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“I’m sorry Mr and Mr Hollander-Rozanov, I wish our testing had different results.” The doctor spoke both calmly and clearly, a sympathetic smile on her face, “-but your biological compatibility is too low for us to be able to help you at this time. Feline and Canine interspecies reproduction is always more complicated, and in your case we have no treatments that would increase the chances of conception. We’re truly sorry.”
Shane grips Ilya’s hand tightly where they lie with their fingers intertwined on the table in front of them. He tries his hardest to keep the tears gathering on his lower lash line from falling, his heart all but breaking as their last hope is squashed beneath the doctor's overly-shiny heeled shoe. His usually bushy and alert tail lies limp at his side, his inner feline swallowed by sadness as his ears flatten into his dark hair.
A large hand reaches across and gently squeezes the meat of his thigh, the familiar touch grounding as Shane tries not to spiral within himself. He can smell as Ilya’s deep pine and tobacco scent grows warmer, comforting and soothing him in a way that only his alpha can.
“Is there nothing you can do?” The wolf hybrid questions, his own voice wavering - emotions high as he processes the news. The doctor shakes her head, apologising profoundly before leaving the room to give the mated pair some space.
“Ilya-” Shane croaks out his mates name, the only word he can manage before the tears he had been holding back finally crash out of him in a flood. He sobs heavily, strong arms surrounding him, pulling him out of his own uncomfortable plastic chair and into the solid lap of the wolf hybrid.
“I know, moya lyubov.”
Ilya simply holds him, rocking his omega back and forth, not dissimilar to that night years ago at the allstars game. Holding Shane close and burying their noses in one another's necks. Nuzzling at the scent glands that have since been decorated with the permanent marks of their mating bite. Shane’s usual eucalyptus and jasmine scent is both dull and bitter at the same time, pushing out the distress and sadness within his pheremones.
They had been prepared for this outcome for a while now. After marrying and Shane starting his career with the Ottawa Centaurs, the two had decided to focus on winning a cup for their team, and then they would both take a year off - coming off of all suppressants - with the hopes of adding a fourth member to their small family of three. They had hoisted a cup above their heads within three years, their team - their pack - all grinning and crying happy tears on the ice. The picture of Ilya dipping Shane into a dramatic kiss on the ice had been on the front page of every newspaper. It had felt like a massive ‘fuck you’ to commissioner Crowell.
With the Centaurs first cup won, they made their announcement - both of them taking a year's break to focus on their personal lives. Zane Boodram stepped up as temporary captain in Ilya's place and Luca Haas was shocked to find himself as the new centre of the second line.
However, after the year - and three shared natural heat cycles - every test Shane had taken had come back the same. Negative.
Neither of them could figure out what they were doing wrong. Their cycles were synced perfectly - there definitely weren’t any issues when it came to the… physical aspect of trying for a baby. Shane had even come fully off of his macrobiotic diet. He still ate healthy foods, of course, but had allowed his body to fill out slightly more in a softer and more stereotypically omegan way. But alas, nothing. Which had led Shane down a rabbit hole…the rabbit hole of interspecies conception and the struggles with it. From Wikipedia pages to scientific journal publications - he scoured it all - each new piece of information dulling that spark of hope even more. It was from his research that he had found the canine x feline fertility specialist clinic located in New York. They had booked an appointment right away, Ilya hoping to keep that spark of hope alive within his mate.
The spark was officially snuffed out.
~ ฅᨐฅ ~
The feeling of ice beneath his skin was not an unfamiliar one to Shane. Neither was the thumping in his skull from what he knows is at least a grade one concussion. He just hadn’t expected to be eating ice in the final game against Boston - the Stanley Cup winning game.
The ringing in his ears slowly lessens as he rolls over, staring up at the too-bright ceiling of the Canadian Tire Centre. The roar of the crowd comes back to him as he blinks, his vision quickly being obstructed by a familiar face.
“I’m okay,” he grunts out, watching as the stressed face of his husband slowly relaxes. He waves the medics away as he sits up. As Ilya helps him to his feet, he locks eyes with the captain of the Boston team. The very man who had caused him to eat ice. Cliff Marlow. The alpha looks concerned - him and Ilya were still good friends after all. “My collarbone is still in one piece this time Marly, don’t worry,” Shane calls across the ice, earning a few chuckles from both his own team members and the Bears.
“Good to know I won't have your pet dog trying to bite me this time,” Marlow chirps back, earning a dramatic ‘fuck off Marly’ from the Ottawa captain.
The scoreboard is tied 3-3 with less than five minutes on the clock.
“I can still play,” Shane stubbornly argues as both Ilya and coach Wiebe situate him down on the bench. The pair share a look, both knowing that fighting the snow leopard on the matter is basically hopeless.
“You need to be checked out first, let Terry take a look at you,” Wiebe responds as Ilya carefully takes Shane’s helmet off, allowing his sensitive ears to breathe and help to stabilise any dizziness he may still be experiencing from the hit.
Terry is quick to assess him, flashing a light in his eyes - confirming a mild concussion. Shane still argues, saying it wouldn’t be the first time he played with a concussion, staring Ilya dead in the eyes as he tells his captain - and his husband - that he is playing on, no matter what.
With a sigh from his coach - and a new helmet - the feline is back on the ice.
It’s less than two minutes later that he scores, putting the Centaurs in the lead and closing in on their victory.
Shane can barely comprehend what’s happening as the final buzzer goes off, signifying the end of the game. He’s suddenly being spun in the air, familiar arms around him as Ilya is grinning up at him like a mad-man. Or more accurately - a mad wolf. His tail is wagging like an over-excited puppy as he lets Shane back down onto the ice and pulls him in for a kiss that is definitely too passionate for daytime television.
The cup is handed around the team for the second time since the pair joined the Centaurs - it may not be consecutive cup wins, but two cups within three years is still good enough for them.
It’s as the family members start descending the ice that Shane starts to feel it. Nausea rising through him, the arena spinning around him. He can feel his tail growing still, trying to help with his balance as he staggers slightly on his skates. He just makes it over to the side of the rink by the bench before the nausea becomes too much and his stomach empties itself over the side - luckily avoiding the ice.
“Shane?” He can hear his mate's voice, but it sounds so far away - even as a heavy hand grips the back of his neck, rubbing the muscles there in comfort. He tries to reply, but another wave of nausea grabs him, causing him to retch with nothing but bile burning up his throat. The rink around him spins some more, darkness growing around the edges of his vision.
The last thing he remembers is his husband's desperate calls to their medic before everything fades to black.
~ ฅᨐฅ ~
Shane should be used to the sound of a heart-rate monitor beeping by now. Along with the exceedingly dry mouth that always comes with waking up to the noise. He squints, smacking his lips as he tries to take in the room around him. His head is throbbing faintly as the unnaturally bright lights of the hospital room invade his vision. Have doctors never heard of a nice floor lamp?
The synthetic smell of scent-neutraliser invades his senses, causing him to scrunch his face up in disgust. He’d much rather be at home in their nest - surrounded by his and his mates mixed scents. Just the idea of it has a small purr rippling through his chest, his tail flicking in happiness.
As his vision becomes clearer, he frowns, noticing a distinct lack of wolf hybrid in the chair next to his bed. He can still smell the lingering scent of him - tobacco and pine leaching off of the uncomfortable material of the seat - but his mate is nowhere to be seen. He’s about to look around for the call button when a friendly looking nurse appears, his bright pink scrubs seemingly jarring in the clinically white hospital.
“Ah, you’re awake!” The nurse speaks with a cheerful lilt, his fox eats twitching every now and then.
“Where is my mate?” Shane croaks out, realising too late that he’s probably being rude, not even saying hello to the nurse. Luckily the fox doesn’t seem to mind, just letting out a chuckle of amusement.
“Your mother came in and practically dragged him away, something about him ‘needing to shower the wet dog stench away’ - her words not mine!” Shane just smiles. It’s likely that Ilya didn’t shower before coming with him to the hospital. Not that he can blame him, he would be the same if his mate had passed out at any point in a game. Or at any point in general. “We have the results of your tests, if you’re up to go through them.”
Shane nods, wincing slightly as his head pounds slightly sharper at the movement. The nurse seems to notice instantly, moving across to the small sink to pour him a plastic cup of water. He passes it over to Shane along with a few pills.
“For the pain, you haven’t needed anything heavy duty this time.”
Shane nods, downing the pills and the water gratefully. His dry mouth no longer bothering him. He nods again for the nurse to continue.
“Your CT came back clear, no issues other than you having a job that involves regular head injuries," he jests, “however, we noticed some abnormalities in your bloodwork and decided to run an extra test.” He trails off, causing Shane to suddenly become both confused and concerned.
His tail curls up, wrapping around himself as he threads his hands through the soft fur in a self-soothing notion. “What test?” He croaks out.
“Mr Hollander-Rozanov, the test we ran came back positive… for pregnancy.”
Shane freezes, everything in him suddenly stopping - his breathing, the hands in his tail, his damn heart. Pregnant?! Surely he heard the nurse wrong?
“What?” He chokes out, suddenly unsure of himself, needing the clarification that he hasn’t suddenly lost his grasp of the English language.
“You’re pregnant Mr Hollander-Rozanov, roughly five weeks along by the looks of things.” The nurse smiles at him softly as Shane feels his eyes fill with tears.
“That’s not possible,” he whispers to no one in particular.
The clinic had told them the chances over three years ago now. Basically zero. Both he and Ilya had been heartbroken over the news. They had both decided to put their hearts back into hockey and focus on their team - their pack. It was their teammates who had helped heal the sadness within them. Between barbecues at Boods, unplanned sleepovers from their rowdy rookies, and day trips with their teammates' children - the pair had made somewhat of a peace with the fact they would never have biological children of their own.
They definitely hadn’t been trying to get pregnant. Although… they weren’t not trying either.
Shane’s heat five weeks ago had come as a shock to everyone. His suppressants failed for the first time ever mid-season. They had both missed multiple games, hauled up in their nest and fucking like their were teenagers again. Shane had left their bedroom limping and sore in the best of ways, undeniable canine teeth marks covering his neck and torso.
Ilya wasn’t any better off. Deep scratches littering his back, many bleeding bright red, causing him to let out a hiss the first time they showered after Shane’s heat broke. It had been the most aggressive heat they had ever shared - whoever once told Shane that age makes sex dull it’s spark has never been fucked by Ilya Rozanov.
The point being… they weren’t not trying to get pregnant. Condoms were a mere afterthought when it came to an unexpected heat. Plus - it’s not like they were at risk of actually breeding Shane… or so they had thought.
Shane is broken out of his thoughts by the nurse stepping closer to him, a piece of paper in hand. He reaches out and takes it, his grip trembling slightly as Shane tries to regulate his own breathing. He fails miserably as he takes in the paperwork. It’s the test results, proving that he is - in fact - pregnant.
“Holy shit.”
Just as the words leave his mouth, he senses movement by the door to his hospital room. The familiar scent of tobacco and pine hits him instantly, his body becoming less tense without him even trying.
The wolf hybrid stops short in the doorway as he notices the nurse in his husband's room. His eyes flicking from Shane to the fox a few times before taking in the wetness in his mates eyes. He’s quick to rush over, concern marring his features. His wolf ears alert atop his damp curls.
“What is wrong, kotik?” Ilya perches on the edge of the hospital bed, one hand instantly coming up to scratch behind the snow leopard's ears, the other brushing a thumb under his eye, wiping away a tear that Shane wasn’t aware had escaped.
“Ilya,” Shane barely whispers, “Alpha.”
Shane simply brings the paper to the wolf's attention, placing it in his hand as he watches Ilya’s nose scrunch up in concentration as he tries to make his way through the medical jargon. It’s obvious when he realises what he’s looking at. The alpha stares at the bold ‘POSITIVE’ status at the bottom of the paper, his mouth open in shock for a few moments before he snaps it closed and looks back at Shane with so much hope in his hazel eyes.
“Sweetheart… is this… you’re…” he stutters out the words, his accent even thicker than usual as he becomes overwhelmed with emotions.
Shane can only nod before he gets choked up himself, the emotions fully washing over him as he lets out a sob. Ilya is on him in an instant, climbing fully onto the bed and dragging his mate into his arms. Neither of them are even aware of the nurse quietly leaving the room, closing the door behind him.
The room is flooded in their scents, their happiness radiating off of them as tears fall on flushed faces. Ilya leans down and presses his lips to Shanes, a softness full of love and amazement for his mate. Shane begins to purr, his chest vibrating as he leans into the kiss, deepening it, wanting Ilya even closer, needing him to know on an instinctual level how much he loves him.
They pull back, Shane’s tail now wrapped tightly around Ilya’s waist as to not let the alpha move too far away. Their noses brush against each other as they simply look at one another, as if taking in every small characteristic on their faces. Memorising it. Ilya’s hand comes up to cup Shane’s cheek, his thumb softly bushing over the constellation of freckles that he fell in love with all those years ago.
“I love you,” the wolf hybrid croaks out, hazel eyes shimmering under the still overly-bright lights.
“Ya tebya lyublyu,” Shane whispers back before reaching up and cupping Ilya's hand in his own. He slowly moves his mate's hand down, skipping past his chest until the palm is resting over the still-flat expanse of his hospital gown-covered stomach. Ilya’s breath hitches at the movement before he chokes on a sob and pulls Shane in as tightly as he can.
They stay like that for a while, wrapped up in their own bubble of pure happiness. They only separate when a different doctor knocks on the door and enters, letting them know that Shane’s fall to the ice didn’t cause any harm to the baby and that everything seems to be very healthy considering they had been unaware.
They leave the hospital hand in hand, Shane's tail already wrapped protectively around his abdomen, their smiles even wider than a few hours ago when they were hoisting the cup above their heads. They know the journey going forward won’t be an easy one, but neither was their journey up until this point. All that matters is that they have one another.
They fall asleep that night with Ilya’s head resting on Shane’s bare stomach, the skin heavily scented by the wolf. He mutters soft phrases in Russian every now and then, never leaving his spot, knowing that he’s guarding the small miracle that his mate has given them.