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Wednesday
“Are you sure I should still go?” Shane asks Farah, staring out at his lake as worry bubbles in his gut. “Will they still want me to go after…”
He trails off, but Farah understands. Almost ten days ago, someone from the league had leaked information about Shane's sexuality to the press. While it had been nothing but hearsay at the time, the rags had taken the rumour and run with it until it was the only thing anyone had been asking Shane about, and he’d agreed with his team to just put out a statement to try and end the speculation and questions.
The statement, a simple confirmation of his sexuality with a strong request for privacy, hadn’t fully worked, and Farah’s been inundated with requests for interviews and clarifications and Shane’s so fucking grateful for her and the team filtering all of this for him. He’s stayed off the internet and social media, has hidden out at his cottage and away from the paparazzi who'd found out where he lived in Montreal, but Hayden’s been sending him through a few of the nicer, more supportive messages and posts that have flooded the hockey-related areas of the internet since.
He’s supposed to go to the local children’s hospital this weekend with a couple of his teammates, to visit with the kids and play games and distract them.
“They still want you, Shane,” she tells him gently, voice soft even through the phone’s rubbish connection. “They emailed to ask if you were still content to come. They’ve said they’d not planned on allowing any press in anyway, and will close the doors to any non-hospital staff, but have asked if you’d still be okay with a hospital staffer taking a photo or two for their own comms.”
The worry racing around Shane’s brain settles a little at the reassurance.
“You think it’s a good idea?” he asks bluntly.
“Yes,” Farah replies and she’s never lied to him before, he trusts her to tell him the truth.
“Okay,” he sighs, slumps back in the deck chair.
Farah runs through a few more logistics, promises to email this all over again later so he can look at his in his own time, before they turn onto the less fun news of the league’s (non-existent) reaction to his statement so far.
Saturday
“Come on, bud,” Hayden bumps his shoulder against Shane’s as they’re snuck into the hospital through the private staff doors. “At least smile for the kids.”
Shane suppresses a sigh, shifts the bag of hockey goods he’s been given to distribute on his shoulder as two hospital staff members lead them through the bland corridors, the smell of antiseptic filling his nostrils.
J.J’s already there as they’re shown into one of the meeting rooms, are told to wait just a minute while they fetch the right staff who’ll be looking after them while they’re here. Shane declines the offer of burnt-smelling breakroom coffee, stomach churning with too many nerves as it is, but watches as Hayden and J.J. both take a cup and grimace at the first sip.
It’s a well-organised whirlwind from there, as one of the hospital administrators arrives, thanks them for coming and then takes them through the introductory spiel about the children’s ward, how they protect their patients rights and safety, the conditions of some of the kids they might meet today and what’s required of them as visitors.
Shane listens intently, but none of it is far off from the pre-visit briefing pack Farah had sent him, and he’s made sure he’s mentally noted down all of the key rules already.
They’re shown then to the internal hospital Broadcast Room, where they’re able to say hello to all of the kids through the camera which has a live feed to the rooms. The staff have collated a few questions from the patients already, which the three of them take in turns to answer, and Shane’s relieved that there’s nothing too tricky in there. J.J and Hayden are pretty good at this, too, Hayden particularly at replying at a level that even younger kids would understand given his kids, and is kind enough to reword some of Shane’s nervous press-speak that comes out stiffer than he’d like.
Once the broadcast is brought to a gentle end by the staff, they’re introduced to a nurse each who’ll show them around the ward separately, taking different routes to prevent overcrowding in various rooms and to make sure all the kids who are available for visitors get to meet at least one of them in the limited time they have.
Shane’s nurse is a tall, gorgeous woman with curly brown hair who tells him to call her Svetlana as she greets him with a brisk handshake and then immediately makes him wash his hands at the disinfection station. She’s almost a little intimidating, until they reach the first room and she practically melts in front of the two kids - looking so eerily similar they have to be twins - who beam and reach out for her when they see her.
They’re almost as excited to see Shane and he can’t help but be a little amused and relieved as she introduces him and one of them gets up, small hands capturing his and pulling him over to the bed they’ve decided to sit on.
He offers them the goods he’s brought with him, little plush pucks and Metros-branded t-shirts and they thank him with wide eyes.
It’s… easier, than he’d expected. The kids are happy to lead the conversation, asking him all sorts of things that Shane hadn’t quite expected (like: how much does he eat to get so strong? Does he have any pets? What’s his favourite movie?) but he’s grinning by the end of it until Svetlana gently ends the conversation and ushers him out of the room. She calls back a fondly-stern “behave” to the twins who watch her with wide eyes and cross a finger over their hearts, making Svetlana laugh.
“Okay?” she asks him as they turn left down the corridor.
“Yeah,” he replies. “Was that alright?”
“It was perfect. They loved you. Not all of our visits will be that lively, though,” she warns him. “There are much sicker kids on the ward.”
“I understand,” he agrees, though his heart hurts a little. “Do you get visits like this often?”
She shrugs, her curls bouncing softly as she nods in greeting to a nurse in passing. “Not very often. Maybe once every couple of months. Is a lot of logistics, and we are one of the smaller hospitals, though the best in the city for children’s medicine.”
Shane listens as she tells him more, that they’re very lucky that instead they have several volunteers who come in to spend time with the kids instead. They get to have a story time twice a week, where they’ll use the broadcast room to read a new children’s book to all the kids, and some volunteers will read one-on-one with some of the kids who love to read more. They have other volunteers who’ll come and play board games, or there's the rec room where they can play video games too, she adds as they pass a lounge where Shane can see Hayden playing Mario Kart with a group of kids surrounding him and laughing as he falls off the Rainbow Road.
But, she adds with a sigh, they could always use more. They’re consistently understaffed, underfunded, have limited equipment available so waiting lists are too long. They're making do with what they have but visits like these really can help raise morale amongst the kids, and raise the profile of the hospital for future donations.
Shane makes a mental note to speak to his accountant as she scans them through a set of double doors, the noise of the kids playing games with Hayden muted as they shut behind them.
Shane disinfects his hands again at Svetlana’s instruction, and she leads the way into another room, with just a single bed this time.
The kids in this section of the ward are a little older than the twins, maybe early teens, as Shane is guided around another two or three rooms for ten minutes or so each. The questions are a little more hockey-related, their eyes lighting up when they see the merch and Shane signs a couple of t-shirts, a couple of notebooks and a phone case, too, when asked, Svetlana deftly producing a sharpie out of nowhere for him.
It’s a little sad, seeing these kids stuck in a hospital because their bodies are failing them in their basic functions, but they seem happy to see him and Shane hopes he’s bringing them a little bit of joy and change to their days.
“This is Jack,” Svetlana introduces him to the next kid, who’s half-reclining on his hospital bed in a room to himself, wires and tubes in-and-out of his arms, under the sheets. The boy’s eyes widen as he sees Shane, a quiet, disbelieving smile curving across a pale face, giving him a bit of life.
“Hi, Jack,” Shane greets, “It’s nice to meet you.”
“And you,” Jack’s voice is a little raspy and Svetlana hands him a cup of water. The boy sighs but dutifully sips as Shane roots through his bag and pulls out a t-shirt that looks like it should fit him and another one of the pucks.
“You’re really gay?” Jack asks him, and Shane freezes. He’s not had any questions on his sexuality yet, had hoped it wouldn’t come up.
“I am,” he agrees, meeting blue eyes that aren’t quite judgemental but are watching him intently, almost… desperately?
“How did you know?” Jack’s voice is low, a little urgent, and oh.
“I think I always knew,” he admits quietly, taking a seat next to Jack’s bed. “I didn’t want to admit it for a long time, because, well,” he shrugs, exhales. “It’s scary. But I tried dating a woman, and it just… it didn’t work, and it wasn’t fair, to either of us. She’s one of my best friends, now,” he adds with a rueful smile, and Jack’s expression mirrors his. “So, while I know it’s kinda terrifying, and it’s been a lot, I’ve had my friends and family support me and it’s… nice, to not have to hide anymore.”
Jack nods, sips again at his water. “I-”
“How is my favourite patient?” an accented voice interrupts as the most attractive doctor Shane’s ever seen steps into the room. He’s in scrubs that do very little for what is clearly a well-muscled physique underneath, and has a face made for marble sculpture with a proud nose, thick lips, sharp jaw and cheekbones and short, soft-looking gold curls that Shane’s fingers itch to comb through.
“Ilyusha,” Svetlana hisses, and the doctor stops at the edge of the room, eyes wide as they land on Shane and then flicker to Jack, Svetlana and back.
“Ah, sorry,” he grins sheepishly. “Is now a bad time?”
“Doc Roz,” Jack’s practically beaming at the new visitor, whatever he was about to say forgotten, “Shane Hollander’s come to visit me.” The way he says Shane’s name, almost like it’s something miracle-worthy, has Shane’s heart squeezing in his chest.
“I can see that,” the doctor - Roz? - steps further into the room, “Hello, Mr. Hollander.”
“Shane, please,” Shane corrects him, standing to offer a hand. “Doctor Roz?”
“Ah, Ilya Rozanov,” Ilya’s hand is warm and a little dry in his. “You can call me Ilya.”
“Can I call you Ilya?” Jack asks, a cheeky grin on his face as Ilya laughs brightly.
“Maybe,” he returns. “Have you been good?”
Jack slumps into his bed a little, but nods. “I ate everything they gave me.”
“Mm,” Ilya picks up the chart hanging off the end of the bed and scans it, flipping through the page with capable fingers. “I can see that. Very well!” He declares dramatically, and pulls what looks like a little piece of paper from his breast pocket. “Gold star for you.”
Jack practically beams as Ilya steps closer and places the gold star on his outstretched hand.
Shane can’t stop the smile that automatically grows larger in response to Jack’s obvious delight.
“You can have another tomorrow if you eat all your dinner,” Ilya promises him. “And,” he turns to Shane, who swallows as hazel eyes pierce his, a sly grin curving those thick lips. “A gold star for a brave hockey star with a very moving statement. Made many of us fellow queer folk very proud.”
Shane’s breath gets stuck in his chest as Ilya peels another sticker off the sheet and leans down to place it on Shane’s shirt, just over his heart.
“I-”
“You are welcome,” Ilya winks at him as Shane can’t quite make words come out of his mouth.
“Well! On to the next good boy or girl or child of other gender,” Ilya grins and disappears as quickly as he’d arrived.
Shane spends a few more minutes with Jack, but the boy’s clearly growing exhausted so he excuses himself and follows Svetlana around a couple more rooms. He, to his hidden disappointment, doesn’t get to see Dr. Rozanov again, and he can’t quite make himself ask Svetlana about the man he’s met for all of 2 minutes.
The visit comes to a close after an hour or so of meeting the kids, and they’re given a quick debrief back in the boardroom, take a few more photos with the staff and nurses, and leave the remainder of their goodies in the breakroom for the staff to take if they want.
“We should do this again,” Shane suggests as they’re shown out the quiet entrance again and into the staff car-park. “Maybe get more of the team to come, too.”
“Great idea, mon capitane,” J.J. agrees. “I had one kid ask about being a goalie and all I could say was that they’re weird, so we should try and get Drapeau to come too, next.”
Hayden barks a laugh as Shane shakes his head and stifles his grin. “Sure, J.J.,” Hayden claps him on the back. “I’ll talk to management, see what we can do. The kids here are woefully short on good video games too, and god knows we’ve got too many in the house as it is so I’ll see what we can do about setting up some kind of donation thing, too.”
Shane nods and agrees he’ll contribute, reminded of his intention to speak to his accountant.
They split up soon after and Shane drives back to Ottawa. He takes a quick break midway to fill up his car, and spots the little gold star sticker in the reflection of his windows. He flushes, but carefully peels it off and finds a safe spot in his wallet, smoothing the tiny edges of the paper down flush so they won’t catch or peel off, the memory of the doctor’s bright grin flashing behind his eyelids every time he blinks.
Two Months Later
“Mr. Hollander, it’s very good to see you again.”
Shane doesn’t recognise the man in the suit who greets him, but he assumes they must have met when he’d visited the first time a couple of months ago, so he shakes his hand and returns the sentiment.
He’s got another bag of goodies, though he’s visiting alone today.
After his first visit he’d had contact from the hospital through Farah, asking if he’d be willing to correspond with Jack a little more, as the young teen had had a million more questions he’d wanted to ask Shane.
Shane hadn’t been willing to say no, hadn’t wanted to say no, not really. So he’d agreed to set up a new email account and give Jack the ability to email that, if he wanted. They’d not corresponded too often, but he’d get an email once a week or so that he’d do his best to reply to quickly.
Jack had started to include questions from a couple of the friends he’d made at the hospital, who’d also been there long-term, like him. He’d mentioned them all being bored the other day, and with a week off at home due to a rough check that had fucked up his knee enough that he’s scratched for the next three games, Shane had asked Farah if he could go and visit again.
She’d planned it with her usual efficiency, and four days later Shane’s here once more, being guided back up to the children’s ward.
Svetlana greets him again as he’s shown to the breakroom and tells him she’ll be his guide today too. He thanks her, and follows her around as before, visiting new kids and a couple that are still here from his previous visit, including Jack. It’s a nice time, despite the setting, and the kids are all happy to see him again and don’t seem to mind that he’s not the most exciting conversation partner.
There’s no sight of Ilya, though, and Shane tries not to be disappointed.
As they leave Jack’s room, Svetlana’s pager beeps and she curses lowly as an alarm sounds down the corridor.
“There’s a little outdoor break space through there,” she points towards a door a little way down the corridor. “Do you mind waiting there for me? Will not be long, but I need to see to this.”
“Of course,” Shane nods and she offers a quick grateful smile before turning on her heel and jogging back the way they’d come.
No-one else seems to be in a hurry, so Shane hopes it’s not a major emergency, and heads down and out to the little yard outside. It’s a sorry excuse for a rest space, with concrete benches and tables, and a scraggly bush in the middle providing some form of greenery. Shane drops his bag onto the bench and leans against the edge of the table, turns his face into the weak afternoon sun. He doesn’t want to sit, has sat enough in the various kids rooms as they chatted, but lets the edge of the table take some of the weight off his knee.
He looks over as the door gently scrapes the concrete floor as it opens, but it’s not Svetlana. His breath catches instead as Ilya Rozanov stands in the doorway, and he shifts his weight, finds Ilya’s gaze as it crosses the space to land on him.
“Hello, Shane.”
“Hi, Ilya.”
Shane frowns as Ilya lights a cigarette.
“You’re a doctor, you should know you shouldn't smoke.”
Ilya sighs and rolls his eyes at Shane. “I know,” he replies, studying his cigarette for a second and Shane notes the way his fingers tremble ever so slightly, the smoke rippling as it floats up into the air. “But it helps with stress.”
“Right,” Shane feels a stab of shame. Of course the doctor has a way more stressful job than Shane and needs an outlet. It’s not like he can go around and slam dickheads into the boards, like Shane can when he’s pissed off, either. He’s pretty sure the ‘do no harm’ bit of the doctor’s code would frown upon that. “Sorry.”
Ilya shakes his head, and Shane shifts over in an unspoken invite, pleased as Ilya joins him in leaning against the length of the table.
“I, um, how have you been?” Shane asks, and feels a little awkward that that’s the only question he can come up with.
Ilya huffs softly, “Not bad. Busy. How is your knee?”
“Oh,” Shane looks down at where his legs stretch out in front of them, “It’s okay. Rest, and a brace for the next week or so, but I should be back on the ice next week.”
“Mm,” Ilya nods as cigarette smoke drifts upwards, and Shane’s never liked the smell before but he thinks he could tolerate it, from Ilya. “Good. Was a shitty hit.”
“You watched?”
“The nurse’s station tends to have all the matches playing,” Ilya explains, “was during my shift, so I saw highlights. You played well, as usual.”
Shane blinks, flushes. “Thanks.”
A silence falls between them, and Ilya stubs out his cigarette before offering Shane a sly grin. “I am afraid I do not have my stickers with me though, so none for you today for your good performance.”
“Well, I still have the one you gave me before, so I’m sure I’ll live.”
“You do?” Ilya’s clearly surprised as he catches Shane’s eyes, and Shane realises what he’s given away.
He shrugs awkwardly. “It meant a lot to me, is all,” he admits quietly, and looks down when Ilya’s hand shifts on the bench, his pinky finger coming to press against Shane’s.
“Well, I meant what I said. Was very brave, and a beautiful, if a little boring, statement.”
“Thanks,” Shane murmurs. “It’s been… not as bad as I expected, but.” He shrugs, sighs.
“People can be shit,” Ilya mutters back, and Shane leans in, presses his arm against Ilya’s in comfort.
“I’ve had some really good responses too, though,” he adds, as if this is any consolation to a doctor he doesn’t really know. “Not quite as many as good as a gold star, but.”
Ilya laughs and Shane loves the way he throws his head back into it, teeth bared in a bright smile, is pleased he can make the doctor laugh.
“Ilyusha,” Svetlana calls from across the courtyard, and they dive into a quick conversation in a language - maybe Russian, Shane thinks - that Shane has no hope of following.
“Ilya is on his way out,” Svetlana tells Shane when Ilya harumphs but nods to whatever Svetlana has been saying, voice sharp. “He will show you back to the exit. I am sorry, I have some things I need to deal with quickly.”
“Oh, sure,” Shane nods, glancing between the two of them. “I mean, I can probably find my own way out?”
“No, is okay,” Ilya cuts in, “Will need to sign you out and so on. If you do not mind waiting for five minutes, while I get my things?”
“Of course not. I’ll just wait here?”
“Okay.”
Ilya’s hand covers his briefly and squeezes as he pushes himself up to stand, and follows Svetlana inside, gesturing wildly with his hands as they start talking again.
Shane pulls out his phone, realises he’d been here longer than intended, but with nothing to do but go home and probably do some of his physio exercises he’s happy to wait. He replies quickly to an email from Farah, a text from his mom, and then Ilya’s opening the doors again and waiting for Shane to join him.
He hurries over and follows Ilya back through the corridors and out to the staff exit.
“Wait,” Ilya catches his wrist even as Shane pauses, not sure he wants to say goodbye just yet. “You are the person we have to thank for the new equipment, and children's toys and books and games and things, yes?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Shane lies unconvincingly and Ilya’s face turns unimpressed.
“Was just a big coincidence, then, the big donation two weeks after your first visit? We are not stupid, Shane.”
“I know you’re not!” he denies sharply, “Christ. I just- I could see how hard you all work, and Svetlana mentioned that there’s just not enough of anything to go around, and I’ve got enough money invested already that I could retire tomorrow and still be fine until I die, so. I wanted to help. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is big deal to us,” Ilya gestures back at the hospital, and Shane sighs, can’t argue with that really.
“Thank you, Shane,” Ilya steps in closer, the whiff of tobacco weirdly nice as they’re standing practically chest-to-chest, Shane’s eyes drifting down to that sharp cupid’s bow he wants to fucking bite. “If you come back again, I will make sure I have my stickers to give you more gold stars.”
Shane laughs, rolls his eyes as Ilya grins back at him.
“I don’t need a gold star,” he dismisses again, though he secretly wouldn’t mind another one.
“What do you need, then?” Ilya asks him, eyes boring into Shane’s with an intensity that has his heart beating quadruple-time. He’s glad he’s next to a hospital as he’s not sure he’ll survive the tension spiking between them. It’d only take him leaning forward an inch, he thinks slightly hysterically, for him to find out if those lips are as plush as they seem, and suddenly it’s all he can think about.
“I- nothing, really,” he replies honestly. “But, um, I...”
“You?”
Shane takes courage in the fact that Ilya’s fingers are still wrapped gently around his wrist, in that Ilya’s expression is almost hopeful as he watches Shane watch him.
“Tell me. Shane.”
“I’d take a date. With you. If you’d want.”
A soft little inhale comes before a low rumble in Ilya’s throat, and the doctor closes the gap to gently press his lips to Shane.
“I do not have many free evenings,” Ilya warns him as they part, a hand on Shane’s chest holding him back as he automatically chases the heat of Ilya’s mouth, somehow even plusher than Shane had dreamed. “This job, I love it, but it does not allow me much of a social life.”
Shane shrugs, places one hand over Ilya’s on his chest to hold him close.
“I don’t get many free evenings either, during the season,” he reminds him. “So we can do lunch, or brunch, or something instead.”
“Breakfast in bed,” Ilya offers with a grin.
“Ew, crumbs in bed, no,” Shane shakes his head, shuddering at the thought of it. “But breakfast elsewhere, sure.”
Ilya laughs, looking delighted to have learnt something new about Shane.
“Okay,” he agrees softly, Russian accent thicker as he lifts a hand and gently strokes fingertips along Shane’s cheek. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Shane echoes softly, and Ilya smiles softly before leaning in for another kiss, deepening it briefly before pulling away, looking regretful.
“We should go,” he sighs, glancing around. “Doctors are terrible gossips, if anyone catches us here.”
Shane huffs a laugh but nods and squeezes Ilya’s hand once more before letting go.
“You have your phone? Give,” Ilya holds a hand flat out and Shane hands him his phone, watches as he inputs his number to a new contact and calls himself until his phone buzzes in his pocket.
“I will call you later,” Ilya offers simply. “We can plan our first date.”
“Okay,” Shane agrees, taking his phone back and letting his fingers linger on Ilya’s as he does. “Get home safe.”
“You too. Watch that knee.” Ilya backs up a step or two, grinning as Shane watches him. “Bye, Shane. See you soon.”
“Can’t wait. Bye, Ilya.”