter than him.” Ilya interjected. 

Scott nodded. “I can imagine that.” He poured more vodka into his glass. “Rozanov, anyone in your life know about the two of you?” 

Ilya went quiet for a minute and Shane felt a pang. No. No one is Ilya’s life knew about them yet. That didn’t seem fair. 

“No, not yet. Is okay though. One day.” 

Scott looked at Shane with a raised eyebrow. “That hardly seems fair.” 

Shane loathed that he was agreeing with Scott on this one, but this was a conversation for him and Ilya to have alone. 

Ilya jumped in before Shane could say anything. “Is not too bad and it is not Shane’s fault. We have the plan.” 

Scott didn’t respond but just continued to stare at Shane. 

Shane suddenly wanted out of this apartment and to look at the plan again. 

“Rozanov, I’m going to leave now. I’ll call you back later.” 

“Back to Rozanov now? Ah, I see how it is Hollander.”  

“Good night Ilya.” Scott called out. 

“No, you do not call me by my first name.”

”Why not? We’re friends at this point.”

”Who told you this lie?” 

“You came to see me at the Kingfisher. I know about your secret boyfriend. We’re friends.” 

Shane still had no idea what the fuck the Kingfisher was and he had no idea that his boyfriend had been seeing Scott before tonight, he reminded himself to question Ilya about this at some point.

”Shut up Hunter. Good night Shane.”

”Good night Ilya. I’ll speak to you later.”

“Good night Il-“

Ilya had put the phone down before Scott had finished his sentence. 

Shane stood up from the couch and looked down at Scott. “It is late, I really should go. I’ve got a flight tomorrow.” 

Scott nodded and hauled himself off the couch, grabbing the two glasses in one hand and the two bottles in the other. Shane grabbed the two bottles from the man before he dropped them everywhere, and followed him into the kitchen. 

“Shane.” 

“What?” 

“I just want to say something about Rozanov to you, but it can never leave this room. Okay?” 

Shane narrows his eyes. “What about him?” 

“You can never tell him this.” Scott warned, placing the two glasses into the dishwasher. “I like Rozanov. He’s a good person. Honestly, Shane, it’s you that I know less about.” He leaned against the kitchen counter and appeared to be giving Shane a once over. 

Shane wanted to ask if those glasses were dishwasher friendly but he held his tongue and let Scott continue. He had the bewildering feeling that he was about to get the shovel talk from Scott Hunter in Ilya’s honour. 

“He’s a good person. Deep down. Once you move on from the whole asshole persona.” 

He was. Shane was getting the shovel talk from Scott Hunter and honestly it kind of made Shane feel a little giddy. Finally! Finally someone was looking at the two of them and realising that Ilya was deserving of some protection. 

“No one on his side knows about this relationship, and honestly at this point, I do think of me and him as friends. Even if it is a bit begrudging.”

What the fuck happened at the Kingfisher?

“When I came out, I know you sent that email and honestly I really did appreciate it, but he came to me and we talked. So, you know, maybe I suspected a little bit about him.” 

Shane nodded his head. 

Scott laughed. “The Raiders game was the first game where no one in a team had said anything shitty to me about being gay. I know that Rozanov must have had something to do with that. He’s a good Captain.” 

Shane suddenly felt a strange mixture of pride and shame. 

He had never said anything to his team about not saying anything homophobic; not that they would have listened to Shane anyways. But the Raiders did listen to Ilya. They respected him and they loved him. They demonstrated it so fiercely that every team in the NHL knew any Raider would kill for their Captain. 

“The first thing he did was say something stupid about an old people’s home, and ask him if my boyfriend was a volunteer there.” 

Shane grinned. 

“But it was nice, you know, most people they’re either saying something stupid and homophobic or they’ve stopped chirping at me altogether.” Scott smile had fallen into a deep look of sincerity. 

Shane resisted the urge to turn away or avert his eyes. This was important. This was someone seeing a side of Ilya that Shane was often stressed was only being revealed to him. It was nice that there was someone who recognised it for what it was. 

Even if that person was still Scott Hunter. 

Scott’s voice was startlingly firm. “I don’t want you messing him around.”

This had taken a strange turn. Shane raised his eyebrows. “What would you do to me if I did?” He was mostly asking out of curiosity. 

Scott didn’t seem to expect that question and took a moment to think about it.

“You know Cliff Marleau?" Scott questions, his annoying grin making an appearance again. Shane wants to tell him that he doesn’t need to whiten his teeth for at least the next 14 months. It’s unnatural and blinding. 

Shane blinks. “Of course, he broke my collarbone that one time.” 

Scott nods. “He broke your collarbone that time and he didn’t even mean to do it. I bet you’re going to go home and tell Rozanov that he should tell someone close to him.” 

Shane nodded. That had been exactly what he was going to go home and do. 

Scott continued. “That’s Rozanov’s boy, they’re best friends. He’s a big bloke. Bigger than me and you. He’d do some real damage to you, more than just your collarbone.” 

“That’s your plan?” Shane questions. “You’re gonna tell someone else to fuck me up if this doesn’t work out?” 

Scott grinned. “I can’t imagine Rozanov would call his guard dog himself, so yeah, I’d call Marlow and you know, maybe I’d get in contact with some other people. I’m just letting you know, I wouldn’t let it go easily. He’s a good guy, he deserves to have people care about him.” 

Shane blows out a deep breath and forces his shoulder back down. “And he’s hot.”

”And he’s hot.” Scott agrees shamelessly. “Not my type. But, I do see it. 

Shane couldn’t imagine what Scott Hunter’s type could possibly be. He had zero recollection of what his boyfriend had looked like on the screen. He had only been thinking about Ilya at the time. 

Shane took a deep breath. 

“I love him a lot,” Shane murmurs softly, his chest suddenly feeling very warm. “I really love him.” Shane looks at Scott and follows his surge of bravery. “I’d do anything for him. If it comes down to it,” He nods to himself. “If it came down to it, I had to choose. Ilya or hockey? Well fuck it, Ilya or anything else? I’m going to pick Ilya.” 

Fuck. He’d said it. Shane knew that this was how he felt. He’d known it for longer than he’d care to admit, but suddenly the truth of that weighed heavily on him. It weighed heavily in the room. 

Scott stared at him, he looked like he was trying to choose the right words to say back. “Well, hopefully it won’t come to that.” 

Shane nodded his head. 

“But I think that’s a good choice.” Scott continued. “Not that you’re looking for my approval. But, yeah, if I was in your position and it was Kip. I’d pick Kip too.” 

Shane had no idea who the fuck Kip was. Maybe that was the guy on the screen? 

Ilya would know. Ilya would know because he likes to know about people. He pretends he doesn’t care but he does care. 

Shane nodded at him and moved towards the door. 

Scott calls after him, peaking his head around the corner. “Just one more question, Hollander?” 

Shane raises an eyebrow. 

“If Rozanov’s code-name is Lily.” He grins and gestures to him. “What’s yours?” 

Shane breathes out a long sigh before answering, “Jane.” 

Scott doubles-over with laughter and Shane rolls his eyes. It’s really not that funny. 

Scott continues to chuckle helplessly. “How have the two of you not been caught yet? These are the dumbest code-names in the world.” 

“They can’t be that bad, no one has figured it out yet.” Shane defends, crossing his arms protectively around himself. “They’re just basic, simple girl names.” 

Hunted continued to laugh. 

“Shut up Hunter,” Shane mutters, his face turning even more red with every passing second. “Ilya came up with them.” His eyes fixate on Hunter’s ugly painting again, before turning back around to the door. 

By the time that Shane had moved to the door, and turned around to say his goodbyes to Hunter, the older man had crossed the room and nearly knocked Shane over by embracing him. 

This was new. New and weird. 

“I’m not going to tell anyone, I promise Hollander,” Scott reassures, squeezing him so hard that it pushes the air from Shane’s lungs. 

“Oh-, right, okay. Thanks Hunter,” Shane practically gasped, he was still reeling from the ferocity of the hug. He awkwardly patted Scott on the back in a way Shane hoped was comforting. For some bizarre reason Shane was under the impression that perhaps Scott needed this hug more than he did. Maybe his boyfriend wasn’t as much of a hugger as Ilya is. 

This hug was going on for too long as far as Shane was concerned but Hunter seemed reluctant to let go. This might have been the longest anyone other than his parents or Ilya had ever hugged him. Just as Shane was about to try and politely push him back, Hunter pulled himself back and stared into Shane’s eyes. 

“You take care of Rozanov, yeah?” 

Shane nodded dumbly, meeting Hunter’s eyes for the first time since the hug. “I, yeah, I fully intend on it.” 

Hunter nodded at him and released him from his grip. 

Shane resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The man comes out on national television and suddenly thinks he’s some type of gay Jesus. 

From there Shane awkwardly waved, walked swiftly to the door before Hunter could try and hug him again and started heading towards the elevator. Shane pressed the button on the elevator and pulled out his phone. Ilya picked up on the second ring. 

“Is Kip the name of his boyfriend?” 

“Da, he is fun! Much too young for such an old-man, but everyone has their preferences I guess.” 

Shane hummed in acknowledgment before switching subjects. “He hugged me. That was strange.” 

“He is a hugger. He’s hugged me before too, was very strange.”

”When did he hug you?” 

“A long story, I will tell you later.”