Archive of Our Own

Part one of ''Hollanov type of Chaos''

Shane’s POV

Ilya and Shane’s last hook up, Vegas, 2014

I started looking around, trying to stall for a bit. I wouldn’t have admitted it for anything in the world, but I was waiting for Ilya to escort me out. Escort me out and finally kiss me after a night full of lust. A night that was supposed to help me release stress, but actually intensified it after the adrenaline wore off.

But in that moment, as I was subconsciously wishing for my fantasy to be true, Ilya interrupted my train of thought and said:

„Goodbye, Hollander.’’

The tone felt intensely cold and demanding. Like he got what he wanted and then he wanted to get rid of me. His dismissal stung in a way that made me feel nauseous and especially embarrassed for expecting anything else.

But why…? Why was I feeling like this? After all, that was the deal and it was what we agreed on. I couldn’t just go up to him and shout at him. Ask him why he’d been treating me like shit for so long. Because the truth was that he wasn’t treating me any type of way. He was just following the arrangement we agreed on without ever questioning it.

I tried to get my emotions under control and stop filling my head with such thoughts. I am not gay. I know I’m not. At least not completely. What am I even doing? I got into the elevator and I felt suffocated by the small space. I leaned on the wall and started typing some potential messages I could send Ilya. “See you next season!” felt too strange. Too friendly for what we were actually doing every time we saw each other, behind closed doors. Suddenly, before the thought occurred in my brain, I typed: “We didn’t even kiss…’’.

Everything got blurry all of a sudden and I couldn’t tell exactly which button I pressed. By the time I blinked away my tears, it was too late. I stared at my phone in disbelief, like it was its fault I was so dumb I managed to press send. Two blue lines appeared on the screen and that’s when I really started freaking out. I started pacing in the elevator, at a loss of words and options as in how to rewind the last ten seconds. When it finally stopped at my floor I quickly deleted the message. But another surprise, I pressed ‘’delete to myself’’, and now I had no way to delete him from his phone. Fuck.

 I knew he saw it, but I could just pretend it never happened. I didn’t have it anymore anyway, so it was pretty easy to erase the elevator ride from my mind. I also knew that he wouldn’t answer it.

Because we were casual, so it was normal for us not to kiss. Right?

My palms were sweaty as I pocketed the phone and knocked gently on the door. When there was no answer, I took out my room key and opened it myself, getting ready for Hayden’s invasive questions about what I’ve been doing. Okay… maybe they weren’t invasive. He would just ask what I’d been up to, but I’ve always gotten defensive over those questions. Maybe because I was with Rozanov every time he would ask…

“Hi, Hayden.’’ I said, trying to sound normal.

But apparently Hayden was sleeping like a baby already. I rolled my eyes and got into my bed. I wrapped myself in a blanket and enjoyed how cosy it felt. The rain was echoing through the window and it was a really good time to go to sleep. Everyone was already asleep after that long, boring party. But I was the only one who couldn’t close his eyes.

I looked at my phone just standing there, on the nightstand, and I couldn’t help myself. I checked, and to my surprise, Ilya had actually answered the message. “Felt pretty weird.”. I blinked a few times. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Was Ilya actually saying that? Why would he say that if it felt casual to him?

I decided to do what I knew best when I was overthinking. Inhale… exhale, and repeat. My breathing steadied after one minute. Soon after that, I promptly fell asleep to the sound of heavy rain. I didn’t even realise that I left Ilya on read all that time.

Three months later

I was walking along the streets with my head held high. An action that someone who got ghosted by a situation ship for three months shouldn’t even have the idea to do. Yep, it was true, Rozanov straight up ended our arrangement without giving me a single reason. Well, he probably thought I knew the reasons far too well, which I did, but at least a text would have been nice.

I smiled and I felt like the moon was looking back at me. The stars were shining brightly, or maybe I was confusing them with the street lights. The night air felt even colder than usual, and I couldn’t help but feel an ounce of relief.

All the sneaking around had been very tiring and insanely dangerous. And I mean that. I do. But at the same time, I can’t help but miss it.

I miss the way his hands caressed my face.

The way he touched me with such carefulness as to not ruin me. How our kisses went on a few seconds too long. How I even felt the loss physically when he left.

Those things shouldn’t matter anymore, but the dread I felt in my heart when I remembered them was more tiring than ever. I couldn’t take it anymore.

Suddenly, I didn’t even know what had gotten into me, maybe the midnight adrenaline or something else I wasn’t going to examine, but I had the urge to find someone. Someone who could help me prove that what I experienced with Rozanov wasn’t that special. It was just a hook up that had gotten far too intimate and far too dangerous for our careers. I was going to find a pretty woman I could date for a while, so I could buy more time.

The press was already on me, they had cameras ready in every place I frequented. They were thirsty for a story I wasn’t going to give them. But lately they’d gotten out of hand, they invaded a coffee shop I stopped to have a drink at. They just entered without permission and peppered me with questions about Rozanov. My breath caught in my throat and it felt like all the air in the room was gone. The very annoying tick of bouncing my leg came back and my eyes moved from the filming crew to the camera, a little panicked. Usually, I knew far too well how to handle press, but they’d caught me in a really bad state. And that state being me thinking about what the fuck happened to the arrangement with Rozanov.

And that was how I got to my brilliant plan. Give them a fake story so I could stay off the hook for a while.

It couldn’t be that hard, right?

I entered the club, still not feeling like myself in those type of places. Too many drunk people making me uncomfortable, too many women I wasn’t interested in trying to get my attention. People throwing themselves on tables, screaming about exes and lost opportunities from the top of their lungs. I actually couldn’t stand clubs, but I’d heard enough about them to know that it was the perfect place to find someone. Even Rozanov used them on the regular. Many more thoughts like that one came forward that I’d had to erase from my mind, but failed successfully to do so. The way Rozanov took his coffee in the mornings. How thick his accent got when he was out of it. Out of it because of me… no. Nope. Stop. Look. A girl by the bar.

In a world full of girls that seemed Rozanov’s type, she seemed different. Her kind attitude radiating everywhere, she was making small talk with the bartender. She was dressed in a long dress that nearly reached the ground, making her slim figure and tanned hands stand out. Her bright smile seemed genuine, unlike other people’s.

She threw her hand back in amusement.

I finally felt like I could talk to someone directly tonight after all the chaos I encountered at first. I decided to proceed with my plan because, what else was I even supposed to do? I took a few soothing breaths and marched over there, sitting in the free chair next to her.

As soon as she was done laughing at the bartender’s joke, she looked to see who was sitting next to her. When her head turned to the right, she stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes got super wide and she pointed a finger at Shane playfully.

“Oh, my gosh! Shane Hollander?” She asked, but it was pointless anyway, because she clearly knew who she was talking to.

“The one and only.” I answered, giving her an awkward smile and shifting slightly in my seat.

Then the girl pointed at herself with the same mock surprise and said: “Shane Hollander and Rose Landry, at the same club. Crazy!”

Wait… that name sounds awfully familiar.

“I do think I know you from somewhere.”

She gave me one of her warm smiles and touched my arm, her freshly painted nails lingering a little too long.

“Wow, thank you for not watching all of my movies.” She said non-sarcastically.

“Yep, really exhausting being famous sometimes.” I answered and exhaled. She was really nice, and she understood what I was going through, one way or another.

“Sometimes? All the time!” She laughed, and it was a beautiful sound.

I smiled back at her. The night seemed to be going really well, weirdly well. But if you asked me at that moment, it wasn’t weird. It seemed almost normal.

No one’s POV

Every time Shane fucking Hollander entered a club, something really bad and annoying had to happen. And he had far too many examples than he wanted to admit to anyone. The last time he stepped foot in a club, it was almost a year ago. Hayden literally had to drag him to a celebratory dinner, because they’d won a game against Boston after all. That time, Hayden, because of course, who was it going to be, threw up on him!

Another time, almost a year and a half ago, he was dragged once again by JJ. Another celebratory dinner, which ended with three girls pinning Shane to the table. Hayden had to pull them away or who knew what would have happened. Shane still prefers not to think about that night or that he could still feel their nails digging up in his skin when he had nightmares.

So, when the night was going so well, it would have been normal for Shane to feel at least a bit eerie.

Shane and Rose kept making small talk for a while, things flowing very naturally between them for people who met not so long ago. Shane was not very good at understanding social cues or reading people, but as far as he was concerned, Rose was flirting with him. Shamelessly flirting with him. In a club. Full of people. And no one even bat an eye in their direction.

It’s not fair that Rozanov will never get the chance to do that with me.

Shane would eventually have to learn to live without the adrenaline rush he got from their hook ups. Without the tender touches, the forehead kisses or the fondness in his chest after their first actual hook up that shouldn’t have been there.

Suddenly, Rose nudged him. He just then realised that he’d been looking at his drink like it personally murdered him.

“Hey, everything okay?” She asked, voice full of concern.

Shane hated her. He hated her with all his heart in that moment. And the thing was, she didn’t even do anything wrong. She was one of the sweetest girls Shane’d ever met. She seemed to genuinely want to know Shane better and she actually treated him like a human, not a hockey celebrity. She laughed at all his jokes and she was really a pleasure to be around.

But Shane hated her for being so, so flawless that Shane couldn’t find any reason he wasn’t feeling any attraction to her. Why was he so broken?

Shane excused himself politely and reassured Rose he was fine.

“Yes, sorry, I’m fine, for sure. I just have to go to the bathroom real quick.”

Every time Shane said “for sure”, it was a lie. His way to cover up what he was actually feeling because he was too afraid to face it.

~Flashback~

“Hey, we could forget that happened in there, okay?” Shane tried, he tried really hard not to alert Rozanov of how much he’d freaked out while waiting. Shane waited for Rozanov to get out of the shower so they could have an honest conversation about what went down in there. But Shane was aware that all of that bullshit was thrown out the window when Ilya emerged, looking finer than ever. His tanned body catching the light perfectly, and his intruding blue eyes staring into Shane’s like he already knew his secret. Shane’s dirty secret that he planned to bury with him. He had gotten hard watching Ilya fucking Rozanov shower…

“Is that what you want?” Rozanov asked, his question pointed in a way that Shane didn’t fully understand at the time. Of course it is, you fucking asshole! He wanted to scream to Rozanov that whatever he thinks he saw was just his imagination. But he could lie to Rozanov all he wanted (Rozanov wouldn’t believe it anyway), but he couldn’t lie to himself. How his body reacted, it was real, Shane could feel it pumping in his veins.

“Yeah, for sure.” He lied through his teeth, because all he wanted “for sure” was for Rozanov to get on his knees right there in the locker. He wanted to feel Rozanov, maybe kiss him? He was confused himself, he really had no clue what he wanted from the Russian man. He had a lonely thought crossing his mind all over again, or better said, a lot of lonely words. Rozanov. Hot. Showers. Kiss. Di-. No. No! He wasn’t even going to finish that last one.

~Back to present time~

When Shane thought about what happened that night, shivers ran down his spine. How was he so irresponsible? He never ever disappointed, never let himself disrespect that “perfect hockey player that follows all the rules” title he so earnestly earned.

But, Rozanov had instantly called him out on his lying. Didn’t let him get away with the lie, like any person who wouldn’t want to tank their career before it started would do. He risked it all for Shane, probably because he had the same irrational desire for Shane that Shane had for him? Did he? Did he?

Yep, even now, Shane was a lost cause when it came to Rozanov.

To avoid the crowds of people, Shane ran down to the very back of the club. He was lucky tonight after all, because he found a corner he could hide in for a while. It would be rude to just abandon Rose at the table, he knew that, but he needed a moment to himself.

Shane rested his back against the wall and tried to calm down while internally freaking out more than ever. He scratched his hands in annoyance and his breath got more ragged the more he thought about his situation and how impossible it was to fix.

Shane heard the floor creak next to him. He thought there was someone who was going to the bathroom, or someone who recognised him and wanted an autograph or a photo. He really hoped the fuck not. He really didn’t want to snap and scream at a poor fan who just wanted to meet their hero.

But lucky him, or should we say poor him, after all, there was no fan and no person needing the bathroom.

Shane stopped scratching his hands and looked up for just a second, deeply annoyed, his glare unbreakable. But when he saw Ilya Rozanov himself standing there, looking at him with quiet interest and almost the same shock Shane felt, his glare just fell. He tucked his suit back together and his mouth stretched in a small “O” as it actually occurred to him who was watching him.

Shane was well aware he looked like shit, he could feel the sweat on his face, proof of how ashamed he was. Rozanov looked at him through his fanned lashes and he patiently waited for Shane to say something, anything.

“What are you even doing here?” Shane asked first, because he couldn’t bear the silence, and because he already felt his face getting hot.

“Same as you, Hollander, trying to get laid.” Rozanov answered simply, not taking his eyes off of Shane, even for a second.

An awful feeling he had absolutely no right to feel flooded his chest. He bit his lower lip to prevent him from not saying something he would regret, like: Why, why did you have to end it?

Instead, it was Shane’s turn to wait for Rozanov to proceed. Without even meaning to, his eyes darted off to Rozanov’s lips for a short moment. Fuck, did he see that? But of course, Rozanov noticed. He noticed every fucking detail when it came to Shane’s micro-expressions. And, on command, Rozanov copied Shane’s eye movement, staring at Shane’s lips for a second more than Shane did. Ilya was challenging him, daring him to do something deeply forbidden. In a club full of people who watched both teams and clearly had phones to post everything on twitter with.

Shane was not the one to initiate anything with Rozanov, and he didn’t make the first move with anyone. He always said that if someone else made the first move, it would be clearer to him if the other person wanted it, what that other person was thinking. Were the other person’s thoughts as filthy as Shane’s were?

Shane grabbed Ilya by his shirt hesitantly, constantly looking over his shoulder. Making sure that no one was watching them, phone already in hand, calling everyone about what they had just seen. “Rivals Rozanov and Hollander caught kissing the hell out of each other in a club. Scandal of the year!!!!”. Shane thought that was a very good header in the newspaper to announce the downfall of both of their careers.

Shane suddenly let go of Rozanov’s shirt, and Ilya sighed. He didn’t even have to use his words for Shane to understand: Knew it. Of course you wouldn’t risk it.

But Rozanov was just slightly wrong with that assumption.

“We can’t talk here. Just order a cab and meet me at our Montreal spot.’’ Shane stated, not even an ounce of emotion showing on his face all of a sudden.

Oh... their Montreal spot. The first time they made love. The apartment Shane didn’t rent because he wanted to preserve it for occasions just like that one. The memories still made him feel giddy whenever he entered the apartment, so even after he and Rozanov „broke up”, he wouldn’t give it up. It wasn’t fair, the tenant wouldn’t know what happened there, but Shane would always know.

But, still, Shane really, really didn’t want to invite Ilya back to his apartment, but it was far too risky to be seen talking. Or people seeing the way their eyes were full of something they couldn’t quite name, but would still label as romantic tension. They were supposed to despise each other so much to the point they would avoid any interaction.

Ilya just nodded at Shane’s eagerness. He even looked like he was about to burst out laughing right there. Shane didn’t even want to find out what Rozanov found funny about the situation, but he’d already invited him, so that was that. Shane vanished into the crowd again, without saying bye to Rozanov. He sneaked out of the club, but before that, he wanted to say bye to Rose. She’d been a sweetheart all night, and Shane felt nauseous that he gave her false hope.

“I’m going to head out. Sorry for disappearing like that.’’ Shane apologised, and he deeply meant it, just not for what she thought.

“Are you at least going to give me your number?’’ Rose asked teasingly.

Shane was caught by surprise, but he shouldn’t have. He even said so himself: Rose had been flirting with him. He had to think fast, or else he was going to say something really stupid, like: Sorry, I’m going to see my forbidden situation ship that ghosted me for months.

Instead, he said:

“Sorry, I’m not looking for a relationship right now.’’ He answered, probably sounding pathetic since he was the one to come up to her.

Rose gazed at Shane, and her eyes were trying to send Shane a message. She knew more that she was letting on... That scared Shane out of his mind, but he kept his poker face intact and pretended he didn’t see that. That shimmer in her eyes. That silent curiosity.

“It’s okay,’’ She reassured quickly.

Shane exhaled a little louder than he intended, and she laughed shortly at that.

“But still, I wanna be friends! Give me your number, if you want, of course.’’ Rose announced, still beaming at him.

Shane gave her a real smile for probably the first time the whole night.

“Yes, of course.’’

He quickly pulled out his phone and read Rose the number quietly while she typed it in with a grin on her face.

“I see you’re in a hurry,’’ She observed.

“Yes, I’m gonna go now. Nice meeting you!’’ Shane exclaimed as he was already half turned to the exit.

“Good luck!’’ She yelled and waved her freshly polished nails at him at the same time.

What? What does she know? Rose was very close to laughing right there when Shane left, so what was up with that anyway? Her short wave and the sudden detached attitude were freaking Shane out a little. Wasn’t she going to, you know, get a bit mad? Shane for sure would’ve if a girl, or should he say boy, approached him and then fled like that. But Shane figured that Rose was simply a person with better morals than him and left it at that.

Shane quickly got out of the club without people fussing over him, which was a new type of accomplishment. He flagged down a driver, and as soon as he stepped in the car, the realisation of what he’d done dawned over him. I invited Ilya to my apartment, what am I even doing?! I should have left him there and fled... The drive felt like it took forever. Shane looked at all the houses and people passing as the car drove further, right to his funeral. He really didn’t want to talk to Rozanov about anything, but he at least had to make Rozanov admit it was over. That way, he could get over it without any more obstacles.

When the car stopped in front of the little garden upfront, Shane instantly got out. He figured Ilya was waiting for him inside, so he slipped in without alerting anyone nearby. And he was right, there was Ilya, standing on one step patiently. Shane decided to skip all the small talk crap and get right into it.

“What the fuck is going on?! You- you ignore all my texts, even when we’re in the same town, and then you show up like this?” Shane asked, frustration and confusion bleeding in his tone. And if Ilya’s hearing or the language barrier weren’t fooling him, a bit of hurt.

They continued to climb the stairs, side to side, not touching even an ounce. Shane was rigid and very uncomfortable with the idea of being vulnerable in front of Ilya, and he was trying to avoid that. Not really succeeding though.

“No, no, Hollander. Was mistake. I can’t keep away from you, and when I saw you in club I just couldn’t help myself.” Ilya answered, his accent getting thick with emotion.

“I- I don’t fucking care! You hurt me.” Shane stated plainly. Suddenly, it occurred to Shane what had gotten out of his mouth. He admitted to Rozanov that his actions had an actual effect on him. He had finally said out loud, in a way or another that it wasn’t just hooking up anymore.

Shane put a hand on his mouth. Yeah, right, like that was going to fix anything. Shane’s eyes looked full of fear, fear of what Rozanov would say next. He looked up at him and he couldn’t keep the eye contact for more than a second. Shane’s eyes glistered in the faint light, tears threatening to fall.

Rozanov looked completely blindsided by Shane’s revelation. And that annoyed Shane even further. Acting like he didn’t feel it too! And what was Ilya even doing, anyway? He said to Shane that he came there to get laid. What, did that fail and Rozanov came back to his usual, one that wouldn’t ever refuse him?

Shane turned his head away from Rozanov with the perfect excuse of opening the door. He jingled with the keys for a while, buying some time. When they both stepped in the safe apartment, Ilya finally answered Shane.

“Malysh, I came here to find you. That seems crazy- but, just hear me out.’’

Shane didn’t want to hear him out anymore. Shane just wanted to be let go, he wanted Ilya to officially end the arrangement, with them face to face, so Shane could not lie to himself anymore. For Shane to stop believing that Ilya would come back and suddenly reconsider.

Shane turned his head away, refusing to put up with Ilya’s shit anymore.

“I wanted to text you, like a normal person, but I saw the text you left me in Vegas.’’

Shane turned suddenly and he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Shane forgot he even sent that embarrassing text, but it was enough for Ilya to come and find him?

“Why does that text even matter so much?’’ Shane asked, sceptical, but a flicker of hope well heard in his tone.

“I realised that I was feeling the same when you sent that, and I’ve been trying to avoid you because I thought that I could ignore it and-” Ilya knew he was babbling but he just couldn’t stop the river of words coming out of his mouth. He hadn’t seen Shane in so long and he desperately wanted Shane to understand, to get what he was trying to say, his reasons.

“Oh, so it’s my fault?’’ Shane asked, eyebrows raised in mock surrender.

“No, no, of course not! But I came here to ask you a question.’’

Shane really rolled his eyes at that. Did Ilya really have to follow him to a club in order to ask him a single question? That was the most ridiculous thing Shane had ever heard. What could possibly be so important?

“Do you think we could work?”

Shane couldn’t even process the question properly at first. His brain analysed every word and at first he got: Work where? We already work, Rozanov. But then he thought about the actual meaning the verb „work’’ from Ilya’s question had. Work as in „as a couple’’? Did Shane even dare to think Ilya meant it like that?

“I want it to work, but you already know the answer.’’

That was the most honest thing he ever said to Rozanov. He finally admitted what he had been thinking for ages, and it felt like a weight had been lifted. A weight that had been pressing on his back for so long that he forgot he could breathe without it.

Shane was not fully convinced that Ilya was serious about his question, considering the way he’d been treating Shane for the past few months, well before the Vegas hook-up.

Ilya could definitely see Shane was too afraid to trust him. Shane scanned his face for even a slight sign that he was lying or just trying to get under Shane’s skin. But there was nothing, nothing except a Russian man completely head over heels for Shane, waiting. Waiting patiently as Shane actually tried to get used to the idea.

In that moment, Ilya had enough of Shane’s suspicious glare. Ilya would just be honest, and if Shane decided he didn’t want him anymore, at least Ilya could get it all off his chest.

“But, what if we just don’t tell anyone? Malysh, I want to hold you close, to call or text you when I’m feeling like it. I want to know every boring detail of your day and I want us to fall asleep together. I would like to be part of your routine and for me to be able to say all the things I think about you.’’ Ilya’s voice trembled on the last word, his speech making him emotional now that he was actually in front of Shane, pouring his heart out the best he knew how.

Shane looked taken aback by Ilya’s statement. It was so bland, so true that nothing could top it. A small smile formed on Shane’s lips. It was barely there, but Ilya saw it and made the hard choice of continuing his speech.

“I’ve never felt like this with anyone else in my life, and I know it will be hard and exhausting and all. But I want you, Shane. All of you. I can’t take it anymore, only having small parts of you.’’

Shane’s eyes got wide and now his lips formed a thin line. He completely agreed, Shane also didn’t feel those feelings with anyone, ever. And it wasn’t like he didn’t try. He even had a girlfriend at some point, but he broke up with her soon after, because he couldn’t feel anything for her. It was too monotone, and the sex was the thing he tried to avoid the most. He preferred to do things that didn’t take very long so he could get out faster, and he lived all his life not getting why people were so crazy about sex. Why it was everywhere and why he couldn’t feel it like they did. He thought that the problem came from him, and in a way he was right, because as soon as he met Rozanov, that changed.

He couldn’t get his hands of off him, he was always desperate for more and making sounds he didn’t think were possible before every time Rozanov and him met. Shane couldn’t get enough and he was always up for exploring and trying out new things. Whatever kept the momentum going. And that was borderline crazy, thinking about how he rushed out of his girlfriend’s apartment as fast as he could after the act.

He was clearly thinking of how to answer, how to bottle up everything he wanted to tell Rozanov in a few meaningful sentences.

“Ilya, are you sure about what you’re saying?’’ Shane asked, the same tremble Ilya heard himself struggle with just a second before.

Ilya just sighed. It was so ironic for Shane to ask that, because Ilya never ever talked about his feelings unless it was absolutely necessary. He’d been thinking about that conversation for weeks, planning what he wanted to say to Shane without overwhelming him. Ilya couldn’t bear the thought of losing Shane for good, and he knew he messed up big time.

“Of course I’m sure.’’

A heavy silence entered their conversation uninvited.

Shane stared at him for a few more seconds, unable to think of a way to proceed. Ilya was well aware that Shane still didn’t have his big speech ready like Ilya had, and honestly Ilya couldn’t blame him. It was hard for Ilya to find the words that would capture the picture just right, and he had weeks to plan the exact scenario in his head.

The truth was, Shane wasn’t sure how to trust a good thing when it came to Ilya Rozanov. Ilya always left Shane a puzzle to put together after every meet, also leaving Shane with pieces that seemed to contradict and had no chance of fitting right. When the great thing of Ilya making the first step came his way, he hated himself for hesitating. Shane desperately wanted to trust Ilya’s every word, because that was the easiest thing to do and it would lead to the happiest ending. But after months of mixed signals, ghosting, and crying in his pillow occasionally, it felt way harder than it needed to be. He couldn’t fault Ilya, even if at times he wanted to so badly, because Shane understood perfectly that the ghosting was how Ilya coped when the new, scary, big feelings came his way. Shane had no clue what to do with Ilya’s revelation for a moment, the speech leaving him with no words whatsoever, but Shane had to answer Ilya in the end.

Shane was not sure at all of what would come out of his mouth, but the overthinking and the constant doubting wasn’t going to help him. And, oh, Ilya standing in front of him, more emotional than ever, hands in his lap, waiting. Shane could see Ilya’s face going through five different phases in the maximum of thirty seconds Shane just stood there stunned. Hope, more hope, than a shadow of fear washing over it, sadness, and then settling on hurt.

Shane decided to just let his heart talk instead of his brain that had the annoying habit of analysing every possible possibility and outcome.

“Ilya, I like you. So much. And I would be willing to do it in secret, if you like,’’

Ilya’s first name felt unfamiliar on his tongue. He didn’t mean to use it, he just slipped up. Shane’s heart started beating faster as the words travelled all the way to Ilya. Now, that Shane admitted he felt the same way as Ilya, there was no further discussion needed. At least for a moment.

“I like you too,’’ Ilya admitted, slightly flustered. No one ever managed to make him feel flustered, except Shane Hollander.

Shane’s cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of pink, and his freckles were even more noticeable. He ran a hand through his hair to soothe himself, the tension suddenly being unbearable.

Ilya took a few cautious steps toward Shane. Shane kept still, waiting to see what Ilya was up to. Ilya positioned himself right in front of Shane and cupped his check, forcing Shane to look back at him. Anticipation flooded through Shane, Ilya using the same gesture he always used to get Shane to look into his blue eyes.

“Can I kiss you?’’ Ilya asked gently.

It was obvious what the answer was, but Shane loved that Ilya cared so deeply for him to check in. Ilya cared a lot if Shane was comfortable. He was always that way, gentle in a way that Shane found comforting. It made him feel so safe and so protected. That meant a lot to Shane, considering the fact that Ilya was dying for it right there.

“Yes,’’ Shane breathed.

The „yes’’ barely made its way out of Shane’s mouth. Ilya instantly took Shane’s hands in his own as their lips brushed. Both Ilya’s and Shane’s hands were trembling slightly from thes sensation. They steadied each other though, and the kiss deepened.

It got filthy real quick after that. They hadn’t kissed in almost a year, and it felt so fucking good that Shane wanted to devour Ilya right then. He started clawing at Ilya’s shirt desperately, trying to magically get it off. But Ilya pulled away and fixed Shane a look. It was so intense Shane could barely maintain it, but he feared that if he looked away, Ilya wouldn’t say what was on his mind. Ilya’s eyes interlocked with his and they looked at each other for a few seconds, breathing the same air and their hearts beating in sync.

“Can I be your boyfriend?’’ Ilya asked, his voice hopeful in a way that Shane found endearing.

“Yes,’’ Shane said once again, unable to say anything else without giggling out of happiness.

He was so utterly happy that he didn’t even know how to act at first. He wanted to scream, just laugh until he couldn’t breathe, or push Ilya into the bed and take him apart piece by piece.

He settled on smiling so wide his cheeks hurt, completely ruining the kiss.

“Sorry,’’ he murmured while Ilya was planting kisses everywhere he could reach.

Ilya got his hands under Shane’s shirt, and when he started caressing his chest, Shane made an embarrassing sound. It had been so long since they had that, and they were both craving it equally.

Ilya picked Shane up with an easiness that floored Shane a little. For a moment, they didn’t move. It was like they were savouring each other’s presence only. Shane was so excited and happy he felt like his heart would burst.

“Did you really come back for me because of that message from Vegas?’’ Shane asked, suddenly holding his breath.

“No, I always felt for you, but when I saw that message it was like something clicked.’’ Ilya answered honestly, giving Shane one of his famous grins.

“I was really stressed about sending that by accident, you know?’’ Shane said, feeling his cheeks burn even then.

Ilya’s face changed from the playful grin to surprise awfully quick. His eyebrows shot up before he said:

“You sent that by accident?! That’s very you.’’ He said finally.

Most would take it as some sort of insult, but Shane knew Ilya meant it in a loving way.

“What did you think, moron? That I’d send that out of the blue?’’

“You thought of it suddenly, so it is not unexpected.’’ Ilya said, the grin returning in an instant.

“Asshole,’’ Shane answered simply.

Ilya laughed.

“So you’re thinking about that too, I see,’’

Shane’s cheeks flushed that pretty fucking beautiful shade Ilya loved.

“It’s like butterfly effect with that message,’’ said Shane, stumbling over his words a little from how much he wanted Ilya to pin him to the bed.

But he knew damn well that the conversation was kind of important.

“What is butterfly effect?’’ Ilya asked, curious.

“It’s an action you make involuntarily or without thinking that affects the future very much. It can be good or bad.’’ Shane explained, feeling proud he managed to remember the actual definition, with Ilya’s hard on already pressing against his own.

“Mister librarian,’’ Ilya said, laughing again.

Shane pushed him playfully, without actually meaning it at all. If anything, he was closer to hugging Ilya right then.

Suddenly, without any warning, Ilya threw Shane on the bed next to them and got on top of him. Shane started laughing at Ilya’s sudden rush to speed things up.

“You can’t look all pretty and flustered and then laugh when I wanna devour you…’’ Ilya announced, already biting a hickey on Shane’s neck.

Shane loved the sudden shift in Ilya’s dirty talk. Before, Ilya was supposed to only talk about Shane objectively, but now he could add little details and cute things he liked about Shane in the process. Shane also got very turned on at the idea of being worshipped by the Russian man that was now impatient and very interested in fucking Shane.

“Promise you won’t ignore me anymore, I wanna talk all the time, you won’t get rid of me now that you have me…’’ Shane blurted out, now smiling back at Ilya, in awe at how many feelings this man could make him feel at the same time.

“Malysh, of course not. I never want to get rid of you. I will be the one messaging and pestering you constantly.’’ Ilya answered, looking Shane in the eyes, and then got right back to that sensitive spot right under Shane’s jaw.

“I would so love that. But are you going to tell me what maless means?’’ Shane asked innocently.

“You have pronunciation of a three year old. But yes, it means ‘’baby’’ ’’

Shane’s heart swelled at that. He was always curious what Ilya was saying in Russian every time they met up, but every time he wanted to use google translate to find out, he forgot how the words sounded.

“Hey, it wasn’t that bad! You’re being dramatic.’’ Shane announced, even if he heard himself how stupidly he pronounced that.

“It absolutely was. But I’ll teach you, now we have all the time in the world.’’

Shane exhaled at that, the realisation that no one was rushing them, no one was waiting for them. Both of them had the day off the next day, a little treat to the tough game the teams were going to play against each other in two days. That was why both of them were at the club in the first place, teammates who took the opportunity to get drunk knowing that they wouldn’t have to wake up early. Shane was grateful for the perfect timing of it all.

He wasn’t even going to step foot on the rink to practice like he had planned. Okay, maybe a little, but later.

After that, the night progressed as it usually did before, but Shane felt way more pleasure. If that was even possible. Ilya was clearly enjoying it too, whispering nothings in Shane’s ear and worshipping him the way Shane had always wished. They’d probably had the best night in all their situation ship, and Shane couldn’t say he predicted that when he left the club. He expected a big fight, Ilya announcing it was over and then leaving right after. And Shane using those packs of ice cream he had stocked at the hook up apartment. Just there, in case Ilya decided to end it on a night they met there. He had to be ready for every possibility, but now there was no need for that. He was secure, and so sure that they could make it work, one way or another. The risks weren’t gone, and it wasn’t going to get any easier now that they’d admitted how they felt. If anything, it was going to get way harder to hide their growing feelings for each other.

After they finished the act, they lay there boneless and tired out of their minds. Shane placed his head on Ilya’s chest gently and found the best spot to position his head. Ilya hummed at Shane’s little act of affection. They were both still getting used to the fact that they could allow themselves to have small things, just like that one. Ilya took Shane’s hand that was closest to him and started massaging his knuckles carefully. Then it was Shane’s turn to hum in pleasure at Ilya’s idea of showing he cared.

“We have to get up and change the sheets,’’ Shane announced, annoyance in his tone, but Ilya knew the annoyance came from the dirty sheets, not the fact they had to get up in the middle of the night and change them.

Shane started to shift from Ilya’s embrace and Ilya whined at the loss.

“Noo, you can be obsessed with cleanliness tomorrow. Get back to beeed.’’ Ilya whined again, looking at the ceiling like it was its fault he had to change sheets at one in the morning when he wanted to pass out.

“No, you get up right now or I’ll pull the sheets right from under you!’’ Shane threatened, but a small smile that was tugging at his lips gave it away.

“I’d like to see you try pulling these from under a 200 hundred pound first best hockey player,’’ Ilya teased, and it got the outcome he was waiting for, because Shane furrowed his eyebrows and chuckled shortly.

“Actually, second best, if you don’t mind,’’ Shane corrected him, already tugging at the sheets that were in his reach.

Ilya chuckled and winked at Shane. That fucking wink still made Shane’s knees go weak, and it really wasn’t the time! Anyway, Ilya was well experienced with the fact that Shane was a menace about cleaning, so he got up without more arguing.

They worked together for a few silent minutes, just enjoying each other’s company while the moon light shined over the room that now shared even more memories than before. How was it even possible for an apartment to have so, so much meaning? Shane was convinced that the apartment meant a lot to him a while ago, which was why he’d refused to rent it, even in those months that Ilya was ghosting him. He could have made good money off of it, the neighbourhood was searched for by most people, and skyscrapers where they worked were nearby. Shane just couldn’t bring himself to do that, to throw away the only piece of the things they’d felt and done together down the drain. They didn’t have any photos or proof that they hooked up, of course, deleted it for safety purposes, but Shane would always have the apartment.

But after the apartment became the place where they finally admitted after such a long time what they were for each other, Shane would honestly give up his actual home, worth double the price of any apartment in the neighbourhood, way faster than he would this one.

Shane straightened the cushion one more time, while Ilya was already throwing himself on the now clean bed.

“Oh my god, just wait a second,’’ Shane whined under his breath.

And, of course Ilya heard that and decided to do something about it. While Shane was busy getting the cushion in place, his little concentrated face that Ilya was crazy about in place, Ilya couldn’t resist teasing him. He took Shane by the arm and pulled hard, Shane instantly falling on the bed with a small thud.

“What was that?!’’ Shane asked, his voice muffled by the mattress.

Shane lifted himself up on his elbows and glared at Ilya, who honestly couldn’t care less about Shane’s pout. He was already half asleep and he dragged Shane again until they were right back to their original position: Shane with his head on Ilya’s chest and Ilya caressing Shane’s hand.

They both sighed happily at the domesticity of it all and promptly fell asleep soon after, with their hearts finally at peace.

Except nothing was actually resolved, and Shane would be very careful to change that.