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Ilya stretched himself all across the bed, letting out a satisfied hum. His head was heavy with accumulated fatigue, but he was exactly in the place he could finally rest.

It smelled like sun and wood. He made a deeper inhale and felt also the scent of Shane's favourite laundry detergent and a freshly mown grass. He made himself a mind note to thank Yuna and David for preparing the cottage for their arrival so Shane wouldn't be annoyed and go to clean and sort everything up right after their honey month.

Sadly, it wasn't a month, 10 days only — everything they could afford this summer to be on time for their camp — but it was still better than everything that they ever had. Their first travel together.

Ilya squinted as a well-fed can and turned onto his stomach, fixing the gaze on the bathroom door. Shane should appear from there any second.

Hollander probably is still irritated with the order his parents made here. They thought they knew well enough how it should be, but they couldn't know that the grass should be mown in a proper lines. Ilya knew better. His poor and favourite Shane has so many fucking systems in his head, but it was okay. He was happy that he could ease his burden. He could take care of every single of Hollander's curiosities if it'd made him happier.

Though, managing Yuna and caring David's hands definitely brought them some time to relax relaxed after many hours on the plane and then 2 hours drive from Ottawa airport.

Ilya half-closed his eyes, reliving today's memories. They spend more than 12 hours getting from Milan to Ottawa. Despite a plenty of space is the first class plane cabin, Shane still choose to sleep on his shoulder, and then he was unhappy with the stiff neck. Ilya offered him a kiss to heal, and Hollander flipped him off, immediately after allowing to plant pepper kisses all across his face and neck.

Ilya felt asleep while Shane was driving to the cottage from the airport. Then they washed off they "airport dirt" layer and finally fucked as husbands on their OH MY GOD married couple bed. Drunk with midday nap Ilya was very dedicated to mark every single surface in the cottage with the "married sex", but under Shane's pressure he had to admit that they are too tired for sex marathon and postponed it to tomorrow. They still had almost a week free before the camp starts.

And now Ilya, who finished his shower earlier…

actually, he ate Shane's ass once again, then they blew each other and finished shower together, but Shane was dedicated to finish his post-flight skin care routine and sent Ilya away...

was patiently waiting, laying on his stomach completely naked, enjoying the sensation of fresh bedsheets and waiting for his beautiful husband to exit the bathroom, so they could go to sleep together. They should try to fix the jetlag situation as soon as possible, there are many tasks to finish before the camp.

The slight bounce of the rigid mattress — it is better for the back, Ilya! — interrupted his daydreaming, so he rolled on his back and opened his arms, letting Shane to sink into his embrace, hugging tightly.

"You are so hot, Mr Hollander-Rozanov, that I can barely resist, despite 'm exhausted as fuck," Hollander nuzzled Ilya's neck with a tired smile.

"You wanted to say after fuck," Ilya teased, breathing in the familiar scent of Shane's hair conditioner and moisturizing cream.

"No, it is mostly after a day-long travel ," Shane huffed lazily, kissing the neck.

"Asshole," Rozanov smiled. "I'd show you, but I don't want you to fall asleep with my dick inside you."

Shane hummed. "I wouldn't mind... sounds comforting."

He fussed around, settling in on the Ilya's shoulder and finally got still, quietly murmuring something cozy and quiet under his breath. Ilya closed his eyes, gently stroking Shane's hair.

The scent filled the last cell of his. It smelled smelled like a piece in his head. Like loving and being loved. Like home he finally found. 

Because of the stupid algae it smelled like the sea.

Rozanov pressed Shane closer, sinking back into the lazy daydreaming.

Sometimes Ilya was watching Shane just…living his life and imagining what mystic creature they both would be in the magical world. Because he was completely sure they'd found each other in every possible reality.

Sometimes he admired Shane being so big and strong. He thought that he could be a werwolf (but it was probably a fault of some omegaverse fanfiction he'd discovered recently. He made a mind note to make a month in his Twitter Book Club dedicated to only the best fics he'd read. It'll destroy Harris, but promises to be fun).

He also imagined Hollander being a dragon.

Or maybe kitsune. They are growing more powerful and wiser with age. Hollander became so much more relaxed and cuntier after they got together publicly. Shane was always like that, but the thought that he can isn't hiding beneath good boy mask and behaves like this to everyone, especially protecting Ilya, made Ilya hard instantly.

Interesting, would he agree on the plug with multiple fox tails? He should offer, probably. And of course he would. There were only few things Shane would't agree to try. All these Ilya wasn't ready to try too. Perfect puzzle pieces.

Or maybe the one where they both are vampires. Strong, shiny, traveling the world and jumping on the trees.

But more often he thought of him as of some water creature. Rusalka, or Kappa, or Kelpie. Or siren. yIlya would be ready to be drown and only be glad some vicious siren Shane Hollander would have enough food of him for a while.

He huffed out a laugh.

"What are you laughing at?" Shane mumbled into his skin, raising the goose bumps with his hot breath.

"I am fantasizing about new role play scenarios," Ilya smirked, with his nose burying into Hollander's hair. "When you are fox with a tail on the plug."

"You are pervert," Hollander laughed.

"Saying the person who wants to sleep with my dick inside him."

"Fuck off." After a pause he added. "Have you already ordered it? The tail plug. We should discuss it later."

He stretched himself along his husband's body and entangled their legs.

"So we both are perverts," Ilya bit Shane's ear with overwhelming affection.

"Ugmmm… yeah, we are. I am very happy with you, Ilya," his voices sounded suddenly serious and tender.

"Oh. I am too, солнышко. You are like everything I've ever dreamed about," Ilya blinked few times to chase uninvited sensitive tears away and lift Hollander's face to press a fond kiss to his still slightly swollen lips.

"The honeymoon was amazing. I'm already missing it. And you, telling me all this staff. So hot," Hollander murmured, leaning away from a slow lazy kiss and arranging himself back on the shoulder.

"Yes?" Ilya seemed flattered.

He really didn't put any attention on his… what his father called as basic level of education for every family of culture — of culture, huh, Ilya thought remembering every time his father took his belt — but every time they came back from some toured activity or museum Shane jumped on him like crazy.

He chocked on laughter thinking, that he had to thank his father on the best sex in his life with a man.

A few times he even got an insane blowjob in the public bathroom. Right after murmuring funny retold facts about art or Roman empire to his husbands ear, while the guide was mumbling something boring as he was reading school text book.

There had been a time, though, after Shane stood transfixed by some antique statue, only to turn and study him with the same appraising gaze.

Have you been stolen from here? he asked, catching his breath after having Ilya's dick deep down in his throat. Your dick is bigger though.

Ilya laughed. Shane laughed too.

It even made Rozanov reconcile this stupid activity. Shane wanted it, they got cool pictures and it was a turn on, so he definitely was okay with it.

"Uh huh. Next time we go to France. How do you think, can we manage to go there on the Christmas holidays, or it's better to wait until the next summer?"

"France?" Ilya groaned. "You want to kill me, Hollander. You will speak your perfect nice little French there and I will die."

"Fuck you, you drama queen," Shane couldn't hold smiling and kissed a shoulder he was lying on. "And you will casually drop French lore and hundreds of French authors you've read."

Ilya snorted with laughter and squeezed Shane tighter.

"I am warning you, if i will figure that you are also speaking French i will kill you and drown your body in Seine," Shane rumbled out, struggled to breathe in Ilya's crushing embrace, but not showing any wish for Ilya loosening his grip. Right the opposite, he clung back just as tightly.

"Ah, no. In my mouth French sounds stupid, not hot like yours. All these nasal vowels, I feel like I'm having stuffy nose," he huffed. "So I am enough with… uhm… merci beacoup, s'il te plaît, à la guerre comme à la guerre, с’est la vie —"

Ilya continued, and Shane's eyebrows were going higher and higher. Rozanov frowned as trying to remember more.

"— cherchez la femme, la vie est belle, la vérité naît de la dispute, сomme il faut, ça va, penser c'est exister, il faut ce qu'il faut, bon appétit, and of course mon amour and je t'aime."

Rozanov almost purred the last one and was ready to lift Shane's head to kiss him, but Hollander lifted on his elbows, peering at him, definitely displeased.

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up?"

"Ehm… my pronunciation was so bad?"

Rozanov squirmed his nose, looking completely lost on the sudden change in tone.

Actually, his pronunciation did suck. But it was understandable. And it was fucking a lot.

"No! Well, yes," Shane rolled his eyes and Ilya huffed, amused. " But where the fuck you get it from? I can understand merci and, I dunno, s'il te plaît, but the rest? Are you fucking hiding French from me?"

Rozanov laughed and pulled Shane back, running the hand through his hair, and gave him a smack kiss.

"No, no. It's just Russia. They for some reason admired France and French. In 18-19th centuries they even had like a fight between… ughm. Is there an English word something like francophiles?" Ilya rubbed his nose, confused.

Shane nodded, feeling how Ilya is doing it to him again.

If someone would say few years ago that he would listen to some lecture about russian history, he'd decide a person place is in some mental insitution.

But nobody could know that this will be read by his fucking husband fucking Ilya Rozanov.

Hollander didn't want to miss the face, while Ilya was speaking, so instead of returning back on his shoulder he climbed onto him.

"Okay. So francophiles and anglophiles. Russian language was counted as a language for the lowest class, ughm, peasants. And all the aristocracy were talking either French or English. But mostly French. So you see, we are aristocratic now."

"Hell yeah," Shane giggled at Ilya winking at him and pecked his lips. "And?…"

"Uhm. So. French was elevated and fine, elegant. Russian was for peasants. Even books… Pushkin's decision… you know about Pushkin, right?"

He interrupted himself waiting for the confirming nod and continued.

"His decision to write in Russian was revolutionary, everyone used just French then. And half of the War and Peace is written in fucking French. Coz' that's aristocracy speaking," Rozanov rolled his eyes, as he has some personal beef with the characters.

Well, knowing him, maybe he had.

"I bet one book would be enough if the half of each one would't be spent on the footnotes with translation of French dialogues."

Or with the author. Or, probably, both.

"You'd read this too?"

Shane was stroking gently Ilya's face with the tips of his fingers, following features. Too handsome to be real. His intestines literally clenched every time he thought about it.

"Everybody in Russia read it, it's in our school program. Um—"

Ilya's eyes clouded with pure affection under his husband's tender touches. He loved him so much it was painful. Sometimes he wanted to cry from how overwhelming it was.

He felt such a relief that now he can deliberately answer all thousands of questions Shane was throwing at him every day. He wasn't anymore afraid that it would push him away. Or seemed… too much.

In the most depressive times he would. But he believed that now, when they are merried, at least Shane would have to listen his excuses if he will be too much. So he has time to fix it.

"— what I was saying?"

"Francophiles and anglophiles."

"Yes. Right. It was all about France. But after the Napoleon's war situation a bit shifted, obviously. Towards admiring Britain. But the biggest part of the classical authors wrote in French. Knowing French classics is still a must among still intellectual public," he gestured quotes around intellectual. "Everyone had read Alexander Dumas. And many French phrases are used like common sayings. I still can't put the words into sentences."

"Yes, but when you say this you can put your tongue in my mouth," Shane blinked, innocetly.

Rozanov laughed and quickly rolled over, hovering over his husband and pressing him into mattress.

"Oh, can I, Mr Hollander-Rozanov?" he grinned.

"But you have to learn a couple of new phrases. Like your breakfast is served, my lovely husband. And you'd have the highest decree, mister Hollander-Rozanov," Shane laughed and pulled him closer, sinking into sloppy kiss.

It was lazy, lovely and tender, without any meaning to develop it into something more, just admiring each other's presence and cherishing the love.

Ilya's hand was traveling around every inch of Shane's body the moment they were interrupted by the buzzing og the phone.

"Grrhhhmmm," Ilya groaned and pulled back reluctantly, leaving the kiss on Shane's swollen lips. "Have you texted parents that we are at home?"

"No, not yet," Shane sighed, still breating heavily. "I was busy."

"Yes, you were," Ilya bit his pretty pink cheek, causing a little whimper. He reached for their phones on the night table.

"Here, text Yuna," Rozanov passed Shane's phone to his hands and got himself comfortable on Shane's body. "She knows we would get busy right after arrival, but she worries."

"Shut up," Shane mumbled, blushing.

He still wasn't really comfortable his parents knowing probably a little too much about his personal life. Thank's to his lovely husband.

Ilya looked at his phone and chuckled. "Huh. It's Marly."

"Mhhh?.." Shane was already focused typing something. "Is everything okay? What does he want?"

[

]

"Солнышко, are you okay if Marly comes to visit us soon?"

"Uh?" Shane lifted his eyes from his phone, looking confused. "Like before camp. I guess so? Yeah. He is a friend, right?"

"He is," Ilya smiled and kissed Shane's knuckles.

"Sorry, I still… haven't used to it. That we can have common friends. And they can visit. And like… y'know." Hollander blushed.

"Yes. I know. But it's nice, right?"

Ilya raised on his elbows, reached and pecked his lips.

"Yeah. It is. Just takes some time to understand that we host like… uhm… family friends together," Shane leaned in to prolong the kiss.

Ilya huffed and smiled. He forgot how deeply he really missed Marly when he was living in the total isolation for the last years.

He lifted his eyes and saw a frowned face of his husband, who was seriously typing something. Ilya turned his head and left a light kiss on Shane's chest, which made him distract from his phone and give him a tender smile.

"Everything is okay?"

"Yeah. Yes."

It was so worth it

He took his phone back.

"I adore you so fucking much," Ilya laughed with all his heart, burring his face into Shane's pecks.

It made him to jitter from tickles and he let out a strangled yet satisfied sound.

"But stop scaring Marly."

"I couldn't hold it," Hollander grinned widely.

He run a hand through Ilya's curls, slightly pulling his head back. Rozanov closed his eyes feeling, how overwhelming affection bubbling inside him from ends of his hair to toes. He felt fingers touching his eyelids and let out a squeaking sound.

"Я люблю тебя просто пиздецI love you like fucking crazy," Rozanov sighed.

"Ya tebya sil'nee," Shane replied in Russian.

Rozanov truly believed his heart stopped beating for the moment. If he dies now, he dies happy. He took all his powers to pull himself together.

"So. First time Hollander-Rozanov household hosting guests, huh?"

***

Already the next evening they were entering an airport arrival hall. For years they were denied even to meet each other here.

The most logical decision for them was to let the other get a cab, but after weeks of pining they couldn't afford to spend any minute apart.

Each time it became a task to find a car nobody knows, preferably rent an Uber Ride. Then hide at the most distant place on the parking lot and try to hide their faces under caps. Allow themselves to steal a little peck on the way home when no one was around.

This was the only option how they could greet one another.

So today it was the first time they were entering the arriving hall not just without hiding but holding each other hands and smiling, feeling drunk just with this sensation.

The moment Marlow appeared at the automatic doors with the sports bag over his shoulder, Ilya's hand was resting on the Shane's waist, nose sank in the hair of his temple, and he was murmuring something softly to Hollander's ear, making him giggle.

Shane Hollander giggled.

This fucking always strained, always in control, serious golden boy and the ultimate star of hockey who even joked with poker face (actually, it was Rozy who explained to him that Hollander was joking so serious we has) giggled in Rozy's arms like a teenage girl.

Throughout his entire hockey career, Marlow had seen Hollander giggle only once — at the wedding to his best friend. But then he chalked it up to the absurd amount of champagne and vodka served that evening.

Champagne and vodka but no chairs actually sounded extremely like Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov.

But now? The man constricted with endless amount of rules giggled, looking so relaxed and… in love?

Of course, they are in love. They are married, Cliffy, he told himself, unable to stop staring.

Finally Ilya lifted his gaze and noticed him approaching. He pulled away from Shane, cracking into wide smile.

"Maaarlyyyy!"

"My maaaan!" Cliff laughed, dropped his bag and swoop Ilya up and spun him around like a babydoll.

Rozanov extended his arms like he was flying around. Shane fought a wave of embarrassment mixed with joy raising in him.

When Ilya was happy he often showed it as a kid, but it was one thing to see it them being alone (every time Shane's heart sinked with utmost tenderness) and completely another — seeing him acting like this in public and being with him.

His husband is acting like a baby. His husband, his husband, his husband.

But people around only smiled looking at this picture.

"Are you both 5 or what? A doctor, uh huh" he mumbled, when Marlow returned Ilya onto the ground. "Welcome, Cliff." And he extended his hand to shake with a smile.

"Don't be boring, бусинкаlittle bead," Ilya laughed and loudly smacked his lips, placing his hand on Shane's waist.

"Hello, Shane," Cliff shuffled nervously.

It was very strange realizing that they are on the… first-name basis with Shane Hollander now?

Huh.

Marlow shook his hand back.

Ilya squinted, his eyes drifting from his husband to his friend.

"О божеO god," he gasped and bursted in laughter. "Shanya, he is really afraid of you."

No! and What?! sounded simultaneously.

"Yes, yes!" Ilya joggled his head. "Hollander, you are so strict that my friends are scared by you! Aaaall the league is scared of you!" he continues giggling shamelessly, pulling him closer.

"I didn't notice Svetlana to be intimidated by me," Hollander mumbled, relaxing. "And it's Hollander-Rozanov."

"No shit, bro, it's her who can intimidate pretty much everyone," Marly huffed.

"Well…" Shane chuckled. "I see what you are saying. She is intimidating. Hayd is terrified by her. Jackie loves her though."

"Pike is terrified by me too," Rozanov rolled his eyes.

"No, he is not."

"Shane, he jitters every time I call his name."

Hollander had nothing to object. No matter how many times Shane tried to explain Hayden, that Ilya is really just a happy puppy with a sharp tongue, he refused to believe. He just sighed, nodding.

Marlow snorted. "Poor Pike."

"Jackie loves me too. She has good taste," Rozanov grinned. "And also look, my favourite people get along by being scared by my other favourite people," Ilya, brazenly happy, slapped Marlow's shoulder without letting Shane out of his embrace. "Oh my god, I have at least 2 bestfriends and my husband is my bestest friend!".

"There is no such word, Ilya," Hollander smiling.

But in reality Shane was very grateful about Rozanov pulling attention at himself this time.

He still was… okay, he got used to Centaurs, but Marlow was something else. Centaurs were new. Marly was with Ilya almost as long as Shane was there. He was a Boston player, the biggest rival team for the one he spent 10 years playing for. He should had been hating him.

But he loved Ilya, so Shane could work with that. He forcibly stopped himself from spiraling.

"Baby, now you owe me so I won't say Troy how you didn't count," Shane smirked. "And Bood and Hazy too."

"Don't tell them!" Ilya widened his eyes in mocking horror. "But I don't mind to owing you…" he purred, making Hollander blush.

"And also people are scared by you reasonably. You are threatening people on your social media. I even had talk about you with Harris."

"What are you, his mommy, Hollander?" Cliff grinned.

"If I am the daddy, he for sure is my mommy," Ilya returned a shameless grin. It's all this stupid internet people fault." He shrugged. "They behave poorly."

"Shut up you two. And I believe it's you who were behaving badly," Shane snorted. "And let's go to the car. We have almost 2 hours to drive."

He headed towards to exid, hiding the blushed covered his cheeks.

You don't threaten people but they are scared by you too."

Ilya followed obediently, leaving nothing else to Marlow rather than walk after him.

"And can we pleease stop somewhere to grab some food? I am starving!" He looked at Cliff and complained. "He didn't allow me to eat the food we cooked for lunch!"

"It was for our common dinner, Ilya," Hollander rolled his eyes. "And nobody is scared by me!"

Marly hummed in disagreement.

"No, Hollander, he is right, you are scary."

"What? Why?" Shane looked back, confused. "I mean… I understand I can intimidate on the ice but —"

"HA! I told you! You emit sexual fear!" Rozanov triumphantly pointer finger at him. "You are so good and strict and scary! Always follow rules, it's unnatural."

"Huh, I haven't notice you have something against me being good and taking you good." Shane squinted. Yes, Rozanov, two can play this game. "And 2 more words and no stops at the gas station!"

Marlow choked. "Uh."

"Wow," Ilya looked at his husband with pure amusement.

"Rozy, he is strict and amazing. Give me a sign if you wanna be saved," Cliff whispered loudly, but shut up the moment he caught the warning looks from both Shane and Ilya.

"Don't save him, he's exactly where he want to be," Hollander delivered pointedly, but his face softened like McSundae under the sun the moment Ilya opened car driver's door for him. "Thanks, baby."

"He is right," Ilya plopped down on the passenger's side, grinned and winked to Marly.

Cliff made himself comfortable on the backseat, trying to process a new version of reality. Baby Ilya Rozanov. Doctor Ilya Rozanov. Well. Maybe it suited him. Baby doctor. He snorted.

"I dunno what shocks me more, Roz, that it isn't you who is driving or the concept that you are sitting in the SUV," he mumbled instead.

"Yes, I am passenger princess," Ilya smiled widely, while Shane rolled his eyes, yet mouthing "yes, you are".

He hummed satisfied, when Ilya's hand were placed on his hip. Rozanov continued, gently stroking his husband's thigh.

"And believe me, Audi is already a compromise, when I came here the first time, Hollander was driving a horrible fucking Land Rover."

"It wasn't horrible, it was practical and reliable."

"Yeah, sure, also ugly as my nightmares and you looked like you are 60 year old grandpa of some big family who had a mediocre job throughout all his life," Rozanov tsked.

"Uh huh, now I see the married couple dynamics," Marlow huffed. "Why aren't we going?"

"You aren't fastened," Shane glanced at him through the mirror.

Marlow opened his mouth to argue.

Waited a second, looking for words. Then waited to support Rozy starting arguing — the man had never ever fastened his seatbelt. But this menace was only looking at his husband with amused puppy eyes and kissing Shane's knuckles, so Cliff sighed heavily and did what was told to do.

"Good boy, Marly," Ilya noticed his inner work and smirked.

"Fuck you. Let's go, I am hungry too."

***

It took 2 days for Marlow to learn all the necessary rules to exist in the Hollanov's place (he couldn't exactly call it Rozy's or Hollander's, because it was a disgustingly cute combination of the two). There were only 3.

1. Never enter any room without knocking.

Better even not to exit your own room without knocking from the inside, if you don't want to witness something.

But if you don't mind, nobody minds too.

It was a hard learned lesson. Twice on the first day, actually.

First morning at the cottage Marly woke up surprisingly early and well rested. Probably, it was all about country side air and lack of the noise and light pollution. At least, Hollander told him so.

Cliff took a shower and headed straight to the kitchen for his morning coffee. As he went up the stairs, the first thing he saw was Hollander sitting on the kitchen island, hugging Ilya's bare torso with his legs and softly moaning into his mouth, sucking on his tongue.

Rozy's one hand was exactly on his crotch, and the other gripping on Shane's muscular thigh.

It was Shane who saw him first, his eyes opened widely in something he supposed was horror (later he figured out he was wrong). Hollander pulled away from the kiss, turning pink and smiling.

Cliff literally saw, how his bestfriend's tongue is slowly slipping out from Shane Hollander's mouth.

Hollander hid his face in the crook of Rozy's neck, mumbling something and catching his breath. Ilya turned his head and grinned happily.

"Good morning, Marly. Coffee is ready," he nodded towards coffee machine, helping Hollander to jump down from the table. "Breakfast is almost ready too."

"Ughmm….yeah… yeah, guys, good morning. Not sure 'bout breakfast but Hallzy is served," he squeezed his eyes letting out a chuckle. "I need some time to process".

"I would say I am sorry…" Cliff could hear this fucking mischievous smile in Ilya's voice.

"But he really isn't," it was Hollander, huffing, already pulled together. "I am not too."

"Yes, I am not," Rozanov helped Shane to jump off the countertop. "We are hot. He can say thanks for us not to charge him for seing this."

"Asshole," Marly laughed. "But you guys are hot."

"Uh huh," Shane confirmed, mirroring the laughter.

The second time happened only a few hours later and it was even worse. Or better, but Cliff will think about his rating scale later.

He was just thinking to spend some hour on the rink, because really. His man's man was so obsessed with hockey that he built a fucking rink in his summer house.

Well, apparently, he was obsessed with hockey and his best friend.

If 5 years ago anyone would tell Marly that he will find Hollander sitting on Rozy's hips and dry humping him in the middle of the training ice with Rozy's tongue deep in his throat, he would suggest for a person to take some pills.

Or to share what they took, because this dream seemed… entertaining.

Huh. Not a night dream anymore.

Marly laughed. Ilya laughed. Shane hesitated a moment but then bursted in laughter too. And then they played some hockey.

2. Don't ever forget use earplugs.

Honestly, even after two occasions happened on the first day, Marly still believed, that using earplugs was a sort of exaggeration.

Honestly, they are sleeping on the different floors of the huge cottage, how bad could it be?

Especially knowing, that it isn't new, right? How many years they are together?

…until the first Shane's scream followed with the not less quiet double moan made him jitter. And maybe — just maybe — made him a little hard.

Okay, gotcha. Earplugs mean earplugs, he mumbled and closed his eyes, trying not to thing was is happening in the room above him. And ignoring the wish to take a shower.

With varying success.

3. Get used to an excessive amount or terrifying synchronization and domestic tenderness between those two idiots.

But this was kinda more predictable. Marlow was ready for it since their All-Stars Game. Now it at least had explanation.

What he wasn't ready for was their conversations. He thought they should be talking about… hockey, sex, grocery store list?

They were talking about pretty much everything. And they argued all the time. Sometimes so passionately that, if they'd been anyone else, Cliff would've bet they wouldn't last a week.

Not fucking Hollanovs. For Shane and Ilya it was some sort of intellectual-chirping foreplay.

Now, reevaluating everything he was observing during the years of mutual chirping on ice, endless face offs, and "fuck you"s, Marly felt as he was being exposed to somebody's publicity kink.

It felt weird at first, but with time he started to find peace in it. There was something extremely grounding that doesn't matter how loud and expressive their discussion was, it is still… consensual and ends with kisses?

Like observing a healthy relationships between parents.

But oh, those disputes. Sometimes Cliff participated in it. Sometimes he'd chosen just to observe.

About hockey (obviously).

About dogs and cats. A strange conversation, where Rozy was pro-cats and pro-dogs and Shane neither, but it was his hand which was petting Anya's head.

About best breakfasts. McGriddle vs miso soup? They shouldn't even exist in one reality.

About grilling approaches.

About peaches vs flat peaches. WTF? Shane was pro flat peaches, because they were cleaner to eat. Ilya pushed, that eating a peach must be messy and sticky. Meanwhile Marly cleanly ate a pre-cut regular peach and wanted to joke what a boring sex life Rozy should have if Hollander's approach to cleanliness in sex was the same as with peaches. But then he remembered and shut up before saying a word. Thanks god, Rozy wouldn't mind to show him how wrong he is.

About SPF. Shane even made him to use it too. And Ilya, who was whining that he doesn't want to apply it for a solid 20 minutes ago (Russians do not get sunburned) suddenly supported Shane. For a second Cliff felt like their child. And Rozy stopped whining the moment Shane rolled his eyes and told him that of course he would apply it on him.

About taste of water. Marlow didn't even know that water has any taste, but both Shane and Ilya had very strong opinions over it.

About tea and coffee.

Despite his first day fear of feeling weird and out of place and being intimidated by Hollander, very quickly Marlow found surpisingly comfortable and happy being among them.

Rozy was still his favourite menace, but much wormed and less… nervously twitchy. It also turned up Shane had amazing dry and a very straight forward sense of humour, which made Ilya melt and Cliff crack in laughing many times.

Sometimes they discussed books. Which was strange — who could fucking guess? — but still was so domestic and comforting. Cliff quietly lied on the couch, playing PS5 with the sound off, just to listen how they talk about actions and behaviors of some made up characters.

Something about Great Gatsby, miserable love and a falseness of conception of the American Dream.

Whatever, Marly though. About Gatsby he knew, that shiny dresses and fancy parties were there and that DiCaprio still didn't get his Oscar for it. Though both him and Carrey Mulligan were hot in the movie. But okay, Cliff thought, whatever floats their boat.

"So, I guess we both prefer Canadian dream, right, солнышко?" Ilya grinned and gave laughing Shane a big sloppy kiss.

Then he took a second controller, and lied on the Hollander's lap. Shane fingers got entangled in his curls right away, as they knew their place.

"Now lemme destroy you in Mortal Combat, Marly."

"You wish, bro," Cliff smirked back.

***

But disputes, whatever smart they were, weren't the worst. Yes, two dudes kiss and argue about books. Okay, one of the dudes is Rozy. But it's like arguing about movies, right? Nothing special.

This evening it was slightly different. It started as usual.

Cliff came to the living room, plopping on the couch, on the opposite side of which Rozanov was half-sitting with Hollander on his shoulder, his hand gently stroking Shane's back.

Shane gave Marly a little warm welcoming smile but turned back to listening right away. Only a minute later Marly realized, that this time he was hearing only one voice, not two interrupting each other, as it happened before. He lifted his gaze from his phone and focused on listening.

"… so I think we have to think how to combine all 5 approaches for our camps? I understand pragmatism sounds logical for hockey skills, but I don't think pure practice is enough. Other 4 are also important."

Rozy, and it was him who was talking, scratched his nose.

"I mean we work with exclusivity, so some existential teaching approach is necessary too. Telling kids that whatever level of hockey skills they have they unique precious human beings with freedom of choice and responsibilities. Responsibilities are important."

He signed, as he didn't want to teach kids be responsible, more just playing and making them happy. He kissed Shane's temple and continued his idea.

"And also with a piece of behaviorism of course too. Giving them encouragements for results. I am against punishments though," Ilya frowned. "And overall this approach is… I don't now, when I was learning it it always felt like it's more suitable for training dogs, not for little humans. Anya does good and receive dog cookie. Anya does bad — she isn't allowed to sleep on our bed."

Ilya huffed somewhere into Shane's hair and Shane laughed shortly. He loved how affectionate and loving Rozanov was for children. For animals too, though.

Anya, hearing her name, came closer and wagged her tail. Marly instinctively extended his arm towards her and she readily settled near him, letting Cliff pet her.

"Traitor," mumbled Rozanov, but his tender tone made sure he has nothing against it. Shane and Ilya smiled, and Cliff blushed, unbeknownst why.

"And constructivism, of course," Ilya coninued, turning back to Shane. "They are the same people we are. I noticed last summer that some of our guys behave a little… arrogant, like kids are less than they are. But they are just little and with less life experience. We have to let them learn and build this experience, da? Tell them it's okay to make mistakes. Discuss it with 'em calmly. Make them understand themselves how they can do better. In a humane way."

Hollander frowned.

"I hope nobody in camp would be inhumane with kids. I mean. It's enough to have bullies in school, how an adult can be inhumane with a kid? We have to tell everyone that if we notice any situation we are gonna stop our cooperation with the public disclosure why."

"Oh, you angry kitten," Rozanov murmured, amused. "You'd be surprise. During trainings in my childhood I heard блядь and долбоеб at me more often, than my name. And I'm not sure if my trainer had low voice, 'coz I heard him only shouting."

"'m sorry, Ilya," Shane reached for him and kissed him.

"No-no. Don't be, it's okay. I mean. It was long time ago, but of course it's not appropriate in our camp."

"You'll be a great father one day, Rozanov," Shane smiled, and lifted his head to give him a peck on the lips.

"I would ask, it's Hollander-Rozanov," Ilya grinned. "But you too, солнышко."

"Ugh," Marlow let out a sound which made both of them to look at him. "I kinda have to agree. You are gonna be good dads. Should you two be great at anything," he sounded offended.

"Awww, thank you, Marly," Ilya grinned. "You learn from us, 'coz you are gonna be their godfather."

"Uh huh."

"I hear discontent." Shane lifted his eyebrows. "Ilya, you made me believe he would be happy about that."

"Of course, he will." Rozanov huffed and rolled his eyes. "It isn't about it. Spill it, Marly. What's your problem?" he straightened up.

"Well. You hid Shane for 4 years, right?"

"Not exactly."

"Huh?"

"I hid my boyfriend for 4 years. That's correct," Ilya shrugged. "I hid Shane for 12."

"Okay, whatev…what? 12 years?"

"Yes. Since the summer before rookie year. I know him longer, than I know you," Ilya grinned. "And by know I mean…"

"Yeah, yeah, I get what you mean," Marly shook his head and frowned. "I am… kinda offended. I feel bad that for all this years you didn't believe you can tell me. But okay. I get it," he looked over Hollander. "Shane, I've heard about your ex-team. It sucks and they are disgusting. I promise I will hit them on ice as much as I can."

Shane hummed with gratitude, but choose not to participate in the talk. Something else was there, which bothered Cliff and it was Ilya's part to finally talk to him.

Hollander even made a slight move to escape and let them talk, but Ilya didn't let him go.

Marlow continued.

"But there is other… things."

Here it is.

"Yes?" Shane felt Rozanov tensed up, despite holding a calm face.

"You also hid your bachelors degree."

"Yes."

"And your master's degree."

"Obviously." Ilya nodded and chuckled. Why does it bother everyone so much? Is Marly ready sad about that stupid shit? "If you remember it was me who helped you to organise your money. How did you think I did that? "

"Oh fuck off. I knew, you always were smart. I didn't think about that."

"Well, I guess you need to think more," Rozanov smirked. "I will cook spinach tomorrow. Shane says it's good for brain."

"You also cook," Marlow groaned.

"Yes. For Hollander. He also cooks for me."

"I hate you."

"No, you're not," with a cocky smile he sat back on the coach, relaxing.

"Hollander, remind me, why do I still talk to this asshole? And how do you live with him?"

"He is annoyingly lovable," Shane shrugged with a smile.

"Uh. True."

"If it makes you feel better, Marly," first time Shane used this short friend-version form of his name, "I found it out also…late."

"What? Roz, are you fucking kidding?"

"It wasn't important," Ilya shrugged again.

"Fuck you it was! Now i feel that I don't know anything about person who is important to me!"

"Awww, you both love me," Ilya smacked Shane with a wide smile, his shoulders eased. He will talk more seriously to Cliff later, but now it was enough to know that there is no hidden disaster underneath. "Sorry, Marly, as a married man I cannot kiss you anymore. I can hug you though!"

"It was nothing for anymore! Not like this, Roz!" Marlow groaned. "Shane, don't listen to his anymore."

His ears turned red.

"Cliff, with all respect, do you think I didn't know about that?" Shane rolled his eyes and huffed.

"And you are… okay with this?"

"If I was annoyed at anyone who made out with my husband, I would stay at home forever."

"That's true," Marly couldn't disagree. "But still…ehm… sorry? I kinda was his wingman many times."

"I know," Hollander snorted. "Also, you see, our best friends are kinda our exes. Rose for me and Svetlana for Ilya. It would be even stange if Ilya wouldn't ever had anything with you. I guess in our family this is a necessary test."

"Uhmmm, you guys are strange." Marly didn't know how to react on that. Suddenly his eyes widened in terror. "So you and Hayden!…"

"Oh my god, NO," Shane startled.

"Fuuuuuuu," Rozanov grimaced.

"He wouldn't be the worst option though," Shane chuckled.

"Don't you dare!…" Ilya jumped.

"But y'know, he definitely would do that," Marly added thoughtfully.

"Oh shut up, he's not! He is my friend and he's married!"

Marly raised his eyebrows and looked over Ilya. Rozanov nodded.

"No, Shaney, he is right, I told you," Ilya chuckled. "He definitely has a crush on you."

"Rozy," Cliff rolled his eyed. "All the league has crush on Hollander. Pike has something more."

"Yeah, sure. I can see why you are friends, perverts. Ask him yourself, he comes with his wife and kids in 2 days."

Ilya threw up his hands. "He doesn't believe me too" he huffed. "But it's clearly there."

"It is." Cliff nodded. "But there is more with you."

Rozanov sighed heavily.

"Something else?"

"Your PhD?"

"What about it?" Ilya frowned. Shane suppressed a giggle.

"What about it? You fucking have it?!"

"Yes. Not important," Ilya repeated. "I did it only for our foundation."

"Huh, he told me the same," Shane let out a laugh.

"Really? You didn't know?"

Hollander shook his head.

"My parents did. I found out from the letter inviting to his fucking graduation. Actually, that was the moment I figured about all this bachelor's and master's too. I am still angry at you about that, by the way" he turned to Ilya and pressed a finger to his chest.

"Yes, I am ready to apologize more," Ilya cracked into a naughty smile.

"You will. Insufferable," Shane mumbled, unable to resist.

"Fantastic. You are such a fucking asshole," now it was even some admiration in Marlow's voice. "I want to be you when I grow up."

"Yeeeah…" Shane drew out. "And it's Hayden who has crush on me, huh, Marlow?" he narrowed his eyes. "Sounds like mirroring."

Cliff decided to skip this remark, and hoped his face kept calm.

"You are older than me, bro," Ilya grinned.

"Doesn't matter. What else are you hiding?"

"Nothing. Except for some dirty Shane's kinks, but these are our secret."

"Fuck you, Rozanov," Hollander flushed.

"It's Hollander-Rozanov, солнышко" he corrected Shane, grinning.

"Fuck both of you," Marlow hid his face into hands. "I don't believe you anymore."

Ilya laughed.

***

"Good morning," Cliff mumbled, half-asleep, crawling out of the den on the waffle and coffee scent spreading all over the cottage.  

He took a seat on the chair in the kitchen.

Ilya was standing there wearing only joggers and an apron over the bare torso, his hair wet. On the edge of the table was a plate with lots of greenery, some beans, boiled eggs and some whole gain toasts with avocado and hummus. The steaming mug with miso soup placed next to the plate.

Marly winced, looking at this.

"Yeah, I know," Rozanov huffed, turning from the kitchen to the table with the a plate full of golden waffles and a bottle of syrup. "I barely made him add some eggs and avocado. He eats like rabbit. I am… dealing with it, baby steps," he pushed his hair back, some concern quickly flashed across his face.

"I am still scared with this version you," Cliff chucked, sweeping his hand around. "But it's… nice? Caring. You always were caring. And this smells fucking awesome, cap. Is it just for me?" he smirked.

"Ha! You wish, it's for me too. I would die if I ate like Hollander," Ilya grinned back. "So nice you are still calling me cap."

"It's better than calling you doc."

"Mhhh, Shane loves to do that."

"Before or after you got your fucking degree?" Marly generously poured a syrup over waffles on his plate.

Rozanov made one more trip to the kitchen countertop, bringing a pot with coffee and a bowl of fresh berries.

"Both," Ilya smirked. "But now he seems much less anxious about it. I mean before I fuck him. After I do he has no power to be anxious."

Marlow rolled his eyes, but something made him believe it was true.

Shane entered the kitchen, with his phone in his hands.

"Ilyusha, Hayden with Jackie are on their way, they will be here in about 3 hours," he raised his gaze from the phone in his hand and smiled. "Oh, good morning, Marly."

"I hope baby Pikes are with them? I made additional waffle dough to make some star wars and heart shaped waffles for them," Ilya got up from the table, and walked towards Hollander, opening his arms.

Shane sinked into a hug instantly and nuzzled Ilya's neck.

"Sure," he murmured. "I had Amber voice louder than Hayden's in my ear. She was screaming how she wanna see her uncle Ilyusha. Hayd is gonna explode some day, y'know?"

"Let's steal them? And Jackie."

Marlow chocked on waffle, laughing.

Shane rolled his eyes and chuckled.

"Sure."

"Trés bien! Le déjeuner est servi. Bon appetìt, mon amourVery good! the breakfast is served, my love," Ilya winked, remembering their talk a few days ago.

"Show off," Shane smiled, pecking his lips and a cough of a dying man interrupted them.

"NOT YOU KNOWING FUCKING FRENCH," and a full of devastation Marly's scream and a noise of broken glass followed the cough.

Shane bursted in laughter. "He is messing with you, Marlow"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, I DON'T BELIEVE BOTH OF YOU NOW!"