Chapter Text
June
Shane lay starfished out on his bed, staring unseeing up at the familiar ceiling of his and Ilya’s bedroom in Ottawa.
He was unimaginably sore. He wasn’t sure if he could move.
He’d been dead to the world for nearly ten hours and it still felt like not enough sleep. He wasn’t sure why he was awake. He was glad he was in his own bed though.
Shane felt the mattress shift next to him and turned his head to look at Ilya, who was now sitting up. He was hunched over, resting a hand on his ribs, which looked like they were starting to bruise.
“Hey,” Shane said softly. Ilya turned his head, brushing curls out of his face. He offered Shane a tired smile.
“Hi.”
Shane smiled back, reaching out toward his husband, his hand laying palm up on the bed. Ilya rested his hand on top of Shane’s, the two of them just looking at one another.
“You okay?” Shane asked.
Ilya tilted his head side to side. “Eh.”
Shane nodded. “Me, too.”
Ilya sighed and nodded, too. Slowly, he got himself out of bed, trudging to the bathroom. Shane watched after him before turning his eyes back to the ceiling, and closing them.
He was so fucking glad the season was over.
The Centaurs had won the Stanley Cup.
There had been no way that Shane and Ilya would have allowed the team not to win, especially with everything they had been dealing with over the course of the season. They hadn’t needed to prove anything. They were fucking incredible players. Downright dangerous when they were on the ice together.
So they’d simply done what they always did. Played incredible hockey and won it all.
Shane was so fucking proud but stupidly exhausted. He couldn’t worry about next season. He needed a break.
His first season with Ottawa had been both amazing and terrible. High-highs and low-lows. He was fucking tired on every level.
Playing with the team had been incredible. It had taken some time for Shane to orient himself to a new style of coaching and different line dynamics but his new teammates and coaches had made that easy.
Playing with Ilya and being on the power play with him had been beyond his wildest dreams. The Centaurs power play was the best in the entire league thanks to them and having Ilya there with him on the ice had been absolute magic.
Having the time to practice together and work on things together, building off of what already felt innate to them, had been spectacular.
Shane had really loved playing hockey this year. He always loved it but after everything that had gone down in Montreal, it felt so good to be accepted with open arms. The team had been one of the best supports that he and Ilya had had throughout the entire season.
Shane was so grateful for each and every one of his teammates… but he felt kind of guilty, too.
For all the incredible hockey they’d played and how amazing the team was, everyone having really clicked, things hadn’t been all sunshine and rainbows.
The worst part about the entire season had been the media.
Shane was used to the press. He’d been in front of a camera since he was twelve years old and he had had to deal with his fair share of critics and opinions about him and his play throughout his entire career in hockey, even in Juniors.
He had no problem when he was critiqued on his play. He was able to take that information and either dismiss it or work to improve. But he had never had anyone comment on his relationship before.
It had been one thing when it had been about Rose. Easily dismissible rumors, things that he and Ilya joked about. But things had gotten very, very personal when the speculation and rumors and gossip were about his marriage.
Reporters asked, to his and Ilya’s faces, if their “relationship problems” were the cause of a bad play or a lost game. Treating their relationship as something unsustainable, as if it was all temporary, when they both wore rings around their fingers.
The speculation and opinions around their relationship had been incredibly frustrating and it had created so much unnecessary noise.
Their teammates had stepped in, steering conversations back toward hockey, or flat out telling reporters to stop talking about Ilya and Shane’s relationship. They both appreciated it immensely but Shane certainly felt bad that they had to do that at all.
He didn’t want to be a burden on his new teammates, feeling like he was adding more to their plates, being a disruption.
It had been really hard. He had been afraid of something like this happening and even with preparation from Farah, it had been overwhelming and unfair.
Shane and Ilya were high performers under pressure. They were professionals. But there had been several occasions where they had pulled one another into empty meeting rooms and cried frustrated tears into each other’s jerseys.
On the plus side, Shane had never felt closer to Ilya.
They were a team. A good team. A strong one.
They were there to support one another. To be each other’s biggest hype man and defender.
Even when they didn’t always agree, they were there for one another.
They had their fair share of bickers, even fights, but they always came back together to sort things out between them, and it never got in the way of their play.
Shane was proud of them and all that they had managed to do this season. But using all of that mental and emotional energy, on top of the physical strain of playing an eighty-two game season plus a full Cup run, had left him completely drained.
He couldn’t wait to get to the cottage. To be away from all the attention, able to focus on himself, and Ilya, and Anya.
They had already decided to shut off their phones for a few weeks and steer clear of anything involving sports media.
It was just going to be the two of them and Anya, at the cottage, until their hockey camps.
Nearly two full months of peace and quiet. Of having Ilya all to himself. Shane couldn’t wait for that. To just be.
And they’d be celebrating their first wedding anniversary. That was pretty exciting.
They had told Farah they wouldn’t be going to the NHL awards and had asked Svetlana and Rose to go in their stead. Both women had delightedly agreed. Shane had been grateful to both women for doing that for them, as neither Shane nor Ilya were feeling particularly generous with their time after the year they’d had.
They’d partied with their teammates and had decided to use their time with the Cup together, bringing it with them to their camps.
Shane was pulled from his thoughts as the bed shifted under him again and Ilya appeared above him. His shaggy curls hung around his face like a curtain, his hazel eyes trained on Shane. He was smiling behind his playoff beard and Shane smiled back.
“Come here,” he said, reaching his arms up.
Ilya lay down on top of him, a comforting, warm, firm weight. They both groaned; the sore, bruised parts of them complaining at the added pressure as their bodies pressed together, but neither of them moved.
Shane wrapped his arms around Ilya, one hand holding his opposite wrist, and he closed his eyes, turning his face into Ilya’s neck, breathing him in. He was still sleep warm and smelled like himself and having him like this was reassuring.
They stayed like that for a while, neither of them wanting to move, but Ilya eventually pushed up onto his forearms, leaning down to kiss Shane very softly. It was a tender kiss, just their lips pressed together. Ilya pulled away slowly, carefully extricating himself.
Shane let his hands slide along his shoulders, down his arms, until Ilya was out of reach. He got up and went to their dresser, pausing to say good morning to Anya.
She hopped on the bed, sniffing at Shane’s face.
“Hi, sweet girl,” he murmured, petting her, and laughing softly as she licked his face. She rested her head on his chest and let out a long sigh. Shane chuckled and stroked his hand over her soft fur, peeking over her to watch Ilya slide into a pair of shorts.
Anya perked up immediately when Ilya turned back to the bed, ears up, tail wagging.
“Oh, my sweet little donut,” Ilya cooed at her, sliding into bed on his belly, laying next to Shane, and petting Anya. She shamelessly crawled over Shane, making him groan, and Ilya laugh.
“Jesus,” Shane huffed. “I’m chopped liver over here.”
“Do not be jealous that I am the favorite, Shane,” Ilya hummed teasingly, petting Anya, and letting her lick his face. Shane shook his head and slowly maneuvered his way out of bed to use the bathroom.
“I’ll leave you two to your little love fest,” he chirped.
Finished in the bathroom, he found his husband and dog sitting up in bed, waiting for him. Anya hopped off and Ilya followed. He took Shane’s hand and kissed his cheek. Shane sighed happily, his heart flipping at the sweet gesture.
They followed after Anya, making their way slowly downstairs for coffee and breakfast.
Their media appearances were done and their season was over, so they could head to the cottage whenever they wanted.
Ilya let Anya out in the backyard, standing on the deck, while Shane moved into the kitchen to start making coffee. He pulled mugs from the cabinet when Ilya and Anya came back inside and Ilya went to the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs, and some other ingredients.
He grabbed a bowl, cracking eggs one handed into it. Shane smiled, running his hand along his husband’s waist as he passed him to get Anya’s breakfast ready.
Shane grabbed her bowls, filling it up with her food, and fresh water, bringing it over to the pink mat with her name on it.
“Wait,” he said to her as he placed the bowls down for her.
Anya sat, prim and proper, her eyes trained on Shane. He stood back, giving her a few seconds.
“Okay,” he told her and she skittered forward to get to her food, making him laugh. “Good girl.”
“Are you torturing the dog?” Ilya asked over his shoulder as he scrambled the egg mixture he’d made.
“No,” Shane replied. “I’m keeping on top of her training. Unlike someone .”
He sidled up to Ilya, wrapping his arms around him from behind, and kissing his bare shoulder.
“I’m the cool dad,” Ilya replied and Shane snorted, nipping at him playfully, before moving away to pour coffee once the machine beeped.
Ilya made them cheese omelets with chopped veggies and breakfast sausage. He looked stupidly good at the stove, wearing nothing but his shorts, his curls all wild. Shane would happily watch him there all day. He was still unfairly handsome in the mornings and Shane wanted to shower him with kisses.
So he did, making Ilya stand there while Shane cupped his cheeks and pressed soft kisses to his face, just because he could. Ilya’s face was so shy and so sweet and Shane kissed him some more.
They finally sat at the kitchen table, lowering themselves slowly into their seats, and laughing about it.
“God,” Shane sighed. “Is this how we’re going to be when we’re in our sixties?”
Ilya huffed a laugh. “Probably.”
Shane shook his head, cutting into his omelet and taking a bite.
“This is good,” he hummed because it was. Ilya was a pretty good cook. They both were these days. They’d done a lot of cooking together, it had kind of become their thing.
Ilya smiled, taking his own bite.
Shane looked at him, smiling back.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Ilya replied, leaning back in his chair a bit as he picked up his coffee. “You are cute.”
Shane blushed and huffed, rolling his eyes. Ilya laughed.
“What do you think about leaving for the cottage tomorrow?”
“Fine,” Ilya replied after a moment of thinking. “Will be good, maybe.”
“Yeah. That’s what I was thinking.”
Shane knew they were on the same page; getting some space from Ottawa for a bit and just having time for themselves.
“We can do laundry and pack,” Shane continued.
Ilya nodded. “Okay. No problem.”
Shane smiled softly, reaching out with his foot to brush his toes over the top of Ilya’s foot. His husband chuckled, trapping his foot playfully. They both laughed.
“I’ll text my parents and let them know we’ll be off grid.”
“Yes. I talked to Troy, too. Not to be worried if we are unavailable.”
Shane chuckled. “Harris would get concerned if all of a sudden he didn’t get any Anya content.”
“That is true,” Ilya replied with an amused smile.
They talked a bit more about logistics and what they might need, before lamenting their exhaustion and soreness as they got up from the table.
They left their dirty dishes in the sink for the time being before going upstairs to shower. Shane made their bed as Ilya turned the shower on in the bathroom. He was already naked when Shane joined him, pausing just to watch the outline of Ilya as he stood under the shower spray, the shower doors fogged up.
Shane joined him, closing the door behind him. Ilya just stood there, head bowed, eyes closed.
“You okay?” Shane asked.
“Mm,” Ilya replied, opening his eyes. “Tired.”
“Yeah.”
He shifted closer and Ilya moved out of the way so Shane could step under the waterfall spray.
“How’re your ribs?”
“Not great.”
Ilya turned and Shane hissed as he got a full view of the bruise on Ilya’s side. It was ugly and purple and maybe a little swollen, which was concerning. Shane would have been more panicked if he hadn’t heard from their trainer that Ilya hadn’t cracked any ribs.
“Jesus Christ, Ilya.”
He reached out a tentative hand, very lightly touching the skin, lifting his eyes to Ilya’s.
“Will be fine,” Ilya assured. “But I will be moving slow.”
“You should be in bed.”
Ilya made a face and shook his head. “No.”
Shane huffed but he knew that nothing short of uncontrollable vomiting, a dangerously high fever, or surgery would keep Ilya in bed.
“Take some ibuprofen at least.”
“I will.”
Shane sighed softly and moved into Ilya’s space, dropping his forehead against Ilya’s chest. Ilya hummed, wrapping his arms around him, and just held him under the warm spray.
Shane’s eyes stung a little. Mostly it was because he was tired but some of it was worry. He didn’t like seeing Ilya in pain or uncomfortable. And he just couldn’t wait to be out of the suburbs. Away from prying eyes…
Ilya kissed the top of his head, smoothing his hand up and down Shane’s spine soothingly.
“I love you,” Shane murmured, loud enough to be heard over the spray.
“I love you, too.”
They washed up, both of them moving carefully through the motions. Normally Shane would have washed Ilya up himself, inevitably ending up blowing him, or Ilya fucking him, but there was no way he was going to be able to get down on his knees and back up again. His quads were sore and exhausted. He was amazed he was still standing.
They kissed a bit, just holding each other, before Shane rested his forehead against Ilya’s shoulder.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “I don’t think I can…”
“Is fine,” Ilya replied soothingly, stroking his hand against the wet hair at the back of Shane’s head.
Shane’s eyes stung again, leaving him feeling a little ridiculous. He knew that it was okay that they weren’t having sex right now, that there was no pressure, that Ilya wasn’t upset with him. Nothing was wrong. They were both wrung out, mentally and physically and emotionally exhausted after the tumultuousness of the season.
But it still felt like a failure.
Shane wasn’t sure if that was because all of the vitriol that they’d been exposed to was catching up with him or what… but he was upset.
He let out a shaky breath and Ilya made a soft noise, carefully pulling Shane closer, holding him.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured and that word sent Shane completely over the edge.
He sobbed against Ilya’s neck, letting out all of the exhaustion and frustration and sadness he’d been holding onto since the playoffs had started.
Ilya rested his cheek against Shane’s head, soothing him softly, letting him cry.
When he was completely spent, Ilya leaned away, gently wiping Shane’s cheek with his thumb.
“Better?” he asked gently and Shane nodded, sniffling.
“Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” Ilya replied. “It has been a lot.”
Shane nodded, letting Ilya hug him, closing his eyes, taking solace from the embrace. He was so grateful for patient, loving husbands with hearts of gold. He had no idea where he would be without Ilya.
A ship lost at sea. Unmoored.
Ilya was home. Safe harbor. The calm in the face of Shane’s buffeting anxiety. And Shane needed that. He always needed it.
Ilya leaned away, cupping Shane’s face in one palm. “We are okay.”
Shane smiled softly, leaning into his touch. “I know. Thank you.”
Ilya smiled back, brushing his thumb over Shane’s lips. “There it is. I love this smile,” he murmured, in Russian.
Shane closed his eyes as Ilya bent close, pressing soft kisses to Shane’s face; over his forehead, between his eyes, over his eyelids, his freckles. “I love this face.”
Shane fluttered, eyes stinging again in the face of Ilya’s sweetness.
Even with everything that had happened this year, Ilya had been so gentle with Shane; so patient and so understanding. Sometimes he felt undeserving of it but he had tried to return the sentiment, to be there for Ilya as much as Ilya was for him.
Ilya never wanted to be a burden. Never wanting to cause problems or make waves, but he had had his own concerns and anxieties about all the media attention. He had been so worried that Shane was thinking that he was too complicated, that he wasn’t worth the hassle of all the negative media.
Shane had hurt to hear that, that Ilya was anxious about Shane leaving him, or getting fed up, or throwing in the towel because of everything that was going on. That none of the things they were experiencing would have happened if they hadn’t been outed and that that was somehow Ilya’s fault.
Shane had said he would never give up on Ilya or their relationship, and he had meant every bit of it. Ilya’s depression wasn’t going to scare him off and certainly not the fucking press. But depression and anxiety weren’t necessarily rational.
He had assured Ilya that he was loved. That he wasn’t too much for Shane. That no amount of media weirdness could ever make Shane love him less or want to leave. It was frustrating, surely, but not because of anything that Ilya had done.
They had done a good job of communicating, of supporting one another, of being on the same page.
This was just the relief of putting that first year behind them. All the feelings coming out.
Shane opened his eyes, laughing softly as Ilya rubbed their noses together, the gesture so adorable and soft that Shane got all gooey inside, before Ilya turned off the water.
They stepped out of the shower, grabbing towels, and dried off, making their way back into their bedroom.
Shane slid into a pair of briefs, opening up the ring box on their dresser where their wedding bands resided during the season. They had worn silicone ones, a suggestion from other players who were married, and it had been fine, but Shane hadn’t loved it.
He hadn’t been a fan of how the silicone felt against his skin in his glove and while it hadn’t impacted his performance, it was more just a comfort thing.
He’d thought about going back to wearing his ring around the chain he’d bought but Ilya had been talking about getting his wedding band as a tattoo… and Shane was seriously considering the idea.
He wasn’t super into tattoos for himself but he did like the idea of something permanent like that on his body. Shane was all in. He had been for a long, long time. He intended to spend the rest of his life with Ilya and the permanence of an inked band around his finger was very appealing to him.
Shane slid off the silicone ring, taking his wedding band out of the box, and put it on. Ilya came up behind him, kissing his shoulder. Shane looked up, catching his reflection in the mirror, watching as Ilya wordlessly took off his own silicone ring and plucked his wedding band from the box, sliding it on.
Shane smiled and Ilya met his eyes in the mirror. Ilya smiled back, winking at him, before kissing his cheek, and turning away to finish getting dressed.
Once they were both dressed, Ilya gathered their laundry to start a load, while Shane pulled out bags so they could pack what they needed for the cottage. They already had a lot of stuff there and would pick some things up to bring with them (like groceries) but there were always a few things they liked bringing from home.
Shane packed a few items and went to find Ilya, who was lying on the floor with Anya in the living room.
“Should we go for a walk?” he asked, Anya perking up at one of her favorite words.
Ilya rolled onto his back, looking up at Shane, his curls splayed out against the carpet, his t-shirt having ridden up a bit to expose a sliver of skin, a peek of firm belly that Shane wanted to kiss.
“We should,” Ilya replied, slowly sitting up. He got to his feet and sighed and Shane chuckled, rubbing his back as they walked to the door together to put shoes on, Anya following them happily.
Shane slid on his sneakers, watching Ilya clip Anya’s leash to her collar, leaning down to rub her face, and kiss the top of her head.
“Yes, I know you are excited, sweet girl,” he cooed, Anya’s paws tip-tapping on the floor by the door.
Ilya looked up at Shane, his curls tucked behind his ears, and Shane was flooded with so much love for him. It was a silly thing, just looking at his husband this way, seeing him like this hundreds of times since they’d been together.
But they’d come out the other side of this season stronger than before and Shane was so appreciative and proud of how well they’d done despite the adversity. It hadn’t been easy, but they had persevered.
So all these small moments together felt bigger. He appreciated them more.
“What?” Ilya asked, standing up, his lips tilted up in a little smile.
“I just love you.”
Ilya smiled wider, sweet and warm. “I love you, too.”
Shane shifted closer, wrapping his arms around one of Ilya’s and leaned up to kiss his bearded cheek.
“Let’s go,” Shane murmured and Ilya hummed, kissing his temple.
They left the house with the dog, though Ilya peeked out the door first, checking to be sure the coast was clear. They had had a few threats during the season of people showing up at their house. Nothing had come of them but it had still been scary.
They’d gotten a bit more at ease but the knee-jerk reaction to double check still existed. Shane hoped that that would ease up some over the summer.
The coast was clear and Shane felt Ilya’s body relax.
Their walk around the neighborhood was calm. They didn’t see anyone except their neighbors who greeted them as always. Cars passed by without incident. Anya sniffed around and did her doggy thing. Shane held Ilya’s hand like they always did on these walks. It was all blissfully normal.
They saw Willa, Andrew, and Kate on the way back, making a pit stop so the kids could say hi to Anya.
“How are you guys holding up?” Kate asked.
Shane looked at Ilya and Ilya looked back, understanding passing between them, before they turned back to Kate.
“We’re okay,” Shane replied. “Tired. It’s been a long season. We’re heading to Ontario tomorrow, which’ll be nice.”
“Good for you. You both deserve a nice rest.”
“Thank you,” Ilya said. “And thank you for all the support this season.”
Kate smiled at them, her expression one of soft understanding. “Of course. We’re rooting for you guys on and off the ice. And who isn’t excited about finally having a Stanley Cup in Ottawa?”
Ilya laughed warmly. “It took a while but we got there.”
“It was great. You guys did awesome. The kids were ecstatic. Especially because they know you. It was very cool.”
“Good, I’m glad.”
Shane blushed a little, smiling up at Ilya with pride. He appreciated Kate’s support, and how kind she had been to Ilya and by extension himself. She had become a huge support for them, just keeping things on their block feeling normal.
They chatted with her and the kids for a while longer before they went back to the house. Sneakers were placed back on the rack by the door and Ilya took Anya’s collar off, hanging the collar and leash up.
“Lunch?” Shane asked. “And maybe a nap?”
“Sounds perfect,” Ilya replied.
Shane made a salad with sliced strawberries and blueberries, sprinkled with goat cheese, and a vinaigrette he made, with sliced chicken breast he’d seasoned and was currently baking.
Ilya helped him with some of the fruit and it felt nice to just stand side by side, working in comfortable quiet.
Shane leaned his head on Ilya’s shoulder and Ilya kissed the top of his head. The alarm he’d set went off and Ilya turned to take the chicken out of the oven.
Shane cut the chicken up and added the slices to the salads that Ilya had spooned into bowls.
“Thank you,” Shane said as he set the pan back on top of the stove.
“Of course,” Ilya replied.
They decided to sit in the living room, turning on a movie. Ilya had given Anya some blueberries so she was pretty well-behaved as they ate their salads on the couch.
They cuddled for a bit once lunch was done and then went back to the kitchen to clean up lunch and breakfast. Ilya stood at the sink, rinsing things, handing them to Shane, who placed them in the dishwasher. He closed the door and turned the machine on.
They went about the kitchen, cleaning things out of the fridge since they’d be gone. Ilya held a garbage bag open as Shane went through the items. He hated food waste but it was even worse when they were gone and the food went bad. But there wasn’t a lot they had to get rid of which was good. Once that was done, they both went upstairs for a nap.
The rest of their day after their nap was cleaning up, packing, and taking Anya out.
Shane lay on the couch, watching Ilya with Anya on the floor. She seemed to get the idea that neither of them were interested in anything exciting and was happy to playfully paw at and lick at Ilya’s fingers.
Shane took several pictures on his phone, his social media apps disabled. He smiled at the sweet pictures of his husband and dog, looking warmly at his screen.
They ordered take out for dinner and just hunkered down to do nothing into the evening until bed. They were both tired and hurting and the idea of doing anything besides being horizontal was unappealing.
They ended up going to bed as soon as it was dark. They moved about their nighttime routine slowly. Ilya washed his face, his hair held back by a headband. He’d grown it out a bit this past season and it reminded Shane of how he’d had it when they were twenty-three. He put it up sometimes, in a little ponytail. It was cute.
Shane stood next to him, going about his oral hygiene routine. They finished up, Ilya turning off the light, following Shane to bed, where they carefully crawled in.
“You okay?” Shane asked as Ilya spooned against him.
“Fine,” Ilya replied and then yawned. “This is not my bad side.”
Shane chuckled. “That’s good.”
“Yes,” Ilya replied, kissing the back of Shane’s neck, nuzzling him, making Shane shiver pleasantly.
He patted Ilya’s hand and then threaded their fingers, snuggling deeper against the mattress, but careful not to bump Ilya too much.
“Sleep,” Ilya whispered, sounding amused, and Shane sighed. He was asleep in seconds.