Chapter Text
Shane was in the middle of watching Slapshot. He had watched it every Christmas with his parents since he had first seen it at the age of four. Him and Ilya had been sniping at each other too much yesterday to even be in the same room, let alone on the same couch, so Shane had cut his mother off when she had suggested it yesterday, giving her a sharp shake of his head.
Ilya had seemed to have calmed down since then, and he had been so thoughtful with his Christmas gift, that Shane had decided to play the movie after all, not wanting to break tradition.
So, here they were now. On opposite sides of the couch. Watching a movie together. In silence.
Ilya piped up. "Bood is having a party tonight."
"Zane Boodram? He's having a party on Boxing day?" The Voyageurs usually host their parties a day or two before Christmas, so everyone could maximize their time off with their families. It seemed odd for the Centaurs to want to split their time off with a team party.
"Yes. Not a big party. It will be chill. Mostly just the team and partners. Bood has fun parties."
"Oh." Was Ilya mad that he would miss out on the party by staying in with Shane and watching the same movie they'd watched the last three Christmases in a row?
Ilya didn't speak. "Did you want to go or something?" It's not like Shane needed Ilya to stay with him. They'd just wasted so much of their time yesterday arguing. He'd hoped that they'd be able to just laze around and talk, something that they often didn't have time to do in their clandestine meetings. But he wouldn't keep Ilya if he wanted to go to Bood's. "I could stay here, I guess. Or head back to-"
"I want you to go too," Ilya said. "I want you to come with me to the party."
Shane turned away from the TV fully now, his body facing Ilya. Didn't he say that it would just be the Centaurs and their partners? What was Ilya going to do, rock up with Shane on his arm and say, 'This is my friend Shane Hollander. We are totally heterosexual business partners and did not spend Christmas together.' Neither of them were very good at acting. Shane tried to keep his voice calm when he said, "You want me to go to a party with your teammates? Why?"
Ilya didn't seem to get it. "They are cool people. You might have fun."
Cool people. There were twenty-two players on the Ottawa Centaurs, not including Ilya. If Shane or Ilya slipped up in even the slightest amount, it was bound to be noticed by at least one player, or one of their partners. And Shane had to trust that they wouldn't let anything slip, because they're 'Cool people.' Right.
Shane had trusted the Voyageurs with his secret, and look how that had turned out.
"But… wouldn't it be weird, if we showed up together?" The only reason that the Game Changers camp worked as a cover is because Shane and Ilya didn't interact that much in front of other adults. Shane wouldn't be able to keep up the veil of professional respect if they were milling around a house party together.
Ilya shrugged easily, as if this was a normal thing to suggest. "They know you would be in Ottawa for Christmas. We are friends, so I invite you to a party. No big deal." Right. Friends. Like either of them could hide their relationship behind anything other than put-on animosity at this point.
Shane's face scrunched up. He didn't want to unload all of this on Ilya so he just shook his head. "Too weird. I don't think so."
He watched Ilya freeze, an almost callous expression taking over his face, then all emotion disappeared from it entirely. Before Shane could say anything, Ilya stood up and walked out of the living room.
Shane paused the movie and listened for Ilya making any noise in the kitchen. If he was genuinely angry, he would start trying to do the dishes in the loudest way possible, to try and make some sort of point. But no noises came.
Maybe he was just lonely. He had admitted to Shane a few months ago that he hadn't really gotten to know most of his teammates that well, just sticking to surface level small talk. Shane could definitely see how Ilya would miss the camaraderie of his Boston days.
Shane caught up with Ilya in the kitchen. "You can go," He said. "It's fine."
"Great." Ilya snapped. Shane waited for him to elaborate. Sometimes getting information out of Ilya felt like trying to get water from a stone.
"What's wrong?" Shane said, trying to keep a sympathetic tone. If only Ilya would turn around to look at him, maybe Shane could try and read some kind of emotion from his face.
"What isn't wrong?"
"What is that supposed to mean?" Shane snapped back.
Ilya spun around to face him. "It means I have a boyfriend who doesn't want anyone to know I am his boyfriend." Wow. Is that what Ilya's issue was? And his solution was to what… tell his entire team? How on earth did he think Shane would ever agree to that?
"Uh, sorry. Did I miss something? I thought we were on the same page about this."
"We are not on same anything."
"I don't fucking understand you."
"Sorry," Ilya said sardonically. "My English, you know."
"That's not what I-" Shane threw his hands up. "Could you please explain what the fuck is happening? Because last I checked we didn't go to each other's team parties. Or tell anyone about our relationship." Why the fuck hadn't Ilya told him this when he first started feeling like this? If he's this angry about it, it can't have been a recent development.
"No. I don't tell anyone about our relationship. You tell Hayden, and Jackie, and Rose, and your parents, and who the fuck knows who else." Oh, fuck him. Ilya knows that Rose is the only one that Shane got to actually tell. And acting like Shane would have told more people, without even giving Ilya a heads up is fucking projecting if Shane's ever heard it. Shane would guard their secret with his fucking life and career if it came to that. He's not so sure Ilya would do the same.
"That's literally everyone! You know that."
"It is five more people than I have told." It's not my fault you have no friends! Shane almost screamed at him. He can't say that. He really can't say that.
"What about…" Shane waved his hand around in the air. "Ryan Price?"
"Oh yes. My best friend Ryan Price. I have not talked to him since the last camp."
"Well-" Shane was about to say that Ilya had seemed to like him plenty when they played for Boston, when Ilya interrupted him.
"I have no one," Ilya said. "No one I can talk to about us." Sure. Shane got that. Rose was the only person that Shane could actually talk freely about Ilya with, not having to censor himself like he did with Hayden or his parents. But why the fuck was Ilya acting like it was Shane's fault? Ilya isn't exactly an easy person to get to know.
"That's not true. My parents love you." More than they did Shane, it felt sometimes.
Ilya turned around and stalked back into the living room, Shane following quickly behind him. He wasn't going to let Ilya try and pin all his fucking problems on Shane.
"It's not easy for me either, you know," Shane said, unable to keep the anger out of his voice. "We're both hiding, and we've both made sacrifices that-"
Ilya spun around. "What sacrifices, Shane? What have you given up?" I fucking came out to my team for you. But- no. That wasn't accurate. Shane had come out to his team because of the game plan his mother had made off of Shane's Ottawa idea. It still stung though, that Ilya thought Shane hadn't given anything up for him.
"Seriously? If we get outed, our careers might be over! Everything I care about-" Shane snapped his fingers "-gone." It wasn't like Ilya would experience any real consequences. Every team he had ever played for had expected having to deal with a scandal or two on Ilya's behalf. But the Voyageurs had higher expectations of Shane. He couldn't be caught slacking. Not even for a second.
"Everything." Ilya said flatly.
Oh, wow. Was Ilya seriously that butt hurt by a slip of the tongue? Shane rolled his eyes. "Not everything. But hockey is pretty fucking important to me."
It's all I have. Shane wasn't like Ilya, who could probably coach or commentate, or move on from hockey entirely to launch a fucking perfume line. No. If Shane ever had to retire, he would fade away entirely.
"No shit."
"Oh fuck you. Sorry I still want to win cups instead of smoking weed with my teammates between losses."
He saw it hit Ilya, the sour look of pain on his face before it was smoothed over into a stern mask. Shane couldn't bring himself to be fully satisfied with it.
"You wouldn't even choose me, would you? If it is between me and hockey?"
Are you fucking kidding me? What does Ilya think their whole fucking relationship has been about? Shane had made that choice, three years ago, and had kept choosing Ilya ever since. Shane has had to suffer through Hayden's snide comments, his parent's wayward glances and his entire fucking team losing respect for him overnight, and Ilya thinks that's what? Not good enough. What does he want Shane to do? Quit hockey? Disembowel himself in the middle of a game? Might as well be the same fucking thing.
"Of course I would." Shane said. If it came down to it, he would pick Ilya over hockey. He'd just hate himself for it for the rest of his life.
Ilya's eyes roamed over Shane's face. It hit Shane with a sudden terrifying clarity. He doesn't believe me.
"Would you?"
Fuck him. Fuck him.
Shane took a step closer to Ilya and looked up at him, chin set defiantly. "Would you choose me?"
Ilya didn't answer. His body started to shake with what looked like anger. He can't even handle me asking him the same question back. Had Ilya already given up on him? Is that why they had spent the last few days fighting?
Ilya's voice breaks Shane out of his spiral."You should go."
No. No fucking way. Shane had not come this far to give up when it gets tough. You can say what you want about him, but Shane Hollander was nothing if not tenacious.
"What? No way. Fuck that. Answer the question."
"No. Go home, Shane. We can talk… later." What the fuck was going through Ilya's head? Shane knew Ilya had been having problems, but this was… Shane couldn't put his finger on it. Bad, to say the very least. God, how did regular people deal with this shit?
Ilya spoke again. "I don't want to look at you right now. I don't want to talk to you. Go home."
Shane asked again, trying to keep the tears out of his voice. "Would you choose me?"
Ilya moved faster than Shane had ever seen him move off the ice, planted his hand right below Shane's collarbone and pinned him against the wall. It didn't feel playful, like most of their pre- and post-sex tussling. No. Ilya was really angry with him.
Ilya's face suddenly morphed into a mess of guilt and horror, snatching his hand back from Shane's chest and taking a few steps back. "Fuck. Did I hurt you?"
Shane looked at him blankly. An awful shroud of darkness had come over him, all his energy zapping out of him. He can't deal with this right now. It takes him a minute to remember how to move his mouth to speak.
"I'm fine," He says, the lie obvious on the face of it, but it looks like it gives Ilya some relief. "I, uh. I think I'm going to head out."
He knows that Ilya probably needs him right now, needs to have Shane stroke his hair and tell him that he knows that Ilya would never hurt him, but Shane doesn't think he can handle that.
Shane watches Ilya's mouth open, then shut. "Yes. I think that is probably for the best." He says, defeated. Shane nods, and lets himself out of Ilya's house, hands shaking too much to lock the door behind him.