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Ilya loves teaching, he does. His fourth year elementary school kids are often unintentionally hilarious, and the fact that he gets to essentially have fun with children and get paid for it is one of his favourite parts of his job. But wrangling children is also fucking exhausting, and he’s very ready to go home this Friday after what feels like an indeterminably long week.
The majority of his class have long since been picked up, but for Arthur Pike. His dad usually comes along on a Friday but it's now fifteen minutes past the end of the mandated pick-up time, and he still hasn’t shown up.
Ilya squeezes Arthur’s small hand in his gently as they wait by the school gates. He would never admit it, but the boy Pike is one of his favourite students. Ilya had taught his older twin sisters when they’d come through his year group a couple of years ago, which he would swear would lead him to turning grey before his time. They’d been good kids on the whole, he had to admit - but when the twins were in agreement on something it was practically impossible to do anything but what they were set on, and woe betide anyone aiming for something different.
Arthur’s a little quieter than his sisters, a little more reserved. But he’s secretly a little funny, and so smart about specific interests that he’s willing to expound on at length to anyone who shows him genuine interest. At the moment, that’s trucks - and he’s clutching a little plastic truck in his other hand that he’s not let go of for the last two weeks.
Ilya can see that Arthur’s getting a bit anxious at the delay and checks his own phone but there’s nothing from the school admin team, who usually let teachers know via text or call if there’s something they need to pass on.
Just as Ilya’s thinking they’ll need to head back inside to maybe try and make a call, a Land Rover he doesn’t recognise pulls into the car park and Arthur visibly brightens as the driver’s door opens and six feet of pure fucking hockey muscle climbs out.
Shane Hollander.
Captain and first-line centre for the Montreal Metros, a hockey god who Ilya’s sure will be inaugurated into the Hockey Hall of Fame as soon as the commission figures out how to do it before he retires. Ilya loves hockey - he always has even when it hadn't panned out as a career for him due to injury in his teens - and religiously watches every game, and all of the post-game pressers, especially when it’s Hollander pulled up for duty. He’s not obsessed, but it's a very thin line he toes.
“Uncle Shane!” Arthur wrenches his hand out of Ilya’s loose grasp and runs towards Shane as the adult jogs across towards them, and Ilya’s so glad there are no other cars around because that’s a stupid fucking mistake, to let a kid be able to escape into a goddamn car park.
“Hey, Arthur.” Uncle Shane scoops Arthur up into a hug, grinning warmly at the eight-year-old. “Your dad says he’s really sorry. The minivan’s broken down outside Ruby and Emma’s school, so he’s running late.”
“It’s okay,” Arthur shakes his head, beaming up at the hockey player as he’s set on his feet and taking his hand. “Mr. Rozanov waited with me.”
“I can see that,” Hollander agrees as they turn and take the five or so steps back towards Ilya. Ilya’s no slouch in the body-department, he works hard on himself at the gym and knows it shows, but there’s something about the thickness of Hollander’s biceps as they're outlined to perfection in the tight black t-shirt he’s wearing that has Ilya wanting to wrap his hands around and squeeze, trace the lines with his teeth. “I’m so sorry for the delay. Thank you for waiting with Arthur,” he says to Ilya, warm brown eyes meeting his and Ilya feels a little winded as he notes the freckles across Hollander’s nose, wonders how many there are, how long it might take him to count them.
“Is okay,” Ilya shakes his head, “Part of the job.”
“Still,” Hollander looks down at Arthur, who’s still busy beaming up at him and Ilya kind of knows how the boy feels. “I, um, I’m hoping I can take Arthur home even though I’m not his official guardian or anything? Hayd said I might need to sign something?”
“Ah, yes,” Ilya nods and turns in the direction of the school reception. “I am afraid so. If you can follow me?”
Hollander and Arthur follow him willingly back towards the school, and up to the reception desk where Annie smiles at the three of them and pulls out a release form for him when he asks. Hollander shows them the text from Hayden asking him to pick up Arthur, and Annie double-checks the phone number to confirm it’s the one they have on file for Arthur’s dad.
“Here,” Ilya slides the paper form across the desk to Hollander, who accepts the pen Ilya hands over when he’s at a loss for one, and Ilya feels the sparks in his fingertips when they brush against Shane’s. “If you can sign this please, and then you can go.”
Ilya wishes he had a way to stretch this out a little longer, but Hollander deftly signs the form and then pushes it gently back across the desk, brown eyes meeting Ilya’s as he smiles far too prettily at him.
“Thank you,” Hollander says again, and Ilya’s a little too dazed as Hollander turns that smile onto Arthur, lifts the eight-year-old onto his hip in a show of casual strength that is far too attractive to be safe for Ilya’s sanity, and leaves the school.
Ilya holds in a sigh as he watches them leave, but Annie’s sigh is audible. She catches Ilya’s eye and giggles at his expression, and pats his arm gently before suggesting he also leaves for the night. He exhales the held-in sigh slowly but does as suggested, and although the likelihood is infinitesimal he hopes he’ll one day get to meet Hollander again.
To his surprise, he doesn’t actually have to wait long, as a week later the black Land Rover is back in the car park. It pulls in towards the end of the pick-up window, not quite late but late enough that the majority of kids and parents have already departed.
“Hey, Arthur,” Hollander greets as he jogs over again, looking as delectable as before in a gorgeous suit that outlines his figure to perfection, “Hi, Mr. Rozanov.”
“Please,” Ilya laughs, “call me Ilya. Mr. Rozanov is for the children.”
Hollander smiles brightly at him, lightly winding Ilya, even as he hugs Arthur hello, the boy delighted to see him.
“Your mom’s invited me over for dinner,” Hollander says quietly, and Ilya tries to pretend that he’s not eavesdropping, “So I said I’d come pick you up on my way. That okay?”
“Of course!” Arthur’s smile is huge as he takes Hollander’s hand.
“Well, Mr. Hollander, Arthur, please come inside. You will need to sign release form again.”
“Call me Shane, please,” Shane corrects him, a soft flush on his cheeks darkening those freckles that Ilya had thought about way too often over the last week.
Ilya nods in acquiescence as they all turn and head back for the reception.
“It’s nice to see you again,” Shane says softly, surprising Ilya. He glances over to see warm brown eyes flitting away to watch the pavement, the shyness of the movement a little charming but equally Ilya’s not sure he’s just reading too much into this with his own want roaring to the surface, hot and demanding under his skin.
“And you,” Ilya returns. “Is nice of you to come to pick up Arthur.”
Shane shrugs, even as Arthur nods emphatically in agreement. “It’s on my way,” he murmurs, but his smile down at Arthur is soft and familial.
Ilya holds the door for them as they step inside, but the doorway is narrow enough that he brushes up against Shane as he follows them in, stepping around them to the front desk where he asks Annie for another release form.
“Thank you,” Shane murmurs, and Ilya’s sure that Shane lingers as he takes a pen again from Ilya’s outstretched fingers, meets liquid brown eyes that shy away so prettily as he turns his attention to the form in front of him.
He watches as Shane signs the form quickly again; his signature made up of sharp, neat letters across the page. He’s got tidy, short fingernails and Ilya can’t help but notice the lack of a ring. Ilya had been so fucking tempted this week to google Shane, to see what the tabloids might say about him and his relationships but he’d been good and avoided it - not that the rags are any reliable source of information anyway.
But he doesn’t exactly have much time to think it over or to process, as he gets a gentle smile and a “bye, Mr. Rozanov” as Shane and Arthur both leave, Arthur waving at him as they pass through the exit.
“That man is something else,” Annie sighs dreamily from next to him, and Ilya bites back a noise of agreement, though by her grin and the way she wishes him a good weekend, he’s pretty sure she sees right through him.
Hayden Pike appears the following Friday to collect his son, and then the Metros have a run of away games the following week so neither men appear.
Ilya tells himself it was an unexpected boon to meet Shane the first and second times, but he shouldn’t count on it again. Even when he gives in and googles the player after he scores a neat hat-trick in the game against Edmonton, and ends up in a two-hour deep rabbit hole on the internet, including a few reddit threads that seem to back up the rumours that Shane might not be straight.
Ilya pushes the thoughts forcefully from his head. It’s fucking ridiculous, the hold the man has on him. They’ve met twice. Twice! It’s delusional to think that Ilya could have been any part of Shane returning to the school, when he’s got his godson (thanks to Reddit for that tidbit of knowledge) here and it’s apparently ‘on his way home’.
So he’s convinced himself that he won’t see Shane again and that the two weeks before were just a fluke, by the next time Friday comes around.
He’s proven wrong; the Land Rover is already there today as Ilya leads his class out of their classroom and to the playground. Shane doesn’t get out of the car until the playground is close to empty but it doesn’t take long on a Friday, so it’s barely five minutes until long legs are stepping out onto the tarmac and eating up the distance between the car and Ilya and Arthur.
“Hey, buddy,” Shane greets Arthur first, lifts him up in a hug as he lifts his arms up with a grin. “How was school?”
“Really good,” Arthur beams, “We got to go to the library and pick out a book. I found this one,” he digs in his backpack and hands it out, and Shane takes it with an expression of utmost concentration that shouldn’t have Ilya’s heart fluttering like it does. “Will you read it with me later?” Arthur asks and fuck there goes Ilya’s heart again as Shane agrees instantly, and Ilya can just imagine it; the two of them perched on a sofa somewhere, Shane’s arm around Arthur’s shoulders as he reads him a book.
Ilya wants to be under Shane’s arm, though maybe not for reading a book. Or maybe he can loop his own arm around those broad shoulders, bring Shane in close as they cuddle on the couch before they go on to do more… adult fun things.
He pinches himself as subtly as he can, pulls himself back into the present as Shane stands in front of him, and there’s a soft pink flush on his cheeks as he meets Ilya’s eyes and Ilya’s breath catches because that can’t be interest, can it? He’s not normally one to second-guess himself when it comes to people being attracted to him - he knows what he looks like - but a multimillionaire hockey star falling for his godson's teacher does seem a bit far-fetched.
“The form?” Shane asks him with a rueful smile and Ilya manages to nod, turns as Shane takes Arthur’s hand and the two of them follow him back into the school.
Shane signs the form again and hands it back to Annie, who smiles brightly at him in thanks. Shane smiles back at her but it’s definitely more professional, turns a little more shy as he glances over at Ilya and says goodbye.
Ilya doesn’t linger today, only grabs his bag from the classroom and gives it a cursory glance over, but for once the room is clean enough he can leave it as is.
He cuts through the back of the school for his twenty minute walk home, and he’s five minutes down the road when a car pulls up next to him, the passenger window rolling down to show Arthur Pike beaming out at him.
“Mr Rozanov!”
“Hello, Arthur,” Ilya smiles at him as the boy waves enthusiastically. “Hello, Shane.”
“Hey,” Shane leans over to hover behind Arthur, a somewhat rueful smile on his face as he watches Ilya. “Sorry to disturb you.”
“Not disturbing,” Ilya promises, shaking his head.
“Do you need a lift anywhere?”
Ilya smiles, Shane’s so awkwardly earnest, Arthur staring at both of them with wide eyes.
“I am okay, but thank you,” he declines. “My home is not far.”
“Right,” Shane flushes again as he nods. “Well, um, see you next week, then?”
Ilya raises an eyebrow and Shane smiles sheepishly even as Arthur says, “Uncle Shane is going to pick me up every Friday now!”
“Ah, very nice,” Arthur leans forward to offer a little high-five to Arthur as he beams in victory. “See you on Monday, then Arthur. And you next Friday, Shane.”
“Bye.” Ilya’s not imagining the slight breathlessness in Shane’s voice, and holds onto the sound of it as long as he can as the car pulls away and he resumes his walk towards home.
Ilya sighs for the fifteenth time that week as he brushes a hand through his now-buzzed hair. He loves kids. He loves his job. He has to repeat it a few times to remind himself.
But goddamnit, kids getting gum in his hair to the point where he can’t freeze it out was not what he signed up for. Winter is setting in and his scalp feels colder than it should and he wishes he’d remembered his hat.
“Hi, Ilya,” Shane Hollander walking up to him pulls him from his thoughts. Arthur’s playing on the swings this Friday, laughing with one of his closer friends, Jace, whose pick up is running a little late. “You, um, you’ve cut your hair?”
“Hi Shane,” Ilya meets brown eyes and sinks into them a little, more than willing. “Yes. Children and chewing gum should not mix,” he explains ruefully, and understanding flickers across Shane’s face.
“It looks good,” Shane says softly, and Ilya’s stupid heart flutters.
They both look over at where Arthur is, but he’s still absorbed in playing on the swings with Jace and hasn’t noticed Shane here.
“Thank you,” Ilya manages to croak out. “Nice goal yesterday.”
“Thanks,” Shane huffs a self-depreciating laugh, but Ilya can see the pride in the shift of his shoulders.
“You know,” Ilya starts, “You can fill out single form and get Pike to sign, and you will not need to sign release form every week for Arthur.”
“Oh,” Shane blinks at him. “That would make sense, I guess. I just-”
Shane cuts himself off, flushing again and Ilya can’t help but watch him, knows he looks stupidly hopeful.
“You just?” Ilya prods, when Shane’s lips form around several words without any making it to sound.
“I guess… that would mean I wouldn’t get to see you?”
Russians do not blush, but Ilya feels the tint of pink in his cheeks anyway.
“You would,” Ilya says softly. “I will still need to see Arthur leave with you.”
“I- um. I guess,” Shane agrees half-heartedly.
“You can take form with you,” Ilya offers, not ready to offer anything until Shane does. Ilya's not the one with more to lose, here, even if he’s not reading this entirely wrong.
“Okay,” Shane nods and takes a little step forwards towards Ilya and his breath catches as brown eyes turn determined with something but it’s at that point they hear “Uncle Shane!” and Arthur barrels into Shane’s legs, wrapping around him in a hug.
“Hey, champ,” Shane’s hand ruffles Arthur’s hair gently and Ilya does not mourn the loss of the potential for that hand in his own curls. Hair grows back, there’s time yet.
They follow the semi-familiar routine of signing Arthur out, and Ilya hands Shane the secondary form that will let him be recognised as a guardian allowed to take Arthur off school grounds without the extra sign-out form.
“Do you, um, want a lift home?” Shane asks, glancing over at Annie who’s pretending not to listen.
Ilya smiles softly but shakes his head. “Thank you, but no. Weather is nice and I like the walk home. Helps me, ah, decompress?”
Shane nods, and Ilya presses his lips together when he notes the disappointed look Shane and Arthur share. “Maybe next time,” he offers before he really thinks about it, and gets hopeful looks from both boy and man as they nod at him and then wave goodbye and leave.
“God, I’d be letting a man drive me anywhere if he looked at me like that,” Annie murmurs, grinning wickedly at Ilya as he laughs in shock, and tries not to regret his choice.
Ilya misses the next Friday, as he’s wrapped up in his duvet like a burrito and feeling sorry for himself.
He loves his kids. He does. He knows he has to tell himself this regularly, but it’s hard to remember as his lungs burn with another hacking cough and he slumps back into the cushions with a pitiful sniffle.
He’s normally got the constitution of an ox and very rarely gets sick even with the plethora of bugs and viruses the kids love to bring in and share amongst themselves, but when something gets him it tends to be pretty bad, and this one is a doozy.
He closes his eyes, tries not to think about Shane turning up to the school and talking to whoever is covering for him instead, pulls the covers over his head with a whine and instead tries to focus on breathing well enough to sleep.
“Arthur said you were sick last week,” Shane says as he approaches Ilya the following Friday. “I hope you’re feeling better?”
“Yes, thank you,” Ilya smiles at him and Shane flushes lightly. “And thank you for form,” he adds, having had a copy from Arthur earlier this week, giving him time to process it so that they don’t have to spend time going inside and filling out the other one.
“No problem,” Shane nods, thumbs tucked in his pockets in a way that’s again weirdly charming. He lifts one hand and Ilya glances over where Arthur’s playing on the swings with Jace again - the two boys have gotten closer the last few weeks or so as they’ve been reading together, which has been super cute to see. Arthur waves back as he swings upwards but doesn’t come over yet, laughing wildly as he and Jace compete to go the highest.
“I- um,” Shane shuffles his feet as Ilya looks back at him. “I missed you, last week.”
Ilya’s heart stutters, hope crawling up his chest. “I am sorry I could not see you.”
“I- sorry, this is probably really inappropriate, but. Would you be free next Friday? After this, after school, I mean.”
“Yes,” Ilya agrees immediately, without even thinking it through. He usually keeps his Friday evenings free anyway, but he thinks he’d cancel almost any plans up to and including emergency surgery to see Shane.
A soft smile blooms on Shane’s face as he meets Ilya’s eyes.
“I, um, would you want to go for dinner? With me, I mean.”
Ilya can’t stop the soft laugh, “Yes,” he says again, lets the interest show on his face finally and notes with interest the way Shane both flushes and his eyes darken a little as his eyes drop to Ilya’s mouth. Fuck, but this is going to be good.
“You can pick me up,” he suggests, when Shane hesitates. “You have your phone? Give.”
Shane hands over his phone and Ilya types in his number, lingers as he passes the device back.
“Text me,” Ilya suggests, and he’d suggest a little more but Arthur’s decided this is the moment he wants to interrupt, smiling widely as he skips over.
“Hi, Uncle Shane,” he almost sings, and Shane smiles and pulls him in for a hug with a “hey, Arthur.”
“Well, we should go,” Shane says, a little reluctantly. “I’ll, um, see you next week?”
“See you next week,” Ilya agrees with a nod. “Have a good weekend.”
“Bye, Mr. Rozanov!”
Ilya watches them both cross the car park and Shane help Arthur into the passenger seat. Their eyes meet from across the top of the car as he pauses before climbing in and Ilya lifts a hand in farewell, Shane copying the movement.
Ilya watches the car pull out of the car park and turns back towards the school to get his things and go home, phone burning a hole in his pocket as he hopes that he won’t have to wait long for Shane to contact him.
His heart flutters, and Annie watches him a little suspiciously as he passes her with a wild-adjacent grin, but he’s too excited to hide it. He has a date! With Shane Hollander! Fuck, he can’t wait.