Chapter Text
“Ilyaaaaaaa!”
Ilya is caught completely off guard by the way Shane greets him as he quietly enters his hospital room—eager and enthusiastic, with the biggest smile on his face, and strangest of all, using his first name.
He stands frozen by the door for a second, not entirely sure how to react. Because, well, they don’t really do this.
They don’t do overly familiar greetings. They don’t do emotions on their sleeves. They don’t do easy affection. They don’t do Shane and Ilya.
They’re strictly Hollander and Rozanov to each other.
They chirp, they flirt, they have sex sometimes, then they chirp some more. So there is a wall between them that has never been breached. And that wall is currently being chipped away by the fact that Ilya has shown up to visit Shane at the hospital, worried as all hell after that nasty hit.
As well as the fact that Shane is currently high as a kite on narcotics.
Which is exactly why Ilya can’t let the affection get to his head. Because the aforementioned painkillers are likely the only reason Shane is reacting this way to Ilya’s presence. He would probably be embarrassed by this interaction tomorrow. So Ilya treads carefully, lest he disturb the delicate balance of their relationship’s carefully crafted air of nonchalance.
But Ilya can’t lie, his first name sounds really fucking good rolling off of Shane’s tongue. There’s also pure adoration in Shane’s eyes as he looks at Ilya.
It’s a dangerous thing to think, but Shane looks really happy that he’s here.
Ilya almost wants to let himself believe it, and let himself want it beyond this one drug induced interaction. But he can’t, so he shakes the hope off and takes a deep breath.
“Hi,” he says simply, regarding it as the only safe option. He makes no move to get closer, still unsure about how he should handle this version of Shane.
But Shane makes grabby hands at him, and it’s quite possibly the cutest fucking thing Ilya has ever seen. The sight renders him powerless over his own body. So before he knows it, his feet have already led him to Shane’s bedside, where they are now holding hands.
“Bet-ter,” Shane says with a satisfied smile.
Blyat. Ilya is so fucked.
He gives himself a second to enjoy the open affection, knowing full well it’s only happening because of the drugs in Shane’s system. He doesn’t think they’ve ever actually held hands before. Or maybe they have, in the throes of sex, but it has never felt as intimate as this.
A second is all he gets though, because he has to quickly explain the context of his visit to Shane before his companion can bust in and catch them holding hands.
“I am glad you are okay, Shane.” Ilya’s other hand comes up to caress Shane’s cheek. It’s a little too tender, but if all he gets is a moment, then he’s making the most out of it.
“Marly feels terrible about the hit. He came here with me, because he wanted to apologize in person. He will be here any moment, actually. Can you…”
Ilya isn’t exactly sure how he can gently say, Can you, in your drugged up state, maybe not be so obvious to him about the fact that we fuck? He thinks we are rivals, as does the rest of the world. And rivals don’t hold hands like this.
“Oh,” Shane responds with a pout, pulling his hand away from Ilya’s grasp. Ilya mourns the loss instantly. “I thought you wanted to see me. But if you’re just here to help your teammate apologize, then I guess that’s fine too…”
Fucked. Ilya is so fucked.
He is so weak when it comes to Shane in general. But Shane in this state is wholly irresistible. Ilya would do anything to wipe that pout off his face, even if it does still look adorable on him.
“No, no. Of course I wanted to see you, malysh.” The Russian term of endearment slips out without his permission. “I was very worried. When you did not get up from the ice, I… I was…”
Ilya hears his own voice crack and feels exposed at the display of vulnerability.
Shane’s head is all scrambled, he has a busted knee, and has drugs coursing through his veins. Of course he’s being more affectionate than usual. He can’t really help it, can he? What’s Ilya’s excuse?
Nothing, except for his big fat feelings that he’s refused to acknowledge even to himself. Until he saw Shane laying motionless on the ice like that, he didn’t want to admit even in the quiet of his own mind that he has always liked Shane invariably more than he has ever liked any of his other hookups.
But it’s pointless to try to lie to himself now. The worry that he felt when Shane didn’t get up was akin to the kind of worry he has only ever felt for people close to his heart. And they’re few and far between, so it’s very easy to recognize.
So maybe, just maybe, even if he can’t quite admit it out loud yet, he can accept it in his head—he cares about this man. What that means exactly, and what he can even do about it, and how that changes things, well, that’s a problem for future Ilya.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay. I’m okay.” Shane thankfully reaches for his hand again, and Ilya grips it like a lifeline. Shane is here, and he is okay. That’s all that matters right now. Ilya can be embarrassed about the vulnerability tomorrow. He can be hurt by the fact that he can’t actually have Shane like this tomorrow. But for now, he’s okay.
There’s a knock on the door that makes them instantly let go of each other’s hands like they’ve been burned, and Ilya mourns the loss a second time.
He clears his throat to steady himself. He might’ve been okay with letting high as hell Shane Hollander see him that vulnerable, but Cliff absolutely cannot.
Because as far as he knows, Ilya’s only here to fulfill his captain duties and help Cliff apologize for the hit and wish Shane well. He has no fucking idea the extent of the worry that has taken hold of Ilya’s heart since the moment Shane went down.
He had to see with his own eyes that Shane was okay after that. But to Cliff’s knowledge, Ilya is only here out of obligation. And Ilya would like to keep it that way.
“Hollander, hey.” Cliff pokes his head through the door sheepishly before letting himself in. He’s holding a teddy bear wearing a get well soon shirt in his hand that he probably got from the hospital gift shop, since he insisted on not coming empty handed to visit the guy whose shit he rocked. Ilya let him go while he went straight to Shane’s room, since he wanted a few moments alone with Shane.
The bear looks comically tiny in Cliff’s giant hands, and Ilya thinks the image is a little funny. But like, in an endearing way. To see a man of Cliff’s stature with his shoulders all hunched, nervously gripping the small bear. But Ilya does feel for him.
See, despite being known as a tank on the ice with the shit talking to back it up, Cliff has always been a secret softy. So Ilya knows how much his guilt is gnawing at his brain right now. He obviously did not mean to hurt Shane, so it’s probably difficult seeing him like this and knowing that he’s the reason for it, even if it wasn’t intentional.
Cliff crosses the room and hands Shane the bear when he reaches the other side of the bed. “I’m so sorry, Hollander. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Shane takes the bear and looks at it tentatively before bringing it to his chest with a shy smile. It is once again the cutest fucking thing Ilya has ever seen. Has he mentioned how fucked he is yet? He is so gone for this man.
“I know. It’s okay, man. Part of the game, right?” Shane shrugs.
Cliff’s shoulders visibly loosen and he smiles at Shane. “Right,” he responds with a chuckle. “I’m still sorry, though. How bad is it?”
“I’m out for the season. The concussion’s pretty bad, but I’m used to those so it’s fine. The tear in my knee thankfully doesn’t need surgery, but the doctor’s not letting me travel back home yet. So I might stay here for a little bit.” Shane still seems a little loopy. But even in his drugged up state, he doesn’t sound very happy about not being able to go home. Who would be?
“Here, like in the hospital?” Cliff clarifies.
“Well, yeah.” Shane looks down at the bear and fiddles with its little shirt. “I mean, I don’t have to; they said I could be discharged tomorrow. But since I don’t really know anyone here, and I’m not cleared for travel yet—”
“You can stay with me,” Cliff offers with no hesitation, and both Shane and Ilya’s heads whip towards him in shock.
“What?!” Shane asks, the utter surprise painted all over his face.
And Ilya seconds that because what the fuck? Cliff only came here to apologize. And he’s done that. He even bought a cute little bear. And Shane has graciously accepted his apology. There. Transaction over. His conscience should technically be absolved now.
Maybe he can send a care package in a few days, or flowers or some shit if he still feels bad. But offering for Shane to stay with him is a bit much, no? They barely know each other! That would be awkward as hell.
“I mean, it’s my fault you’re here. And we only have home games left in the regular season, so… I don’t know. I can—I want to… Make it up to you somehow, I guess?”
Cliff looks down shyly, and Shane’s eyes subtly drift towards Ilya for a bit, looking at him questioningly. Ilya shrugs and shakes his head, equally confused, because he doesn’t know what the hell is going on either.
Shane clears his throat and says, “That’s alright, Marleau. I can just stay here.”
“But the hospital is so… depressing. And the food here sucks, Hollander. I’m a pretty good cook, right Roz? Back me up!”
The pair’s eyes land on Ilya and he still does not know how to navigate this conversation. It’s weird as fuck.
Hell, this whole situation is strange. His rival that he fucks sometimes gets hit pretty bad during a game by his best friend and alternate captain. The image of said rival motionless on the ice feels like a splash of cold water to the face—both in that it wakes Ilya up from denying his feelings any longer, but also scares the shit out of him with how worried it makes him. And now his best friend is asking said rival to stay at his house with him while he recovers? Completely unaware of him and Ilya’s entanglement, by the way.
Ilya’s gaze flits between the two, both of whom look like they’re silently screaming help me to him with their eyes.
Marly is a good cook, but I am better. Plus, I know what you eat because I wrote down your bird diet on my phone when you told me what it was called and I researched it after, Ilya wants to say.
But he doesn’t. Because that would be weird.
Do not stay with Marly. He is only offering because he feels bad for hitting you. Stay with me instead. I am offering because I love you.
What? Who said that? Certainly not Ilya. He can’t say that. Because that would be weird!
I can take care of you. Let me take care of you.
This is ridiculous. Ilya shakes all the stupid thoughts off and offers a halfhearted sure, I guess in response to the two men looking eagerly at him. He doesn’t know what else to say, because his own brain is going haywire too. Maybe he’s the one on drugs, actually. Feels like it, anyway.
“It’s really okay, Marleau. I don’t mind staying here. Plus, I don’t want to impose.”
Of course his sweet, sweet, polite Shane would decline. But Ilya also immediately knows that that’s the wrong thing to say, because hearing that Shane thinks his presence will be an imposition will just make Cliff want to insist even further.
“You wouldn’t be imposing. I promise. I don’t mind the company! My guest room is much more comfortable than this hospital bed, and—” Cliff keeps going, seemingly now determined to convince Shane how much better his house is than this drab hospital.
And of course his sweet, sweet, polite Shane knows how to respectfully decline an offer once, but not how to keep saying no when someone’s being persistent. The fact that he doesn’t have all his mental faculties in order right now probably isn’t helping either.
Cliff looks at Shane with such a warm and welcoming smile as he awaits his answer. Even Ilya doesn’t know if he would’ve been able to say no, if he were in Shane’s shoes.
So it doesn’t even surprise him anymore when Shane finally, albeit reluctantly, says yes. Ah, to be worn down by Cliff’s golden retriever energy and his megawatt smile.
“Really? Hell yeah! New roommate!” Cliff ruffles the bear’s head in Shane’s hands, and Ilya suddenly realizes why he hates the idea so much.
He begins to recognize the ugly feeling that has been bubbling in his gut for what it is—jealousy.
Why the hell is Cliff the one getting uninterrupted Shane time in his home? They hardly know each other.
Shane has never even been to Ilya’s home. And they’ve been fucking for years!
If anyone should be taking care of Shane while he’s stuck in Boston with a scrambled head and a busted knee, it should be Ilya. If anyone should be making him soup and tucking him into bed, it should be Ilya. If anyone should be drawing him a bath and massaging his feet, it should be Ilya. Wait, no, that last one’s a little weird. But the point stands!
It’s not like he can just come out and say that in front of Cliff, though. His involvement with Shane is a secret. And sure, Cliff would probably be cool about it if he found out. But Ilya’s not going to tell him without Shane’s consent.
So it’s not like he can just offer to house Shane himself, without providing a reason that makes sense. And in Cliff’s head, it would make more sense for him to be the one to offer, since he’s the one who hit Shane. In his reality, there’s no reason for Ilya to offer to do it in his stead.
Fuck. He silently stews in his turmoil while Shane and Cliff dot the i’s and cross the t’s. Shane is getting discharged tomorrow. Cliff is coming to pick him up after morning practice. They exchange numbers, and Ilya distantly thinks about how Cliff will have the privilege of being saved on Shane’s phone under his real name.
The nurse comes in and they say goodbye, with Ilya glancing at Shane one last time. Shane looks back at him, taking the bear’s little paw and making it wave goodbye. The gesture is so fucking cute it melts Ilya’s heart.
He really wishes he can be the one to take Shane home. Maybe he can come with Cliff tomorrow and drive them all to his house instead of Cliff’s and just keep Shane with no explanation. Would that be weird? Sure, but this entire thing has been weird. What’s the harm in stacking one more weird thing on top of all this shit?
God, he doesn’t know why he feels so strongly about this. It really shouldn’t be an issue. But now that he’s admitted to himself that he cares about Shane, the possessive side of him is coming out even though he knows he has no right to feel this way.
It’s not even like they’re gonna be fucking. Shane is just staying with Cliff until his knee heals up enough for the doctor to clear him for travel. They’re probably just gonna lounge on the couch and watch games or some shit. Talk about hockey. Cliff will probably make him some soup. No big deal.
But the thing is… Ilya wants all of that too. It all sounds so domestic and nice. Now that the floodgates have been opened, he’s starting to think he wants everything with Shane.
So the fact that Cliff will be getting those things first is really grinding his gears, even though it probably won’t mean anything to Cliff. Maybe especially because it wouldn’t mean anything to Cliff.
Ilya doesn’t know what to do.
“You did not get sober consent for that, by the way,” Ilya quips as they’re walking out of the hospital, not sure how else he can protest without putting all his cards on the table.
“What?”
“He was high as fuck, Marly. He probably barely knew what he was agreeing to.”
“Oh. Well, I can just ask again tomorrow when I pick him up. Make sure he hasn’t changed his mind, yeah?”
Ilya sighs, and Cliff just chuckles at him.
“Look, I’m sure it’ll be fine. I know you hate the guy or whatever, but I couldn’t just let him stay there when I have a perfectly fine guest room I could offer.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ilya responds with a put-upon sigh. Cliff snorts at his dramatics.
“Why are you being weird about this?”
“I am not being weird. I am just thinking that maybe you have not considered how awkward it would be to have someone you barely know staying at your house.”
It’s a weak excuse, really. Shane can be a little awkward at times, sure. But Cliff is a social butterfly. He can make friends with anyone. So Ilya’s sure he’ll have no problems getting along with Shane.
Cliff just laughs it off. “Please. I’m sure me and Hollander will be best friends in no time.”
Yeah, well. That’s exactly the problem, isn’t it?
Selfishly, Ilya doesn’t find himself wanting them to get all cozy. Because what if that leads to something more? It sounds a little ridiculous, but can you blame Ilya for wanting to monopolize Shane’s attention? He just realized he’s practically in love with the guy! And he’s injured. Of course Ilya wants to take care of him.
The image of Shane waving goodbye with the stupid teddy bear’s little paw flashes through his mind again. Fuck. Ilya is such a goner.
You know what? Maybe Ilya can still turn this around. He’s been known to hang out at Cliff’s house quite a bit. Who’s to say he won’t just turn up unannounced and become Shane’s new best friend instead?
Maybe this isn’t so bad. Maybe he can hijack this new roommate situation somehow.
He starts scheming as they drive home and makes a mental note to buy Shane a bigger teddy bear.