Archive of Our Own

“Yo Roz,’’ Marleau’s voice boomed across the room as he entered the team gym, walking over to where Ilya was on the bikes. “You seen this?”

The man in front of him handed Ilya his phone displaying a workout video by his least favourite dinosaur: Scott Hunter. 

“Hi everyone, its currently summer break for us so I thought I’d take you through my workout routine I use during the off season to help remain at the top of my game while giving my body some time to rest.”

Approximately thirty seconds passed before Ilya remembered that he in fact did not have to endure this torture and could in fact just hand the phone back to Marleau. 

“Why are you showing me video of a grandpa Marly?” The disgust on his face evident. 

“Just thought it could be cool to do,” Cliff shrugged, “a couple of the other captains have dropped one.”

Admittedly that could be a good idea, in the new social media age it was always a silent competition between the teams, the captains especially, as to who could get the most attention online. Perhaps Shane Hollander has posted one. Knowing him it would be something boring- running, basic strength training, maybe even some yoga. The hope for the last part definitely had nothing to do with how he wanted to watch him bend over…

Anyways, doing it in the same format as Scott Hunter would be practically impossible as he left for Russia in two days. The majority of teams had finished for the season but the Bears always liked to do a training session at the end of the season just to tie things off and make sure everyone was on the same page going into the summer break. Hunter’s was obviously filmed during his teams last session based on the players in the background, kind of not possible now given it was currently their last session and tomorrow he needed to pack before his flight the next day. 

“Hmm.” Ilya hummed. “I will think about it.”

Ilya did have an idea of what he could do to break the internet over summer break. 

Growing up, Ilya had always loved mountain biking- it was far away enough from hockey to not be in the same realm with the same expectations but still gave him the same adrenaline rush as the puck being dropped in a face off. One wrong move on this bike and his career might be over but who cares, that’s what helmets are for. 

Every summer he came out to this spot trying to find new paths that he hadn’t ridden before, only that this time he had some cameras set up. If it was a summer break work out routine video that the fans wanted, that was what they were going to get. 

He set off down the mountain. The start was relatively smooth but soon the rocky terrain elicited a litany of profanity that probably violated some of his sponsorship contracts. At the bottom of the mountain he was unscathed, taking a moment to catch his breath until “Blyat” 

Approximately a week after leaving Boston to go back home for the summer Ilya woke up to his phone ringing.

Incoming Call

Clifford the Big Red Dog

“Marly what the fuck do you want its like 4am for me”

“Why is there a video of you mountain biking then fighting a bear going viral.”

Ahh this. The video being talked about was of course the one he had posted last night in which he, as previously described, rode a bike down a mountain before fighting a bear. Obviously he hadn’t intended to fight a bear, however it saw him, came towards him and looked like it was going to attack him. 

“You told me to post a workout video so I did.” Technically the truth. 

“I meant in a gym like a normal person. Not nearly get yourself fucking killed Roz.”

“Am I dead? No. I practically fight people for a living, okay I am 6 '2 hockey player, I think I can handle bear the size of Pike.” That earned him a reluctant chuckle down the phone. 

“Okay man.” He sighed down the phone, clearly resigned to his best friend doing stupid shit as he has done for all the years they've been friends. “Just do me a favour and don’t get yourself killed before the season starts, kinda need you cap.”

“Aww Marly you flatter me.” He mocked.  

“Yeah yeah don’t make me regret it. Night Roz, have fun dreaming about punching bears.”

“Night Marls.”

– 

If Ilya Rozanov loved one thing, it was attention. So, given the popularity of the previous week’ stunt, obviously it was to be repeated. Last week he didn’t go out specifically wanting to fight a bear but this time… let’s just say it wouldn't be an unwelcome event. And that is how, for the second week in a row, Stanley Cup winner Ilya Rozanov finds himself at the top of a mountain strapping a helmet with a GoPro on it to his head and his phone onto the holder on his bike. Far too many people thought that video of him fighting a bear was fake so naturally he has to prove the haters wrong. As if he couldn’t fight a bear when he’s beat a dinosaur multiple times. 

–

Truthfully, Ilya wasn't actually in Russia, a detail he is shocked many people hadn’t realised. He was actually in a random forest in Massachusetts, staying in an AirBnB booked under a fake name. For a few days he had flown out back to his family but realised after a few days that he did not want to be there and didn’t have to be either. Chartering a private jet late at night and getting the pilot and all the crew to sign some hefty NDAs was far more simple than he thought. After that it was a matter of telling his assistant (the one his family didn’t know about) his plans for the rest of the summer so she could ensure he had all the relevant visas. 

Two months. 

Ilya now had two months of freedom with the public presuming he was in Russia where for the past few years, only a couple of photos of him are taken in public. The only public acknowledgement of his existence in summer is when he goes back to the states and he and Marly go out or something like that, besides that he was generally left to himself. But for what he had planned, he needed to be dead to the world. No expectations of his return or anything. 

—--

The bear video was probably the best thing to ever happen to Ilya, well, second best. At first it was just a funny little thing that gave him a leg up over Scott Hunter, but now it had somewhat spiralled. 

Seriously spiralled. 

A massive part of hockey, or sports in general, is seizing opportunity when it presents itself. As Senna said “if you do not go for a gap that exists you are no longer a racing driver” and boy was there a gap wide open. The third week that Ilya decided to pull his little stunt he hit the jackpot. At the bottom of the mountain it was not a full grown bear but a cute little cub. For most people this would be incredibly unfortunate given that baby bear means mama bear is nearby, but luckily Ilya knows how to make the best of a bad situation. 

—

“There is no way that you sent Cliff Marleau a video of you encountering a bear cub then got him to post it as if you died.” Shane said as soon as he opened the door, his face was serious but Ilya knew him well enough to tell that it wasn’t real. 

It was a stroke of genius faking his own death and running away to his boyfriend’s cottage in the wilderness of a different country. 

“I am here no?” Ilya tugged him into his arms, any of the tension Shane previously held melting the second Ilya embraced him. 

“Yeah.” He mumbled into Ilya’s shoulder. “You’re here.”

Ilya’s heart fluttered when he felt Shane’s mouth form a smile against him. 

They just stood like that for a while, Shane tucked into the crook of Ilya’s neck surrounded by the Canadian wilderness with no one daring to bother them. Ilya was presumed dead and Shane was on a tech-free retreat until a week before training camp was set to start. Anastasia had sorted out the visa for Ilya to be in Canada for leisure and she was in fact the only person who knew which country he was in. A boring person would say it’s stupid that no one knew where Ilya was right now, that it attested to his lack of survival instincts. However if Shane Hollander ended up murdering him and burying him somewhere in the middle of the woods he would die a happy man, staring into those deep brown eyes and mapping the constellations of his freckles. The thought of it almost made him long for that death. 

“Come on,” Ilya pulled away to look at him properly, a smile tugging at his lips, “let’s go inside.”

—

If there was any period of time that Ilya wishes could drag on forever, it was those weeks at the cottage. Just getting to exist with Shane and be and not worry about the press or hockey or anyone else bothering them. There had been a close call when Shane’s dad came round to grab a charger he’d left a few weeks prior but luckily Ilya hadn’t followed him inside just yet, instead deciding to bask in the sunlight and just appreciate how lucky he was. 

Four weeks of peace all came crashing down the moment he had to drive five hours back to Boston, not wanting to take a plane and risk anyone finding out where he had actually been all summer. Training camp was luckily only two weeks this year and he could pretty much keep him himself, only really going from training to his Boston house. 

The media when he got back was absolutely insane. The first game back is against New York and of course they win comfortably 6-3. Every single reporter in the building wants to talk to him after, not for wiping the floor with the Admirals in the very first match of the whole season 

“Rozanov, where were you all summer?” “Ilya, did you really fight a bear?” “What have you been doing for the past few weeks?”

“One at a time please, although I think you all have the same question.”

“What happened after you posted the video? Everyone honestly thought you were dead.”

Iya laughed a bit to himself. “No. I was not dead. The bears took me in and I became protector. It was little bit like that Disney film but bears instead.”

“Sorry,” the reporter asks incredulously, “but did you just say the bears took you in like Mowgli from The Jungle Book?”

God he had missed fucking with the press like this. He just nodded at her and continued. “Da. They are bears, I am captain of the Bears, they understood and respected that.”

There was a flurry of further confused questions from reporters but leaving after such a statement was far more satisfying than clarifying the bullshit he just spewed.