Work Text:
“Okay, listen the fuck up!” Ilya jumps onto a bench so he can look at his team. “We are out of playoffs, no chance for Stanley cup this year,” he waves his hand. “Pfft. Does not matter. I am so fucking proud of this team. Everyone thought we were terrible team at the beginning of this season. Whole league thought we would be easy to beat. But we weren’t!” He throws his fist in the air.
The team cheers around him.
“This season, we made it to second round of playoffs. Next year, we make it to finals. This is good team. We have best goalie,” he points to Hayes. Sticks clatter against the ground. “We have best baby rookie.”
“HAASSS!” Someone yells.
“We have best barbequer.”
Bood shakes his head and laughs.
“We have player who was brave enough to come out this year, and a team that supported him.”
Chouinard claps Troy’s shoulder and shakes him.
“This is good team. Next year, we will be even better. Next year, we show them that Centaurs are cup contenders.”
The team roars and clatters their stick against the ground.
Ilya raises his hands.
“I know, season is over. You probably want to sleep, snuggle your wives and your kids—or boyfriend,” he grins at Troy, “but I need my team for one more night.” He swallows hard. His heart beats harder. He thrums with energy. “I have big life announcement to make, and I don’t want to do it in stinky locker room. So. Everyone come to my house for dinner tomorrow night. Bring partners, children, whatever. We will celebrate our season, and I will tell you my big news. Six o’clock!”
He hops down from the bench and claps Bood on the shoulder.
Ilya goes to his cubby and starts to strip off his sweaty gear.
Shane is waiting at his house, and he can’t wait to hold him, kiss him, sink into him.
Troy sidles up to him. “Big announcement?”
Ilya grins at him. “You only know half.”
Troy’s eyes raise in surprise. “Well, I’ll bring Harris.”
“And Chiron, or you won’t be allowed inside,” Ilya commands.
Troy laughs and nods.
Ilya hurries to the showers.
* * *
He texts the team that the door is unlocked and then tries not to have a panic attack for the next half hour.
Harris and Troy get there first, a few minutes before six.
“Chiron!” Ilya shouts and gets down on his knees.
Anya runs over too, a ball of fluff, and the two dogs circle each other, their noses twitching constantly as they sniff at each other.
“My two favorite dogs in one place,” Ilya coos. “Yes, you both are perfect, perfect puppies.”
“Do you need any help getting ready?” Harris asks.
Ilya shakes his head. “No. Food is already here, I am just waiting for team.”
“I’m very excited to hear whatever this big announcement is.”
Ilya grins. “I am excited to tell it.”
After that, a steady stream of teammates comes in. Bood and his family are the last ones, at 6:20.
“We didn’t miss the announcement? Sorry, Milo spit up on me the minute we tried walking out the door.”
“We waited,” Ilya stands in front of the fireplace. The room quiets immediately.
His heart beats hard against his ribs, as if he is entering the final playoff game. God, he can’t believe Shane did this with the asshole Voyeguer team. He should get a medal for bravery.
“Okay. Big announcement time, and then we will eat.” Ilya takes a deep breath. His eyes find Troy’s. Troy nods encouragingly.
“Okay,” Ilya says again. Then he shrugs, folds his thumb against his palm to touch his engagement ring with his thumb, and says, “I am in love with Shane Hollander.”
Silence. Many of his teammates have open mouths.
“Okay, I thought you would lead with the bisexual thing,” Troy mutters. “Not just jump straight to Hollander, but alright.”
“Wait, you’re serious?” Chouinard asks. “I thought you were trying to prank us for a second?”
“Very serious.” Ilya nods. “We are getting married this summer.”
“What?!” Harris shouts. He immediately claps his hands over his mouth. “Sorry, that was too loud. I’m just so surprised.”
“Where is he? Why isn’t he here?” Bood asks, looking around as if Shane would just pop out from behind the couch.
“He is at his parents' house; he wanted to let me do this on my own.”
“All our partners are here,” Troy says. “Tell him to come over.”
Ilya grins and pulls out his phone.
They are taking it very well. They want you to come over.
“Roz,” Hayes says seriously. Ilya looks up at him. Hayes solemnly holds out a fist.
Ilya bumps it.
“That is an insane fucking pull,” Hayes says.
Ilya grins.
“You’re marrying the best player in the league.”
“I am best player in the league, Hazy!”
“And he’s fucking hot.”
“He is mine,” Ilya narrows his eyes.
Hayes laughs and throws his arm around Lisa. “I’m just saying, I got eyes.”
His phone buzzes, and Ilya looks down.
Jane: But do you want me to come over?
Ilya: YESSS!!!!!
“He’s a total babe,” Troy agrees.
“How long have you been together?” Haas asks. His eyes are still wide, like he’s still working through the shock.
“Long time. Years. But we are ready to come out finally.”
“Who proposed?” Bood jumps in.
“Hollander. After the plane almost crashed.”
“That’s why you skipped practice!” Dykstra shouts.
“Yes, was too busy fucking my fiancé,” Ilya says proudly. A chorus of shouts echoes across his living room.
Troy raises a hand.
“Did he already tell his team?”
Ilya nods once.
“How did they take it?” Troy asks quietly.
“Bad. Please do not talk to him about it. He’s been a mess ever since.”
“His contract is up, right? He doesn’t have to stay there,” Troy says. “He shouldn’t have to stay on a homophobic team.”
“We are talking about the options.”
“Is Ottawa one of the options?” Bood asks slyly.
Ilya presses his lips together tightly and doesn’t answer. He wants Shane on the Centaurs so bad he can’t put it into English. Every time he thinks about it, a string of emotional Russian streams through his head.
“I’m just saying,” Bood raises his hands. “Think about the damage we could do with Hollander and Roz. That cup would be ours.”
“Okay, okay, enough talking.” If Ilya has to listen to speculation about Shane coming to the Centarus, he might crack his teeth from clenching his jaw so hard. “Food is in the kitchen. Hollander will be here in twenty minutes or so.”
Half the team immediately jumps up to eat.
Ilya feels pressure against his leg and sees Chrion and Anya circling his feet.
He sits down right where he is. “Ah, you know I just did something big, yes? You have come to congratulate me?”
He pets both of them.
“Your dad will be home soon,” he tells Anya. “And I will get to kiss him in front of everyone,” he whispers.
“When are you going to tell the world?” Harris asks.
“After we are married, I think,” Ilya says. “That way, no problems with Russia.”
“Oh, fuck,” Bood says. “I didn’t even think about that part. That sucks, Roz, I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. Was a big part of why it was secret for so long. But now, it does not matter. I will have pretty Canadian husband to protect me from big, scary Russia. Yes, Chiron!” Ilya pins the dog down and rubs his tummy. “You will protect me too!” Chiron yips and jumps up to lick Ilya’s face.
Ilya laughs loudly, so happy that his team knows, and that in just a month and a half, Shane Hollander will be his husband.
“Is Hollander okay? With his team?” Troy asks quietly. “I can’t imagine if I had come out with Toronto…”
“They knew he was gay for a long time, but they did not know about me. When he told them, they asked if he had ever thrown a game for me.” Ilya focused on petting Anya as he said it.
“What the fuck?” Bood says loudly.
Troy sighs. “Holy shit, that’s messed up.”
“Yes,” Ilya agrees quietly. “Maybe if he had more normal, nicer fiancé, then they would not ask this. But instead, he has me, the shit stirrer.” He shrugs. “I hate them. He has been so sad.”
“I’m sorry, Roz,” Harris says. “That’s terrible. I hope he finds a good team.”
“Me too.” Hope clogs Ilya’s throat, so he doesn’t say more. Maybe, he thinks. Maybe, maybe, maybe everything will work out the way I want it to for once.
He stands up, leaving the dogs to themselves. “I will get food, you all coming?”
* * *
After Ilya starts eating, he hears a cheer from the living room.
“Hollander!” Someone yells. “You’re in love with our captain?!” Ilya thinks it’s Dykstra.
“Yes, I am,” Shane responds, sounding almost uncertain.
Dykstra whoops. “Good for you guys!”
“Thanks,” Shane says.
Ilya grins around his mouthful of pasta. He abandons his plate and steps into the living room.
Several of his teammates are shaking Shane’s hand, clapping him on the back, saying sorry for knocking him out of the playoffs.
Shane has a dazed look on his face as he accepts all of this.
Ilya leans his head against the wall and grins as he watches Shane be accepted for who he is.
His teammates go back to their food, and Shane turns.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey,” Ilya pushes off the wall and steps forward into Shane’s space, putting his hands on his waist.
Shane puts his hands on his biceps.
“Seems like it went well?”
“Apparently, most of my team thinks you are hot,” Ilya says dryly.
Shane blushes.
“And now,” Ilya says quietly. “I am going to kiss you hello in front of people. Don’t be scared.”
Shane looks up at him defiantly. “I’m not scared.”
Ilya lifts his chin and kisses him quickly. Personally, he wants to push Shane against the wall and devour him, but he knows Shane wouldn’t like it.
Just this quick kiss causes the team to cheer in the background.
Ilya waves a hand at them to tell them to shut up.
“Come on, let’s get you some food. You are breaking diet now, yes?”
“Only a little bit,” Shane says. “I think if I ate a plateful of pasta, I would feel sick for three days.”
“Okay, but some pasta. You lost too much weight this season.”
Ilya gets him a ginger ale out of the fridge and watches carefully as Shane fixes himself a plate of food. Mostly chicken and salad, but there are a few bites of pasta and half a breadstick, so Ilya is happy.
Shane sits down at the table with Ilya.
Haas looks like he’s met the Prime Minister or something.
“Hi, um, I’m Luca. Haas.” He says, and sticks his hand out.
“Hey, Haas,” Shane says, shaking his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Ilya sees Haas mouth Oh my God and grins.
“Um, congratulations on your engagement.”
“Thanks.” Shane turns to Ilya and smiles a little bit. “I guess I’m never getting rid of him, now, huh?”
“You don’t want to get rid of me, Hollander,” Ilya nudges him with his elbow. “You are the one who got down on one knee and asked me to marry you, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Shane takes a sip of his ginger ale.
Ilya squeezes his leg under the table.
Hayes, across the table, asks Shane who his favorite superhero is.
Ilya laughs and grins, and when he stands to get a second beer, he shakes Shane’s shoulders and kisses him on the cheek.
Almost all of the Centaurs talk to Shane throughout the night, make sure to congratulate him, and to tease him about his bad taste in men. Ilya takes offense every time.
When the sun sets and the bonfire is going, Ilya notices his fiancé’s absence.
He drifts through the house, waving to Choinard, nodding to Harris. He bumps into Lisa as she exits the bathroom.
Ilya climbs the stairs and finds Shane sitting on their bed, crying.
“Shane,” he says quietly, and sits next to him.
“Sorry,” Shane wipes his cheeks quickly.
“No, no sorrys. What is wrong?”
“Nothing,” Shane says quickly. “They’re all so nice.” He smiles. It wavers, then collapses under fresh tears.
“And that is making you sad?” Ilya kisses the side of his head.
“Kind of.” Shane sniffles. “I just wish Montreal had been so nice, you know? I’m really, really happy you have such a good team behind you. Just kinda pissed my team is full of such shitheads.”
“Yes, shitheads,” Ilya muses. “Good word for them.”
Shane huffs a laugh.
“They asked me if you are coming to Ottawa,” he said, trying to say it as casually as possible. Hope claws at his ribcage, desperate to get out, to be free.
Shane peeks at him. “You guys can’t afford me.”
Ilya shrugs a shoulder. “I can be sugar daddy,” he teases. “You will just have to get on your knees for me,” he purrs.
Shane laughs and pushes him away.
“Just don’t stay in Montreal,” Ilya whispers against his hairline. “I don’t want you to be sad. Hockey makes you happy, I want you to be happy.”
Shane nods. “Yeah. I’ll ask Farah if she’s had any interest from other teams tomorrow.”
“Good.”
“God, it would be amazing to play with you, though,” Shane says wistfully.
“Is there any reason not to other than money?”
He stares at his knee, but he can feel Shane staring at the side of his face.
“I thought…” Shane trails off.
“What?”
“Well, I kind of thought you didn’t want me on the Centaurs?”
Ilya’s head snaps up. “Why would you think that?”
“Because I joked about it a few weeks ago, and you just shrugged.”
Ilya huffs. “I was trying to be cool about it. Let you decide what you want without me pushing anything on you.”
“Ilya! Oh God, I didn’t know that. Centaurs management already reached out to Farah.”
“You told them no?” Ilya’s heart plummets.
“I haven’t told any teams no,” Shane says gently. “But it is a lot less money.”
“You are the most sponsored hockey player in MHL, you don’t need contract money. And you have rich husband. And Centaurs has very nice, very gay team. And we could live together. All the time.” Should Ilya get on his knees and beg? Would it help?
“Wow, okay, look who’s not playing it cool now,” Shane bumps his shoulder into his.
“I can’t be cool anymore,” Ilya mutters. “I love you too much.”
Shane sniffs again. “They probably think we’re fucking up here. I’ll wash my face, and we can go down. We can keep talking about this after they leave, yeah?” Shane stands up.
“Does that mean there is a chance?”
“You and your big brown eyes,” Shane mutters before framing his face with his hands and kissing him. “Fuck yeah, there’s a huge chance.”
Ilya stands without breaking the kiss and wraps his arms around Shane tightly.
“Fuck,” Ilya says quietly.
“Try not to hope too hard,” Shane says into his shoulder.
“It has been a long time of me trying not to hope too hard,” Ilya says. “Let me hope for this.”
Shane sniffles into his shoulder. “I’ll call Farah tomorrow morning. We’ll see what the Centaurs offered, see if we can make it work.”
“We don’t need money,” Ilya reminds him, desperate to get his point across. “We need to see each other more than four times during a season.”
“Yeah.” Shane nods resolutely. “Yeah.”
“And … maybe win a cup together?”
Shane huffs a laugh against his shoulder. “Maybe more than one.”
Ilya grins, and hope bursts from his ribcage.
* * *
A month and a half later, Ilya posts on Instagram. It’s a picture of Shane and Ilya standing in their wedding tuxes, facing each other and holding hands. Their grins are too wide for their faces, and, behind them, the sun glints off the lake.
He captions it Husbands ❤️
The comments are, predictably, insane.
Twenty minutes later, Shane posts the same picture, but his caption is a little more thorough.
Since Ilya likes to create chaos as much as possible on the internet, it falls to me to make our official statement. Just one week ago, Ilya Rosanov and I got married. We have been in a committed relationship for several years, but chose to keep it private as to not distract from our careers. Last year, when the Ottawa Centaurs plane made an emergency landing, we realised we didn’t want to hide our love anymore. We look forward to many years of happiness together.
Two days later, while they are still on their honeymoon, it is announced that Shane Hollander has signed on with the Ottawa Centaurs for half his previous salary.
In their hotel in Ibiza, Ilya jumps on the bed and pops the cork on a champagne bottle.
Shane shields his face and laughs and laughs.
They trade sips from the bottle and talk about what they’re going to do next year. The practices they’ll have together, sleeping in the same bed every night, the games they’ll win together.
“Everyone will cower in fear when they see Hollander and Rosanov on the same team,” Ilya says, his accent thick with alcohol. “They will have nightmares about us. And we will be happily fucking, taking Anya for walks, and being together.”
Shane falls back onto their bed and, unfortunately, lands in a sticky wet spot from the champagne explosion.
“I can’t believe it happened. It actually happened.”
“Is like All-Star weekend every fucking week. Every fucking day.”
“I love you so much, Ilya.”
“I fucking love you,” Ilya turns and crawls up Shane’s body, kissing him. “I have never been this happy, Shane. My husband. My fucking husband.”
He leans down to kiss his neck.
Ilya leans back and sits on Shane’s abdomen, needing to tell him more. “I’m am big happy,” Ilya says, moving his hands to encompass his feelings. “But only because I know that so many small happys are coming, yes? We will be able to be together every day, and be in love. I can take you to dinner. I will kiss you on the street.”
“Every holiday together,” Shane adds.
“Every night.” Ilya leans down to press his forehead against Shane’s.
Shane pushes off the mattress and flips them over. “Every day,” he says.
“Let’s get naked,” Ilya plucks at Shane’s shirt.
“Is this the start of the sugar daddy routine?” Shane jokes. “Suddenly you’re much richer than me.”
Ilya laughs. “Yes, Shane. You suck my dick, I pay for the whole honeymoon, yes?”
Shane grins, a little mischievous, a lot sexy. “I think I can make that worth your while.”