Chapter Text
The lights came up and the theme music swelled. The audience erupted with noise.
"Here it comes! From Hollywood! Television's most exciting hour! It's The Price is Right!"
Confetti exploded from somewhere above. Ilya Rozanov had never won the Stanley Cup. He had never even played professional hockey. He was just a regular guy, finding his way in a new country. But as little pieces of metallic paper floated through the air, sticking to his jacket and his hair, he was fairly certain this was what lifting the Cup must feel like.
His heart hammered against his ribs. This was it. He had had years of watching reruns, years of yelling at contestants through the television. Ilya spent years of correctly guessing the retail price of kitchen appliances while eating cereal, alone, in his dingy studio apartment in Montreal.
His best friend, Svetlana, got him tickets to Los Angeles for his birthday. Part of her gift, of course, was audience attendance at his favorite show, The Price is Right.
This was his moment.
He turned toward the woman sitting beside him.
She looked to be in her fifties, with dingy brown curls threaded with confident streaks of gray. She was dressed in what could only be described as Walmart Clearance Rack, and somehow she made it work. She looked good, Ilya could admit that. She caught him looking.
"You ready?" she asked.
"No," Ilya admitted, anxiously.
"Me neither," she nodded.
Without another word, they clasped hands like two soldiers about to storm Normandy. Rod Roddy's unmistakable voice boomed through the studio.
"Shonda Taylor! Come on down!"
The woman three sections over shrieked loud enough to register on nearby seismographs before sprinting toward her podium. The audience went wild. Ilya applauded enthusiastically, but with a bit of sadness in his eyes.
One down.
"Benjamin Francis! Come on down!"
A tall man in a polo leapt from his seat with a victorious fist pump. Confident. Victorious. Ilya studied him carefully. He had the posture of someone who knew the approximate retail price of patio furniture covers.
A worthy opponent.
"Leah King! Come on down!"
Someone screamed. This wasn’t an excited scream, this was a “you’ve just seen a murder with your own eyes” scream. Ilya briefly wondered if the microphones had survived.
Three contestants.
One spot remained.
His stomach twisted itself into a sailor's knot.
Please. Please. Please.
"Ilya Rozanov! Come on down!"
For one glorious second, his brain stopped functioning. The woman beside him started shaking him by the arm.
"That's you?"
"I know! That is me!"
"Then go!"
She grabbed his face with both hands and placed a big wet kiss on his cheek.
"Go get 'em, cowboy!"
"I am not cowboy" Ilya replied.
"You are today!"
She shoved him into the aisle, nearly knocking over the elderly couple at the end of their row.
Ilya ran. He didn't run, actually, he sprinted. He nearly tripped over two people's feet, apologized to both of them while still moving, and bounded toward his podium like someone had just announced free oxygen in a world that was running low.
He made it.
Four podiums.
Four contestants.
His podium.
He rested both hands on the little counter in front of him and looked around the studio.
The bright lights and the cheering audience swirling around him. The giant sparkly dollar signs. Behind the curtains there were mountains of prizes waiting to ruin someone's ability to fit a new dining room set into a one-bedroom apartment. Ilya was standing on Contestants’ Row, an elite position only held by a lucky few.
He had dreamed about this since he was nine years old. He was on The Price is Right.
Rod's voice rang out once more.
"You are the first four contestants on The Price is Right! And now... here's your host... Booooooob Barkerrrr!"
The doors opened. Bob Barker appeared on the stage with thunderous applause. He didn't walk onto the stage though, he descended from heaven. At least, that's how it looked to Ilya.
The lights caught Bob's perfectly coiffed silver hair like a halo. His smile twinkled in the studio lighting. Angels probably had less stage presence. Ilya clapped so hard his palms immediately regretted it.
"Good morning, everyone!" Bob beamed. "Hi, folks! Good morning, Rod. Ladies and gentlemen, let's hear it for Rod Roddy! I couldn't do this without him."
The audience erupted again.
"Welcome to The Price is Right!"
Bob glided effortlessly across the stage once more, waving to the crowd. Ilya couldn't look away. Was this how the Pope felt when he finally met Princess Diana?
"I have a very special game for all of you today," Bob said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
The audience buzzed with oohs and aahs.
"In honor of National Couples Day, each of our contestants will be paired with a celebrity."
A ripple of excited gasps spread through the studio.
"The celebrities won't win any prizes themselves, but we'll be donating ten thousand dollars to the charity of their choice as our thanks for joining us."
Ilya stopped blinking. This… this day was somehow getting better. His jaw fell open and he couldn’t remember how to close it. Somewhere in the back of his mind he vaguely registered that he might be drooling. He didn't care. Who could it be? An actor? A singer? One of the Property Brothers?
"So please join me in welcoming..." Bob announced, "Jack Black..."
Thunderous applause.
"...50 Cent..."
Even louder applause.
"...Kristen Johnston..."
Cheers echoed through the studio.
"...and Shane Hollander!"
Everything stopped in Ilya’s world.
The celebrities walked onto the stage together to the crowd erupting, somehow, even louder than before.
Ilya did not. He couldn't. His brain had blue-screened.
Shane Hollander? That Shane Hollander? Captain of the Montreal Metros. Two-time Stanley Cup champion. Olympic gold medalist Shane beautiful fucking Hollander?
Shane Hollander was the reason Ilya had spent six months in high school attempting a slap shot in his apartment courtyard until Mrs. Petrova from 4B confiscated his stick. His almost rival.
Shane Hollander. Here. On The Price is Right with Ilya.
Bob welcomed each celebrity in turn.
"You may know Jack Black from many of his famous movies, but I'm a pretty big Tenacious D fan myself."
Jack laughed.
"I'll take it."
"50, my friend! It's good to see you again."
"Always good to see you, Bob, man."
The two exchanged a quick side hug and a dap. Naturally, casually.
"Kristen Johnston! I've been a fan since 3rd Rock from the Sun."
"Bob, watching this show with my grandmother was basically a childhood tradition," Kristen said. "Being here is honestly surreal."
The audience gave an appreciative "awweee."
"And finally," Bob said, turning toward the last guest, "Shane Hollander. Hockey's biggest star. Record breaker. History maker. And one incredibly handsome young man."
The audience cheered as Shane laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly anxious.
"Thanks, Bob. It's really nice to meet you. I've watched the show for years, so this is pretty incredible."
No. No, it wasn't. It was incredible for Ilya. Shane was merely attending. Ilya was ascending.
"Now then!" Bob clapped his hands together. "Let's pair everyone up."
He pointed toward the podiums one by one, assigning celebrities to contestants.
Ilya heard none of it as static filled his ears.
"Shane," Bob finally said, "if you'd head over to the last podium and join that nice young man, Ilya."
Shane smiled at him and he started walking over. The studio blurred and the audience disappeared. Nothing else existed in the room, just Shane and Ilya. Time itself politely slowed to a crawl. Shane Hollander was walking towards him.
He was somehow even better looking in person. Ilya had dreamed about him before, watched his games and ogled his advertisements. His hair was a little messier in person, but Ilya liked it. His smile was warm and his eyes- oh. His eyes were brown and endless. They were surrounded by freckles that were so lightly dotted in a cloud pattern across his face. How had he never noticed that before? He had looked at approximately six million photographs of Shane Hollander in his lifetime.
Shane stopped in front of him and held out a hand.
"Hi," he said with an easy smile. "I'm Shane."
For one horrifying second, Ilya forgot his own name.
"You're Ilya?" Shane asked, pointing to the oversized yellow nametag plastered across his chest.
"Oh. Yes." Ilya looked down as though he needed to verify it himself. "I am Ilya. Nice to meet you. Thank you for... playing game show with me."
Shane grinned anxiously. “Yeah. I mean, I’m pretty good at this stuff. I remember a lot of prices. Hopefully we can win, you know, together.”
Ilya nearly fainted. Together. He chuckled to himself.
“Yeah!”
"Okay, teams!" Bob called. "Let's see our first item up for bids. Jennifer?"
Jennifer, a human Barbie, glided onto the stage with the effortless confidence of someone who had never once tripped in four-inch heels. She was draped in cubic zirconia and velvet, towering over everyone. Her body moved but her hair stayed put. It was a sight to behold.
She somehow managed to present a giant gumball machine like it belonged in the Louvre.
“Ohhh, look at this! It's a brand new gumball machine! Standing over five-and-a-half feet tall, this fiberglass beauty features a classic spiral delivery mechanism and comes complete with sixty pounds of colorful gumballs!”
Rod could make a garden hose sound luxurious. One day, Ilya hoped his English would be that good.
Bob turned back toward Contestants' Row.
"The contestant who bids closest to the actual retail price without going over wins. Shonda, let's start with you."
Shonda glanced at Jack Black. Jack nodded once with theatrical confidence. Fake.
"Nine hundred fifty dollars!"
Ding.
Ilya couldn't stop the tiny scoff escaping his nose. Not even close! He caught Shane looking at him.
"...What?" Shane whispered, smiling.
"She is wrong."
"You know already?"
"I have... strong feeling."
Shane leaned in until his shoulder brushed Ilya's.
"I was thinking twenty-six hundred."
Ilya felt Shane's breath against his ear. He shuddered and swallowed.
"I also have that feeling."
Benjamin bid three thousand.
Ding. Too high.
Leah guessed one thousand sixty-seven.
Ding. Far too low.
Bob looked down the line.
"And finally, Ilya!"
Ilya didn't hesitate.
"Two thousand six hundred dollars!"
The number flashed onto the board.
Ding.
"The actual retail price is… two thousand six hundred seventy-nine dollars and ninety-nine cents!"
Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!
The crowd exploded once more.
"You got it, Ilya and Shane! Come on up here!"
The victory bells rang through the studio. Without thinking, Ilya threw both arms around Shane. Shane stumbled backward half a step.
"Whoa!"
"I am sorry!"
"No, no-"
They were already laughing. Shane steadied them both by grabbing Ilya around the shoulders with his hands. Damn, they were big. Hot.
Shane and Ilya made it to the stage and stood together, hands clutched.
"How are you feeling, Ilya?"
Ilya looked around the studio. The lights and the audience engulfing him. Bob Barker. A giant gumball machine. Shane sexy motherfucking Hollander standing three inches away.
"Bob..."
He placed a hand over his heart.
"This is best day of my life."
Shane laughed so hard he had to look away. There was something so unbelievably endearing about Ilya that Shane just gave into. He wasn’t fake and he wasn’t trying to be funny. He was genuinely experiencing something for the first time, at full volume.
Bob smiled at them with his big Hollywood teeth.
"Well, let's see if we can make it even better! What prizes do you have for the next round, Rod?"
Rod's voice boomed through the studio.
“It's a new computer!”
Jennifer swept a hand toward a sleek desktop setup.
“A brand new desktop computer with a twenty-seven-inch display! It also includes a portable JBL speaker, perfect for music on the go.”
A beat.
"...and a mouse pad!"
Ilya felt like he was in the Colosseum ready to fight a gladiator for his title with the way the crowd reacted to this prize.
“And finally, if you win those prizes, there’s one more prize waiting for you!”
Jennifer reached for the giant red curtain behind them.
“A brand new golf cart! This top of the line E-Z Go Golf Cart comes with comfortable leather seats and connected tech ports for all of your mobile devices. It stands out, just like you!”
Jennifer caressed every inch of the golf cart, showing it off like a prize cow.
“Take it away, Bob!”
Shane met Ilya’s eyes. They were so large, so shiny. Ilya was ecstatic. He looked like he'd just been told Christmas had been extended by another week.
What is he going to do with a golf cart? Shane wondered.
Does he golf?
Does he know someone who golfs?
Does he... commute exclusively through gated retirement communities?
He had no idea. He also found that he desperately wanted to know. He wanted to know more about Ilya, he wanted to know everything. He was intrigued by this man who, actually, was incredibly attractive. Shane bit his bottom lip.
Ilya squeezed Shane’s hand tightly, but Shane didn’t mind. He squeezed it right back. Ilya’s excitement was impossible not to catch.
"Thanks, Jennifer! Thanks, Rod!" Bob called. "Now, for this game we're playing The Clock Game!"
Ilya listened intently to every word. Not because he needed to, no. Ilya knew The Clock Game better than his own body. And standing beside him, Shane realized so did he. They were a perfect match.