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🖤💛💙❤️
Ilya is attempting to shove half a hot dog in his mouth in one go, Shane is pretending to be disgusted (but is mostly thinking about what else Ilya can fit into his mouth that far), and their ankles are hooked underneath the table. Life is pretty good.
“We could take the kayaks out at sunrise tomorrow if you want,” Shane suggests. “I know we watched it on the rock this morning, but -”
“Yes,” Ilya replies simply, grinning dopily. “Whatever you want.”
“Ok but do you want to? It shouldn’t just be what I want,” Shane sighs as Ilya wipes sauce off his mouth with the back of his hands before closing the (almost zero) distance between them and kissing Shane softly.
“Yes, I want to,” Ilya hums. “I want whatever boring thing you want, Shane.”
“It’s not boring,” Shane argues, feeling only a little petulant. “It’s -”
“Shane,” Ilya interrupts, “I just want to be with you. If you are happy, I am happy. Ok?”
“Ok.” Shane can feel how pink his cheeks are and wonders if Ilya thinks they feel warmer as he brushes his thumb over the freckles. Shane leans into the touch, same way he always does, letting his eyes flutter closed. “I’m happy. Really happy.”
“Me too,” Ilya murmurs. Shane chases the touch as Ilya pulls back and is rewarded with a ridiculously tender forehead kiss, a noise that he would have thought was utterly humiliating two weeks ago slipping out of his mouth. The faint flush on Ilya’s cheeks when Shane opens his eyes washes any embarrassment and god Shane is so devastatingly in love with him. And he can say it now.
“I love you,” Shane sighs, grinning so wide he feels like his face is going to split in two. “So fucking much.”
“I love you too.” Ilya’s voice cracks a little, like he can’t believe they get to do this now. Shane is still having a little trouble believing it himself. “Still terrified?”
“No,” Shane answers quickly, but - “maybe a little. We still need to hide.”
“But not from each other,” Ilya clarifies around his last mouthful of hotdog. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is. “Not anymore.”
“Not anymore,” Shane agrees. He finishes his lunch slower, swallowing down the last mouthful a few minutes after Ilya (who just sits back and watches Shane the whole time).
“Come on, let me kick your ass in video games again,” Ilya says as he stands and clears the table, making his way inside with Shane happily trailing after him. Happy until he steps into the kitchen and finds his father holding a phone charger and staring at Ilya like he’s worried Ilya might fling the plates at his head.
“Dad!” Shane exclaims, heart dropping into his stomach. Fuck. “What - what are you doing here?”
“I’m sorry,” David answers quickly. “I tried to call a few times, I left my phone charger here. None of the ones we have at the house fit my phone.”
“Oh, that’s - I mean - fuck. Uh, this is Ilya,” Shane tells his father awkwardly, as if he doesn’t know who Ilya is. “Rozanov.”
“Hi,” Ilya says, posture tight and hands clasped in front of himself.
“He’s visiting and we’re, uh…friends,” Shane lies. He thinks maybe he should feel relieved that he’s able to introduce Ilya as a friend before he has to face anything else, but it’s not the truth and Shane feels a little sick. “We’re, uh. Starting a charity together so he’s here to discuss that.”
“I thought you were doing a silent retreat,” David says, eyes flicking between Shane and Ilya.
“How do you think Mom would have reacted if she’d walked in and seen Ilya?” Shane asks. “This season was…it’s been a busy year. I just wanted some space. And privacy.”
“I’m not upset, Shane. Just…a little confused, I guess. I thought you hated Rozanov.”
“Ilya,” Ilya corrects gently. “You can call me Ilya.”
“Ilya, sorry,” David nods. Shane shakes his head and feels the lies starting to spiral out of control. He needs to get his dad out of here so he and Ilya can figure out their next steps together.
“No, I don’t hate him,” Shane answers quietly. ‘I love him so much my chest aches with it,’ he thinks. “I never hated him, that was all the league. We’ve been friends for a while.”
“Wow,” David breathes. “Wow, ok. Are you - your mother is going to have some thoughts on this.”
“Yeah, I know. That’s why I haven’t said anything,” Shane grumbles. “Can you - can you not say anything to her, please? For now? I just…I don’t need her coming over here with questions.”
“Ok,” David placates gently. “I won’t say anything.” It should make Shane feel better, but it doesn’t. He’s exhausted by all the lying but he doesn’t see a good enough way to spill the truth right now - not when he and Ilya haven’t talked about it first. Shane is just grateful his dad didn’t come earlier in the day - there are multiple significantly worse positions they could have been caught in.
“Thank you,” Ilya murmurs. David is still looking between them, brows slightly furrowed. Shane can tell he doesn’t believe them and wonders if maybe he had caught them in a worse position and is too polite to say anything.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” David tells them, starting towards the door as Shane makes a snap decision.
“No, wait - fuck, hang on,” Shane sputters. He takes Ilya by the hand and drags him into the next room, pushing him onto the couch.
“Are you ok?” Ilya asks, squeezing Shane’s hand and tugging it gently until Shane is sitting next to him. Ilya’s presence is grounding and safe in a way Shane hasn’t let himself admit before.
“I want to tell them,” Shane says, hoping his voice comes across as steady and brave instead of anxious because oh boy are his insides doing some hardcore flips right now. “If you’re ok with that. I just…I’m so fucking sick of lying to them.”
“Is not up to me, Shane. They’re your parents.”
“It is up to you because this isn’t just about me,” Shane huffs. “This will be outing both of us. It won’t be a secret anymore. Is that something you’re ok with?”
“Will they tell anyone?” Ilya asks. “Do we need to worry about the league?”
“No,” Shane answers quickly, too loud. “Mom might make some noise about sponsorships but they won’t tell anyone if we ask them not to.”
“Ok, then we tell them,” Ilya shrugs. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m not sure, this might be a terrible idea. But I can’t - I hate lying to them and I want them to know you.” Shane so desperately wants to have one less thing to be scared of. And if this does go horribly, he’ll have Ilya right here with him.
“Ok,” Ilya repeats. “Let’s do this.”
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“Shane,” David says softly as they awkwardly sit on the couch and wait for Yuna. She’d sounded confused when Shane asked her to come over, telling him they could just talk over the phone. Shane wonders if she thinks he’s about to drop some awful medical news on her (and wonders if him being in love with Ilya Rozanov would be worse). Ilya is close enough that they could hold hands without really having to move, but not so close that they’re touching. Shane is trying not to think too hard about the fact that he’s sitting in exactly the same spot he’d been in when he was on the phone to Hayden just a couple of days ago. “Did you want to tell me first? Do a practice run?”
“You know,” Shane states flatly. Doesn’t ask, because his dad hasn’t stopped looking between him and Ilya with this look in his eyes. “How long were you in the kitchen before we came in?”
“Less than a minute,” David replies, hands up. “I don’t know anything for sure. But I know you pretty well, Shane, and you’ve never had anyone over here who isn’t me or your mother. You’ve been friends with Hayden since your rookie season and he’s never been here.”
“I have cleaning staff,” Shane mutters petulantly, shoulders sagging in defeat.
“It’s ok, Shane,” David assures him. Ilya’s hand brushes against Shane’s and he clears his throat lightly. Shane takes a deep breath and starts talking.
“We’re not friends. I mean - we are, but we’re - uh. He’s my…” Shane trails off because what does he even say here? They’ve admitted that they’re in love with each other, they’ve essentially already agreed to spend the rest of their lives together but they haven’t discussed a label and Shane doesn’t want to overstep by -
“Boyfriend,” Ilya supplies, taking Shane’s hand. “I am his boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?”
“Well, I’m not your girlfriend,” Ilya snorts, knocking their shoulders together.
“Shut up,” Shane laughs breathlessly. He feels marginally less tense and his father is looking maybe not quite as shell-shocked as Shane thought he might be.
“Wow,” David murmurs. “You know, I told your mother that the chemistry between you two at the All Stars game was incredible. Is that when…”
“Uh, no. No, it’s been…it’s been a bit longer than that,” Shane tells him.
“How long?” Yuna’s voice makes Ilya jump, his grip on Shane’s hand tightening.
“Mom, I -”
“How long, Shane?” She doesn’t seem angry but Shane can’t get a read on what she’s feeling. Her gaze is as intense as it always is and Ilya shrinks in on himself a little, squeezing closer to Shane on the couch.
“Since rookie season,” Shane tells her, determined to not let his voice wobble. He’s been lying to them for so long.
“What?” Yuna whispers. “Since your rookie season?”
“Ah, no,” Ilya interjects. “Since the summer before. CCM commercial.”
“We don’t need to be that specific,” Shane grits out.
“The commercial? I ran into Rozanov that night, he was - ah. Ok,” Yuna cuts herself off, cheeks red.
“He was what?” Shane demands. “You never told me you met my mom that night.”
“Shane, how would you have reacted if I had walked into your hotel room that night and told you that your mother had almost caught me on my way to -”
“Ok! Ok, fuck,” Shane huffs. “Enough. That’s already too much detail.”
“So you’ve been together since 2010? Shane, that’s seven years.” Yuna finally sits down next to David who has just been quietly watching Shane inch closer to a breakdown.
“It wasn’t always…this,” Ilya explains. “We were, uh. Casual. For a long time.”
“And what is this, exactly? How are you two going to make this work? Do we have a plan?”
“Yes, Shane has planned the rest of our lives,” Ilya smirks but his eyes are so soft and Shane has to bite his lip to stop himself leaning over and kissing Ilya right then and there. “Middle of the night, my life is all mapped out.”
“That sounds like Shane,” David chuckles. “Gets it from his mother.”
“I love him, Mom,” Shane says quietly, finding himself unable to make eye contact. “This is it for me.”
“Shane, we thought you hated him.”
“He does, sometimes,” Ilya teases. “But mostly we just…really love each other.”
“Wow,” Yuna breathes. “Wow, ok. I need a drink.”
“Ilya, could you help me grab some wine?” David stands and gestures towards the kitchen, Ilya throwing Shane a concerned glance as he slowly stands. Shane nods and gives Ilya’s hand one last squeeze as he follows David into the kitchen.
“I have vodka,” Ilya says. “Very good Russian vodka.”
“Even better,” David enthuses. Shane listens to their voices drift into the next room, already fighting back tears as his mother sits next to him.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I tried - I really tried, Mom. But I just can’t help it.”
“Tried what, Shane? What - you don’t have anything to apologise for,” Yuna says firmly.
“I tried to be the person you wanted me to be,” Shane admits, almost inaudible. He can’t fight the tears anymore, they’re slipping down his face now as almost a decade of lies and shame breaks inside him.
“Oh, Shane,” his mother says, voice cracking as she moves to kneel in front of him. “You are exactly who you’re supposed to be, just as you are.”
“I just…” Shane trails off, shaking his head a little. He feels…he doesn’t know how he feels. Everything is all jumbled together - relief over the secret being out, joy over his parents getting to know Ilya for who he really is, grief over the years he and Ilya have lost being scared, and maybe a little anger over the years he spent feeling like he couldn’t be anything or anyone other than Shane Hollander Hockey Player.
“Shane -”
“I didn’t want to disappoint you,” Shane admits quietly.
“You could never disappoint me,” Yuna says urgently, taking Shane’s hands into her own. He’s not sure he believes her.
“You wanted -”
“Does he make you happy?” Yuna interrupts, eyes fierce and voice wavering.
“So happy,” Shane sniffles with a wet laugh. “He’s - I think you’re really going to like him.”
“Well, we’ll see about that,” Yuna huffs, smiling. “But if you’re happy, Shane? That’s what I want. And I am so sorry that I made you feel like it wasn’t.”
“I really am,” Shane whispers as his mother leans forwards and pulls him into a tight hug. She hasn’t hugged him like this in a long time - years, probably. He didn’t realise how much he’d missed it until he wraps his arms around her and cries into her shoulder.
“Are we ok?” Yuna asks, pulling back after Shane’s breathing evens out again. He can hear Ilya and his father’s voices floating closer to where they are.
“Yeah, Mom,” Shane smiles. “We’re ok.”
“I love you so much, and I am so proud of you,” Yuna hums, brushing the tears away from Shane’s face. “Thank you for sharing this with us.”
“I love you too.” Ilya pokes his head around the corner as Shane speaks, raising an eyebrow and waiting.
“All good in here?” David asks from behind Ilya.
“Come here,” Shane murmurs, reaching out. Ilya makes his way over and brushes his thumb over Shane’s cheek bones, murmuring something in Russian before pressing a light kiss to Shane’s mouth. Right in front of his parents. It’s fucking wild and Shane feels so free.
🖤💛💙❤️
In the kitchen
“So,” David says as Ilya pulls the vodka from the freezer. Ilya’s grip on the bottle tightens and his shoulders tense - he should have known that this trip to the kitchen wasn’t just about giving Shane and his mother some space to talk.
“Shane feels terrible for lying to you,” Ilya blurts out, the freezer door still open. The cold air spilling out helps soothe the nerves a little but doesn’t hide the waver in his voice. David doesn’t seem to be anything like Grigori - so far he’s come across as gentle, kind, and patient which were never qualities Ilya would have used to describe his own father. But Ilya knows all too well how differently people can behave behind closed doors.
“I can tell,” David replies. Ilya needlessly shifts a couple of things around in the freezer (the second pack of hotdogs, a bag of peas, three packs of bacon) before closing the door and bracing himself to look David Hollander in the eye again.
“We, um,” Ilya starts, clearing his throat twice before putting the vodka down on the counter. He’d brought this bottle back from Russia, saving it for a special occasion. This seems as good a time as any to open it - he either walks away from today with a boyfriend or a broken heart. Either way, vodka is the answer. “I just -”
“Ilya,” David interrupts softly. “We aren’t angry or disappointed. Well, Yuna and I are disappointed in ourselves. But you and Shane have nothing to worry about.”
“Disappointed in yourselves?”
“This is a pretty huge thing, yeah?” David asks as he sets the glasses down. He gestures to the stools on the other side of the counter, pulling one out for Ilya before sitting on his own. “The fact that Shane felt like he couldn’t share something this important with us means we’ve failed our jobs as parents somewhere along the line.”
“Shane loves you both very much,” Ilya says, sitting down cautiously. David smiles but it seems a little sad - he glances down at his hands on the counter then back up at Ilya.
“We know. We love him too, and nothing will ever change that,” David tells him. “But we obviously didn’t tell him that. I think maybe we spent so long focused on the hockey of it all that we forgot to remind Shane that he’s a whole person outside of it too.”
“Ah,” Ilya murmurs, unsure of how else to respond. Logically, Ilya knew other people had parents that loved them unconditionally. His own mother had when she was alive, and he likes to think she still would if she was around. But this is something that is a foreign concept to him, because his worth with Grigori had always been directly tied to hockey and the glory he was expected to bring to Russia and his family.
“Are we too late?” David asks. His voice is uneven and he’s tapping his fingers against his bicep, looking to Ilya for answers Ilya’s not sure he’s qualified to give.
“You will have to ask Shane for yourself,” Ilya answers after a few seconds of not entirely uncomfortable silence. “I cannot answer that for him. But…I can tell you that your opinion matters to him and he wants you to know this part of him as well.”
“Ok,” David exhales. “Ok, that’s good. I can work with that.”
“And I can tell you that I am going to do everything in my power to love him and treat him the way he deserves,” Ilya says firmly. It’s important to him that David understands this isn’t a game or another fling for Ilya. He knows what the media says about him, knows what kind of pictures of him are floating around on the internet, and knows that some of the women he has slept with have posted graphic accounts of the encounters online. “Shane is the most important person in my life and I would hurt myself one thousand times before I would even think about hurting him.”
“I can tell that too,” David smiles. “You look at him like nothing else matters.”
“It doesn’t,” Ilya replies quickly. “I, uh. Next season will be my last with Boston. I will be unrestricted free agent and Ottawa is where I want to go.”
“Don’t tell Yuna but I’ve always secretly been a Centaurs fan,” David laughs. “They’ll be lucky to have you.”
“Ah, no,” Ilya hums. “I am the lucky one. I have Shane and after this season we will only be two hours apart instead of five and an international border.”
“And he has you,” David finishes. “Come on, we should be clear to head back in now. I’m sure Yuna is already hassling Shane for this life plan you mentioned.”
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“He’s being loyal to me, Mom,” Shane groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. Even after his conversation with David in the kitchen Ilya is surprised by how well Shane’s parents seem to be taking the news that their son is in love with someone who, up until around an hour ago, they thought he despised. Shane had vehemently assured his parents that everything is fine now, that it’s not too late for them to know him properly but that they need to understand that knowing Shane now means knowing and loving Ilya too. Ilya feels like he could float away on the light breeze coming in through the cottage windows.
“I would quit hockey tomorrow if that is what it took to be with Shane,” Ilya shrugs. “Take boring coaching job instead. Equipment manager. Whatever.”
“Ilya,” Shane mumbles. “Please don’t do that, I cannot have you resenting me for the rest of our lives.”
“As long as it is a life I am living by your side, I do not care what I am doing,” Ilya affirms. It’s mostly the truth - he does truly love hockey and how it makes him feel, but he loves how Shane makes him feel more. And, ok. He probably wouldn’t actually quit hockey tomorrow but he sure as hell would move heaven and earth to keep Shane and to prove to Shane’s parents that he’s worthy of their son.
“You’d care,” Shane mutters with red cheeks. “You’re Ilya fucking Rozanov. You’re not allowed to quit hockey because then who the fuck is actually going to challenge me on the ice?”
“There he is,” Ilya grins, sliding his hand through the hair on the back of Shane’s head. Out of the corner of his eye he can see David smiling and Yuna possibly tearing up a little. It feels like a win.
“Seven years,” Yuna whispers.
“And a lifetime to come,” David adds. Ilya can’t fucking wait.
🖤💛💙❤️