Chapter Text
Three minutes to the next game against the Admirals, and Shane Hollander is throwing up in an arena toilet for the third time today. He’s been hoping that the latest nausea spell—of many he’s had of late—would pass by the time the game started, but no.
Shane had left the ice mid-warmup to throw up. Better everyone think he’s got the runs than the truth.
The Metros’ only omega—and team captain’s—heat is late. Five days late, to be specific.
Wiping his mouth, Shane shakes his head, rising to his feet as he heads to the sink. Sure, he doesn’t know for sure, but a late heat and puking randomly can only mean so many things. He’s probably got one in the oven, maybe two if he’s really unlucky. Shit, what will he tell the team?
What will he tell Ilya?
Making his way back onto the ice, Shane spends the game distracted, barely able to focus. He manages to score two goals, but that’s because he’s Shane Hollander, and he can play this game blindfolded. Still, he’s cautious on the ice, taking care not to get slammed by other players or hit in a fight, but there’s only so much he can do.
As soon as the game is over, he heads straight to his phone, pulling it out to text Ilya. Before he can even begin a text to “Lilly” though, Hayden comes up behind him with a hand on his shoulder. “You doing okay, Shane?”
Shane, still fighting back nausea, nods at the beta. “Yeah, totally.”
“Never known you to shy away from a hit.”
“My ribs were sore from the other night.” Shane knows it’s a lie, he hadn’t gotten hit on Tuesday’s game either, but he can’t exactly tell Hayden, Hey, I think I might be pregnant so I can’t get tackled right now, thanks for asking!
“Oookayyyy,” Hayden replies, but he doesn’t question it. “Jackie invited you to dinner again tomorrow, by the way. She promises to make your gross food.”
Fuck, he can’t possibly make plans with anyone right now, especially involving his diet--which is gonna have to change if he’s pregnant, if he chooses to keep the baby. He’s still got to tell Ilya, so he needs to end this conversation now and run for the hills--his apartment.
Attempting a kind smile, Shane shakes his head. “Yeah, I can’t, I’m busy tomorrow night, sorry.”
Hayden’s brow furrows. “You sure you’re okay?”
Definitely not. “Absolutely,” Shane replies, then he grabs his phone out of his pocket, fishing out car keys as he waves goodbye to Hayden. “I’ll see you around.”
“See you.”
As soon as he’s out of sight, sitting behind the wheel of his Jeep, Shane begins typing a message with shaky fingers. He can’t remember where Ilya is supposed to be playing tonight, if he’s playing tonight. What he’ll do if Ilya is somewhere far away, he’s not sure. He just hopes he’s on the East Coast, or at least somewhere in the vicinity of the Canadian border or an airport.
He needs him here. Now.
Shane’s body is a mess when he gets to his apartment. He’s grateful for self-checkout, having not wanted to run into anyone during his brief foray into the drug store for a pregnancy test… or two. For something this serious, they’ll want to be sure, right?
The knock at his door comes about five minutes after Shane gets home, three minutes after Shane pees on the stupid sticks, one minute after Shane looks at the fucking pink plus signs, and about thirty seconds after tears spring to his eyes. Despite the mountain of evidence preceding this, he’s still surprised, still shaken to his core that something like this could happen.
Of course, he knows how it happened. Their condom must’ve broken at some point, they must not have been careful enough in checking.
Ilya opens the door a moment later, calling out Shane’s surname as he walks inside. Shane announces that he’s in the bathroom, and takes the pregnancy tests in hand, holding them out like they’re gifts for Ilya. Maybe in a strange, twisted way, they kind of are.
Shane is pretty sure he wants to keep the baby, but whether Ilya will be on board or not is anyone’s guess.
As Ilya walks around the corner into the bathroom, a tear streaks down Shane’s cheek. “Hollander, what is this?”
Shane swallows the lump in his throat, handing one of the tests to Ilya’s outstretched hand. If Ilya gives a fuck that this is something Shane had pissed on, he doesn’t show it. He watches the realization dawn on Ilya’s face, watches him pale, then he looks up at Shane, a thousand emotions passing over his eyes at once. “Is this real?”
“Of course it’s real,” Shane whimpers, wiping the tears from his eyes as he sets down the other pregnancy test. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
Ilya exhales shakily, then he sets down the test in his hand, and offers it out to Shane. “We should sit.”
Nodding, Shane takes Ilya’s hand, allowing him to guide him over to his living room sofa. They sit side by side, Ilya wiping sweaty palms on his black joggers. Neither of them speak for a moment, and when Shane tries, all that comes out is a sob, his arms crossing over his abdomen, fingers clutching at his sides, and suddenly, Ilya is pulling him into an embrace.
Ilya’s arms wrap around Shane’s shoulders, his nose burrowing into the Canadians neck. “Hey, it’s okay.”
“No, it’s not… what the hell are we gonna do?”
“Do you want to get a…?”
“No.” Shane swallows. “It’s not that I have a problem with them or anything, I just… I can’t.” He’s not even sure why he doesn’t want to get one, but when he thinks about it, there’s this feeling in his gut telling him no, reminding him what this could be. “I can’t.”
Ilya breathes in deeply. “Okay.”
Pulling back, Shane stares at him. “Okay?”
“Yes, Hollander, I’ll do what I can for support.” Ilya reaches down, and takes one of Shane’s hands in his. “Will be okay. You will see.”
Shane sniffles, but wipes the tears away from his eyes. “I’m gonna have to take off the rest of the season. I’ll have to cite ‘health issues.’ The league will have questions. So will the team, but I’ll tell everyone it’s temporary and I’ll be back next season.”
“When are you…?”
“My last heat was six weeks ago, so I guess sometime in July? August at the most?”
Ilya shudders beside him. “July. You’re having a baby in July.” Then he squeezes Shane’s hand, drawing his attention. “We are having a baby.”
Looking up at him, Shane shakes his head. “You don’t have to do this with me, if you don’t want to. You can go home, play hockey, forget it ever happened.” He swallows the lump in his throat. “I mean…”
Though he hesitates slightly, Ilya nods. “Hollander—Shane—I did this to you. It is my responsibility.”
Sniffling, Shane wipes another tear from his eye. “Okay.” He releases a shaky breath. “So how do we want to do this?”
*
Ilya will continue playing hockey. Shane is going to hide out in his cottage, citing health issues, and Ilya will visit him when he can. If they’re successful, no one will need to know about the baby until Shane is ready—if he’s ready.
Part of him wonders, as he unpacks his things for his long term stay at the cottage, what will happen when the baby is born. He can’t exactly hide it forever, and people will wonder why he has a child—especially as an unmated omega. Sure, society has become progressive enough that single parents aren’t shunned, but with his life in the spotlight… He’ll never be able to escape the question of who the alpha parent was.
Sure, he could just say it was a stranger, and then gain the reputation of careless slut. He has approximately seven and a half months to figure it out.
Somehow, Ilya is incredibly kind through the whole thing. He brings another suitcase of Shane’s stuff into the cottage, grunting softly as he lifts it onto the bed. Shane has tried to help him lift some of the heavier things, but the alpha won’t let him. He’s oddly protective, considering they aren’t together, aren’t in love, and there’s another thing that tugs at Shane’s heartstrings.
When he’d pictured this moment, expecting his first child, he’d always thought he’d be in love.
Ilya places a hand on Shane’s shoulder, the omega tilting his head up to look him in the eyes. “Are you okay?”
Looking around the cottage, at the various luggage strewn about the room, the sight of all his family photos lining the walls, Shane knows he isn’t. This isn’t where he thought his life would go, and he knows he could turn back, that it isn’t too late, but every fiber in his being wants this. He wants to keep his baby, even if he doesn’t fully understand why.
“No,” Shane admits, a tear falling to his cheeks, and he wipes it away. “I’m not okay, but… I want to be.”
Ilya swallows. “I’m staying here tonight.”
“W-what?”
“Is good for you, and baby.”
“Where did you get that idea?”
“Google.” Ilya grins, then he sits down on Shane’s bed. “Says it’s good for the alpha to be near the omega during pregnancy. Something to do with the pheromones.”
Shane crosses his arms over his chest. “You don’t even like me, and you want to spend a night here.”
“Maybe I don’t like you, but I like my son.”
“Oh, so you think it’s a boy, do you?” Shane grins, staring down at his still flat abdomen. “We won’t even know what it is for months.”
Ilya shrugs. “Just a guess. Either way, I like them, our baby. I want the best for them. I want to be… good parent.”
That sounds nice, Shane thinks, liking the idea that Ilya is just as invested in this as he is. They may not actually like each other, but they’ll do their best for their child. “We may want to try to get along then, for their sake.”
“Become… friends?”
“I guess so. I’d hate to grow up with parents who didn’t like each other.”
“I turned out okay.”
“Fuck off.”
Ilya smirks, then he rises from the bed. “If we are going to get along for the baby, there can be no more ‘fuck you or fuck off.’” He puts his hands on his hips, looking Shane up and down. “Maybe fucking you, though.”
Heat rising to Shane’s cheeks, he looks away from Ilya. “Fine, but you’re taking the spare room.”
“Works for me.”
*
That night, Shane lies awake, a hand lazily splayed across his bare abdomen as he contemplates his life. He wonders what his future will look like, what raising a baby with Ilya fucking Rozanov is going to look like.
God, he can’t believe Ilya got him pregnant, that it’s fucking Rozanov who is going to be dropping off the kid at daycare and picking him--or her--up from school. It’ll be Ilya who comes with him to doctor’s appointments--if he chooses--and Ilya who’s there with him in the delivery room.
And they barely like each other.
In all honesty, Shane likes Ilya more than he lets on. There’s something comforting about his presence, something that his omega trusts inherently--or they wouldn’t sleep together in the first place. He knows he likes Ilya’s scent, lavender and a hint of pine, but beyond sex, they hardly enjoy one another’s company.
Except that’s not entirely true, is it? Shane distinctly remembers several times he’s left hookups disappointed that Ilya hadn’t kissed him, remembers a text he’d never sent. Part of him does long for time with Ilya, to spend more than just a few rounds of mind blowing sex together.
He supposes, now that he’s pregnant with Ilya’s baby, he’ll be getting his wish.
“Fuck,” he mutters, running a hand over his face as he rises to his feet. A tiny wave of nausea washes over him, and he grips his nightstand to keep upright, willing himself not to throw up. Swallowing down the urge, he makes his way out of the bedroom and heads for the kitchen, yawning despite his lack of proper exhaustion.
Just because his mind is awake, doesn’t mean his body isn’t fucking tired.
Tying the loose waistband of his plaid pajama pants a bit tighter, Shane enters the kitchen, flicking on a light before screaming like a little girl. Ilya is standing by the fridge, a cup of pudding in his hands, spoon frozen midway to his mouth as he locks eyes with Shane.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Shane sputters, then he places a hand over his chest. “What the fuck are you doing in here?”
“Was hungry, needed a snack,” Ilya replies, casually shoveling more pudding into his mouth. “What are you doing here?”
Shane swallows, his hand falling to his abdomen. He watches the way Ilya’s eyes fall with it, the softness in them profound. “Couldn’t sleep. Felt nauseous, so I decided to come down here and get some water.”
Humming his response, Ilya takes another bite of his pudding, watching as Shane reaches into a cabinet beside the fridge, and takes out an old Ottawa Centaurs cup his mom had bought years ago. They’re quiet as he takes it to the fridge and fills it up, neither of them seeming to know what to say, but Shane can tell Ilya is releasing calming pheromones; he can smell it in the strengthening lavender of his scent.
It’s a sweet gesture, one he wonders if he’ll see more of in the coming months. Shane takes a sip of his water. “How long are you staying?”
“I have to leave in the morning. We have a game in New York in two days--technically tomorrow.”
Shane nods, his nerves creeping in suddenly at the thought of Ilya’s absence. “I’m scheduling my first doctor’s appointment tomorrow. I’m hoping to see someone within the week.”
Disappointment sinks Ilya’s features. “I won’t be able to be there.”
“It’s okay. There’ll be others.” But Shane can’t deny he’s a little disappointed Ilya won’t be able to make the appointment, then he realizes something. “Actually, maybe it’s better you don’t come to any of them.”
Now Ilya’s brow furrows with confusion. “Why not? Is my baby, too, yes?”
“Well, yeah, but if a doctor sees you with me, then they’ll know you’re the father--they’ll realize we’ve been together.” Shane gestures vaguely. “They might think we’re a couple, might tell people--you know, the press?”
Ilya sets down his pudding, hands gripping the countertop behind him. “You’re worried about our secret getting out.”
“Yes. I’m already risking it getting out just by seeing a doctor, by going outside, I don’t want to risk both of our careers just because of me.”
“Hollander, I did this, too.”
“I know.”
Ilya steps forward, taking Shane’s glass out of his hand, and setting it on the counter before he takes his face in his palms, forcing the omega to look up. “I will say it as many times as needs saying,” he tells him, voice firm and almost commanding. “I am on board for all of it. I want to be there at doctor’s appointments, if you’re comfortable with it. I don’t want to miss any big moments in the baby’s life, even before he’s born. Okay?”
Shane’s heart is beating in his chest like a little bird. “Okay.” He looks down at Rozanov’s lips, then back up to his eyes. “I’ll have my agent draw up an NDA for the doctor. Maybe Farah can help us keep this a proper secret.”
“See? There’s a solution.” Ilya pats Shane’s cheek, then he steps back, and they fall silent for another moment.
Water is sipped, and pudding is eaten. Shane finishes his glass without a word, then sets it in the kitchen sink to be washed in the morning, and Ilya’s spoon joins it a moment later. The two of them stare at one another in the aftermath, and the omega sighs as he leans against the countertop. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Neither do I.”
“Do you even want kids?”
“I do.” Ilya smiles warmly then. “I always imagined two. One boy, one girl. Does not matter which comes first.”
Shane nods. “Yeah, I kinda feel the same. I think I’d like two.” He laughs. “Hopefully we’re not having two now, but maybe someday I’d like to have a second kid. Maybe after I’m retired, though.”
“I don’t know, your friend, what’s his name--Pike? He seems to enjoy having many children and playing hockey.”
A laugh falls from Shane’s lips. “Because Hayden is fucking insane.” He doesn’t know how Hayden manages to do it either. Being a beta, he should have a harder time fathering as many children as he has, but maybe Jackie is just the most fertile omega on the planet. “Maybe I’ll feel differently after I have this one, but I think I’d like to win another cup or two before that happens.”
“You wish, Hollander.”
“Hey, I’ve already beaten you the past two years in a row,” Shane says with a grin, then he frowns, that sadness creeping up in his throat again. “Guess there’s always next season.”
“Guess so.”
“I’m really gonna miss hockey.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
Before the first sob can wrack his throat, Ilya’s arms are wrapping around Shane’s waist, pulling him close as Shane rests his head in the crook of Ilya’s neck and shoulder. “I’m so fucking scared,” he whispers, breathing in the calming lavender emanating from the alpha’s scent glands.
One of Ilya’s hands makes its way into his hair. “I’m sorry, Shane. I’m sorry I did this to you.”
Part of Shane wants to tell him it isn’t his fault, that they made this mistake together, but in that moment, he’s a little upset and angry and just wants to yell at the world. He remains silent, sobbing into the fabric of Ilya’s shirt as the alpha holds him in his kitchen, swaying gently back and forth to soothe him.
As Shane calms down enough to pull away from the hug, he takes in a shaky breath. “Will you stay with me tonight? Like in the same bed?”
“Sure.” Ilya’s expression is serious, leaving no hint of teasing or a mean retort threatening to spill from his lips.
“I just think it might help me sleep better.”
“Me too.”
“And like you said, it’s good for the, uh, baby.”
“Right…” Ilya replies. “It’s good for the baby.” Then he follows Shane out of the kitchen, neither of them speaking as they make their way into the bedroom.
Once inside, Shane returns to his side of the bed, gesturing for Ilya to take the side closest to the door. “Is it okay if I sleep on this side?”
“Does not matter to me.” Ilya shrugs, then flops down in the bed. “You are pregnant, you should have whatever side of the bed you want.”
A tiny smile tilts the corners of Shane’s mouth, then he crawls beneath the covers, lying on his side facing away from the alpha. “So, uh… goodnight then, Rozanov.”
“Goodnight, Hollander.”
Shane closes his eyes, listening to the sound of Ilya’s breathing beside him as he slowly falls into sleep. Within minutes, he’s out like a light, his thoughts of lavender and pine and a child with Ilya’s curls and Shane’s smile, laughing as they swing on a playground swingset, watched by both of their fathers smiling faces.