Chapter Text
It starts with an invitation.
One Farah brings to him so casually he almost misses it, in between the rest of their schedule she’s trying to hash out with them.
Ilya and Shane are sitting on their bed in Ottawa, hunched over a video call trying to share the screen. It’s not the most professional meeting place, but they’ve been so blissed out to finally build a home that they get to share, that they can hardly get themselves out of the bed. Although Shane had insisted they at least make it up, and put on some shirts. Just out of some modicum of respect for Farah.
She’s blabbing about how full their roster is, which Shane tries his hardest to pay attention to, but Ilya is trailing a distracting hand up his thigh where they’re sat cross legged beside each other, and he knows that if he tries slapping it away, their agent will notice something’s up.
He’ll get her to send him a Google doc anyway, like he always does, and he’ll review it thoroughly the second his husband decides he’ll stop teasing him for one second of his life.
A guest appearance here, a fundraiser event there.
Shane looks over and glares at Ilya. He’s trying his hardest to look innocent, with a hand that is now paused at the top of Shane’s leg, painfully close to his crotch.
“Oh, and Shane” Farah calls suddenly. He turns to the screen a little guiltily, surprised to be addressed. “You’ve been invited for a special feature. For Future Heights, have you heard of them? They’re pretty up and coming. It’s like a sit down interview. They want to make a piece about being the NHL’s first queer Asian player”
“Asian-Canadian” he corrects, unhelpfully, without thinking.
“Yes, of course”
And then she moves on to list the rest of the month's roster, like she hasn’t just rung every alarm bell in Shane’s entire body. Ilya must notice him tense, and not because of anything he’s doing with his hands, because he pulls away and gives Shane a long questioning look.
Shane vaguely registers being thankful his husband is done torturing him in front of their agent, but mostly he’s hearing those words again.
“A sit down interview as the NHL’s first Asian queer hockey player”
He inclines his head towards the screen at Ilya, with a pointed look, as if to tell him to focus. Ilya rolls his eyes, good natured, but obliges.
Shane though. Shane’s stuck on it, he knows he is. He does this sometimes, gets so caught up on one thing, one thought, one moment, that he has a hard time getting back into rhythm with the rest of the world.
He used to do it so much as a kid, until he managed to teach himself to reel it back in, and come back to his body. But the usual crescent moon shapes he digs into his palms with his nails aren’t working. Every time he tunes back in, Farah is talking about something unimportant, and the words “queer Asian player” are pummelling back into his head.
“Of course, this is an open discussion, and I’ve written these into your schedules as suggestions, not obligations.” Farah finishes with, clicking things absentmindedly on her laptop behind the screen. “Is there anything I’ve written you in for that you wanna talk more about?”
“Is a lot” Ilya says petulantly, if a little jokingly. “We are newly married, you do not want to let us enjoy honeymoon period?”
“Things have blown up in the last few months around you guys. It’s important we take this new momentum in your careers and point it towards something good.”
“So we are to be the new faces of gay hockey” Ilya sounds a bit too happy about that. “Looks like we have once again beat Scott Hunter at something”
“Not yet you haven't,” Farah laughs. “Let’s use all this new attention and try and funnel it into the Irina Foundation, how about that? Let the public realise your personal lives don’t get in the way of the good you can do. The fundraiser I just mentioned is only a month away”
“Yes, is good idea” Ilya nods. “Before that though, we are doing more press by ourselves? Or should we call Harris to help us with whole team on-”
“About that interview” Shane interrupts without even thinking, so lost in his own thoughts he’d hardly been paying attention. “The one with- did you say Future Heights?”
“Future Heights, yes.” Farah, for her part, doesn’t even mention the interruption. Ilya pinches Shane’s thigh though, to which Shane slaps his hand away with a little bit more force than necessary.
“What- what is that? Can you tell me more about it?” Like if he’s allowed to cancel.
“Of course.” There’s a few clicking sounds over the video chat before Farah starts talking again. “It’s three weeks away. It shouldn’t take too long. They just want a little think piece about your experience in the NHL so far, both as a newly out queer player and as an Asian one. Or- Asian-Canadian” She corrects herself.
“Honestly,” She continues, “A special feature like this from a popular, spearheading magazine focussed on inclusion and diversity? It’s a really good PR opportunity, and could help you establish some much needed sympathy from the public”
Shane fights the childish urge to chew on his thumb.
“Sympathy?” He says. “Why? What- what would they expect me to say?”
Farah is silent for a long moment.
“Just talk about your experience, Shane. I can’t tell you what it’s like to be you.”
“But surely there are some things I shouldn’t mention. How can I possibly talk about this stuff for a whole interview?”
He’s had questions targeting his race before, many times, in the past. The strategy has always been the same: to deflect, thank the league for the opportunity to play, and move on. It was always his job to keep his head down and let his hockey speak for itself.
Now they wanna hear from Shane, all about what it’s like to be a queer Asian player in the NHL. “The first queer Asian player in the NHL”, like they think he’s opened up a floodgate of them, ready to pour in and fill this year’s roster. Even though he can count on both hands the amount of Asian NHL players that have joined the league since he started over a decade ago.
What is he meant to say for a whole interview worth of questions picking apart his whole identity for the sake of a ‘think piece’.
He knows what his mother will say, when he brings it up to her.
‘Keep it lighthearted, not too critical’
Shining a beacon on the NHL’s treatment of an Asian player, a queer Asian player, sounds like a surefire way to start making enemies at the top of the league. If he doesn’t already have them.
“Well, we can go over the questions once they’re emailed over to me, and write out some answers together over video call. How does that sound?”
“Don’t panic, шмель” Ilya kisses him on the head. “It will probably be dumb questions about food and music. Or, how it feels to be so sexy and ‘exotic’.”
But what does Shane know about Japanese food or music? He can probably count on one hand the amount of times he’s visited any family from there.
“It’s not just you,” Farah assures him. “There’ll be other Asian celebrities there, some small-time Asian athletes, and… the interviewer’s Filipino-Canadian, I believe? There’s a lot of momentum for change these days, it would be good for us to show face in movements like that.”
How can he possibly say no? He knows the idea will practically delight his mom when he tells her. She’s always been so adamant that he appreciates how lucky he’s been, how ‘inspiring’ he is to people ‘like them’.
He knows that growing up like her, in Canada in the 60s, 70s, 80s has given her very little opportunity to celebrate her own heritage. He knows she assimilated as thoroughly as she could, on the instruction of her own immigrant parents, who wanted her to blend in and be afforded every opportunity possible.
He knows she kept the same ideals raising him, and tried to limit his ‘otherness’ as much as she could. He also knows she probably holds a deep longing for her culture, or her parents culture. Things are changing now, and she’s playing limbo between ‘we’re just as Canadian as the next person’’, and ‘people like us need to carve a space out for ourselves'
Two very conflicting messages, and Shane doesn’t do very well with vague instruction.
Farah logs off the video call, with a promise to send over the schedule for them to review properly. Ilya’s already tossed the laptop aside and dragged them both backwards to lay on the bed again.
He’s nuzzling into Shane’s neck sleepily, always ready for another nap, when Shane asks him.
“Do you consider yourself Canadian?”
“Hm?” Ilya stops his fidgeting. “You’re talking to me?”
“No, I’m talking to the other guy in my bed half-naked”
“So catty.” Ilya bites his neck, and Shane pinches him in the side hard enough to make him squirm.
“Answer me!”
“Mm, I am Russian” He finally settles on, after they resettle. “But, I am married to Canadian, and am close to Canadian passport. So, I guess I am Russian-Canadian.”
“Right”
Ilya scooches down a bit, rolling himself a little more on top of Shane, with the kind of pressure he knows Shane likes. He rests his chin against his husband’s stomach and looks up at him with interest.
“Do you consider yourself Canadian?”
“Of course”
How could he not? At this point? He’s the world’s top athlete in the most Canadian sport on earth. He grew up in Ottawa, and learnt French in school and says sorry at least six times in a conversation as a rule.
“Do you consider yourself Japanese?” Ilya asks softly.
Shane frowns.
“I have a mirror”
“So?”
“So? It’s pretty hard to miss, if you haven’t noticed.”
He’s been told before he comes off as ‘not white’, but not ‘fully Asian’. Meant as a compliment, he thinks, from some of the older guys on his team. But there’s no disputing his tell-tale eye shape, his warmer skin tone, his hair. Shane’s been seeing it every day in his reflection his whole life.
“Oh trust me, I am well aware of how you look” Ilya purrs, taking a teasing bite into Shane’s side. “Is the face of the man voted the NHL’s hottest player”
Nevermind the hundreds of comments claiming he won out of some perverse attempt at inclusion.
“I think we both know that list was bullshit” he says instead.
“Urgh! I deserved at least to be above Scott Hunter, is big joke” Ilya sighs in mock tiredness. “But, for number one? I cannot argue the facts.”
He smiles dopily then, and Shane can’t help but reach a hand into his curls and scratch lovingly at his scalp, his own dopey smile to match.
“But, your looks do not make you Japanese.” Ilya continues, after a moment. “Not if you do not want them to”
“I don’t think it’s that simple” Shane sighs. Whether he wants it or not, the simple fact of being half Japanese has followed him around his whole life and career. He doesn’t think he wants to pretend it doesn’t anyways.
He wants to be proud of it. But. What does he have to be proud of?
A couple insensitive hazing rituals when he was a rookie? Some pointed questions during interviews? The way coaches, teammates and the media have constantly questioned and dissected every aspect of his career since he was old enough to get on the ice?
His disgraced teammate from Junior League, who got called 'ching-chong' and rice muncher and all sorts when Shane didn’t, and looked at him like it was his fault? Christ he doesn’t even know any other Asian people, apart from his mom. Not really.
“Russia is in Asia” Ilya says after a really long silence.
“Not all of it” Shane scolds. “You’re literally from Moscow”
“Yes, but my mother was part Mongolian”
“Was she…?”
“Yes. On her grandfather’s side. So technically I am part Asian”
“I’m sure most people could trace themselves back to being from anywhere”
“Maybe. But I am part Mongolian. Is in Asia,next to Russia- look it up”
“I know where Mongolia is!”
“I’m just saying,” Ilya rolls off of him with drama, staring at the ceiling with a huff. “I think I would like to explore this side of my history. Maybe we should look up some Mongolian food. I am probably like ten percent, I dunno, I’m too lazy for the maths. So I think I will make my diet ten percent Mongolian food”
“You might be ten percent Mongolian, or whatever” says Shane, “but you’re one hundred percent a fucking idiot”
He kicks his husband off the bed for good measure.
“Ow!” Ilya is laughing on the floor happily, with a sharp edge like he really did bump something.
Good. Serves him right.
“Be nice to your Russian-Asian-Canadian husband!”
“Well don’t make fun of me then!”
“What!?”
Ilya’s head pops back up the side of the bed.
“I am not making fun!”
“Yes, you are”
“I am trying to make point” Ilya stays where he is, resting his chin against the duvet in a very close imitation of Anya at the dinner table. “You are what you are. You feel what you feel. You do not need to have big breakdown over how Canadian you are or aren’t. Or how your sexy looks make you Japanese”
“I don’t want my looks to be the only thing making me Japanese!”
“Then it is not! Your loyalty to your country is! Your love for your people!” Then Ilya starts doing a really bad interpretation of a mouth trumpet, before devolving into a frankly horribly out of tune rendition of the Russian national anthem.
“Russia, our holy nation~”
“Ilya-”
“Our beloved country~”
“Ilya!”
“A mighty will! Great Glory! These are yours for all time~”
“Ilya!” Shane grabs a pillow and throws it at his husband’s face with as much force as he can muster. “Can you be serious for two seconds? I’m seriously freaking out about this interview. I’m trying to open up to you!”
“The interview?” Ilya’s mouth forms a little ‘o’ shape. “You mean the one Farah just booked?”
“Yes.”
Ilya climbs back onto the bed carefully, crossing his legs over the duvet and giving Shane his undivided attention. It’s a bit new, this carefully attentive and serious Ilya, something he thinks he’s picked up off of therapy- they’ve been talking over his tendency to mask serious topics with humour, he remembers Ilya mentioning. His habit of deflecting and running away from anything further than skin deep. But he’s been trying hard, and Shane appreciates it.
“Why are you freaking out?” he starts. “She said she would go over the questions with you.”
“Because, I don’t even know what to say. And, I don’t think it makes sense for her to write them for me, considering she’s not Asian, or gay, or an athlete”
“Then you write them. She will just check for grammar mistakes.”
“I can’t write them! I can’t make the NHL look bad when we’re already in hot water as it is! I don’t know enough about my own culture not to make an ass of myself! I couldn’t even speak two sentences of Japanese if I tried. What the hell do I know about the ‘Asian-Queer’ experience? Fuck, we’ve been out for months now, and still what do I know about being queer either? I can barely have a date with you at a gay bar without chewing off my finger nails!”
“Hey hey hey” Ilya reaches over and takes Shane’s hands in his. “It is not a test. You are not going to be given twenty questions to test how much you are Japanese. Or queer, or anything else.”
“I know that. But-”
“But, nothing. You are Shane Hollander. And maybe you are super gay-”
“-i’m regular gay-”
“And maybe you are Japanese, and also very very very Canadian-”
“-Ilya-”
“And, maybe you are second greatest hockey player of all time. But!” He holds his finger up before Shane can dispute that last one. “Only you know how to be this. There is no right answer. If you want to talk more about being Asian, talk more about being Asian, if you want to talk about being gay, feel free to tell everyone how much my dick makes you gay, but if you just want to talk about hockey, then do that. Talk ears off about hockey. As long as you are the one talking about it, your experience is the super gay-Japan-Canada experience they want.”
It’s not bad advice, objectively. He understands what Ilya is trying to say. But.
There are so few people that look like Shane in the NHL. There are so few queer players too, in the NHL. This magazine is looking for something specific, something to mark the future. They’re trying to change things, and going there and ignoring their questions in favour of talking about hockey just because he doesn’t want to face all these extra parts of himself feels like a spit in their face. He’s an imposter everywhere he goes. In the locker room, in gay bars, and now he’s going to be an imposter in this interview room full of Asian celebrities and hosts.
Because the only thing he has to say about being Asian and queer and an athlete, is that those first two things make the third one infinitely harder, and it’s really hard to be proud of them when all he’s ever really cared about in life is hockey.
And Ilya, of course. His stupid husband who’s trying to make him feel better and failing. But Shane cares enough not to make him suffer any longer.
“You’re right. I’m probably stressing over nothing”
They leave it then, deciding instead to cuddle on their shared bed in their shared house for a little bit longer. Soon, Shane is gonna get antsy about wasting the day, and want to take a shower and start everything moving, but for now he’s happy to be here, where he can just be Ilya’s and nothing else complicated.
“You don’t have to do the interview, you know” Ilya reminds him softly. “We can ask Farah to cancel.”
“There’s gonna be more just like it” Shane sighs, “Things are changing, people… care about this now.”
“Is a good thing, no?”
“Of course”
Except it had been simpler, in a way, when the world wanted so hard to ignore everyone that was different. Because, then it made it easier for Shane to ignore what made him different too, as much as he could.
“Maybe we should take a trip to Japan then!” Ilya suddenly suggests on a whim, excited.
“What?”
“Yes!” He sits up without thinking, and Shane falls off his chest with a huff. “We should do this! You can connect with your culture, and we can have our first holiday together now as lovers. People know now, so we do not have to be afraid of being spotted. We can get matching hats!”
“That’s dumb, Ilya” Shane sits up too. “What about Anya? What about camp? And what about all that stuff on our schedule we just had a meeting about? I know we’re off work for the summer, but Farah said it herself that we have a lot of momentum to use. Our careers are on the line!”
“You are being dramatic. Our careers are fine. Camp can go on without us, there are many coaches now. And we don’t need to go all summer. Just for a week, or something. We can clear out a week.”
“No, Ilya. I don’t know about this.”
“Oh please please please” Ilya starts to beg, “I want to go on a plane that’s not just for work. I want to kiss my husband on Mount Fuji. Oh Shane! It would be so romantic! Surrounded by pink trees and foxes!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh please please please, Shane”
“Maybe! Okay? Maybe.”
His stupid husband just wants a vacation. They are definitely not doing that.