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It mostly started because of Shane’s no PDA rule that slowly lightened up as the season went on, which Ilya anticipated. He knew his guys, and he knew they wouldn’t care about PDA, but Shane had been burned so badly by Montreal that he needed to just see and experience their acceptance for himself. So while he had talked Shane out of them rooming separately for roadies, basically anything besides Shane’s special just for Ilya smile was forbidden.
Then they had their first team barbecue, where Shane ended up next to Ilya with ramrod straight posture and an awkward amount of space between them. Ilya just acted normal, so it wasn’t until Bood made a comment that Shane finally started to relax a bit.
“Honestly if I hadn’t walked in on the two of you at your own wedding, I think I would be buying into this whole thing,” he gestures at the space between the two, “being just for PR.”
Ilya realized that Shane must have been more in his head than he thought, because he saw Shane’s head whip to Bood after the comment, brow furrowed in shock and confusion. He took it upon himself to grab Shane’s hand, squeezing once for reassurance before speaking up: “It’s true, my Shane does not like me at all. I say, ‘Please Shane give me kiss’ like this,” he puckered his lips exaggeratedly, “and he just pushes me away. He says-”
“Oh fuck off!” Shane let out a huff of a laugh, his cheeks turning Ilya’s favorite shade of pink.
“Da, just like that,” Ilya faced the others with a fake pout, causing laughter from everyone familiar with his brand of chirping and bullshit. “And I am left kiss-less and love-less.”
Shane rolled his eyes, then quickly leaned over to kiss Ilya’s cheek, to the cheers of everyone around them.
After that, Shane lightened his PDA rules–still not as much as Ilya might want, but now Shane was never far from Ilya when they were all together. Usually with one of their arms around the other, cheek or forehead kisses sometimes accompanying.
It was then before one of their first home games where Ilya ended his pre-game speech, fist bumping everyone on their way out of the locker room–Shane was last, so Ilya leaned forward to kiss the tip of Shane’s nose before swatting his butt playfully.
“For luck,” he said with a cheeky smile as they made their way onto the ice.
Ilya scored his first hat trick of the season (2 off assists from Shane), blowing a kiss to Shane after each goal. Shane had also scored 2 of his own goals, with Luca scoring the final goal.
The energy was high as the men filed out of the rink, cheering and yelling about the goals as well as Wyatt’s crazy saves of the night.
Suddenly Bood’s voice got louder as he said, “I know we thought Roz was just making another excuse to kiss Holly but I guess it gave him some luck after all.”
He winked at Shane who snorted: “yeah, we all know he needs all the luck he can get.”
The guys started whooping again, playfully dragging Ilya.
Ilya, for his part, looked as delighted as he always did when Shane chirped with the team. “I guess I’ll just have to kiss your nose before every game зайчик.”
“Bunny? Really?”
“Yes, my cute little angry bunny,” Ilya said as he brought his face to Shane’s and rubbed their noses together, laughing as Shane pushed him away, blush high on his cheeks.
Everyone moved on quickly, but sure enough before their next game a few nights later, Ilya fist bumped everyone leaving the soccer room, Shane once again the last to pass him. “Come on зайчик I need my luck.” Shane rolled his eyes but still stepped closer, allowing Ilya to kiss the tip of his nose.
Within the first 2 minutes of the game, Ilya had already won the first face off and scored the first goal.
This trend continued for the next few games, only broken a few weeks later when Ilya wasn’t able to do his now usual kiss on Shane’s nose after their whole routine had been thrown off. First, Shane’s car wouldn’t start, which Ilya obviously blamed on the fact that Shane’s car was “too boring” and had finally had enough.
Then, they tried to take Ilya’s much more expensive SUV due to the snow outside, only realizing once they were on their way that Ilya still hadn’t put on his snow tires so it took double the time to get to the arena. They ended up entering the locker room late, with Shane stone faced and barely speaking, quickly getting geared up and making his way to the ice.
“Someone’s in the dog house,” Troy said after letting out a low whistle.
“Shut the fuck up Barrett, like you never piss Harris off. Just like my Shane, Harris is perfect. Sometimes you and I are not so perfect,” Ilya said as he geared up. “Do not worry, after tonight’s hat trick he will forgive me.”
Twenty minutes later, the guys were mostly silent as they filed off the ice after the first period, score still 0-0. They weren’t losing, but they certainly weren’t winning like they had been.
“Don’t say it,” Shane muttered as Ilya sidled up next to him at their stalls.
“I did not say anything зайчик.”
Shane tried to hold his glare, but Ilya kept steady, body language open. Sure enough after a moment he let out a deep sigh and fell forward to rest his head in the crook of Ilya’s neck. “I hate our routine being off.”
“I know моя любовь,” Ilya said, starting to scratch the back of Shane’s head, causing Shane to go even more boneless against him.
“And I hate when you don’t listen to me,” he muttered, lips pressed against Ilya’s neck.
“I know,” Ilya said again, finally wrapping his arms fully around Shane’s back, both of them letting out twin sighs of relief at the tight contact.
“I love you,” He finally finished.
“Я люблю тебя” Ilya replied, kissing Shane’s temple. They swayed quietly together for another minute before Ilya felt Shane take another deep breath, ready to gear back up for the second period.
“That wasn’t his nose Roz, we need the luck!” Bood called from across the room.
Ilya looked at Shane, raising his eyebrow minutely and receiving the barest nod. His mouth stretched into one of his delighted smiles and he leaned forward, kissing Shane’s nose with an exaggerated “MWAH!” and then smaller kisses all over his freckles until the team started jokingly boo-ing them.
Shane let out a huff of laughter and shoved Ilya away saying “okay, okay, enough,” but the smile didn’t leave his face. “Let’s win this thing.” The team filed back onto the ice, renewed with energy that ultimately gave them a 4-1 win against the other team.
By the time the regular season was half over, the Centaurs were on their longest winning streak to date. Shane was fully integrated into the team, feeling comfortable with the guys in a way he never could have imagined with Montreal. Montreal promoted the most toxic form of “brotherhood,” that was really filled with hazing and only conditional respect. The Centaurs genuinely cared about one another, from the team itself to the coaches, staff, and WAGs.
Which is why when Shane was woken out of a dead sleep one early morning in January, he wasn’t in the same state of constant vigilance and panic that he was with Montreal. He was trying to figure out what had woken him up when Ilya let out a rattling, wet cough from the bathroom. Shane jumped out of bed and rushed into the bathroom where Ilya was hunched over the toilet covered in sweat.
“Oh baby,” Shane murmured, getting a wash cloth and dabbing over Ilya’s forehead, causing a full body shiver. “I knew you weren’t feeling well.” Ilya had struggled through dinner, lying through his teeth that he was fine. They had babysat the Pikes the weekend before, all of whom had since come down with the flu. Despite Ilya’s constant claims that ‘Russians do not believe in flu,’ his immune system really wasn’t that strong.
“Mmmmph,” Ilya groaned, peaking one glassy eye up at his husband.
“I know,” Shane placated. “Have you taken anything yet?”
“Mmm-mmm.”
Shane got up and went quickly to the kitchen, glad he had stocked up with soup and supplies after Hayden called to let him know the flu might be coming. Anya perked up from her bed in the living room, tail lightly starting to wag. Shane grabbed some cough syrup, Tylenol and a gatorade before inclining his head towards the stairs. “Come on,” he said softly to Anya, causing her to jump up and run past him up the stairs.
By the time he got back to their room, Ilya was back in bed with Anya curled up against him, tail thumping softly as Ilya mindlessly scratched her ears. He looked up at Shane, expression somehow equal parts sad and annoyed.
“I am true Canadian now,” he muttered, sending himself into a brief coughing fit that ended with a pained groan. “Stupid weak Canadian immune system.”
Shane snorted, “Sure. It’s definitely not the ice cream you sneakily shared with Arthur while we were babysitting that gave you the germs.” Ilya gave him a bleary glare, undercut by a truly pathetic sniffle. “C’mon, let's get some of this medicine in you. I want to see if it helps before having Mom take over.”
Ilya groaned again, but Shane knew he wasn’t truly upset–he had spent so long alone that one of the only benefits to being sick was the extra attention Yuna couldn’t help but bestow on him. Shane helped him sit up, bracing against Ilya’s back as he had another coughing fit that left him gasping for breath. He pressed his lips to Ilya’s temple, not loving the heat he could feel emitting.
“Maybe I should call Wiebe, I really don’t like the sound of that cough-”
“No,” Ilya interrupted. “We are on our longest winning streak yet, you cannot miss this game. Give me Tylenol and disgusting cough syrup and I will be fine.”
“Ilya-”
“Shane,” Ilya leveled him with a serious look, undercut by the watering of his eyes as he tried to hold in another set of coughs.
Shane looked over him, assessing, before finally nodding. “Fine, but I am calling my mom to come check on you.” Luckily the game was also an afternoon game so Shane wouldn’t be home too late.
“Oke,” Ilya said, settling back into the pillows. Shane measured out a dose of the cough syrup, handing it to Ilya and then taking the cap off the gatorade so it was ready for Ilya to wash away the taste of the syrup. Once Ilya took the gatorade from him, Shane then shook out 3 Tylenol from the bottle. Ilya stuck his tongue out playfully, making Shane snort before he gently placed the pills on Ilya’s tongue. He set everything on the nightstand before leaning forward to press a lingering kiss to Ilya’s forehead.
Ilya hummed into the affection. “Go, start your rituals. I will still be here with my nurse.” He began stroking Anya’s head again, who wriggled herself fully onto his chest in excitement that she was getting attention again.
“Okay, okay.” Shane pressed another kiss to Ilya’s forehead and then a quick one to Anya’s head as well, before getting up and starting to get ready for his pre-game workout.
A few hours later after leaving Ilya with fresh gatorade and his next dose of medicine, Shane was walking into the locker room missing his husband but marveling at the fact that even so, he was fully comfortable without Ilya by his side.
“Holly! Where’s your lesser half?” Dykstra called across the room as Shane made his way to his cubby.
“Let me guess, he left one too many socks on the floor and not in the hamper?” Troy said with a dry smirk. Shane had come to appreciate the dry sort of humor, particularly when it came to Troy and Ilya chirping each other.
“No, he left dirty dishes in the sink overnight,” Chouinard jumped in.
The guys all spoke over each other coming up with increasingly more ridiculous things that Ilya could do to annoy Shane. He marveled at that too, that they were all clearly joking, knowing that Shane could never be truly mad at Ilya, just as Ilya with Shane–unlike when people in Shane’s life would make comments in a way that was actually trying to point out Ilya’s flaws.
He shook the thoughts out of his head, finally addressing the room as he started gearing up: “The flu finally caught up to him.”
“I thought Russians do not get sick?” Luca’s voice sounded innocent, but the sparkle in his eye let Shane know he was joking as well.
“He’s Canadian now,” Troy said, making Shane huff out a laugh.
“That’s exactly what he said,” Shane replied. “My mom’s gonna go over for the game, make sure he’s hydrated and resting properly.”
“And talking shit about the game with her,” Wyatt added.
Shane snorted, “That too.” Everyone knew that Yuna and Ilya fed off each other in the best and the worst way. “Now c’mon, we’ve got a winning streak to keep up.”
“What about…” one of the rookies spoke up, trailing off awkwardly as everyone turned to him. “Well- the kiss. Roz isn’t here.”
The guys all eyed each other as Shane was bent doing up the laces on his skates.
“One of us will have to do it,” another rookie said. “Who’s Roz least likely to kill… Luca?”
Luca immediately turned bright red, “No I can’t-”
“Yo, that’s their son-” “Do you want him to have a heart attack before we play?” “No c’mon he’s so innocent” The voices all overlapped, Shane finally done getting ready and looking almost as awkward as Luca.
“We really don’t have to do that,” Shane said, voices overlapping again as the guys made their protests–superstition was incredibly real for hockey players.
“Alright enough!” Bood’s voice yelled over everyone and they stopped talking immediately. “As fellow AC, the duty should fall to me. Get over here Holly,” he said, fake somberly.
Harris, who had been quietly sitting in Troy’s stall on his phone, stood up then with his camera clearly open: “Wait, I have to film this–socials are gonna go crazy.”
Shane leveled him with a flat look. “Ilya is also going to go crazy, I hope you know that.”
“After all the stress he puts me through, he deserves it,” Harris threw back. “Alright Bood, pucker up!”
Shane sighed, resigned to his fate as Bood came over to him. Bood looked into the camera and with a wink said, “This is for you Rozy” before smacking a quick kiss to Shane’s nose. “Let’s go win this shit!”
The guys all cheered around them and started to file out of the locker room to the ice. The video was posted 15 minutes later, right after the first puck drop.
[post by ottawacentaursofficial]: Our good luck charm! 🍀💪🏼
Rozanov81: what is this. Harris what is this why is someone kissing my husband without me there
The team won the game just over an hour later–Shane’s phone was filled with texts from Ilya, so he quickly navigated to the chat with his mom to make sure everything was okay. Her final text was congratulating him on the win and letting him know that she had given Ilya a pretty strong dose of NyQuil before leaving for the night so he would hopefully be asleep when Shane got home, and that she would check back in tomorrow.
Thirty minutes later Shane was pulling into the garage, beyond ready for his second shower before crawling into bed with his husband. He stopped short at a piece of paper taped to their bedroom door, the words “WELCOME HOME CHEATER” written across it. He snorted before pulling out his phone and taking a photo, sending it to the group chat and turning his phone on silent. He quietly made his way into the room, shushing Anya quietly as she let out an excited whine from the bottom of the bed, curled over Ilya’s feet.
He took the quickest shower he could–really just a rinse after showering at the rink–brushed his teeth and finally climbed into bed, brushing Ilya’s curls off his forehead and following it with a gentle kiss.
“Mmmph- Shane?”
“Mmmhmm, go back to sleep,” he murmured.
“I will never miss game again,” Ilya mumbled. “No one kiss my husband but me…” he trailed off as he fell back to sleep, comforted by the weight of his husband beside him.
[CENTAURS GROUPCHAT]
Dykstra: o shitttt bood u bettr run
Troy: 🤦
LaPointe: i still think it shoudlve been luca
Luca: No thank you! He’s all yours, captain!
Luca: I mean, not that you aren’t attractive Hollander
Luca: Not that I see you that way
Wyatt: Luca I think you should just stop talking now
Bood: I did what I had to do, and I would do it again.
Bood: THE CUP IS OURS THIS YEAR BOYS🏆