Chapter Text
Boston
Ilya watches Hollander pull back from where he was seated in his lap on the couch. He feels the man’s weight settle more on Ilya’s knees and widens his legs to accommodate the shift. Hollander was staring intently at him, his eyes bouncing from one part of his face to the next. Had it been a mistake to say his name? Hollander had said his, in return.
Ilya could feel the cum on his lower abdomen cooling quickly as he carefully puts his hands on top of Hollander’s thighs. Was he going to freak out? It certainly looked like he was going to freak out. Hollander’s hands slide up to cover Ilya’s, squeezing tightly as his breath comes out more rapidly. It was obvious that Hollander was trying to calm down, but he was quickly losing his internal battle.
“Sorry,” the man says in a cut off voice, before pressing his lips together and attempting to control his breath. “Sorry- give me a second.”
He’s off of Ilya’s lap before the other man can stop it, quickly tucks his dick back into the pants that Ilya had given him, grabs his phone from the coffee table and darts off to Ilya’s bathroom. Ilya hears the door click shut and after a few moments, the muffled sound of Shane speaking in Japanese.
Ilya tries to tune him out, even though he couldn’t understand the man. He had gone too far, it was obvious. It had been stupid of him to even suggest that Hollander stay the night. They didn’t do that, even if a part of him desperately wanted it to happen. It would be impossible - the two of them together in any capacity other than what they were. And even then, he should have ended things a long time ago. Hollander was not an easy man to quit, though. Cigarettes would be easier to quit than him.
Staring down at the coffee table, he sees their almost empty plates. Ilya snags a chip off of Shane’s plate and pops it in his mouth, mechanically chewing as his mind swirls with his impossible desires and the crushing reality of everything. He had fucked it all up.
He hears Hollander end the phone call and the bathroom sink faucet turn on and off. The door opens and Hollander appears around the corner with a hesitant set about himself. He doesn’t look Ilya in the eyes as he walks up to the couch and sits next to him. Hollander gently wipes Ilya’s stomach clean with a wet washcloth and tucks his softened dick back into his joggers. It’s only when Hollander has tossed the washcloth onto the coffee table that the man looks into Ilya’s eyes. Ilya’s breath catches in his throat.
“Idiot,” Hollander says without any real heat behind it.
Ilya stares in amazement at the man in front of him, he slowly pulls Hollander closer and the other man allows it. He catches the slight shake in Hollander’s hands before pulling him into a tight hug, his chin resting on top of Hollander’s head. He can’t help the wide smile that spreads across his face. He had fucked up, but Hollander was fine with it.
Hollander huffs out a laugh and starts to slap at Ilya’s torso, asking, without words, to be let up. Ilya releases him, but keeps the man close, the wide smile still playing at his lips. Hollander gives a small smile back, his eyes still slightly wary.
“Turn the volume back up, I think Price just started a fight.” Hollander says before turning to sit more fully on the couch, touching shoulders with Ilya as he tucks his legs up to hug against his shirtless chest.
“Bossy,” Ilya says quietly before doing what he was told. He wraps an arm around Hollander, bumping the sides of their heads together before returning his focus to the TV. They both let out a sympathetic, “Ooohf,” as the camera zooms in on Price wailing on a defenseman from the other team.
Once the game is over, Buffalo obviously loses, and the post game commentators finish giving their opinions on the different plays, Ilya turns to the other man and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Want to practice getting your ass handed to you?”
“Really? A third round?” Ilya loves the way Hollander’s nose scrunches in confusion, “We have all night.”
All night. What a nice thought. “No, I meant video game, Hollander. Fucking works too, though.” Ilya gestures towards his gaming console and the row of NHL video games.
Hollander sits up in interest, Ilya missing the press of his body against his immediately. “Should we play the newest one?”
“Why? Because your face is on cover?” Ilya grumbles, standing to set the game up.
“Jealous?” Hollander asks haughtily.
Ilya glances behind him where he’s crouched in front of his entertainment center to see Hollander splayed out on the couch, his body almost parallel with the seat cushions, but his head was bent at a funny angle. The man had a stupid grin on his face that made something in Ilya’s stomach flutter. He turns on his console before quickly standing and grabbing a pillow, throwing it in Hollander’s general direction.
“Jealous?” Ilya asks, picking up another pillow and managing to beam Hollander in the face with it. “Oh, Mr. Front Cover-” Ilya jumps on top of the other man, causing Hollander to let out a short scream that quickly dissolves into laughter as Ilya picks up one of the deployed pillows and continues to hit Hollander with it. “You think I was not asked to be on front cover first? Maybe I turned down offer. You know nothing.”
Ilya futilely tries to keep the grin off of his face, gazing down at Hollander in wonder. He had never heard the man laugh so openly. The mental slip causes him to hold the pillow limply between them. Hollander takes the opportunity to steal the weapon and hit Ilya back savagely. Ilya stands from his spot on the couch when he almost gets knocked off, and spins on the ball of his foot to run away. It doesn’t take long for Ilya to hear Hollander chasing after him.
They eventually do play video games together - wasting the late afternoon virtually kicking each other’s asses as they talked about their experiences filming movements for the game developers. Once the sun starts to set, Ilya orders in food from his favorite Italian place and they kill time by lazily making out before their food arrives. They eat at the kitchen island in comfortable silence. Hollander cleans up after, also grabbing the plates from their lunch.
“Do you want to watch movie?” Ilya asks from his spot at the island, enjoying the view of Hollander bending down in front of the dishwasher. He gets a sound of approval in return. “What do you want to watch?”
Hollander closes the dishwasher and hums, propping his hip against the island. “Have you watched Earth Girls are Easy? It has young Geena Davis and Jeff Goldblum in it.”
Ilya frowns exaggeratedly and shrugs, “No. Is good?”
Ilya watches Hollander struggle to hide a smile before saying, “Oh, it’s right up your alley.”
They return to the couch and Hollander finds the film quickly. Putting on Russian subtitles before hitting play. Hollander’s hand finds his and Ilya watches the cheesy opening scene suspiciously. Ilya slowly gets more invested as they follow Geena Davis, playing Valerie, to work - 80s fashion was a lost art. He starts to play with Hollander’s fingers laced with his.
“It is musical?” Ilya asks incredulously.
“Not really - just enjoy it for its heritage.”
“Heratige.” Ilya repeats.
“Typically used to describe inheritance, like a child inheriting their father’s business.” Shane explains distractedly. “In this case, it means an important piece of older media.”
Ilya hums in response and settles into Hollander’s side. Staring with wide eyes at Geena Davis in lingerie and a horrible wig, he thinks he understands what the idiom, ‘right up your alley’ means. His jaw drops when Jeff Goldblum is finally revealed in all of his oiled up glory.
“Holy shit, Hollander.”
“Just wait for the night gown scene.” Hollander says, smiling. He hadn’t been wrong. The director knew what he was doing with the lighting as Geena Davis lounged in bed in a practically sheer, white night gown.
By the time the movie ends, Ilya is eager to touch Hollander all over.
They kiss for a while on the couch, Ilya spread out on top of him, before he decides to stand up and guide the man back to his bed. He knows that he is being too tender as he prepares Hollander, his gaze not leaving the other man’s eyes.
In his defence, Hollander’s expression is utterly soft, as well. Ilya allows the man to pull him up to press a loving kiss against Hollander’s lips. He travels down, pressing kisses as he goes, and settles to bite and kiss at Hollander’s neck.
Ilya moans as he slides into Hollander, fucking him slowly and unlike any other time they’ve had sex. They keep eye contact for as long as they can until Ilya has to break it, resting his forehead on Hollander’s shoulder as he continues to thrust in and out in slow drags. He feels one of Hollander’s hands slide up from Ilya’s waist to rest at the back of his head.
“Idiot,” Hollander whispers between gasps.
Ilya lifts his head and watches the slow smile spread across Hollander’s face. He admires the flush across the other man’s face that travels down his neck and across his chest. His hips snap forward on the next thrust just to watch Hollander’s smile break into a moan. He enjoys the sight immensely.
Afterward, they shower and lay back down in Ilya’s bed. He gazes at Hollander as the man texts Pike to say that he’ll be back in the morning. It was so unusual for someone else to be in his bed - besides Svetlana, he never shared it with anyone. Ilya didn’t want to think about how right it felt to have the other man here.
Hollander must get a response back, because he gives his phone an annoyed look and rolls his eyes, before quickly typing something back. Ilya makes a curious sound in the back of his throat, causing Hollander to turn the screen towards him. Tell Lily I say hi. ❤️
Ilya scoffs to cover up a laugh and twists at his waist to turn the nightstand light off. In the darkness of the room, he pulls Hollander close to him. The man’s body slots perfectly in Ilya’s arms, his back pressing against Ilya’s front. Ilya can’t help but kiss the back of Hollander’s neck before saying, “Good night, Shane.”
If Ilya thought falling asleep with Hollander was incredible, he couldn’t even start to describe waking up next to him. Ilya blinks slowly, the low light of the rising sun filtering into the room and catching at his eyes. He feels Hollander’s arm around his shoulders, Ilya’s upper body pressed against the man.
Lifting his head, he realizes that Hollander was already awake, his head propped up against the pillows and a book on the history of U.S. hockey open in his lap. Svetlana had accidentally left it the last time she had come over.
They make eye contact and Ilya watches Hollander’s face go through several emotions rapidly before settling on hesitance. Ilya smiles slowly at him and moves upward to kiss him good morning. When he pulls away, he sees the expression had been wiped off of Hollander’s face, and now a small smile was present, mirroring his own.
Hollander doesn’t stay much longer, talking about being needed for some things before their game. Ilya can’t be too sad, though, when he gets to watch Hollander leave in the clothes he had lent him. Turning to look back at his dresser, he sees Hollander’s clothes from the previous day neatly folded on the wooden top.
The Bears win the game, Ilya had no doubts that they would. He smugly winks at Hollander as they shake hands in the line up and delights in the annoyance apparent in his features. As the team celebrates in their locker room, Coach LeClaire steps in and pulls Ilya into the hallway.
“Do you need interviews?” It wasn’t unusual for the press to ask questions before they showered, but Ilya certainly preferred for it to happen after.
“No, it’s something else.”
LeClaire leads him to their conference room where another one of the Bear’s coaches was pulling up a Skype call. The Admiral’s coach and Scott Hunter appear through the projector. Ilya looks up at the screen in interest - what was going on?
The door opens again, admitting the Voyagers head coach and Hollander. Ilya has to school his features as Hollander enters the room. His jersey and upper body pads were off, but his lower uniform remained. He is messing with some tape that is tightly wrapped around two of his fingers, and Ilya has to swallow hard when Hollander rips the medical tape with his teeth to finish the job.
Hollander had gotten into a fight with one of their defensemen when he had targeted a rookie player from Montreal. Besides the supposedly broken fingers, the man also sported a split lip and a cut eyebrow. The guy definitely deserved what Hollander had given him, but it had absolutely skewed the game in Boston’s favor once Hollander was sent to the box.
Ilya watches as Hollander moves to stand next to him and notice the screen with Hunter’s face on it. Hollander scrunches his nose in confusion, glancing at Ilya before looking at his coach. “What’s up, Theriault?”
“We have gotten word from the NHL.” Coach Theriault looks between the three top players in the league and rather irritably says, “They’re mic’ing the three of you up next season.”
“Mic’ing us up? Did I hear that right?” Hunter questions.
“Someone in PR thought it would be funny to hear the three of you during all of your games,” Coach LeClaire explains, “The idea got out and spread like wildfire.”
“Huh,” Hunter responds.
“It would be funny to hear me,” Ilya corrects, “I am funny. The other two are boring.”
He hears Hollander huff out a laugh and bump shoulders with him as Hunter continues to ask questions. Casually glancing over to the other man, he sees a small smile playing at his lips. His eyes, though, there was a gleam that he hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t certain what it could mean, but it couldn’t be good for Ilya.
Detroit
It had been a month since the Bears played Montreal. Ilya had been trying to focus on his workout, but Cliff Marleau and Victor St-Simon were both being incredibly annoying.
“Hey, Rozy!” Cliff calls out, “Have you seen these pictures of Hollander? Looks like he has a new girl.”
Ilya hits the emergency stop on his treadmill and is at Cliff’s side in an instant. Hollander never had pictures of him with women in public circulate the media outlets. He leans in to see the man holding a beautiful woman’s hand as they walk across a street in Montreal. She had dark hair and a killer smile.
“Rose fucking Landry. Can you believe it?” Cliff asks, “How’d a guy like him land her?”
“It says that their relationship hasn’t been confirmed or denied,” Victor reads over Cliff’s shoulder. “But they’ve been spotted at several places around Montreal in the last few weeks.”
“What is Rose Landry even doing in Montreal?” Cliff pulls the phone closer to his face to find the answer to his question. “Ah, looks like she’s shooting a new movie there.”
Ilya turns on his heel and grabs his phone where he had left it on his machine. He couldn’t believe it. Why was he so pissed? Is Hollander actually going steady with this Rose Landry? He quickly Googles both of their names and finds himself staring at paparazzi pictures in horror. The two of them shopping together - going to restaurants together - Hollander putting his scarf around her. Fuck.
Tampa Bay
He lets himself stew for a month. It works well for him on the ice, but he can’t seem to brush off the jealousy he feels towards the situation. Not even going out to clubs and taking hot women back to his hotel rooms had helped. More pictures of the two of them popped up every day. Not that Ilya had their names in a search bar open on his computer, or anything. Things had gotten dire.
Finally, that afternoon before their game against Tampa Bay, but after their morning practice, Ilya gives in and does something he has never done before. He calls Hollander over FaceTime before he can think about it. He sets up the phone in his cubby in their temporary locker room - Ilya was the last one there. He crosses his arms in front of his chest and taps his foot impatiently as he waits for Hollander to pick up.
When the man finally does, Ilya is greeted with a blur of what could only be the inside of a house as Hollander’s phone moves around quickly. “Give me a second,” Ilya hears the man say. He’s pretty certain he gets put in Hollander’s pocket. There’s more rustling and he could hear the sound of kids' voices. “Ruby, Jade, grab your snow boots, you can’t wear your princess heels with fifteen centimeters of snow on the ground.” He hears the girls groan from far away and then a stampede of steps down a set of stairs. “Here, let me help with your coats and gloves - Jade, stop touching your sister. Ruby, if you kick her again, I’m locking you out of the house.” He hears the girls giggle and a door open. The girls call out their goodbyes to ‘Uncle Shane’ and Hollander says, “Lunch will be ready in thirty minutes. Have fun!” The door closes and there’s more rustling until finally the phone is pulled out of Hollander’s pocket and is set on what must be a kitchen counter.
Ilya stares widely at the first image he gets of the man. His hair was askew, a plastic tiara much too small for him placed precariously on his head. He had horrible glitter eye makeup and blush on his face, certainly the work of this Jade and Ruby. What shocked him the most, though, was the sleeping baby held close to his chest with one of those fabric baby wraps.
“Why’d you call? Is everything okay?”
“What is even happening?” Ilya finds himself saying, completely shocked out of the jealousy he had felt just moments ago.
“Oh - I’m babysitting for Hayden. Him and Jackie needed to help her parents out with something. I don’t remember what.” Ilya watches Hollander step away from the phone, moving around the kitchen with familiarity. He blinks when he realizes that Hollander was wearing his shirt - the one he had given him a couple of months back in Boston. Hollander’s head pops back into view, an eyebrow raised in his direction, “What’s wrong, Ilya?”
He feels warmth rise in his chest at hearing his name fall from Hollander’s lips. “Nothing,” he says quickly, watching Hollander leave the screen again and clattering around the kitchen. “Are you in relationship with Rose Landry?”
The noise stops suddenly and Ilya watches Hollander’s face slowly reappear in the picture. His nose was scrunched and his brows were furrowed. “You’re asking- really?” Hollander squints at the screen, “And what if I was?”
“Then now I know.” Ilya says quickly before ending the call. He groans in embarrassment and leans forward in his cubby, thunking his forehead against the cinderblock wall. He startles when Brad Hammersmith pops his head into the changing room and asks if he would be coming out soon. His phone lights back up with a FaceTime request from Jane. Ilya asks for a minute.
He accepts the call. “I didn’t say I was, asshole.” Ilya grumbles in response. “I’m not. We’re just friends.”
“There are hundreds of pictures of the two of you all over Montreal and L.A..”
“Are you jealous?” Hollander asks sincerely. “Stop, don’t hang up again.” Ilya drops his hand where he was about to end the call. Hollander’s eyebrows furrow, a thoughtful look taking over his face. Just as he’s about to say something, the baby against his chest wakes with a cry. Ilya watches all of his attention turn to the baby, emotion catching in his throat for some unknown reason. “It’s alright, Arthur.” Hollander soothes in a soft voice, pulling him out of the wrap. “Mom and dad will be home soon.” Ilya watches Hollander quickly settle the baby and hold him in one arm as he steps out of view to stir a pot. “Have you talked to Svetlana recently?” Hollander asks.
“What are you talking about, Hollander?”
The man reappears and asks his question again. “I’m serious. Have you?”
“Why the fuck does that matter?”
“Language,” Hollander chides. He covers one of Arthur’s ears and says, “You owe Jackie Pike a dollar in the swear jar.”
“Christ, you are so irritating.”
“Like you’re a bed of roses.” Hollander says in annoyance.
“What does that even mean?” He watches Hollander turn to some cabinets behind him and pull out some plates and cups.
“It’s similar to ‘the pot calling the kettle black’. You called me irritating, I am saying you’re also irritating.” Ilya hums in thought, privately grateful for Hollander being willing to explain the stupid complexities of English to him. “I’m not dating Rose Landry, Ilya.” Hollander says clearly. “I can’t explain the pictures, though. Talk to Svetlana.” Ilya feels his face crinkle in confusion. Distantly, he hears the Pike’s front door being opened and the voices of a man and woman filter through. “Hayden and Jackie are back. I gotta go.”
“Okay, poka.” (bye)
“Poka, Ilya.”
He stares at his blank phone screen for a moment before grabbing it and heading out of the changing room to meet the others. He pulls up Svetlana’s contact and calls her.
“Hi gorgeous,” she says in Russian, “It’s been a second, have you forgotten about me?”
“Why is Shane Hollander telling me to call you?” He responds back in Russian.
“Oh, your Jane?” Ilya’s mouth drops in shock and he moves his phone away from his ear for a moment before putting it back. “Why are you shocked? I know you, Ilyushka. You would think it’s hilarious to put Shane’s phone in your name as Jane.”
“So now you’re on a first name basis with him?”
“Yes, I love him, I think. Mind if I borrow him from you?”
“Why is today my worst nightmare?”
“If you change your attitude it could be your best.”
“My best nightmare?”
“Kinky, right?” Ilya can’t help the laugh that escapes. He hears another voice on Svetlana’s end - a woman asking who she’s talking to. “I’m talking to Ilya. You remember me telling you about him, yes?” He hears her respond in English. “Would you like to say hello?” Ilya hears the phone get set down and a tap as Svetlana puts him on speaker.
“Hello, Ilya. It’s great to meet you. Svetlana has told me a lot about you. Oh- I’m Rose, by the way!” He could practically hear her smile through the phone.
For the second time in under a minute, Ilya has to pull the phone away to stare at it in shock. Rose Landry? He puts the phone back to his ear and awkwardly says, “Hello, Rose.”
“Anyways, Rose and I are dating,” Svetlana continues on in English, “But word obviously cannot get back to Russia, so we asked Shane to help.”
“He’s your cover?” Ilya asks in disbelief.
“Americans would call it a ‘beard’. You know, because a beard covers something up.”
Ilya lets out a deep sigh. Emotions that had been pent up for almost two months slowly releasing from his body. Why had he cared so much?
“Anyways, it would be great to meet you in person the next time we’re all in Boston.” Rose says.
Ilya dazedly agrees and hangs up soon after. He doesn’t remember getting off of the team bus or walking to his room, but when he blinks, he realizes the door is directly in front of him. He swipes the key card and falls heavily onto his bed. He feels his phone vibrate and pulls it out of his pocket.
Jane:
There are other reasons we could use FaceTime.
You know, besides asking me if I’m sleeping with specific women.
Ilya feels a wide smile spread across his face.
Lily:
Fucker.
Jane:
Oh, sorry. I meant asking if I was in a ~relationship~ with specific women.
Ilya laughs loudly at that - relief filling him so fully, that it felt like he could burst.
Moscow
Ilya feels like the summer flies by quickly. The Montreal Voyagers had won their second Cup in a row, causing Ilya to fly back early. In between taking care of his father, fighting with his brother, going out, and exercising, Ilya finds himself texting Hollander.
It was almost a constant. They had switched to an IM app that could be used in different countries so they wouldn’t rack up insane phone bills over the summer. Some nights, when he is certain his father is asleep and he wasn’t planning to go out to a club, he would Skype Hollander in the safety of his bedroom. Almost always, they would get each other off. Ilya loved how hot it was to not be able to touch Hollander, but tell him exactly what to do to himself. Hollander would always do what he was told.
Something that Ilya tried not to think about too much was how they would stay on the call after they had both orgasmed. He absolutely did not think about the few times they had fallen asleep together, computer screens open and Skype still running.
Boston
Ilya leans forward in his spot on the couch, his feet planted squarely on the floor in front of him and his eyes glued to the TV screen. He had been the first of the captains to get mic’d up for a game. It made sense - he was obviously the most entertaining of the three. The TV was playing the DVR recorded commentary of the game from the previous afternoon. He watches in satisfaction as the sports commentators embrace the show he puts on. Coach LeClaire had encouraged him to ‘ham it up’ - that had been quite the phrase to parse out - and ham it up he did.
He flops back in satisfaction, a grin forming on his face as the commentators laugh at his antics. The video switches to Hollander to give his impression of Ilya’s running quips from the game. The Voyagers’ first game was later this evening, so their interviewer must have caught him after practice yesterday. He was half dressed in his uniform, a tank top practically pasted to his body. His hair was wet with sweat, his cheeks ruddy from the workout.
Ilya pauses the recorded show to take a quick picture of the man on his screen and text it to Hollander before he can think better.
Lily:
Slut
Hollander responds back faster than he expects.
Jane:
That’s the last time I’ll say something nice about you on TV.
A wide smile forms on his lips as he starts the video back up.
“Shane - you, Ilya Rozanov, and Scott Hunter are getting mic’d up this season during the games. What do you think about Ilya Rozanov’s interactions with other players?”
“Do you mean in general or from his most recent game?” Hollander asks, slightly out of breath. His lips were a nice red like he had been kissed hard by someone.
Ilya watches the interviewer shrug and say, “Both, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Rozanov is always fun to watch on the ice. You can tell how much he enjoys the sport as you follow his career. Starting fights and being a general nuisance is a part of it.” He pauses to wipe sweat off of his face with a towel that was thrown over a shoulder before continuing. “As for his game today, he was probably more annoying than usual because he knew he had a much larger audience who could hear him.”
Ilya grabs a pillow that was propped up next to him and squeezes it tightly to his chest. His cheeks were starting to hurt from how hard he was smiling. The broadcast switches back to the talking heads as they wrap up the segment with information on upcoming games. Hollander had called him annoying on national television. It was quite sweet of him to know Ilya so well.
Several hours later, he settles into his spot on the couch at Svetlana’s place. His childhood friend brings over a large bowl of popcorn and plops down next to him, practically sitting halfway in his lap. Ilya accepts her legs getting flung over his thighs and grabs the bowl to keep it from spilling. She picks up the remote to flip to the ESPN channel where the Voyagers would be playing against Toronto.
“Are we going to talk about you and Rose Landry?” He asks in Russian.
“Are we going to talk about you and Shane Hollander?” She retorts back.
“No.” He says crisply.
“Then no.”
Svetlana settles in as they watch the Toronto Guardians come out first to warm up. The announcers are animatedly talking about Hollander being mic’d for the game, and provide audio of him in the back getting his microphone settled under his helmet. There is some rustling and noises and the sound of tape being ripped. They hear Hollander say something in French. There is a pause as someone says something to him and then he says in English, “Did you just say my mic is hot?” Panic was clear in his voice.
They hear loud laughter get picked up from the locker room. The announcers were rapidly working to get a translation on what was said as they hear one of the Voyagers team members say close to Hollander, “What did you say?”
“None of your business, Hayden.”
There’s more laughter as another team member says something in French before switching to English, “There’s no need to hide the love you have for me, Capitaine.”
They hear Hollander groan loudly and a door open as he more than likely leaves the changing room. The announcers put a translation on screen, reading out, “Oh my goodness, what a handsome boy you are, J.J.”
Svetlana lets out a loud, surprised laugh, a handful of popcorn raised halfway to her mouth. Ilya has a hand up to cover a smile of his own. Of all things that Hollander could have said or done, this was probably the most like him. It wasn’t the persona he put on in front of cameras or crowds - it was how Ilya knew him to be. A total idiot.
Ilya only partially listens to the announcers as the Montreal team makes it onto the ice, watching Pike and Boiziau skate after him to keep teasing their Captain. The game starts with Hollander at the center. The man wins the face off and is flying down the ice in record time. In under a minute, he has made a five hole, the Toronto goalie not reactive enough to close his legs in time.
Ilya leans forward at that, Svetlana releasing a low whistle. “He means business, yeah?” The announcers talk over each other before the audio turns to Hollander to pick up how he celebrates. All the man does is let out a small, ‘Yippee!’ before heading back to the center, receiving claps on the back from his teammates as he got back into position.
“Yippee?” Ilya asks somewhat distractedly.
It takes a few more minutes of gameplay, but Hollander sinks another puck in, upping the score to 2-0 for Montreal. This time, Hollander says something in French that the announcers translate to, ‘Heck yeah, baby.’ Ilya was in a secret not-relationship with a complete dork. Svetlana must catch the dumbfounded expression on Ilya’s face, because she starts to pester him as they set up for the next face-off.
In the middle of the second period, the score is 3-1 Montreal, Shane having scored every single goal for his team. There is some commotion with the announcers as they ask the broadcasting team to switch over to Hollander’s mic, their fingers pressed against their earpieces.
Hollander and Pike were keeping the puck away from Toronto by cycling it between the two of them along the boards. As they make their way across the blue line, Hollander’s mic finally cuts in. Ilya couldn’t believe what he was hearing - never had he heard the man sing on the ice, but he was absolutely, without a doubt, singing under his breath as the puck passed between him and Pike.
It was almost distracted in the quality that he was singing, like he didn’t realize it was actually something he was doing aloud. The commentators quickly identified the song as, “All I Wanted” by Paramore. They go silent as the man continues to sing quietly.
“I think I’ll pace my apartment a few times
Fall asleep on the couch - shit, get it back Hayd”
Ilya watches Pike quickly maneuver to re-obtain the puck.
“Wake up early to black-and-white reruns
That escape from my - Wah! Jesus Christ, Kent - mouth”
Ilya watches as both Hollander and Pike have to evade Dallas Kent several times before they finally shake him.
“All I wanted was you
All I wanted was you”
Hollander scores another goal with an assist from Pike. 4-1 Montreal.
“Yay, Hayden!” They hear Hollander say before the Voyager line gets switched out. The announcers leave his mic on, allowing the public a chance to listen to the man cheer his team on from the bench. There was no way the Guardians were coming back from this.
Hollander is put back in for the last five minutes of the game. The score had changed to 6-2 Montreal. It was honestly boring to watch with Toronto being so awful. It was as if Hollander heard his thoughts, because one second the man is minding his own business, cruising down the ice, the next he’s getting rammed into the boards by Kent.
“Fag,” is heard loud and clear through Hollander’s mic, before Kent skates off.
Hollander rights himself quickly and skates after the man, yelling, “What was that Kent? Say it again so all of your fans can hear what a homophobic piece of shit you are!”
Kent stops skating suddenly, causing Hollander to have to do a fancy spin around him so they don’t run into each other. “You heard me, bitch.” The Guardian center says loudly before throwing his gloves to the ice and swinging at Hollander.
“Jesus,” Svetlana breathes out.
They watch Hollander deftly evade the punch, drop his gloves, and swing one himself. He manages to deck Kent right in the nose. Blood flies everywhere, causing Hollander to say, “Ew,” before dodging another punch. The refs get involved after Kent finally manages to land a hit on Hollander, his helmet getting knocked off in the process.
The audio cuts out and the commentators speak too quickly for Ilya to pick everything up. They both get 5-minute penalties for the fight, but Kent also gets another minor penalty and will probably have to pay a fine for instigating.
The Voyagers win 6-2.
After the game, interviewers surround Hollander, who is clean and in his suit, but is holding an ice pack to his eye. They ask several rapid fire questions, but the one Ilya pays attention to is, “What gave you the drive to hit so many pucks in tonight?”
Ilya watches a slow smile form on Hollander’s face, big enough to cause his visible eye to crinkle before he looks directly into the camera and says, “Rosanov made three goals during his last game, so I made four.” Ilya’s jaw drops at that.
In past seasons, they would sometimes talk about each other to the press, but it was usually Ilya doing most of the pestering. He looks towards a suspiciously quiet Svetlana to see her hand clamped over her mouth, trying desperately to hold in her laughter. He hears the interviewer ask for Hollander to clarify and the man goes on to shrug and say, “Scott should get at least one more, too.”
This little asshole. Svetlana couldn’t hold her laughter in anymore, slapping at Ilya as she says between gasps, “Now I know why you like him so much. How does it feel to get a taste of your own medicine?”
“Fuck off.”
Hollander winks at the camera before Ilya gets the chance to turn off the TV.
The first time the Bears go against the Toronto Guardians, Ilya makes sure to find a reason to beat the ever living shit out of Dallas Kent.
San Francisco
Scott Hunter is unfortunately as boring as Ilya thought he would be. The Admirals were a few games in and the majority of what was recorded was the man encouraging his team and being disgustingly wholesome. He is even nice to his opponents.
Ilya refuses to think about the fact that Hunter had also scored four points directly after the Voyagers’ first match. He wasn’t thinking about that at all.
He watches sulkily in his hotel room as the Admirals and Voyagers lined up to face each other for the start of the game. It should be Ilya playing against Hollander, not this boring old man. It pisses him off even more when their microphones pick up Hunter saying, “What a handsome boy you are, Shane,” before the puck drops in between them. Shane lets out a loud laugh, scoops the puck up, and speeds off.
He was planning on saying that to Hollander. He runs a hand through his hair roughly. Ilya didn’t want to acknowledge the jealousy of Hunter flirting openly with Hollander on live television with no one questioning it. Or the jealousy of Hollander laughing in response. Ilya groans dramatically and continues to watch the game. The Voyagers are doing well, like always.
The commentators switch between both of the Captains’ mics, with Hollander starting back up on his background music half way through the first period. This time it was a song in French that Ilya didn’t recognize. Boiziau is playing defense in this line up and is sticking close to Hollander. The Haitian-Canadian picks up on Hollander’s singing and joins in much louder, as they evade the Admirals.
The Admirals make a bad play resulting in a minor penalty. As the players wait for the refs to make the call, Boiziau shimmies at Hollander as they continue to sing their stupid song. The most incredible thing happens, though, when Hollander returns the move. Caught on live TV dancing on the ice. A hand flies up to cover Ilya’s mouth. He was certainly feeling second hand embarrassment, right? That was the feeling rising up in his throat. He didn’t like Hollander like that.
The game continues on, Montreal in the lead by a point. Every now and then, they hear Hunter say something nice to his team or Hollander make a cartoonish yelp as he avoids getting hit by another player. The Voyagers win 2-1. Hollander had scored all of their points, this time. Ilya had only scored one goal last game. The dick.