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Shane pulled into a spot down the street from the little cafe they had picked for lunch. It was a beautiful, sun drenched day in LA. There was an away game here for the Centaurs but Shane and Ilya arrived a few days before the team for a little break.
It was only a couple of months into their first season playing together, Shane's first season with Ottawa. His first season not with the Metros. The change in team culture had been eye-opening, and sharing a team with Ilya had felt surreal. The exhilarating mundanity of traveling to away games together, his husband bumping his shoulder playfully in the pre-game buzz of the locker room, and a togetherness that, for the first time in their lives, didn't have a time limit. It was amazing. It was also, unfortunately, exhausting. Public attention far beyond the hockey world had been intense since their outing and marriage. It had barely shown signs of calming down when Shane's trade to Ottawa only added fuel to the fire.
“Is order under your name or mine? I will get it.” Ilya was already unbuckling, prepared to do the normal routine they’d established since being outed to the world. They would order ahead, one of them would pick it up, and then they would eat at home or in their hotel, maybe a secluded park if there was one nearby. Public, but not too public.
They weren’t hiding anymore, but the continued attention and hubbub around their relationship had been overwhelming, particularly for Shane. Even after they'd given some official interviews and the influx of tabloid photographers left town for newer celebrity gossip, they could barely go anywhere in Ottawa together without fans stopping them or, worse, taking weird clandestine photos of them to post online.
Shane felt terrible for wanting to avoid something they'd looked forward to for so long, the luxury of being together in public without pretense or fear. Shane had worried he would make feel Ilya feel like a secret again, but Ilya had gently dismissed his concerns. (“It is okay, sweetheart. I know you need time to adjust. I get to see you everyday, share the ice with you, and yell at people online for oogling my husband. I am very happy.”) But Shane knew Ilya liked being in public as a couple, and today he planned to make up for it.
“I, uh, didn’t order ahead,” Shane said, trying to sound casual. “I thought we could go in. Some of the reviews said the food is much better fresh, and it really doesn't make sense to go all the way back to the hotel with traffic - " A warm hand landed on Shane's knee, interrupting his anxious rambling.
“Okay,” Ilya's mouth was turned up in a soft, quiet smile. They exchanged a wordless look, both acknowledging what was Shane was really offering without making a big deal of it. Shane felt like his heart might swell right out of his chest from the profound fondness he had for that smile.
Being out and married had injected an unexpected feeling of newness to their lives, like they were finally getting to do all the butterfly-inducing firsts that had gotten lost in the … unconventional trajectory of their relationship. Shane felt a like bumbling kid asking out the boy he had a crush on. They got out of the rental car and Shane took a deep breath as he stepped around to the sidewalk.
When he turned to look at Ilya some of the tension in his body relaxed. Ilya was stone cold gorgeous anytime, anywhere but something about the way the sun was catching on his curls and warming his exopsed arms felt especially perfect.
Shane was struck with a sudden wave of pure happiness, one of those rare moments when his anxieties receeded and he could only feel how wonderful his life was. Standing in the beautiful weather, looking at the love of his life, an entire day im front of them, Shane finally found the confident calm he'd been reaching for since he'd woken up that day.
"What are you smiling about, Hollander?"
Shane shrugged, not even trying to hide the dorky smile he knew was on his face. "You're hot."
"This should not suprise my husband," Ilya purred as he closed the distance between them. "Maybe we should get back in sensible car with tinted windows so I can remind you."
At that very moment, they both heard the unmistakable growl of Ilya's stomach. Shane burst into laughter. "I think we need to eat first."
Ilya scowled down at his stomach. "Betrayer." he grumbled.
"Come on." Shane was still laughing as he turned to head up the street.
Half a block or so away they could see the pleasant little seating area in front of the cafe. The metal chairs and tables were painted in a bright mix of colors.
"Ooo, we should sit outside, malysh," Ilya said as he gave Shane a grin that rivaled the LA sun. "Maybe you will get new freckles."
One of Shane's favorite things about his new married life was getting to see this almost silly side of Ilya more often. Long distance had made most of their limited time together intense, even desperate. Now, without the pressure of schedules and the shadow of goodbye constantly hanging over them, they could indulge in the lighthearted playfulness that had always bubbled just beneath their 'rivalry.'
The moment was broken when a movement across the street drew both men's attention.
A photographer (his equipment way too nice to be a random passerby) had stopped just short of crossing the street and was snapping away. Ilya's face immediately sobered and he gently but quickly took Shane by the shoulders and turned him so his back was to the camera.
"Blyat."
"It's ok, Ilya," Shane said. He hoped it sounded reassuring even though he was fighting his own instinct to panic.
—
Ilya searched his husband's face for any hint that it wasn't actually okay. Shane didn't look unbothered, but Ilya could tell he was doing the careful breathing that meant he was determined to push through his anxiety.
"You are sure? We can get back in the car and go somewhere else. Maybe fancy VIP place Rose called for us. Soso House?" Ilya knew it was Soho House, but using the wrong word or sound on purpose was a tried and true trick for cutting through Shane's mental tension.
Shane huffed out a short laugh and Ilya could feel the shoulders beneath his hands loosen a little.
"I'm sure," Shane said, quiet but firm. "It's a beautiful day, and I'm going to have normal, non-secret lunch with my beautiful, non-secret husband."
Ilya could feel his cheeks warm slightly. Only Shane Hollander-Rosanov could do that. His brave, brave Shane. Ilya knew how much he hated the cameras and extra attention. He wanted very badly to press his hand to Shane's cheek and kiss the shit out of him, but he wouldn't push Shane even further out of his comfort zone.
"Okay. But say the word and your non-secret husband will non-secretly punch anyone who gets too close."
Shane rolled his eyes but he was the one blushing now. They started walking again and Ilya was irritated to see two more paps in front of their destination. They were tucked between the cars parked on the street, as if that might keep the couple from noticing their giant lenses pointed directly at them.
Ilya was considering how mad Yuna would be if he flipped them off when he was startled out of his thoughts.
Shane was sliding his hand into Ilya's. They were holding hands , in front of cameras. Shane was holding his hand in front of paparazzi.
Ilya still remembered letting himself take Shane's hand on that first trip to the cottage. It was shockingly intimate for two people who'd been fucking for years - specifically because it had nothing to do with fucking. It never felt casual between them. When Ilya held Shane's hand he was saying 'I am yours. I will go where you take me.'
It wasn't that holding hands was strange for them. They did it regularly around their friends and family. But they had refrained from most displays of affection while being recorded or photographed, unless they were the ones who'd arranged it. Even leaving the stadium after a practice or game, they kept their distance. Neither of them loved the arrangement but they felt it was important to give the Centaurs a chance to shine as a team rather than encourage the media's attempts to turn everything into the Hockey Husbands Spectacle. It also was also exhausting to have strangers analyzing their every touch like some sort of elaborate code.
They reached the cafe door at last and Ilya opened it for Shane, letting himself put his hand on the small of Shane's back as he ushered him in.
The cafe was busy but not crowded, and the vibrant mix of primary colors continued to the decor inside. A few people glanced over as they got into line and a couple of phones appeared from pockets and purses to snap "discreet" photos. Ilya had never really cared about that stuff for himself, but something about seeing photos like that of Shane, grainy and oblivious, unsettled him even more than the paparazzi. He hoped they were at least hockey fans and not just random assholes who'd seen the paps and decided to get in on the action.
"Is cute inside too," Ilya said, looking around and attempting to distract himself. "We should send photos to the decorator."
"It looks like a box of crayons exploded." Shane's tone landed somewhere between amused and suspicious. "We are NOT painting the kitchen like this."
Ilya pouted.
—
They placed their order and took a table number from the girl at the counter. Ilya had placed his hand on the back of Shane's neck and squeezed gently when Shane ordered one of the sandwiches the shop was known for, rather than a large salad with half the toppings removed. Shane appreciated the quiet acknowledgement. The Centaurs' nutritionist had expressed a few concerns with Shane's diet and Shane had been trying to adjust. He still preferred fresh, high nutrient food, he still made his smoothies, and he actually did love salmon, thank-you-very-much. To his delight the nutritionist had also told him her concerns about ILYA'S diet. So now he admitted that salmon was even better with a glaze or nice sauce and started making sushi handrolls with his mom again (she had refused to take part in his brown rice abominations), and in exchange Ilya drank a Shane-approved smoothie every morning and deleted the McDonald's app from his phone.
Shane was so distracted convincing himself NOT to calculate the calories of their meals that he was halfway to the cafe's front patio before Ilya stopped him.
"Hollander, we can eat inside. I think if we go to the back they won't even be able to get photos through the window."
Shane's chest ached with how much he loved this man. How thoughtful he was, always remembering Shane's preferences and making sure things were how Shane liked them when he was lost in thoughts and plans and hockey stats. Shane just smiled at him.
"You wanted to sit outside."
They just looked at each other for moment, and Shane watched Ilya's face shift into a concerned softness he seemed to reserve just for Shane. He reached out and squeezed Shane's hand.
"Sweetheart," he made his voice too quiet for anyone to overhear. "I love whatever has gotten into you but I do not want you to push yourself too much, too fast."
"I told you," Shane placed his hand on Ilya's chest (something he might not have braved if his back wasn't to the front windows). "I want to have normal, non-secret lunch with my non-secret husband."
The rest of Shane's nerves melted at the look on Ilya's face, a little astonishment and a lot of happiness.
"You forgot beautiful."
"What?"
"First time you said beautiful, non-secret husband."
"Fuck off," Shane laughed, using the hand on Ilya's chest to shove him back a step.
They made their way out to the tables in the front. More photographers had shown up outside, plus a few curious tourists who'd stopped, hoping for a celebrity sighting. The seating area was bordered by a mix of planters and simple wooden barriers - more decorative than protective - but everyone seemed to be keeping a respectful (by paps standards) distance.
Shane led them to a table in the sun, knowing that's what Ilya would like best, even though they would be making the photographer's jobs as easy as possible. He tried to keep his face neutral, knowing that the combination of anxiety over the photographers and pride at making Ilya so pleased were probably making his face do something confusing and intense.
As soon as they sat down, ilya launched into an enthusiastic retelling of something Troy had texted him that morning. Shane was pretty sure the story boiled down to Troy and Harris going to a new dog park, but Ilya was clearly trying to prevent Shane from thinking about the incessant clicking sounds going off around them. Shane gave into it, letting his husband's energy wash over him until their food came out and gave him something to do with his hands.
They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Ilya spoke.
"I was not talking about kitchen, you know," he said with a feigned casualness. He hadn't even looked up from his plate.
"What, you mean when we were talking about the colors inside?"
"Da."
Shane sighed, giving in to what was apparently a real idea Ilya was expressing. "What, then?" Shane couldn't imagine an idea that wouldn't make him feel like he was in a preschool, but if Ilya really wanted it maybe they could do the gym? Or something modern in the guest-
"Would be good for child's room."
Ilya glanced up at Shane's face when he didn't immediately respond. He gave him a slightly bashful smile. He was relieved to see Shane was smiling too. The statement had caught Shane off guard, but the way his face started to soften meant it wasn't unwelcome.
"Yeah?" Shane nearly whispered.
"Yeah." Ilya felt lightheaded as Shane reached for his hand on the table, threading their fingers together.
They knew they wanted to have kids someday. But it had always felt so far away when they were still a secret. It had been hard to talk about in detail, like it was something dangerously fragile that they were afraid to touch too often. Everything had changed since that awful night Ilya's plane had almost gone down, but in all the chaos since then they had left this particular dream safely tucked away.
"It'll still need to be awhile …" Shane looked nervous and guilty as he said it, and Ilya squeezed his hand. Shane had worked so hard since his proposal to show Ilya that he was ready. That he didn't want to make either of them wait anymore. But Ilya knew this wasn't the same thing, that neither of them wanted to parent through long distant FaceTimes and missed school plays and full time nannies.
"I know, is okay. Just maybe something we can start talking about? A timeline, even if it is long way away." Ilya was lost in Shane's eyes, filling with unshed tears as they so often did in moments of strong emotion. He reached out and cupped Shane's face in his hand.
The sudden crescendo of camera shutters broke them both from the bubble they'd accidentally created around themselves. Ilya laughed and Shane flushed beautifully.
"It may not be as long as we think," Shane said, glancing surreptitiously at their lingering audience. "Considering how our other timelines ended up."
Ilya leaned back and let all his cares slip away in the warmth of Shane's love. He wondered if Shane would let him kiss him in front of these cameras.
"How did they find us anyway?" Ilya wondered aloud as they went back to eating.
"Oh, uh … well," Shane started. This time it was his turn to focus on his plate and avoid eye contact. He cleared his throat. "Farrah called some people."
Ilya's brain went fuzzy. "Why would she do that?"
Shane finally looked up at him. " Do you remember a couple of weeks ago, when some blog used a paparazzi photo of me and Rose? I heard you, uh, telling Troy about how much you hated that she got to have those pictures with me…" Ilya opened his mouth to interrupt. He'd only been venting to Troy, he'd never meant Shane to hear or feel bad. Shane cut him off before he could even start.
"It's okay, Ilya. I know you weren't being jealous, I actually think I kind of understand for the first time. Because I hate that sort of thing but I did it anyway, then. I was already faking so much to convince myself I could make things work with Rose, and I think I sort of needed them, or thought I did. To prove to myself it was real.
"I've never needed that with us. I don't need someone else to show me that it's real because I just … know. And I was so afraid of those kinds of photos and the video that outed us - those were things I always assumed would take this from us."
Ilya turned in his chair a little to face Shane more fully. He wanted so badly to hold him, but both of them would perfer to do that in priavte. Instead, he took Shane's hand in both of his, and waited for his husband to say what he needed to.
"But now - I think I finally get it. It's not about proving anything, it's just …nice. It feels nice when you kiss me in front of our teammates, or we walk into an event together or when you wink at me on the ice and they replay it on the stupid jumbotron 8 times. It feels good sometimes to know that everyone can see us. See that I picked you and you picked me."
Shane was flushed from neck to ears, at this point. He gave a little shrug, like he was trying to lighten the situation.
"So I told Farah where we were going, and she got word out to a few of the more respectful outlets-"
Ilya was kissing Shane before he even decided to, and despite the camera shutters and the excited bystanders, they might as well have been the only two people in the world.