Chapter Text
For the past decade or so, Christmas in Boston meant three long, boring days off in the middle of the season where there was no hockey. All of Ilya’s teammates and regular hookups were busy celebrating with their families and there was nothing to do but drink, jerk-off, and watch reruns of old holiday movies playing on TV. And one could only rewatch How the Grinch Stole Christmas so many times.
Sometimes his teammates would invite him to join their families for Christmas festivities but Ilya often refused, citing, dramatically, his desperate need for peace away from the ugly, sweaty men he was constantly surrounded by. They always just brushed his primadonna act off with a smirk and a casual, “Fuck off, Rozy”.
Mostly, though, Ilya simply didn’t want to be reminded of the cheerful holidays that he had never experienced with his own family.
Christmas in Russia was different from America. For one, they weren’t even celebrated at the same time. The Russian Orthodox Church celebrated Christmas on the seventh of January and New Years was the main December holiday, anymore. With his hockey schedule, Ilya was never able to take the time to fly back home for either holiday, nor would he really want to.
The Rozanov family New Years was always very contained, the exchanging of a few small presents and a special meal. As Ilya and Andrei got older they would go out to parties, coming home in the early hours drunk and/or high with the expected disappointment from their father. Christmas was a more solemn, pious affair. Traditionally celebrated with a period of fasting and much praying.
Growing up, Christmas meant endless hours at church in stiffly starched shirts and heavy wool jackets that itched relentlessly. Dinners were dark, quiet times of reflection and the piercing stares of relatives and his father’s government friends. His only comfort was the warm softness of his mother’s hand in his, held in her lap throughout the droning service. The sweets she would sneak him after dinner, chocolates and tart jam covered blini.
But that small warmth in the cold winter, like a pulsing candle in the dark corner of the frigid dining room, had been snuffed out many years ago. Ilya was left to endure the dour Christmas’ alone, shrinking away from the icy gazes of his Father and brother.
So, Ilya would rather have a peaceful, if not boring, Christmas alone, than sit with overly jovial strangers and pretend he was not aching for a family he never had and missing the one warmth he could never reach for again.
With the move to Ottawa, Ilya had been expecting a similar routine - brushing off his cheery teammates easily and sitting alone in his new house for three days. But a new team, new city, and new relationship meant retreating into his Christmas isolation was not in the cards this season.
Throughout the month, Ilya was accosted by various team and staff members to participate in holiday promo or local activities. Harris introduced him to the concept of ugly holiday sweaters and awkward family photoshoots. Hayes and Lisa took him on a drive to see the neighborhoods dressed up with lights and various sparkly or inflated decorations. Bood hosted a mulled wine and meat meet-up. His naming scheme was cheesy but it was a great time, especially with Ilya winning the gingerbread house building contest.
But with all the surrounding cheer, Ilya was now dreading the isolation once the holiday actually hit. For all of his years of self-isolation, he now felt like he had a family with the Centaurs and got a taste of what some of that warmth could be like again.
And then he talked to Shane.
They were on Facetime together a few days before the break, Shane was in Detroit after a game and after some… intimate time… they had discussed the game and now Ilya was recounting his expedition with some of the boys to the Christmas market.
“It was packed, moy kremovyy pirozhok. It was hard to stop and look at the little trinkets and treats the people were selling. Haas and I did get to try Canadian icewine. Maybe not quite as good as the stuff in Europe but good enough for us.”
Shane grinned, enjoying the way Ilya waved his hands around while describing the scene, his eyes lit up with joy.
“I used to go to the markets as a kid with my parents. I used to love getting maple taffy and tourtiere. Do they still have those?” Shane asked, pleased that Ilya is experiencing some of the fun parts of Ottawa.
“They do! I got the turtle-pie thing. Very good, but obviously not as good as pirozhki. I do not know if they had taffy. There was very long lines for some of the things so we did not try them. But now it is bummer. All of the boys are going home to families or something so I will have no one to hang out with over break. And I am tired of the creepy Rudolph movie,” Ilya sighed, sinking back into the pillows on his couch.
Shane’s eyebrows furrowed, suddenly looking adorably confused, “What do you mean? We’ll be hanging out?”
Now Ilya was confused as well, “What do I mean? What do you mean? We are hanging out? Are you not spending holiday with your parents?”
“Of course I’m spending Christmas with my parents, but you are too. Aren’t you? Are you not gonna come?” Shane asked.
“What? I am allowed at Hollander Christmas?” Ilya questioned, confused by his boyfriend’s sudden invitation.
“Ilya, of course you’re allowed at our Christmas. There isn’t even an “allow” about it. You’re my boyfriend. And now you live in Ottawa so I guess maybe I just assumed you’d be coming to Christmas and didn’t talk to you about it. Of course, you don’t have to if you don’t want to…” Now Shane looked a little bashful and embarrassed about forgetting to invite his boyfriend to his family’s Christmas celebrations, and nervous now that he might not come at all.
“I want to. I would love to have a boring Hollander Christmas instead of boring alone Christmas, moy malen'kiy stepler,” Ilya grinned, watching Shane roll his eyes on his screen.
“We are not boring. We’re normal. We do normal Christmas things,” Shane stated, already exasperated with his annoying, adorable boyfriend, “Anyways, are you okay with staying the night at my parent’s house? It’s kind of a tradition at this point for me to go over on Christmas Eve and stay through Boxing Day, depending on the team schedule.”
“Oooooh sleepover at the Hollander house. How exciting! Will we both fit in your tiny twin bed? Do you have choo choo train sheets?” Ilya teased.
Shane was going to get a headache with how much he was rolling his eyes at this point, “No Ilya, I do not have train sheets. I’ve got a queen bed so we should be fine. Lemme know if you want to make anything for Christmas dinner or dessert or something. I’d love to try some Russian Christmas food.”
“Okay, I will think about it. You would break your diet for blini?”
“I can have a bite. We’re still mid-season, though, so don’t expect me to be downing mulled wine and cookies like I know you will be,” Shane smiled. His boyfriend was one of the best hockey players in the league but also a vacuum when it came to food. He had no idea how he could keep up his insane physique and level of play while eating the amount of sugary, generally unhealthy food he did. But his dad would be happy that someone was eating the speculaas cookies and the fried chicken.
After saying their I love yous and goodnights, Shane and Ilya signed off their call. Hundreds of kilometers away from one another at that moment but together again in just a few days for their first Christmas together.