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One
The first time Shane Hollander hears of Ilya Rozanov is through an article in the New Yorker: a deep-dive into five of North America’s leading social entrepreneurs of the year. Shane’s included as well, of course; his own charity ‘Play As You Are’ - aimed at getting LGBTQIA+ youth into sports that are traditionally less welcoming - has expanded five-fold in the last two years. This has mostly been thanks to a recent collaboration with a couple of out hockey players, both from the women’s and men’s teams, who’ve helped put on a couple of hockey camps and raised the profile of the charity significantly.
Rozanov’s charity is similar in supporting youths, but has a specific focus around mental health and support. The article about him is flattering, the accompanying picture even more so, and Shane tells himself it’s only because he’s interested in how Rozanov’s charity is growing that he sets up google alerts for future updates.
Two
Four months later, Shane's thanking the participants of the online seminar for listening to his speech about the recent initiatives ‘Play as You Are’ has been working on, and opens for questions.
“Yes, ah, Mr. Rozanov,” he says, squinting at the little name next to the highlighted black square. All cameras bar Shane’s and the host’s are off to save on bandwidth, and given Rozanov is a rare enough name Shane’s pretty sure it’s the fellow entrepreneur he's still folllowing. Rozanov's charity - the Irina Foundation - has been growing well, the google alerts steady with campaigns and news over the past few months.
“Thank you,” the voice comes through a second later, rich and warm even through his headphones, “I am in similar… ah, ship? I think, with trying to get high-profile volunteers for campaigns for my foundation. Do you have any particular methods which have helped you with this, or can you share any advice?”
“Of course,” Shane nods, and thinks carefully about what might actually be useful as he tailors his advice a little to what he knows of the Irina Foundation, as well as adding in a few wider points that hopefully provide some help to the wider audience.
He has a few more hands and questions waiting after, but gets a ‘thank you’ in the chat from 'I. Rozanov', and that’s the end of their very first interaction.
Three
They next cross paths when Shane’s visiting Harvard University for a series of lectures and networking sessions for charities, social entrepreneurs and other activist-related organisations. This time, with the Irina Foundation’s HQ in Boston, Ilya Rozanov is presenting as part of an hour-long session of three locally-based non-profits.
Shane’s tucked up the right towards the middle of the packed hall, and he’s got a line of sight to all three presenters but can’t quite take his eyes from Rozanov; he's perched on the far left chair on stage, chatting with his fellow presenters with an easy grin on his face.
He’s gorgeous, better than the photo from the New Yorker article almost a year ago now. He’d had a buzzcut back then but his hair has since grown out a little since, dark gold curls softly framing his face down to where they curl around the tips of his ears. He’s in a well-tailored black-on-black suit, shirt neck open and tie-less.
He laughs at something one of his fellow presenters says, head tossed back and smile bright under the auditorium lights, and Shane tries to focus on the notebook in front of him with his questions.
The session starts officially not long later, and listening to Ilya talk is inspiring. The others are impressive too, and Shane takes away a couple of key bits of useful knowledge that will hopefully help him figure out an issue he keeps running into.
The presentation focuses too on broadening and operating across international borders which is something Shane has been thinking about. He does a little work already in the U.S., particularly where sports leagues like hockey aren’t country-specific, but he’s not expanded officially outside of Canada and it’s the logical next step.
He asks a question about that when the presentation comes to a close, and gets back insightful responses, makes a note of the answers and thanks the presenters, tries to not let his gaze linger on Rozanov more than the others.
He heads for another couple of seminars afterwards, but despite keeping an eye out he doesn’t catch sight of Rozanov again.
Four
They finally actually get close enough to touch just two months after Harvard, when they’re both asked to be on an in-person panel in Montreal about leadership of growing non-profits.
Shane drives in a day early, spends the night catching up with his parents. They’d both helped him set up the charity in the beginning; his dad with regulations and government grants he could apply for, his mother with practically everything else to do with the organisational skills needed to set up and run a charity.
The day of the panel he’s up early, goes for a run to shake off some of the excess nerves. He’s not a bad public speaker, and he knows his stuff, knows he’s a good leader, but he also knows he comes across as a little stiff and awkward a lot of the time; he doesn’t have the easy charm that someone like Rozanov does. He’s hoping that he won’t look too terrible in comparison today.
He’s the first to arrive, is shown to the auditorium they’re using and the setup of the stage, before he’s taken backstage to a quieter waiting room. He’s joined by fellow panelist, Alice Reed, who’s the CEO of a charity working intently on raising awareness and reducing violence against women.
Shane’s spoken to her a couple of times, mostly through work, as she’s based out of Montreal so not too far away. She’s also worked closely with Troy Barrett, a hockey player famous for promoting a similar cause who’d also, as one of the few openly queer hockey players, been asked to and had been willing to work at a ‘Play as You Are’ hockey camp.
They chat for a bit, before the organiser turns up looking a little harried. She tells them that Rozanov’s flight yesterday was cancelled; he’s driving up instead but will be cutting it fine, and might not make it in time for the advertised start time. Instead they’ll have Shane and Alice start with their own introductions and hopefully by then Rozanov should have arrived, but the moderator will try and adapt as it goes, if that’s okay?
They nod, agree that’s fine, and are shown back into the main hall a few minutes later. It’s fully-packed and Shane takes a seat, lifts a hand in acknowledgement to the mild applause that accompanies their arrival.
Just as the moderator for the session steps up to the podium the back doors open and Rozanov slides in. He looks a little worse for wear, tiredness evidenced in dark circles under his eyes and a few creases in his otherwise well-fitting suit.
Shane shifts his chair slightly over to let Rozanov through, gets quiet thanks as he squeezes past and the moderator starts with their introductions, beginning with Alice and Shane anyway to give Rozanov chance to settle.
The session is good, after that. Each of them have quite a different leadership style to offer; Rozanov admits he’s loud and brash and competitive, tries to lift spirits and keep things lively and momentum going whilst ensuring he's bringing everybody with him; Alice is less competitive but likes to just let her directors and employees get on with it - they know what they’re doing better than her, else she wouldn’t have taken them on. Shane tells the crowd he’s a quieter sort of leader, he likes to have his fingers more on the pulse of what’s going on so is maybe less hands-off than Alice, but equally he steers clear of micromanagement so falls somewhere in the middle.
They get a few questions at the end. Alice gets a few particularly from women, but there’s a complicated one in there too directed at Shane and Rozanov about how they ensure their organisations accurately reflect the diversity and inclusivity they preach. Rozanov frowns as he’s directed to answer first, and Shane can see the way he’s still working through the question in his head, so asks if they don’t mind if he goes first.
He gets a nod from Rozanov, from the moderator and, as their answers end the session, a quiet thank you again from Rozanov.
Sadly, Rozanov is whisked away without a chance to speak to him or even to give him Shane’s contact details. He’d recently had an idea for a joint-campaign of some kind, has been drafting up ideas and potential funding sources, but doesn’t really want to do anything further without Rozanov’s input let alone agreement. He could just email him, but there’s something less personal in it and Shane would rather speak face-to-face about something that means this much to him.
Shane sighs, but returns home with the resolution to speak to Rozanov properly whenever he next gets the opportunity.
Five
The next chance comes at a North American Non-Profit Volunteers award ceremony, held in Toronto six weeks or so after their panel together.
Shane’s being presented with a ‘Local Leadership’ award for his work with ‘Play As You Are’, and he knows he should be excited about it but he’s more excited about the chance to see Rozanov again - the fellow Director has been awarded a similar ‘Social Innovation’ award for his most recent campaign.
He’s dressed maybe slightly nicer than usual, taking better care of his hair and clothing. He’s got a business card in his pocket he’s determined, if nothing else, to hand to Rozanov, with the idea of the joint-campaign which has only gotten stronger in his head over the last four weeks since they’d done the panel together.
The car journey from his hotel doesn’t take long and he thanks the driver as he heads into the other hotel, the buzz of other attendees making the location clear as he crosses the lobby towards the ballroom. He finds the little reception desk where they check his name off the invite list and hand him a name tag and two drinks tokens, but anything further he’ll have to buy himself.
He spots a few people he knows, more he doesn’t, and lifts a hand as Alice waves at him, goes over to join her and her partner. They chat for a while as the rest of the room fills up; the start time approaching rapidly.
He takes his assigned seat when indicated, and is surprised but more than relieved when Ilya Rozanov drops into the seat next to him.
“Hello,” he greets the table more widely; they’re sat at a table of eight with a couple of other non-profit representatives Shane recognises, and four more he doesn’t. Everyone greets him back, a round of introductions around the table until finally he turns to Shane and hazel eyes knock him for a bit of a loop.
“Shane. Hollander,” Shane introduces himself, holds his hand out. “I don’t think we’ve ever formally been introduced.”
“No,” Ilya agrees, warm fingers wrapping around his palm and shaking firmly once, lightning rippling up Shane’s arm from the contact. The way Ilya’s eyes darken make Shane think maybe he feels the same, though he’s not sure if it’s just a trick of the lighting. “But it is nice to see you again, Shane. Please, call me Ilya.”
They’re unable to speak any further as the emcee of the night kicks things off, outlining the plan for the evening (speeches, dinner interspersed with more speeches, the awards and yet more speeches, and a final speech to tie things off).
Most of the speeches aren’t bad, to be fair, and neither is the food when it arrives. Shane mostly likes the dinner parts, though, as it gives him the chance to listen to Ilya speak more. He’s gregarious, laughs with all of their tablemates, is better than Shane’s ever been at picking out pieces of half-given information and teasing out the rest. He’s a little blunt with it all but Shane likes that too, thinks the way he doesn’t prevaricate but is open and honest about his thoughts is pretty admirable.
Shane’s offering his own thoughts on recent government legislation that in theory should make it easier for small-medium non-profits to cut through red tape when he realises Ilya’s watching him, something hot and impressed in his expression that makes Shane almost stumble over his words, a flush rising to his cheeks.
Before he can ask what Ilya’s thinking, they’re interrupted by another speech - the last before the actual awards are handed out.
Then it’s the awards themselves, and Shane’s tired of clapping almost five minutes in but keeps going. He accepts his award, keeps his ‘thank yous’ as short as he can make them and returns to his table pleased that that bit’s over at least. He claps a little harder, maybe, as Ilya trots up to accept his own little trophy, speech short but moving as he thanks his mother for inspiration and his friends for keeping him going, and makes a joke that Shane barely hears for the way his eyes are too busy drinking in the sight of him standing in front of a crowd, having them eating out of the palm of his hands.
“Congratulations,” he murmurs as Ilya drops back into the seat next to him with a quiet little sigh.
“Same to you,” Ilya nods at Shane’s own trophy as he places his next to it. “I liked your most recent campaign, was very good.”
“Thanks.” Shane’s more than pleased that Ilya’s seen it. “I, um, I actually had an idea, for something we could maybe do together? If you’d be interested in a joint-campaign? Maybe we could, um, talk after?”
Ilya nods, turns a little more towards Shane and he feels the weight of all of that attention on him in the best way, setting warmth blooming in his chest. It disappears again briefly, as the next award is announced, but before long the final one has been handed out and the closing speech is coming to an end to a final round of applause.
“So, would you want to talk now? Can I buy you a drink?” Rozanov asks him as the event ‘officially’ ends and some attendees pack up to head home, others turn towards the hotel bar.
“Sure,” Shane agrees, and thanks Rozanov as he turns towards the hotel bar. It’s pretty packed, though, and he can feel the other man at his shoulder as they look at the crowd around the bar, three-people deep already.
“We could try somewhere else?” Shane suggests. “Are you staying here?”
“No,” Ilya shakes his head and names his hotel, and it’s the same as Shane’s. He tells him so and suggests they try the bar there, instead, to get a slow smile and an agreeable nod.
The line for taxis is just as long outside, but given the hotel is only a twenty minute walk or so and the late summer evening is pleasant they agree they’d be happy to walk.
“So, your idea?” Ilya asks as they turn right, his eyes flicking back between Shane and the pavement, gaze sharply curious when it lands on him.
Shane outlines the rough idea he’d had for a joint-campaign. The data shows that there’s often a higher correlation of mental health crises in LGBTQIA+ youth, and so fostering a more supportive community through sports might be one way to help? Naturally not for everyone, he continues, starts to trip over his own argument as Ilya’s looking thoughtful, barely looking at Shane.
“Is a good idea,” Ilya interrupts him gently. “I like it. You came up with this recently?”
“Not that recently,” he admits, and under Ilya’s questioning eyebrow talks about the event at Harvard he’d attended and listened to Ilya speak at, and how that had given him the initial thought that he’d fleshed out a little more over the last few months.
They arrive at their hotel as he finishes his admission, and Shane almost burns as Ilya’s hand lands on his lower back, gently steers him towards the bar.
Shane’s been trying really hard not to acknowledge the heat that simmers in his blood just from being in Ilya’s mere presence, the way he wants the fellow man in a way he rarely feels so quickly, but the warmth of his fingers on Shane, even through the layers of his suit, have all the feelings roaring to the surface.
And the thing is, he’s pretty sure Ilya feels the same. Shane says he’ll have whatever Ilya does, watches as he orders two glasses of vodka, neat, and then leads Shane over to a little table nestled in the corner of the room.
They “cheers”, clink their glasses together and Shane sips his vodka under Ilya’s watchful eyes. It’s nice, smooth and crisp and he says so, to Ilya’s obvious pleasure.
They talk a little more, flesh out a couple of the ideas for the potential campaign until they reach a point where they’d need to sit down properly, do a little research and bring in their teams. But it’s practically agreed that they will do this, and they “cheers” again to the agreement.
Business somewhat concluded, Shane feels his pulse pick up as Ilya observes him, hazel eyes shrewd and thoughtful as Shane sips the last of his vodka.
“When you originally said you wanted to collaborate, I admit I was not solely thinking of business,” Ilya offers bluntly and Shane feels his cheeks heat a little, glances around the room but of course no-one is watching them. “I have wanted to meet you properly for a long time now.”
“Me too,” Shane confesses, “Ever since the New Yorker article.”
Ilya’s eyes widen in surprise, “That was what… over a year ago?”
Shane shrugs, cheeks still pink.
“You were very good, too, in that,” Ilya compliments, leaning in a little over the table and Shane’s breath hitches as heated hazel eyes catch his and hold him captive. “Though the photo did not do you justice. You could barely see your pretty freckles.”
“Oh,” Shane’s fingers automatically touch the bridge of his nose, “You like them?”
“I am obsessed,” Ilya replies bluntly, and Shane feels his heart stutter in his chest. “I was very disappointed that I could not stay after our panel, last time.”
“Me too,” Shane admits quietly, and doesn’t pull away when Ilya’s knee meets his under the table. “This might sound a little insane but, I’ve, um, been thinking actually about ‘Play As You Are’ - we’re looking to set up an American HQ and I’d go for a while to set it up but, um, I was thinking Boston might work well? It would mean we’re maybe a little closer as well for a while, if- if you’d want that. I know we barely know each other outside of work, but.”
A warm hand slides over his on the table, fingers lightly trail across his wrist, pulse stuttering as if it wants to follow the touch.
“Yes,” Ilya says simply, and Shane feels some of the anxiety bleed out of his shoulders. “I would try long distance and come visit, I could work from home from Montreal for a while if you wanted to try this, Shane. Is maybe crazy, as you say, but I think we are on same page, here.”
Shane flips his hand, letting his fingers slide through Ilya’s. “Okay,” he nods.
“Okay,” Ilya echoes, fingers squeezing Shane’s gently. “So, while we are in same place, do you want to come upstairs? There is no pressure, but I would peel that suit off you with my teeth if you would let me.”
Shane swallows, the bolt of heat so intense he has to shift in his seat and bite the inside of his cheek to distract from the images that flood through him.
“After you,” he gestures, and Ilya grins wickedly at him. He doesn’t let go of Shane’s hand as he leads the way back across the bar and up to his hotel room, where he does as promised and undoes Shane’s suit almost entirely with his mouth, and then does a lot more until Shane’s brain is unaware of anything else.