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Ilya used to think Shane was a bad liar.
He would, after all, notice every time Shane stammered through a falsehood or half-truth. Sometimes he even let him.
Now, Ilya wonders if maybe they weren't built to understand one another. Cosmically destined for one another in a way that others aren't. Mama used to talk about people like that, people made by fate for one another, misunderstandings are natural even with the ones you love; but there are some people that you just get.
He noticed that she never mentioned her and papa when she talked of these people. It wasn't something he brought up, knowing better even as a kid.
For a while, he thought the only person like that he would get was Mama. He was the only one who could make her laugh. Every night they would build stories together, line by line until one of them was too tired to pick up their part and left the other to tell the end. She always knew when he needed a hug, when he was hiding something hurt.
When she's gone he wonders if maybe he wasn't that for her. Maybe that's why he didn't know she was hurting.
And when his stories become lies that he tells quickly and easily, ways to keep Alexei and Papa off his back or to keep others from asking questions, it's clear that no one notices. No one understands. And maybe Mama's story was just a story.
It's not something he mentions. To himself, to anyone else, and with time he almost forgets.
But, Shane is a bad liar. A bad liar to Ilya who he refuses to look at and when he does the shame of the lie is written in every freckle on his beautiful face.
To others not so much.
🏒
All Stars was one of Ilya's favorite times of they year. It was a party, really, where the ultimate goal was to play showy hockey. No one took it seriously, but most of them were good enough it didn't matter — and with what Boston paid him when else was he going to play with Vaughn or Boodram out of Ottawa. Mostly, it was nice to have one more game with Shane.
Maybe one day, they'd let them play on the same team. But it was still too much of a draw, the rivalry, so strong even a fake game is like Playoffs.
For now the best part is that he can be seen with Shane. Talk with Shane and he's… not relaxed, that's not a word he thinks of with Shane in the same sentence as public, but he doesn't jump if Ilya comes up beside him at the bar or the lounge.
And who would he be if he didn't take advantage of that.
In years past, it was fun to sneak up beside Hollander and whisper his room number right before slipping away from whatever boring conversation he might be having with Hunter or that Canadian guy on Vegas' team that always complains about the heat. He would take a few steps away and watch Hollander stutter through a lie about chirping before the game that everyone believed because he knows how to play.
This year feels different.
But then he's thought that every year since 2014 so at what point does that become a lie he's telling himself?
Beer sweating in his hand, Ilya is happy to keep lying to himself if it means he gets to stand near Shane and chat with Toronto's alternate goalie, Hayes. They both agree he should be here on skill, but Toronto is determined to stay shitty by force so it's through the voting force of the nerdy army on the guys Twitter that the man finally gets to show off.
Ilya has nothing but respect for a man who can get Shane Hollander to admit he has opinions on something other than another team's penalty kill, even if they are about a superhero movie he's never seen. In another minute he may even have gathered enough context to pretend he thinks the exact opposite as Shane like Hayes, but for a different non-comic reason.
Which makes the heavy arm thrown around his shoulder unpleasant for a fist of reasons, the untucked thumb of which being Ilya can't even hit the jackass because- "You skipped shots with the team to hang with these virgins?"
Fucking Kent is his fucking teammate at this stupid fucking game in a team draw that might as well have stood up and said 'we're running out of ways to keep you and Hollander apart so we'll give you the worst of what Canada has to offer.'
Virgin is a show of restraint, almost like Kent knows Ilya has dreamed of tripping him and letting Shane skate over his hand as they played chase for the puck. Not his strangest wet dream.
Shrugging out of the hold of an intoxicated mudak is a skill he has perfected so well they could have named that the Rozanov. "I keep a certain quality of company, Kent, I wouldn't expect you to know this."
"Oh ho," Kent wiggles his fingers with these nonsense sounds that Ilya has learned mean people think you are obrazovanshchina. But Kent is an idiot who thinks he has a street education so what the fuck would he know. He could accuse Ilya of being the heir of the lost Duchess and he wouldn't give a shit so long as it meant he left.
He doesn't, the man reads a room about as well as he could read a book. He probably doesn't even know who the Romanovs are.
"Since you're too good for us," Kent continues, "settle an argument me and the boys were having."
"Make it quick."
"That fugly ass tattoo of yours. Jonesy thinks it's for the motherland. I don't believe it, I think it's a drunk mistake you're too proud to cover up."
There isn't a question, there's barely a disagreement. There is an under current of malice that every conversation with Dallas Kent seems to have. This was just an excuse to needle Shane, to sneer at Hayes, to poke at Ilya, and, maybe, see if there's any weakness to exploit when the game is real and he's run dry of slurs.
"Is for my pet bear Misha," he lies.
"That's so cool!" Hayes says.
"Fuck off, that's not real, goalies are such fucking 'tards."
Shane's eyes flint and Ilya doubles down on the joke. "No, it is true. My Misha was a little cub, but she was too big to fit on the airplane. Lives at the Moscow Zoo now."
"Just admit it's bad work for a pussy fucking reason, Rozanov, no one's buying your Mike Tyson tiger shit."
He's focusing very hard on his mouth and eyebrows, Dallas Kent doesn't get to see him confused. Instead he mistranslates Shane's brow furrow as being the same, fucking references.
"Actually," Shane says, "oversights made during the changeover from Communism to the current system of government means Russia doesn't have any laws about the ownership of exotic animals like we do here. Tippie Hedren looked at moving to keep her lion Neal."
Ilya needs him carnally.
"Whatever." Kent stalks away, obviously fuming but too stupid to call Shane on the lie.
"Dude, that's so cool, I always assumed it was some tribute to how you could find home wherever you were. Bears Russia Boston Bears, but a pet, wow!"
"Yes, yes. I'm going up to my room, need to sleep off my prolonged contact with Kent. Hazy, good to see you, but you understand."
(The truth won't come out until years later when they're all on the Centaurs and even then it's from a stubborn refusal to lose two truths and a lie. Hazy won't speak to either of them for hours.)
🏒🏒
Yuna Hollander was one of Ilya's favorite people in the world.
But she had a single minded focus that could be intimidating at best and, sometimes, annoying as fuck at its worst.
It is a treat to be annoyed, not enraged or scared or shamed, by family. Ilya finds most of the time he treasures it, getting to drive home with or calling Shane to laugh and debrief on what happened. This is family. This is fine.
Sometimes he lies.
Little things, stupid things, harmless things, things he can't or isn't ready to really share.
The kind of cake Mama would make for holidays, traditions they once had, things he may confess to later, embarrassed, after more therapy but for now would be his alone.
In the face of earnest questions from a woman he loves and respects — who holds onto things with the tenacity of a starving street dog — he cannot say the truth. That his mother killed herself five days after real Christmas and he hasn't celebrated since, that he has no need or want to rehash what was good when there is something new in front of him.
"The Moscow Ballet is in town for the holidays, I'm getting us all tickets." Hollander family dinner was usually a place for conversation, not announcements and silence like the dinners from his childhood.
Still Ilya's palms are sweaty when he sets down his fork. "I cannot come, I am sorry, Yuna."
"Don't be, Sweetie, I checked both your schedules you and Shane both have a night free."
"I still cannot come." Ilya wipes his hands on his pants as Shane hands him a napkin.
"If this is about being seen in public with us or Shane, don't worry. We'll get a box and and the friendship angle of the Foundation should cover the rest."
"No, this does sound wonderful," Ilya agrees, he would love to hold Shane's hand in a dark theater — their first date — "Selena, Chouinard's wife, says Cats is coming."
"I guess we could see both, if you're really interested in Cats."She says the name with a vague distaste that implies something he really doesn't understand. "We'll try this out first though."
There's another napkin folded in Shane's had as it finds his under the table. "No, no I am just embarrassed to share this story. I cannot go, I cannot be in the same room as the principle dancer Andrey. There is legal paperwork."
"Oh," Yuna blinks, a slow close of her eyes the same rebooting as her son. "Well that's fine those things don't transfer internationally."
"It's registered in Canada. I checked last summer," Shane lies. He turns to Ilya, the way he does when he's admitting any secret romantic gesture. "I thought we could find a way to see their Romeo and Juliet."
"Would they really enforce it?" Yuna asks. It's hard to tell if this is from the implications of the lie or if this is her struggling with the change in plans.
"Da, I'm afraid yes. I'm sorry I did not tell you this, it is really so embarrassing. He accused me, baby Ilya, a perfect student of cheating on Calculus test, this is a problem because his dancing hinges on his school and I have ruined grading curve. I am sympathetic, of course, but my honor is besmirched."
"Good word, Kiddo."
"Than you, David. Anyway, we fight, something else I am very good at; and he becomes injured, also a threat to his dancing. It leads to a horrible legal battle. I don't know what would happen if word got out I was there."
Yuna looks riveted, though it's hard to tell if she's buying it. Ilya tries to school his face into something appropriately apologetic but it's usually a face that's just for Shane and tends to lean bratty.
Maybe this is why Shane sighs. "Ilya, this is ridiculous. Just be honest."
"Shane!" He hisses.
"They were fourteen, it was a playground shoving match. He rolled his ankle and while the legal stuff happened it's really just one more thing that Alexei was shitty about. Bringing it over to North America was probably a publicity move more than anything, especially if this guy is half as dramatic as Ilya."
He squeezes Shane's hand hard under the table. "Shanya, you wound me!"
"Well I've never seen Cats. It might be nice to see what all the fuss is about." Yuna takes a long sip of her wine and David steers the conversation elsewhere.
(Irina Lebedeva was the prima ballerina in the Bolshoi ballet. She danced the sugar plum fairy, before Grigori Rozanov found her. She told Ilya the story of the Nutcracker every year at Christmas. She never danced. He never saw it or the ballet. Mama promised every year and if he could not with her he will not. It's a truth he tells Shane, whispered in the dark minutes after the question was actually asked, pretending he's talking to himself. Eventually, he tells Yuna and David about the pryaniki, about lighting a candle at midnight and placing it in the window since Papa would not let her go to the Liturgy. But he keeps the ballet to himself.)
🏒🏒🏒
He isn't sure if this is an interview Yuna set up for their couple tour or Harris for the Centaurs draft announcement. At this point they have all started to blur together.
This guy and his podcast are terrible, so he's going to blame Harris. Yuna would never do this to him. He is her favorite son.
Her second favorite son is seething in an armchair beside him.
Poor Shane has been subjected to some of the worst hockey opinions that have maybe ever been said in the history of the sport and Ilya is separated from him by the armrest of an IKEA chair, a podcast mic stand, and a side table stacked with a sponsored energy powder drink neither of them would touch even if they were allowed. Would Shane be mad if he played the homophobia card if it meant Ilya could get close enough to rub away that tension sitting just below his pulled taut shoulder blades?
Probably. But Shane forgives him for everything. And it is some kind of phobic that he's being kept so far from his husband. Is this being filmed? He should blink out some kind of signal.
'I guess it's time to ask the question everyone is actually tuned in for…" their host, Brad, ironically, announces. "Two of the best players in the league getting outed an married it's obviously something everyone wants to talk about."
"Yes, we are very fascinating," Ilya agrees, trying to give Shane a break after had to defend fucking Columbus — they aren't even in the same division, just say what you want to say about the Centaurs.
"It would be a big deal for two teammates to have done what you all have; but to be generational rivals, Hollander and Rozanov synonymous to the Montreal and Boston rivalry. How does that happen? What's the timeline for that? For you? I don't think anyone was as surprised about Shane — how much closer could you get to marrying hockey."
Ilya has gotten very good throughout his life at being taken from. His mother's photographs taken from his room. His money taken from his hand. His happiness taken at every possible moment from an ungrateful and unloving family. His right to privacy, his peace of mind, his ability to sleep on an airplane. Shane's eyes shut, squeezed tight enough it wrinkles his nose, and this was already something Ilya did not want to give; but to have it demanded while saying his husbands name like that?
"I think it is no secret my husband, he dated Rose Landry before me."
"Ilya…"
"I bring this up because I think it shows my husband, Shane Hollander, wants the best. All Stars happens, and I learn of this mutual break up, I decide to show him I am not only the best, but the best for him."
"2017 then." Brad prompts.
"Well what Ilya mentioned was just one of many things that led to us eventually being us." Shane twists his hand through the air like that made his answer any less generic.
"Yes, in 2017 I showed him I'm the best teammate. Then I have to show him I'm the best charity partner. I move to Ottawa to help fix his hometown hockey team — two bests there, best hockey captain and best Canadian."
"It was really hard to stay away from each other."
"You heard it here first," Brad gloats. There will be no follow-ups, no pushing. What a чмо. "That's all the time we have, thank you again…"
Ilya tunes out the drone and thinks he's going to text Hammersmith again about changing his name. He's much too good to be a Brad.
(Harris texts them later, thanking them for being good enough sports to give the "jackass an exclusive. It made it even harder for Brad to argue it wasn't fair that he got the interview in exchange for losing a seat in the pressroom. Ilya sends back two photos of lambs and doesn't admit what they did.)
—
Shane gets the question, officially, but they're actually together for the after-game press for once. The new suit, black with a subtle Centaur Red stitching that Ilya picked out for him makes his husband look distractingly good. Him not listening to what the reporter asked Shane is not at all proof of why they're only allowed to do this sometimes.
But really, Ilya is smart and an adult, it's not that hard to figure out what they might have been asked when he always listens to Shane's answers.
"If that's how Brad and others have chosen to interpret our responses, that's fine. I don't think Ilya or I put a date on our relationship during that conversation."
"But you are saying that Rozanov's trade to Ottawa was a romantic bid."
Giving into temptation, Ilya baps Shane's arm with his hand. "Bids, Cassie was just talking about this with Bood's new smoker. The little," he touches Shane again, "for attention."
"Right, well if we'll remember I think that same interviewer implied I only married Ilya because the science doesn't exist yet to personify hockey, that 2014 cup win is really the more impressive-"
Lights flash and the press pool explodes with questions. Voices overlapping as they try to get Shane's attention, to be the one to get credit asking for him to clarify.
"Return bid with stealing the cup from me the next year. Very rude."
Shane's eyes are molten when he turns to glare at Ilya. Bid returned.
"No more questions."
(Ilya turns Shane's phone off for him before anyone can interrupt their plans for the evening by commenting on how media appropriate his answers were. He turns his off too, after responding to Luca's: You did not get together in 2014
Ilya: Is my son trying to figure out his parent's anniversary?
Luca: 🖕)
—
Shane goes viral on TikTok, stopped by fans while on his run through town. He's sweaty, flushed, and unmistakably gorgeous; but that's not even why the video gets so popular.
With a bundle of lilies tucked into his elbow, he's mid-signature when a soft, high voice dreamily asks, "Did you really win the 2015 cup for Ilya?"
The flowers rustle, dropping some of their red petals as he laughs. Looking over to the speaker, Shane notices the camera for the first time.
"No, that win was for me."
"So that's not how you got together?" Asks the girl whose shirt he's signing.
"We started talking on this anonymous hockey forum. When we exchanged numbers during All Stars we realized we'd been chatting for years." He finishes his signature with a flourish. "I've got to get these in some water. It was nice to meet you all."
(Lisa sends the video in the SAP chat with the caption 'what in the AO3???' Ilya responds with the laughing emoji.)
—
If they never saw Rose Landry again it would be fine with Ilya, except that it would make his husband horrifically sad and he would rather die than have that.
What he could do without was the fucking TMZ 'reporters' who always popped out of dumpsters and alleyways when they went out together.
"Shane, Ilya, any truth to the rumors you're getting divorced?"
"Divorce, the ink isn't even dry on the marriage license yet." Ilya shoulder checks the guy before he can try to touch Shane.
Rose's bartender friend had a strong pour and the Moscow Mules started kicking when they'd stood up to leave. Vodka was like that, Shane still hadn't learned. "Ink isn't dry on this one, but if they counted the Vegas wedding after Rookie of the Year we would be married longer than Jackie and Hayden."
Even drunk Shane is a beautiful liar.
"Shame it was not legal yet."
TMZ guy snaps a picture, but his feet stay frozen in the street long enough that they can get in their car and escape.
(Bood texts him the photo from the piece, Ilya had been caught staring at Shane just as he'd finished lying. The look on his face was the same one people wear in museums seeing masterpieces for the first time. The awe and love he has for Shane memorialized by a high definition camera. Shane's mouth hints at the start of a proud smirk, a dimpling only he and maybe Yuna would be able to notice.
Bood follows it up with: Don't even try to fuck with me. The whole time?
He reacts with a heart.)
😇
Jackie has a way of making sure his wine glass is never empty without him ever actually seeing her pour. The dessert wine goes down like juice and he needs to get Shane pregnant.
Those thoughts are unrelated, but Shane has a way of making his sweet tooth ache. He's a craving Ilya hasn't been able to shake even as he's given up cigarettes and most of his other less admirable vices. But he's never wanted to hold a Marlboro tight between his back molars like he does Shane.
His husband is on his stomach on the floor with Arthur, making lines of dinosaurs and plastic animals as the Pikeling builds a Lego/magnetile hybrid structure for them.
Amber is already in bed and Jade and Ruby are at a sleepover, making this after dinner lull strangely quiet for the Pike home. It's nice, getting to see Uncle Shane with his baby. Shane would lie and say he didn't have favorites, but they were uncles, not parents. There was no mistaking his love for the girls but Arthur was his. They gravitated toward each other, leaving Ilya to the roughhousing and Barbie dramatics with the others.
Maybe it was the wine talking, or the way Shane's ass looked in frog pose, but Ilya wanted to put a baby in him immediately.
He's only just settled into the seat behind Shane when Pike slaps a knee. "Alright, buddy, time to start getting ready for bed."
"No. You said I could finish playing with Uncle Shane first." Arthur's tone is always on the flat side, still there is the obvious ribbon of tantrum dancing through this statement.
"I did, and it looks like you all have finished your zoo. Right, Shane?"
The correct response is obvious. "Of course not, it's still missing half the enclosures. What are you talking about?"
A blustery sigh leaves Pike as he looks to Ilya like Shane is another child that needs correcting. Jackie perches on the arm of his chair, sliding a hand along his back as she gets close enough to whisper, "We've been really struggling with literal interpretations."
"Arthur or Hayden?"
Snorting, Jackie goes to soothe the affronted look on her husband's face.
"Art, remember we talked about needing to get ready for bed early because you're seeing the new doctor for the first time tomorrow." Pike looks a little too desperate for this to be effective.
"You're sick?" Shane studies Arthur with an intensity reserved for game tape.
"It's for my autism." Arthur places another block. "How many times do I have to go until I'm better?"
"We'll just have to go and see."
Buzzer noise.
"That's not how it works," Shane tells Arthur, "this isn't like the flu. You're going to have this forever."
"Shane!" Pike's got the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers like this isn't a headache of his own making.
Shane doesn't know how to lie.
"Why do I have to go if I'm not gonna get better?" His magnetic roof collapses with a clatter into a stack of tiles as he roughly tries to attach his next piece.
"That is not what your dyadya is saying Artyusha." Ilya soothes, Shane inches closer taking the tower of fallen tiles and slipping a nail between the top and the one beneath.
"You know how you'll be sitting in class or on the playground and someone will say something that doesn't really make sense or sounds stupid; but everyone else laughs so you realize it was a joke." Shane hands Arthur the separated tile. Their serious faces matching as the boy nods talking the piece and restarting the roof.
"And you take that new information and tuck it away. Make the joke that you've learned when to say and it makes people laugh, the first time, maybe. Then you try again and it's lame or wrong or inappropriate. This person can help you with that."
Arthur takes another triangle tile from Shane's hand. "Is it going to help people only coming to my birthday 'cause they want to see you and Uncle Ilya?"
Sweet Arthur places his next piece uncaring or unaware of the bomb he's just dropped. Jackie has her hand over her mouth, eyes too red to be anything but watery.
Ilya brushes a hand on Jackie's elbow as she passes him. "Perhaps yes, you learn how to make friends. Perhaps you are another boy who has no chairs at wedding when you grow up because seeing some of them empty is too hard."
Hayden lets out a harsh breath, a curse buried inside, Ilya doesn't look away from the scene on the floor.
"There were a lot of people at your wedding. The party was like when they do movies at the park."
"Yeah, it was." Shane agrees. "But remember I said this doesn't go away? Sometimes you might still get scared, but they'll help you with that too."
"But it may still be too late to last minute order hundreds of chairs."
Arthur takes the last tile from Shane's hand, finishing the shape of the roof again. He reaches for a fresh tile to continue. "If it's just about making friends why can't Uncle Ilya help me? He's great at making friends."
Shane meets his eye, adoration shining. "He is, but it's not just that. They'll help you get better with lots of things. Setbacks, change, things not going your way."
"But I'm good at losing games, I don't even cry when Ruby beats me at Mario anymore."
Ilya takes a sip of his hand-warmed wine. "You should teach your Uncle Shane this, he still gets very upset when I beat him."
"We don't kick, Uncle Shane." Arthur chides even though Shane's flailing had failed to even reach Ilya.
"It is more than just being not a sore loser, Artyusha. You know when you have thought all day about having dinosaur nuggets for lunch, it is all you have thought about through Amber's speech doctor and twins ballet class. You have sat and read and waited for lunch. But when it comes there are no nuggets, they were all eaten last night, and you have spaghetti instead. What happens? It ruins the whole day?"
It does, he knows. Jackie had called upset she had yelled asking for his help with the shutdown after Shane's advice to Hayden had been less helpful — why did you eat the last of his safe food, why wasn't there extra somewhere else?
"But it was ruined."
"The fate of the whole day can't hinge on thirty minutes of lunch." Shane parrots his advice to Artyusha like gospel. He had not appreciated it when given — right after Shane snapped at Luca for accidentally sabotaging his own lunch after a long day.
"Fine, I'll go. You'll call after."
"Please," Hayden corrects, his lone contribution to this conversation.
Holding up his pinky, Shane says, "We can compare notes, see how best practice has changed."
Linking their fingers with all of the seriousness of accepting a multi-million dollar brand deal, Arthur accepts the terms. Ilya needs them to have a thousand of these little Shanes running around his house right the fuck now.
The deal made, Arthur makes a barely identifiable change to his makeshift Jurassic Park before deciding it's finished. Already up past his bedtime, he observes it for just a second before quickly taking it apart. Cleaning his mess and resorting Shane's lines of toys into new categories and bins before asking Ilya for a bedtime story.
They leave not long after. It's a long drive back to Ottawa and Shane prefers to make as much of it in the light when possible.
"You didn't lie when Pike wanted you to." It's a question, but this far into the drive Ilya has thought about it long enough that he doesn't ask it like one. He wants to know why, but he wants Shane to know he noticed it, even if he doesn't want to answer.
"I'm not going to lie to my godson about shit. Serious shit, anyway, though I still question introducing the concept of the tooth fairy into a hockey house."
"No, of course not. But… You know when to lie with me."
Shane's eyes flit from the road to him. "I don't know, it just makes sense with you."
"Will you try, please?" Ilya takes Shane's hand from the gearshift, presses a kiss to the palm.
"I know we famously play a game for a living," Shane says, after minutes of silently watching the trees and road pass by the window, "but it's playing."
Their eyes meet for just a second, Ilya's bid for him to continue, his promise that he's listening and trying to understand. "It's like your chirps, even in juniors everyone always said, 'oh Ilya Rozanov, he's such an asshole, always starting fights,' but it was just playing. It's just easy with you.
"I don't think I've ever had someone to really play with before, but you're you. You make sense."
"We need to pull over." Ilya can feel his eyes stinging.
"What? Why?"
"If I fuck you against the hood it will give our baby a special interest in cars. This is science, I think."
They're just a few miles from the cottage, might as well be the only people in the world. Shane still pulls off the road with his turn signal.
"Yeah, I think I read that somewhere too."
(They climb back into the car to a text from Pike in the 'Shaydenov' group chat: Thanks for talking to Art, but Shane buddy we've got to work on not arguing on the kids' side about bed time.
Shane: Did we not just talk about autistics and subtext Hayd?
Ilya: ableist
Shane: #haydenpikeisoverparty
Hayden: You two deserve each other)