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April 2017
Shane is in his parent’s front room, the glow of the tv still irritating him slightly when he has a pretty life changing thought.
He’s trying hard not to wince every time Ilya takes a check into the boards. Because texting more often is one of the huge differences occurring between them since the all-star game, Shane knows how much Ilya is struggling with the injury. It looks to be getting worse the more hits Ilya takes, too. Shane badly wants to reach through the tv and embrace him - the urge is so strong, he forces himself to look away from the screen lest he does something stupid.
His mom, however, is still staring up at the game going on, a judgy look on her face.
“I’ll never understand the playoff beards some of you boys decide on. They all look so… gross.” Yuna sticks her tongue out at Shane who laughs but only with half his heart. The rest of him is staring up at the screen again, taking in the beard that got his mother’s rant up and off the ground to begin with.
Shane isn’t sure if he’s just been ignorant up until now or simply not paying attention. The gay panic is all consuming so it’s no surprise. Quick to push the thought away, Shane feels his jaw open at the sight of dark facial hair covering Ilya’s chin and jaw. Unlike some who let the hair get unruly, Ilya’s chin strap is perfectly in line with the cut of his face. Like the rest of him, Ilya’s beard is rugged and manly, so dark in color it makes his skin stand out starkly. He’s already gorgeous but this - this is just unbelievably unfair.
All of the sudden, it’s very difficult for Shane to think about anything but running his fingers through the beard he’s sure Ilya’s never had before (at least, since Shane’s been brave enough to really pay attention). He wonders if the hair is coarse to the touch or soft, like the curls Shane is so fond of playing with when he’s sex drunk and weak, too fond in the moment to worry about repercussions.
This manic realization has Shane daydreaming about palming Ilya’s cheeks just to feel the facial hair under his hands while they kiss and kiss and kiss. His mind is conjuring up a time and place where Shane can touch Ilya with affection no matter where they are, no matter the time of the season it is for either of them. He’s no longer in his parents house but somewhere in the distant future, tugging affectionately on facial hair and living his very best life with Ilya by his side.
Shane is very roughly brought back to the present by his mom’s cool, demanding tone predicting the future.
“It’s Scott Hunter’s year. New York is definitely going to take home the cup.”
Shaking his head to clear all of the rambunctious thoughts from his mind, Shane nods and tries to smile. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
After a moment of still not being able to keep his shit together, Shane brings a hand to his head, pushing against his temple to really drive home what he’s about to say. “I better crash out for the night. My head is hurting all the sudden.”
Though his mom tries to fuss, Shane gets to safety within a few minutes of his declaration. He shoots his dad a grateful glance as he turns away - David Hollander has distracted Yuna with more hockey talk so Shane can slip off without further delay.
There’s a massive wash of relief the moment Shane gets his bedroom door shut and locked behind him. His parents are the best but he’s well passed the point of feeling grateful for their presence. This recovery has been a lot of pining on Shane’s end and hovering on his parents’.
Pushing all thoughts aside from Ilya and his beard from mind, Shane climbs up onto his bed and gets settled against the pillows. He’s still a little overwhelmed by the fact that his maybe boyfriend can still have such a drastic effect on him. That seems like a testament to the feelings Shane is no longer trying to drive back. If they aren’t meant to be, why does everything feel right? Every single fucking thing.
Though he’s no closer to an answer than the last time Shane obsessed, it makes him a bit giddy just to be hoping for something more.
It’s with this hope fresh in his mind that Shane pulls up Ilya’s text thread.
Jane: Sorry about the playoffs.
Lily: Is okay. Fuck Scott Hunter, though. He got me on that last power play.
Jane: I saw. Are your ribs okay? My mom thinks New York is going to take it all now.
Lily: Fuck that. Anyone but them.
Lily: They hurt but what is new?
Jane: Awe, Hunter’s a good guy. Deserves a win.
Jane: Take care of yourself.
Lily: Fuck you too, then!
Lily: Wish you were here to do it for me ;)
Jane: On that note, send me a selfie.
Lily: Reciprocate or no dick pics for a week!
Upon receiving his requested selfie, Shane is even more flabbergasted by the way just the sight of Ilya’s face is making him feel. After game fatigue is evident in the hood of Ilya’s hazel eyes, though they’re wide and sassy looking into the camera. Ilya’s cheeks are still a little flushed, the pink just barely visible under all the facial hair. It’s obvious Shane caught him post shower, Ilya’s curls are wet and slightly floppy over his forehead. The desire to reach out and touch is prominent again, so much so that Shane decides to run a hand across his own skin just to satisfy the urge.
Though, it’s instantly obvious touching himself is a mistake. His cock goes from half interested to full mast in a laughably short amount of time. Shane allows ten seconds of reasoning with himself about why this is a bad idea before rationality is gone, out the window with his ability to not be a total pervert.
With one hand in his pants and the other wrapped tightly around his phone, Shane makes the decision to just get it over with… no one will ever know about his silly little reaction. Not even Ilya, though he’s the whole stupid reason Shane’s doing it to begin with.
Sucking in a long breath, Shane lets his eyes wander back to the picture on the phone. Ilya’s lips are spread in a smug smirk, the hair around his lips just barely brushing against the pink skin there. It immediately makes Shane think about a tickling kiss, the way he’s sure Ilya’s hair is soft and would brush so beautifully down his chest and thighs. Both legs spread at the mental image, as if he’s making room for Ilya to fit between them.
Now that he’s fully committed, Shane starts to leisurely stroke his cock. The Ilya in his mind is doing the same thing, though he’s placing kisses all around Shane’s hips and thighs all the while. Shane sighs and gets a bit more into it. His mental picture is so good, he’s sure he can actually feel Ilya’s facial hair brushing against the skin of his thighs with each phantom kiss. Shivers and goosebumps rush over Shane’s skin and his hand, well - he’s starting to really get into all the ideas coursing through him.
Somewhere between starting to pant and picturing mental Ilya brushing his face against the inside of his thighs, Shane feels his phone vibrate a couple of times - though, he pays it no mind in the moment. He keeps the screen aglow, instead, eyes wide as he stares at Ilya. It only takes a couple more strokes before he’s panting through an orgasm over Rozanov and his stupid facial hair.
Trying not to feel shame about what he’s just done, Shane wipes his hand off and sits up against the headboard as if nothing happened. Aside from the blush covering his skin, Shane is certain nothing is out of the ordinary.
At least, that’s what he thinks until he opens his texts back up to read what Ilya sent.
Lily: I’m being serious. None. 7 whole days.
Lily: What happened? Too busy jerking off??
Lily: Wait… you totally are.
Lily: Pervert.
Laughing, because there’s nothing else to be done about inadvertently getting caught out, Shane decides not to text back for a while. It’s only fair Shane gives Ilya a little something to think about, too.
April 2019
Despite so many things changing over the last couple of years, Shane’s appreciation for Ilya’s playoff beard is not one of them.
It’s only a small bit disappointing that he’s not sitting in the stands of Ottawa’s stadium while Ilya plays but there are only so many boundaries they can push at one time. Instead, Shane’s in Ilya’s Ottawa home, on the couch with his parents and a couple of friends watching Ilya Rozanov take Ottawa to the cup for the first time in many, many years. It’s not the most perfect scenario but it’s so much better than the last time Shane watched his boyfriend’s playoff journey on tv.
There’s a certain kind of joy that comes with watching Ilya score the winning goal twenty seconds before the final buzzer. Shane is up on his feet in tears watching Ilya lift the cup over his head in triumph. Pride and happiness and that silly sort of want Shane always has for Ilya take up space in Shane’s chest as everyone claps and talks shit and simply enjoys Ilya’s success. The full circle feeling is a beautiful thing.
So much so that Shane forgets to be excited by Ilya’s beard until they’re alone together later on that evening. Everyone is gone after making Ilya feel celebrated and loved. Now, it’s just Ilya and Shane and their lips meeting over and over again - it’s perfect and seemingly the right time for Shane’s kink to come back with a vengeance.
Ilya is kissing down his neck when his beard tickles Shane’s skin. The feeling sends a shock of want through Shane that’s so dizzying, he leans heavily into the bed below him to reground himself. Of course, not before Ilya notices the mini swoon.
“All good, Hollander?” Ilya pulls back just enough to quirk a brow up at him. He’s giddy and so full of himself, hotter than absolute hell - it’s a lot for an already weak Shane Hollander to take.
“Fuck, I’m perfect. Just great,” Shane mutters, trying his best to sound confident.
It’s of no use, though. Ilya keeps on pushing.
“Something wrong? Or just right?” Ilya questions, his sexy signature smirk ever present.
Looking up, Shane tries to come up with something other than the truth but it’s out and babbled into the air before he’s able to stop it.
“Your fucking beard, Ilya. It’s sexy. So goddamn hot, Rozanov. It tickles. It’s a little scratchy. I want to see if you’ll leave beard burn if you stay too long between my thighs.” By the time the words are out, Shane is panting, even more want coursing through him.
And Ilya, that little shit, seems to only be smirking more fully now. His eyes are wide, taking all of in Shane with glee.
“You like this?” Ilya questions, reaching up to tug at the scruff on his chin. “Is a bit itchy. Nice otherwise.” He shrugs then, his shoulders hitching. “Curious to know you like it so much. This new thing or always?”
Ilya asks the question nonchalantly but he’s moving down the bed, his chin and cheeks unashamedly rubbing against any piece of Shane’s skin that is reachable. He’s sneaky and eager and makes things so great, Shane’s breathless at the knowledge that another person can make him feel at this intensity.
Still, he tries to seem put together, like Ilya isn’t someone who can take him out with just a smile and unkempt facial hair.
“Always. Or, at least the last couple of years. I don’t remember if you grew a beard when we were younger.”
“I didn’t. Not until after 2014 Olympics. The hair grew in too patchy before then.”
Laughing at the thought, Shane reaches down to touch Ilya, his hand landing in the confines of shower damp curls. He tugs a bit, pulling until Ilya comes back up to face him.
“I love all of you, Ilya Rozanov. You just look a little extra sexy with the beard.” Shane drives his point home with a tug to Ilya’s chin and a hot kiss pressed against his lips.
Ilya smiles then, his lips wet and wide. “You never stop surprisingly me, Shane.” He gives Shane a kiss, then - “flip over. Want to test your theory.”
Shane is about to ask what theory he’s talking about when his babble from a few moments ago comes back to him. His entire body flushes, his neck and chest getting so warm Shane is almost too hot. Almost.
Quick to do as he’s ask, Shane is on his belly with both knees under him. It’s natural to shift his hips backwards, to push into Ilya while giving him more room to work. Based on the hitch in breath Shane hears, Ilya appreciates the view, too.
Strong hands grasp onto Shane’s ass cheeks unceremoniously. Shane is spread even further as Ilya leans and starts to tongue at Shane’s hole. The contact starts out as little kitten licks, the feeling of them teasing. As Shane imagined, Ilya’s facial hair brushes against his thighs with each lick and shift of Ilya’s body. It’s magnificent - Shane knows he’s not going to last if Ilya’s keeps this up.
“Good God, Ilya. You know I can’t take too much of this,” Shane babbles as he reaches down to grasp the base of his cock. He’s gotten a little better at the stamina thing over the years but a quick trigger still exists when Shane’s not feeling completely in control. Now that Ilya’s got an idea in his head, Shane can’t catch a break or grasp onto the parts of him that can make things last. Ilya drives him crazy on a good day and today… it’s an even better day.
“I’m going to come if you keep up. Want you in me, Ilya. Please…”
Surprisingly, Ilya pulls back at Shane’s request. Though it’s apparent why when his hand trails across both of Shane’s ass cheeks. He’s tracing the burn, rubbing the rawness of his hair brushing there in a little bit more. Shane knows he’s going to feel it in the morning but it’s impossible to be anything but turned on by it.
“Your skin flushes so beautifully. Might have to keep the beard just for this,” Ilya says this with a voice strung out, his accent heavy. “Condom tonight, or no?”
Shifting on his elbows, Shane reaches over to the bedside table to fish out the lube and lube alone. He tosses it by his knee, looking over his shoulder as he does. “I want to feel all of you, Ilya.” Shane sucks in a breath, even chuckles lightly. “Besides, you deserve it. Fucking champion.”
Ilya chuckles and takes the lube, his fingers brushing Shane’s knee ever so slightly. He’s quick about getting the bottle open and warming the liquid inside before starting to prep Shane for what’s to come. After so many years of doing this (and a round before Ilya left for the stadium today), it takes no time at all for Shane to start to hump back into Ilya’s touch. One finger turns to two to three without much resistance at all. By the time it’s obvious there’s no need for more, Shane knows Ilya is simply toying with him.
“Please, Rozy,” Shane says, knowing the nickname always makes his boyfriend weak.
As it does every time, Shane’s plea works like a charm. There’s a moment where Shane is empty and cold but it’s brief, driven easily away by the warmth of Ilya’s body draping over top of him. Cool lube slides across his entrance before there’s pressure and Ilya is pushing inside.
Both men groan, the chorus of it just barely outweighing the slap of skin as Ilya bottoms out. Shane breaths through the brief moment of pain - it’s easier now that he knows Ilya is always going to take care of him.
After a few moments of getting adjusted, Shane rolls his hips back. Ilya’s been so still just for Shane, it’s easy to forget the first moments inside of him are tense for Ilya, too. The Russian lets out a moan that has Shane’s eyes snapping shut - if he looks back to see what Ilya looks like making such an animalistic sound… the game is going to be over long before either of them really starts to play.
Thankfully, Ilya gets himself under control enough for the both of them. His hands guide Shane’s hips up a little more so there’s absolutely no space between them. The shift drives Ilya’s cock home further, the head of it practically bumping Shane’s prostate with every heart beat. For a singular moment, they’re one from root to tip.
Then, Ilya begins to thrust. Things start slow but Ilya seems to be just as impatient as Shane is. His hips pick up speed, the smack of their skin hitting like the swift slap of the puck hitting a stick. Ilya is accurate in the way he works over Shane’s body - between strikes to his prostate and the tight grip of his hip, Shane has been standing on the precipice practically since Ilya first touched him.
There’s no point in reaching down to touch his cock. Shane knows this long before he starts to really dribble precome onto the mattress below him. The slick is sticky and warm each time he’s brushed up against it - every time Ilya thrusts, the tip of Shane’s cock rubs relentlessly against the sheets. If Ilya has his way, Shane’s legs will be spread so wide, he’s speared on the thick cock inside of him. His orgasm will be hands free tonight, no questions asked.
When it does eventually happen, Shane reaches back to grab onto Ilya’s wrist. His boyfriend is quick to tie their fingers together, Ilya’s own orgasm following almost instantly. Their fingers cling and grip onto each other as heaven and little deaths and the perfect ending comes to pass. Shane’s name is fresh on Ilya’s lips, the sound of which never gets old.
Later, when they’re cleaned up but still naked, pressed skin to skin, Ilya nestles his face against the back of Shane’s neck. Ilya holds him tightly, his chest pushing into Shane’s back. They’re as flush as they can be, joined together in all ways except the one they’re still coming down from. Ilya kisses the skin just below Shane’s hair, his beard scratching ever so slightly. The ghosting touch causes a moan to slip from Shane’s mouth.
“You never stop surprising me, sweetheart,” Ilya says, the smile on his face evident in that cheeky tone of voice.
Shane starts to turn around but is stopped by the heavy pressure of Ilya leaning against him more fully. He’s a second from being sassy back but is stopped short - Ilya, the little shit that he is, rubs his beard affectionately along Shane’s sensitive skin.
“Don’t be shy. I love it. I love you.”
Melting, Shane relaxes, his back melting into Ilya’s chest. “I love you, too.”
They settle in and Shane is seconds from sleep when he hears - “always knew you were a little pervert.”
April 2021
The playoffs are a little different now that Shane is playing for Ottawa with Ilya. As silly as it is, Shane is too distracted by his own patchy beard (and the luxury of playing into the post season with his boyfriend) to pay much attention to the hair starting to cover Ilya’s face and chin.
Its been an absolute whirlwind since becoming a free agent last season. His shift to Ottawa was a surprise for everyone but it’s where his heart is and Shane finally understands himself enough to know it’s where he’s meant to be. The fans and media got a bit more behind the change when Shane and Ilya started to change the team’s narrative, one interesting win at a time.
Instead of being thought of as awful, their cup win in 2019 a fluke, Ottawa is now a household hockey name. It doesn’t hurt, either, that Shane and Ilya’s teamwork is most of note. Their rivalry is a far off thing now that the world knows how much better off hockey is with Shane and Ilya playing together. Ottawa loves it, the fans crave it, hell - even the league can’t find a way to complain.
That much is evident by the amount of people in the stands on a nightly basis. At the beginning of the season, the home side seats were always a little empty. The sort that makes any performer not want to even go out and try. Now, they are filled to the brim with people hounding the ticket office for one more seat, one more chance to see the Ilya and Shane show. The vibe is off the wall and loud, absolutely perfect for the final game of the MHL season. Shane is happy to be there, experiencing all the madness with Ilya standing next to him.
That ecstatic energy stays around most of the game. For the first 2 periods, Ottawa and San Francisco are neck and neck. There’s an intensity on the ice only found in these sort of situations. Though, it’s pushed past a fever pitch when Shane is dirtily hit from behind halfway through the last period. He goes from scoring a for sure goal to trampled face first on the ice. The hit is deliberate - it’s obvious to everyone, Shane included.
Without a second’s hesitation, Ilya is skating Shane’s way. Unlike the previous time Shane got hurt, Ilya is able to lean down and talk to him, to make sure that Shane is as okay as he’s going to be after a huge hit like that. Ilya is gentle in the way he helps Shane up but that softness changes and is completely gone when the culprit of Shane’s hit makes himself known.
The next scene is one out of a movie - it has to be. Shane watches as Ilya throws his gloves down and grabs at Henderson’s jersey with bare hands. The guy doesn’t back down or take Ilya’s rising fury as a warning. Instead, he pushes back into Ilya. There’s a fire in both their eyes that means only one thing.
Within seconds of the pair coming head to head, fists start to fly. Ilya has his opponent spun mostly to the ground and is wailing on him. Ilya punches and shoves and pushes until both teams are pulling him away. He’s still yelling in Russian as the ref skates his way over to formally break the whole thing up. Shane can do nothing but trail after him as Ilya is ejected off the ice and sent reeling into the locker room. He wants to give further chase but there’s still three minutes on the clock.
Those three minutes turn out to be the longest of Shane’s career. Their entire middle is broken apart without Ilya so it takes no time at all for a goal to be scored… and then another. By the time the buzzer is sounding, Ottawa is more worried about heading off the ice to check on Ilya than the loss they just suffered. San Francisco might have the cup this time around but it’s a sham. Anyone watching the game knows it.
The locker room is a different sort of chaos - everyone is asking Ilya different questions or cornering Shane to get his perspective of what just happened. It’s a lot, especially after a loss. Shane tries to take everything in stride but the only thing he truly wants to do is wrap his arms around Ilya.
The cool Ilya is always so good about went out the window, totally ripped to shreds by a bad hit and the protective nature Shane loves most about him. There’s no mistaking how personal that beating Henderson got was. At least as far as Shane is concerned. He’s proud of Ilya for being the enforcer and more in love with him than ever for protecting not just Shane but their team as a whole.
After a brief talking to from the coach and an even shorter round of press, Shane and Ilya walk out of the stadium together. It’s not quite hand in hand but they’re so much closer than ever before. It’s lovely but all Shane wants to do is grab Ilya’s face to kiss him silly. Then maybe drag him in for a long hug.
Finally in the car and away from the stadium enough, Shane reaches across the center console, his hand palming Ilya’s cheek. He lets his fingers run through the soft beard hair there, the motion soothing for them both.
“Ilya, thank you. I know fighting isn’t your thing but - I’m really lucky you have my back. The team is lucky.”
Ilya reaches up then, his fingers wrapping tightly around Shane’s wrist. He makes no move to shift Shane’s hand away, in fact, Ilya leans into the petting. It’s almost as if he’s grabbing onto Shane just to keep his hand there. It’s a silly worry - Shane’s wandering fingers aren’t going anywhere.
“I just… saw red. You hit the ice so hard. I just keep thinking - what if he is hurt? What if is like last time? They took you off the ice so quickly, I only got to know what happened to you after the fact. Just… too much. Couldn’t let that happen again.” Ilya’s skin starts to heat up under Shane’s hand. It’s not often the Russian blushes but when he does, it usually because he’s admitting something soft and sweet. This time around isn’t any exception.
“That really messed with you, didn’t it? I don’t remember so much of what happened that day - I can only imagine how waiting around must have felt. I know I wouldn’t have been patient about it.”
“Yes, is good you are the klutzy one. Our secret would be secret no more if I ever take a hit like that.” Ilya laughs, his cheeks shifting as a smile overtakes his lips.
Shane laughs, too. “Damn right! So stay on your skates and don’t get hurt. I can’t lose you, Ilya. Not now.”
It’s lucky they are pulling into the driveway because Ilya abruptly stops the car. He slams it into park and turns so fast in his seat that Shane snatches his arm back in alarm. Suddenly, Ilya is staring at Shane, something big sitting just behind his teeth.
“You are not getting out of this so easy, Hollander. I have plans to annoy you all the way to death. Is what I am looking forward to most as we grow old together.” Ilya tries for a cocky smirk but the words still sitting between them are too soft to make such a look believable.
Allowing Ilya to think he’s getting away with his pretend snark, Shane surges forward to press their lips together in a heated kiss. He’s been wanting to do this since Ilya threw that first punch; the want he’s been feeling only seems to magnify now that they’re finally touching. Shane keeps steady pressure against Ilya until oxygen makes it impossible to stay tangled up. Only then does he pull away.
“I like the sound of that. Us growing old together.” Shane has to shake his head to stop the spiraling thoughts from taking him away from this moment. It’s so easy to picture their future together now, it’s almost distracting. Though, not so much so that Shane forgets where their kisses are heading.
“Let’s go inside. My handsome hunk of a protector deserves a little treat.”
The next few minutes are a blur of getting through the door and up the stairs while trying to strip each other and not fall flat on their faces. The familiarity of this song and dance is the only thing that saves Shane from eating shit more than once and he’s plenty happy to be in the bedroom once they’re safely inside.
With the door closed and the world around them narrowed down to nothing, Shane gets to strip away all his worries and anxieties. In their little cocoon, Shane and Ilya simply become two people who love the hell out of each other - there’s no expectation from people watching or threat to either of them. It’s just Shane and Ilya and the love they worked so hard to keep safe.
Shane’s mind is still stuck on that thought as he rides Ilya’s cock. Here, locked in the cage of Ilya’s arms, Shane is safe. Safer than he’s ever been, really. Ilya holds him tight, looking up at him with wide eyes and an open mouth that speaks of awe and desire. That reality and its tangible expression in Ilya both on the ice and right here in bed… it’s all Shane’s ever wanted.
Both hands reach up to cup Ilya’s cheeks then, his fingers pulling at the hair there affectionately. “I’m going to be sad to see this go,” Shane says, his voice breathy and light. “I’m so fucking sorry shit ended this way but damn, Ilya. You looked hot beating the shit out of Henderson.”
Ilya tilts his head, leaning into Shane’s hands on him. “Always knew you liked that side of me.” Ilya punctuates his words with a couple of kisses. “Is lucky I didn’t truly hurt him. No one touches my Shane Hollander.”
That declaration makes it impossible to keep talking. Shane feels love and want and something he can’t quite name spread like wildfire throughout his entire body. He’s suddenly so overrun with it, it’s impossible to stay confident and in control. The soft roll of his hips turns biting and quick in an instant. Shane doesn’t know what to do with all the feelings so his body shifts and grinds in hopes of at least making sure Ilya knows how deep this is, how much Shane wants and loves and loves some more.
It seems like they come together, when it happens - Ilya’s babbling mindlessly into the crook of Shane’s neck as come splatters between them, Shane’s hand moving relentlessly over his cock. They moan and breath and shudder through orgasms as one, Ilya clinging to Shane through all the aftershocks and beyond.
Reaching down to tug Ilya up by the chin hair, Shane presses a kiss to his boyfriend’s lips then nuzzles their noses together.
“I love you, Ilya. So, so much.”
Ilya steals another kiss before replying. “Even without the facial hair? I must shave this thing off immediately.”
With a snort, Shane gives Ilya’s chin hair another tug, a smile on his lips.
“Even without the facial hair.”
April 2023
They are twenty seconds away from winning the cup when Shane gets a pass from Ilya. He looks up with a grin, winking over at his husband before shifting the puck just enough to take a slap shot that sores into the back of the goal. The buzzer sounds, cementing their lead by two goals. Without any time left for a comeback, their legacy is finally concrete.
There’s a different sort of joy that Shane’s never experienced that washes over him when the clock finally ticks down to zero. Shane’s been here before but it’s a totally different winning feeling with Ilya on the ice next to him. It’s all they talked about over the years and now, after struggling and fighting and working harder than ever, a joint dream of theirs is finally coming true.
Ilya’s arm doesn’t shift from Shane’s shoulder once during their time in the locker room. They’re attached at the hip as everyone screams and shouts and dances around with champagne spraying everywhere. There’s no where else in the world Shane wants to be, no one else he wants to be with, either. Between Ilya, the gorgeous husband always at his side, and this team of men joyously monkeying around, everyone important in the world is here, celebrating such an incredible accomplishment with him.
It’s truly all Shane’s ever wanted.
Okay, well - that’s not entirely true.
That comes half an hour later when they’re finally announced as MHL cup winners. He and Ilya share the hoisting of the cup as co-captains. Despite having done this before, Shane feels like he’s never lived a better moment. There’s nothing like skating next to his favorite person in the world holding the ultimate prize. Shane has to double take a couple of times to truly believe it’s real, that it’s happening to him.
After their victory lap and many claps on the back from the rest of their team, Shane and Ilya hand over the cup for someone else to hoist aloft and hold with pride. It’s an overwhelming feeling and Shane wants everyone to bask in it.
Especially because he’s got something a little different in mind.
Ilya is beaming when Shane turns to him. His smile only grows wider as Shane skates the little bit of distance between them. Suddenly, they’re nose to nose in front of all of Ottawa’s fans.
It’s obvious what’s going to happen long before Shane reaches up to bury his fingers in the soft hair of Ilya’s beard. Over so many seasons he’s longed for this moment exactly - post season bearded Ilya beaming at him and ready to accept a kiss for all the world to see. Always such a pipe dream, Shane is fucking ecstatic to see it finally come to fruition.
Ilya is the one that closes the gap between them, though Shane gives back as good as he gets. They kiss with the sort of passion that’s probably not appropriate for tv but neither man cares. After almost fifteen years of living in the dark, it feels so good to finally come out into the light.
When they pull away, the applause seems to increase tenfold. Everyone is looking at them but it’s with happiness and awe, not the disgust Shane’s been picturing all these years. Maybe Ottawa’s been waiting for this moment, too. Or maybe Shane is just so happy, he can’t make himself care about anything but this perfect second with his husband and team after winning the cup.
Of course, Ilya has to break through the glorious haze by being his sassy ass self bringing Shane right back down to Earth where he belongs.
“Knew it - fucking perverts, the lot of them.”