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“Well Chris, the stadium sure is full tonight!”
“It sure is Matt, the final game of the season before summer being the Raiders against the Metros! Phenomenal.”
“And chris we all know how Boston gets when the metros are in town” The announcer snickered into the mic
Shane felt extra aware tonight, but.. Why? His day was perfectly planned out,
Wake up at 8:15
Quick work out
Eat breakfast
Sext Ilya Text Mom
Take a quick nap
Get ready for the game It was all perfect..
Shane waited in the tunnel while the announcers called out his teammates' names.
Hayden quickly skates over to Shane before his name is called. “Have the fans always been this loud during games against the raiders?”
Now that Shane thought about it he could feel his ears ringing from the chanting..
“Ilya! Ilya! Ilya!”
“You have got to be kidding me” groaned Comeau. “This is such bullshit, why are they yelling that asshole's name?”
Shane felt a weird feeling in his chest. “He’s not an asshole, Comeau.” mumbled Shane.
“Yea well im going to fuck up ‘not assholes’ ass tonight.” Comeau's name was announced and he quickly skated away.
“Hayden Pike!”
“J.J Boiziau!”
“Patrice Drapeau!”
Shane took a deep breath before his name was called. All of his senses were killing him. The lights were piercing through his head, the yelling somehow broke through his highly padded helmet. He could almost taste the sterile cold ice beneath him. But Shane had a seventh sense. One that only very lately showed up,
Love
His heart felt lighter knowing Rozanov Ilya was near.
“And Chris, here's the man we've all been waiting for..”
“Drumroll please everyone!”
The stadium is severed in two, Boston fans booing and screaming swears and the other whooping for their beloved golden boy to skate out and kill the raiders.
“The Metros captain… Shane Hollander!”
Shane grips his quadriceps and forces himself to skate onto the blue line.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
“And Rozanov captures the Puck from Hollander!”
Ilya slams Shane into the boards. Usually he would seething with anger, but instead of keeping his eyesight on the puck he glances into Ilya's eyes.
For what feels like hours it's just them on the ice. Touching. Hollander shakes his head and races back after Rozanov.
____________________________________________________________________________________
During the quick break Shane's seventh sense somehow finds Ilya sitting on the bench. And he's.. Staring back at him?? The russian is breathing heavy, strong hands gripping his water bottle, sweat dripping down his neck. Shane isn't sure how he notices the tiny droplets but he also notices something else…
Ilya isn't actually drinking his water. He's holding it out to Shane from across the rink.. Shaking it.
Why does this seem so familiar..
“Oh my fucking god Ilya” whispers Shane. He's recreating the first time Ilya took care of Shane.
The Canadian lifts his water bottle to his lips and drinks until Ilya stops staring at him.
____________________________________________________________________________________
“The clock is counting down Matt!”
“18 seconds left!”
Shane stole the puck in the neutral zone before Boston could reset. He cut past one defender, then another. The crowd surged to its feet, a deafening roar swallowing everything else.
Ilya was already skating backward, watching him.
Of course he is
Shane pulled the puck to his forehand. He swore he could see the goalies shoulders hesitate.
One quick flick.
The puck rang off the inside of the post and buried itself in the back of the net.
For a heartbeat, there was silence.
“And that's it! The Montreal Metros win 3-2!”
The arena exploded.
Red and blue jerseys poured over the boards, sticks raised high. Shane Barely had time to throw his arms up before Hayden and J.J tackled him into the glass, laughing and yelling so hard he couldn't breathe.
Across the ice, Ilya stood frozen
Their eyes met through the chaos As much as Shane tried to look sexy or mysterious when interacting with Rozanov his grin was unstoppable.
Ilya shook his head, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Invisible if you weren't staring at him with the focus Shane was.
“Show-off,” he mouthed
Shane only smiled wider. He knew ilya would be the first person to tell him it had been a lucky shot
He also knew he’d be the only one who really meant, I’m proud of you.
____________________________________________________________________________________
Shane skated up to the handshake line shaking. Ironic isn't it.
“Good game”
“Fuck you Hollander”
“Asshole”
“We’ll get you guys next time”
Nothing Shane hadn't heard before in the line,
When Shane looked to the end where Ilya was standing, he saw an odd glint in Rozanov's eye.
Shane has seen and known almost every different emotion through Ilya's eyes.
Whether it's lust,
sadness
depression
anger
more lust
Love.. Shane shook that thought out of his head quicker than Comeau called other players slurs.
And that's pretty quick..
When Shane finally reached him, Ilya gripped his hand like always. Then, instead of letting go, he tugged Shane forward just enough to throw him off his balance.
To everyone else, it probably looked like Rozanov messing with his #1 enemy.
Shane laughed
“What are you-”
Ilya leaned in, close enough that his breath trickled through his thick helmet.
He frowned.
He already knows my room number.
“I love you” Ilya whispered.
Shane froze.
By the time he looked up, Ilya had already let go, skating down the line towards the next Metro
“Ilya-”
Nothing.
Just another handshake.
Shane stared after him.
Oh, absolutely not no fucking way.
He’d said it
He said what Shane was going to tell him while he was getting fucked into oblivion later tonight.
He said what Shane was going to tell him while they cuddled after.
He said what Shane was going to tell him when they kissed
He said what Shane was going to tell Him.
In public no less!?
Shane's heart hammered against his ribs
He finally said it.
The handshake line carried on around him
Someone else laughed, Hayden was already calling his name from farther down the line. Shane barely heard any of it.
He couldn't stop staring at the back of Ilya’s jersey.
ROZANOV 81.
For years they built their relationship on almosts
Almost touching
Almost saying too much
Almost getting caught
This….
It was different. Like standing on the edge of something neither of them could come back from. Ilya reached the end of the line. Instead of skating toward the Boston bench he stopped.
Shane frowned.
“What the fuck are you doing” mouthed Shane to Ilya
The Russian stood still at center ice. Then he turned, not towards his teammates. Towards Shane.
Every instinct in his body screamed at him to skate away.
Instead he found himself pushing off the ice, gliding towards the center without thinking.
Every stride echoed through him.
One.
Two.
Three.
Every push of his skates carried him farther from the life he’d built and closer to the one he’d always yearned for.
There was still time to stop!
Shane thought that was ridiculous.
____________________________________________________________________________________
“Wo-hoah Matt!.. what's going on here?”
“I.. uh I'm not sure Chris.. but it looks like whatever Rozanov said in the lineup really got to Hollander.”
“Will Canada's golden boy finally drop his gloves??”
When they met at center ice ilya smiled.
Small
Terrified.
Certain..
“I meant it.” whispered Rozanov
Shane let out a breathless laugh
“Yeah, yea I know”
Ilya searched his face for the briefest second, as if giving him one last chance to leave.
Shane didn’t.
Instead he reached up to the tall Russian's face and closed the distance.
Twenty thousand people watched as Shane Hollander took Ilya Rozanov's face in both hands and kissed him.
The taller man dipped his head just enough for Shane to slide both gloves along his jaw, his thumbs brushing the edge of his attempt at a beard. Their helmets bumped together before Shane tilted his head, and then they were kissing.
It wasn't rushed
It wasn't desperate
It was.. Gentle
Years of stolen moments in hotel rooms and empty hallways suddenly out in the open beneath the brightest lights in hockey.
Ilya’s hands settled carefully around Shane's waist, pulling him closer until the gap between them disappeared. Shane had to rise slightly on his skates to reach him, smiling into the kiss as Ilya leaned down the last few inches.
The arena had gone completely still.
A stick hit the ice somewhere behind them
Shane heard someone near them mutter “Holy shit”
When they finally pulled apart, they stayed close, foreheads resting together beneath their visors. Ilya looked at Shane like he was seeing him for the first time, his usually unreadable face to the world was completely open for all to see.
Shane laughed quietly, tears threatening to spill despite the grin stretched across his face
“I love you too." He whispered.
Ilya smiled
A real one.
The kind she only saw when they were alone.
Then, somewhere in the crowd, someone started clapping. And some booing, some slurs were thrown, and some affections were yelled as well.
But all Shane could hear was Ilya's silence
And all Ilya could hear was Shane's heart.