Work Text:
Shanehollanderhockeyplayer wants to send you a message.
The notification pops up on Ilya's phone while he's laying on his couch, scrolling TikTok. It’s an Instagram DM, and when he taps on it, he’s asked if he wants to block or accept the message. The thing is, Ilya receives plenty of DMs from randos daily. As an up and coming actor whose breakout role in a queer hockey romance swept the internet by storm, his DMs have been flooded lately. But this one stands out because of the hockey player part.
A hockey player in his DMs is just too good. It specifically being Shane Hollander, Canada’s golden boy, makes it even more delicious.
Ilya wonders if he’s about to get told off over DMs. More than a few hockey players had some… not so great reactions to the TV show he'd just starred in, Passionate Opposition, a queer hockey romance. Though, the truth of the matter is that it resonated with more closeted players than it pissed off straight players, and that makes Ilya proud to be attached to the whole project.
When Ilya had seen the casting call for a Russian hockey player, he’d known he had to go for it. Having grown up in Russia himself, his accent is genuine and his hockey skills are… mid, considering he’d played through primary school. He could at least skate and handle a puck, and it had counted for something. And despite only a few smaller roles in indie films, the casting director had liked him, and he’d booked the role.
The show hadn’t been expected to perform as well as it is – but now Ilya’s ass is plastered all over Twitter, and the shenanigans he and his co-star, Troy Barrett, had gotten into on the press tour are also going viral. They’ve become the internet’s sweethearts, or so Johnson Traynor, their director and now a close friend to Ilya, insists.
And honestly? Ilya isn’t complaining.
Last month he’d been bartending to make ends meet in between indie art film shorts and other small roles he could manage. Now, he’s being invited to the Academy Awards, and even Rose Landry knows who he is. He’d say he’s doing pretty damn well for himself.
The craziest part of it all, though, has been the reaction from athletes. Some of them have outrightly voiced their homophobia with the show, a thing which makes Ilya understand why something like this is so important. As a man who openly identifies as bisexual, it stings a little bit, to know there are still so many people who want to hold back the LGBTQIA+ community. It’s infuriating to know that there are people who feel like this story shouldn’t be told, because Ilya knows they are wrong, but he also knows that not all of the world agrees with him, something that stings.
On the flip side, though, there have been a lot of closeted men (and a few women!) from all levels of sport sliding into his DMs and telling him how meaningful the show has been to them. And that feels good. It’s nice, knowing he can make a difference through his portrayal and representation on screen.
So, yeah. He does open Shane Hollander’s DM. Because Shane Hollander is maybe the biggest name in hockey, which is something he knew even before getting the role. He’s not a hockey fan, per se, but he does enjoy catching a game every now and again when the LA Emperors are in town, and even being slightly exposed to the hockey world means knowing who Shane Hollander is. He also might have learned a little bit about Shane when he was prepping for this role, which did involve looking up pictures of Shane Hollander, and damn, the boy is fine.
But that’s beside the point.
Ilya is going to read the DM and move on with his day, because that’s what he does. His agent threatened him not to answer any of them, and because she’s responsible for booking his next gig, he’s going to listen to her.
Shanehollanderhockeyplayer: I know this is probably totally weird, but I just wanted to reach out and thank you. Your show meant a lot to me, as a closeted hockey player. I mean, some guys on my team know, but I’m not out to the public and it was nice to see myself represented. So, thank you.
Ilya can feel his eyebrows crawling up his forehead. This is… interesting, to say the least. He taps Shane’s profile and flicks through the promotional team photos and obvious plugs for endorsement deals. A very few of the pictures are photoshoots for articles written about the hockey player, but there’s nothing personal there.
Doesn’t this guy know about burner accounts? Ilya thinks, as he scrolls his own public profile. The thing about Shane is that he’s really hot. And Ilya… doesn’t know what to do with that. If this were a few weeks ago, before he’d blown up, before he was an actual celebrity and was just an actor struggling, he would flirt shamelessly with Shane. Hot and athletic and, from all of the interviews he watched (for research!) a really good guy by all accounts? Yeah. Ilya would absolutely go for it.
So why does that have to change just because he’s reached astronomical levels of fame? Ilya can still flirt, right? It’s just one message, and the likelihood of Shane responding seems… slim. He probably just wanted to get this off of his chest and go about his day. He probably won’t even get the notification that Ilya replied.
Fuck it. Shane is hot, and who is Ilya to disregard that? He’s just a man, after all. A bisexual man who maybe thinks hockey players are really hot, on top of Shane being very physically attractive.
Ilyarozanovofficial: wow, was not expecting to find you in my inbox
Ilyarozanovofficial: I am very glad our show could do that for you
Ilyarozanovofficial: did you see something you liked while you watched? 😉
There. He sent it. And he doesn’t even regret it.
Ilya flips his television on and sighs as he scrolls through his streaming services. But curiosity is killing him, so he opens Instagram again… and there are three little dots dancing on his screen.
“Holy shit,” Ilya sits up on the couch, and rests his elbows on his knees with his phone in his hands. “Holy shit.”
Shane responds.
Immediately.
“What the fuck is going on?” Ilya breathes as he looks at the DM and – laughs.
Shanehollanderhockeyplayer: I liked everything I saw. I even thought you guys did a good job with the hockey aspects.
So Ilya needs to be a bit more… on the nose, then. Ok.
Ilyarozanovofficial: did you like seeing my ass, too? 😊
Well. If that doesn’t make his point, nothing will.
The three dots bounce on Ilya’s screen again, and he sits back, resting against the pillows, one hand behind his head while he waits for Shane’s response. He can’t help the little grin that’s on his lips, and he absently twirls a strand of hair around his finger as he waits.
Shanehollanderhockeyplayer: Oh
Shanehollanderhockeyplayer: yeah, i did. You have a nice ass
Ilya’s grin is smug as he reads the messages. Ok, so Shane isn’t the best at flirting, but at least he’d gotten his point across this time.
Ilyarozanovofficial: are you single, Shane Hollander?
Subtlety is not the name of this game. Ilya doesn’t know where this deep pit of want that has opened in his stomach came from, but now all he can do, all he can focus on, is Shane. He does a very completely normal thing while he waits for a response – he opens TikTok and searches Shane’s name. He peruses fan edits and watches a few interview clips, and he gets it. Not only why Shane is the best of the best, but why people love him so much. He’s endearing – sweet and honest in interviews, and a boss on the ice.
This is doing nothing but stoking the flame of desire that sits like a bird, a flappable, fluttering thing, in the pit of his chest. Hitting on Shane is a silly thing to do – he lives in Montreal and he isn’t out, for starters. But that doesn’t make Ilya want this less. Afterall, he loves a challenge.
Without prompting and with blind determination, Ilya pulls up the LA Emperors schedule. Sure, the Emperors are a different division from the Voyageurs, but they play each other at least once, right?
Right. There it is on the schedule, and it’s happening in three weeks.
A notification pings that Shane has responded to him, and Ilya navigates back to Instagram.
Shanehollanderhockeyplayer: Yes
Shanehollanderhockeyplayer: why?
Ilyarozanovofficial: you really do not know where this is leading?
Shanehollanderhockeyplayer: … no?
Shanehollanderhockeyplayer: Well. Maybe.
Shanehollanderhockeyplayer: Are you hitting on me?
Ilya chuckles and can’t help but roll his eyes. Shane’s obliviousness is kind of adorable, and is only adding to Ilya’s desire to take Shane out on a date and see how quickly he can make Shane blush. He wants to see how many touches it takes before Shane implodes.
Ilyarozanovofficial: yes, good job, I am!
Ilyarozanovofficial: would you like my number, maybe?
It seems like bold is the way to go with Shane, so he just outrightly goes for it. He wants to get to know Shane, and – okay. Maybe, honestly, he really wants to hook up with Shane next time he’s in town. To say he did. To prove that he can. It’s a game, now – he’s the cat and Shane is the scurrying little mouse, and Ilya intends to eat him up.
Shanehollanderhockeyplayer: oh. Your number? What for? I mean you live in LA, right?
Shanehollanderhockeyplayer: I live in Montreal. So…?
With a little chuckle and a roll of his eyes, Ilya bites his lip and tucks his legs underneath him on his couch. He’s like a school girl with a crush right now. Shane is honestly adorable. This was not something Ilya was expecting. The obliviousness paired with his sweet sincerity is almost too much for Ilya.
He’s arguably never dated a nice man. There had been plenty of men he thought were nice, sure, but they usually masked their true ugliness with it, after all. It’s why he’s single now, though he is thankful he’s single for this part of his life. His rise to fame, his success from this show – he’s the only one reaping all the benefits. He doesn’t have to share that with anyone else.
Not that he’d mind sharing it with someone. And sure, he feels lonely some nights, like when Troy brings his boyfriend along and Ilya is very obviously the third wheel (though, Ilya does love Harris), or when he’s falling asleep by himself instead of curled up into someone else’s arms. Maybe he could fall asleep in Shane’s arms when he comes to LA.
Ilyarozanovofficial: we could just talk 😊
The dots pop up again as Shane types and Ilya waits.
Shanehollanderhockeyplayer: Something tells me you don’t want to just talk.
Ilya knows he's earned himself the title of playboy through the years. He's hooked up with plenty of people in his past, women and men and people who don't identify as either, he doesn't discriminate. But his agent has worked hard to clean up his reputation and allow him to start fresh, and while he does want to do more than talk with Shane, he does feel like Shane is unfairly not giving him a chance here.
But he also doesn’t quite know where Shane is coming from here. Maybe he dated some sketchy men, himself. Maybe Shane doesn’t want to talk at all, maybe Ilya is only useful to him if he’s in Montreal and readily available. Or maybe Shane is lonely just like him, but the prospect of someone genuinely knowing him, wanting to talk to the real him, is terrifying.
There are options. Ilya will get to the bottom of this.
Ilyarozanovofficial: excuse me, Shane Hollander. I’m a gentleman.
Ilyarozanovofficial: am I not allowed to want to get to know you?
Ilya chuckles at his own wit as he waits for Shane’s response. Sure, he doesn’t know Shane well, but he is intrigued. He flips back to TikTok to watch more Shane Hollander edits, and flips back to Instagram when there’s a new notification there.
Shanehollanderhockeyplayer: hmmmm
Shanehollanderhockeyplayer: ok. My number is 613-212-8124
“Shane Hollander,” Ilya says, clicking his tongue as he copies the number into a new text message and grins. He taps one finger against his chin as he thinks of how he wants to open this conversation, because the possibilities are endless, and he’s finding he kind of likes fucking with Shane more than maybe he should. But he also doesn’t want to immediately scare him away…
So. He opts for safe.
Ilya: this is Ilya
Ilya: thank you for the number 😄
Shane: Wow you’re fast
Ilya: only when I want to be. I like to take my time. 😉
Once again, subtle is not what Ilya is trying to be here. While he waits for Shane’s response, he pulls up the Emperors’ schedule again. There it is – three weeks away. Emperors versus the Voyageurs. He’s going to shoot his damn shot, and if Shane rejects him, that’s fine.
But Ilya doesn’t think he’s going to get shut down by Shane. Why would Shane give Ilya his number if he’s just planning on rejecting him, after all?
Shane: Oh. That’s nice.
This brings a full laugh out of Ilya, and his head falls back onto the couch as he shakes it. Shane may not mean to be, but he’s funny. Ilya is already enjoying their conversation and they’ve barely been talking for thirty minutes. This might be detrimental for him – what if he seriously catches feelings here?
No, Ilya thinks. He’d never let that happen. This is going to be a one time thing to get it out of his system. He’s not going to go back into the closet for some hot athlete, no matter how hot he is.
(And he’s hot. Ilya is currently looking at the GQ cover Shane did last year and drooling.)
Ilya: You’re playing in LA in three weeks
Ilya: would you like to come over and take your time with me? After your game?
Ilya expects it’s going to take a minute to hear back from Shane on this one. And yet… almost immediately, his phone vibrates with a new text.
Shane: actually, yeah. That would be nice.
Ilya: I promise you, is going to be better than nice 😘
Leaning back into the couch, Ilya picks his feet up and kicks them a few times in the air. It’s not a date, but it still feels like a win. A small victory, if you will. After all, Ilya doesn’t want to date Shane. He wants to fuck it out of his system, say he did it, and call it a night. He’s sure he’ll never be able to tell anyone about this, but he’s excited nonetheless. It will be a fun story to look back on and tell his kids one day.
Well.
Maybe not his kids.
He’ll tell all of his nursing home friends about the time he fucked Shane Hollander, and no one will believe him, and that’s okay. He’ll know in his heart of hearts that it’s true.
The next few weeks go by quickly, and maybe some of that is because Ilya occupies his time texting Shane.
What he hadn’t expected was a sweet, genuine connection to form between them, one that has sort of knocked him on his ass, if he’s being honest. Shane is an open book, and answers all of his questions easily and honestly. Shane doesn’t tell Ilya he’s stupid when he asks hockey questions, and he asks plenty of questions about Ilya’s jobs as well – what he’s auditioning for (usually Ilya can’t say, but he did tell Shane about one role in a horror he’s really hoping he gets), the photoshoots he’s going to (some are for big publications but he’s still doing smaller stuff, too) and if he likes all the attention he’s getting (sort of, but he is tired of people digging into his past, unearthing old pictures, and accusing him of queerbaiting).
In the midst of being engulfed in a world of people who smile to your face and talk shit behind your back, Ilya has found a genuine shining light – Shane Hollander. Shane makes him laugh with his straightforwardness and no-nonsense answers. Shane brings a smile to his lips when he sends Ilya good morning texts from the east coast. Shane listens when Ilya is frustrated by silly things he wishes didn’t get under his skin.
And people notice, too. Because texting Shane makes Ilya smile at his phone and light up when he sees the notifications come in that he has a new text from Shane. Shane asks him deeply personal questions about his life, and also asks the silliest, smallest things that shouldn’t even matter. Ilya’s at a photoshoot one day, when one such text comes in.
Shane: What’s your favorite food?
Ilya: my favorite food? Why?
Shane: I don’t know, I just want to know more things about you
Ok, well. That makes Ilya melt. Right there, on the spot. He knows the look he’s wearing is one of absolute sunshine because he can feel his cheeks burning with his smile. The makeup artist cocks an eyebrow at him as she pulls back the brush from Ilya’s face and crosses her arms over her chest, amused.
“Who has you smiling like that?” She asks. Ilya’s gaze flickers up and he bites his lip, shaking his head.
“No one.”
Ilya: Probably pelmeni. My mother used to make the best. But I really like tuna melts, if we are going American classics.
“No one my ass,” the woman, Ilya thinks her name is Aisha, snorts. “Someone has been blowing you up all day,” she teases him, and Ilya frowns slightly. He doesn’t know why it matters, but now he’s worried. Maybe he should be focusing on his career rather than Shane. But where is the fun in that?
Shane: I want to try the Russian one sometime.
Ilya: I will make it for you when you come visit.
Shane: You can cook, too? Is there anything you can’t do?
Ilya: Play hockey 😂
Shane: Good thing I’ve got that covered then
Shane: you said your mom ‘used to’ make the best pelmeni?
Ilya's heart flutters like a limp thing in his chest that Shane noticed the past tense. To be seen is to be known, he thinks, and hesitates on what to write back. On the one hand, he doesn't want to talk about his mother’s death before he has to be on for this shoot. On the other hand, he wants to open up to Shane about this. So, he takes a fortifying breath, gives the makeup artist a little reassuring smile when she raises an eyebrow at him, and forges ahead.
Ilya: yes. She is gone now. She died when I was twelve.
Shane: oh
Shane: Ilya I'm so sorry
And Ilya finds that, truly, it doesn't flood him with sadness to think about his mother this time, and to share her memory with Shane. It makes him smile to think that now Shane knows about her, even if vaguely.
Ilya: is ok
Ilya: it is good to talk about her and remember her
And Ilya means it. He wants to share the good and the bad with Shane, and he doesn't want to think too closely about what that means right now. So instead he puts his phone up and goes to set, putting any worries about how real his feelings for Shane are behind him.
Troy even asks about it one day when he’s visiting LA for a shoot and staying with Ilya. He doesn’t have to stay at Ilya’s apartment – if they wanted to, they could get the best rooms in the nicest hotels these days. But both of them agreed there’s no reason to become those kinds of stars when Ilya has a perfectly good apartment that can fit him and Troy easily.
They hit the apartment gym together, and Ilya is only half paying attention when they work out. The other part of his attention is on his phone.
Ilya: [tiktok video link which directs to a short video Shane did for Montreal’s PR team of him answering rapidfire questions]
Ilya: this is funny
Ilya: you should do more projects like this
Shane: oh
Shane: Why?
Ilya: so people see how funny you are
“Who are you texting?” Troy asks from across the gym where he’s paused his treadmill. He takes a deep drink of water and arches one eyebrow at Ilya, who scoffs and puts his phone away, looking down at the dumbbells he’d been using a moment ago.
“Is nothing,” Ilya tucks his phone into his pocket, and resists the itch to grab it out again when he feels it buzz with Shane’s reply.
Troy rolls his eyes and huffs out a little laugh. “You aren’t subtle, Ilya. You’ve been glued to that phone the whole time I’ve been here. Now are you gonna tell me who it is?”
For a moment, there’s silence between them. Ilya worries the inside of his lip with his teeth as he weighs the options of being honest with Troy or continuing to lie, but he knows he can trust his co-star and best friend, so he opts for the truth.
“You know Shane Hollander?”
“The hockey player?” Troy’s eyebrows both go up and he puts his water bottle down, then looks pointedly at Ilya again. “Yeah. Why?”
“We are texting,” Ilya says with a little shrug. As if to emphasize his point, he pulls his phone out and looks at the text.
Shane: I wasn’t trying to be funny in that interview though?
Ilya: I thought you were very funny
“Oh my god,” Troy laughs and shakes his head as he comes to sit on the bench across from Ilya. “Are you guys like… talking talking?”
It’s a good question. This was supposed to be leading up to a one night thing – a hook-up. Nothing serious, nothing too heavy. And yet, Ilya finds himself anticipating Shane’s texts and waiting for the next notification to pop up. He wants to talk to Shane, not just see the sweet, innocent gym selfies Shane snaps at his work outs. Ilya thinks, maybe, he’s a little in over his head here, and he’s let himself get too wrapped up in something that has hardly just begun. They haven’t even met in person yet and he’s already pining for Shane like a wife waiting for her husband to return from fucking war.
Okay, that’s dramatic. But there’s some truth to it! He can’t wait until Shane is here, and spending time with him.
“Yes,” Ilya sighs, because admitting it feels like a weight off of his chest. “He slid into my DMs, a while back,” Ilya admits with a little shrug, as if he were indifferent.
Troy whoops, and leans back as he shakes his head again. “Holy shit. He’s hot, Ilya.”
“Do not talk about him like that,” Ilya points an accusing finger at Troy, who holds his hands up in surrender.
“I didn’t mean anything by it, you know I love Harris,” Troy promises with a small laugh. Ilya leans back a little, and checks his phone again.
No new message. Shane must be in practice now.
“He is playing in town next week and I will go to the game,” Ilya admits with a little grin of triumph. Troy slaps Ilya’s thigh and nods enthusiastically.
“Hell yes! Are you going to do anything else while he’s in town?”
The meaning there isn’t lost on Ilya, and he looks down at his hands before looking back up at Troy with a wolfish grin.
“I cannot wait to get my hands on him,” he admits. Because it’s true. He can’t wait to have Shane here, with him. And maybe Troy doesn’t need to know just how deeply these feelings are running. Let him think it’s an easy, casual thing, for now, at least.
The morning of the game, Ilya wakes up to texts from Shane, as usual. He hates that he’s so comfortable with this, that they’re expected, at this point. He’d honestly be worried if his usual ‘good morning!’ text from Shane wasn’t there. But there it is, and it’s followed up by another text, as well.
Shane: good morning!
Shane: I got you two tickets to the game tonight
Shane: hope that’s not too presumptuous of me, but thought you might like to come
Shane: it’s ok if you don’t want to, though. No hard feelings!
No, Ilya is dying to be at that game. And he doesn’t think it’s presumptuous at all, considering how much they’ve been texting. In fact, he thinks maybe he’s blushing a little, he’s so touched at the thought of Shane saving him seats.
Ilya: I would love to go
Ilya: thank you. Sincerely.
Shane: ok, consider it done.
Shane: boarding the flight now. Can’t believe I get to see you in like, eight hours?
Shane: something like that.
Shane: too many hours, honestly. I wish I were going to see you as soon as we landed
Ilya’s eyebrows raise at Shane’s forwardness. Usually, he says sweet things – little gestures that Ilya recognizes as something that’s maybe a big deal for a closeted hockey player to say to a man who isn’t his boyfriend. But this outright admission feels… major. Like Shane is offering Ilya a little piece of his heart here and now, and who is Ilya if he doesn’t take it and cradle it and protect it with all of his might?
Ilya: soon enough ❤️
For the rest of the day, Shane’s replies are sporadic, like they always are on a game day. He gets a hotel selfie of Shane settling in, and Ilya sends back a goofy selfie from his apartment’s gym. The closer they get to the game, the more the jitters in the pit of Ilya’s stomach ramp up. He’s not anxious so much as… he wants this to go well. He wants to make a good first impression, because goddamnit, he actually has come to really like Shane, and he thinks Shane likes him too, and…
And he doesn’t quite know what to do with that.
There’s a warmth in his chest when he thinks about Shane and he doesn’t know how to handle it. He wants to hold Shane close, to stroke his hair and kiss his nose and count every freckle on the night sky expanse of his cheeks. He wants to spend all night with Shane, then wake up beside him the next morning – no walks of shame here, just pride that Ilya managed to pull a hottie like Shane fucking Hollander.
Shane: where do you want to meet tonight?
Ilya: do you have a roommate this trip?
Shane: Yeah. Hayden. Maybe we could go to your place?
Ilya: I think yes. You can come here after the game.
Shane: Great 😊
Ilya: wow you’re using emoji, you must be really happy
Shane: I am!
Ilya: Good. Will see you tonight 😈
It’s the last he hears from Shane, and he’s not surprised, considering the game is only a few hours out. Ilya gets dressed in his stylist approved outfit (a black henley long sleeved shirt with jeans and a leather jacket and Doc Martins for his shoes) and is thankful said stylist hadn’t insisted on an LA jersey tonight. It had been brought up and when Ilya said he’d rather not, there had been no pushback, thank god. This felt more… him, anyway. Though he does like a theme, he’d much rather wear a Voyageurs jersey, but there’s no easy explanation for him showing up in such a thing when he lives in LA, and he definitely doesn’t want anyone drawing any kind of string between him and Shane. Shane is still in the closet, for all intents and purposes, and Ilya doesn’t want to accidentally get him outed.
And that’s why tonight is just going to be a one time thing. Even if he likes Shane, and has maybe started developing feelings for the hockey player, he’s going to have to nip it in the bud after tonight. Because he refuses to hide in the closet for Shane, if he’s being honest. He doesn’t want to be forced back into hiding his sexuality, doesn’t want to be in a relationship that feels like it’s going nowhere because they can’t go out together. Sure, Ilya is bisexual, and he can present straight if he wants to. But that’s not the point. The point is he’s queer, and he’s not ashamed of that, and he refuses to be with someone who is ashamed of their sexuality.
Not that Shane seems like he’s ashamed. Moreso just… isn’t ready to tack that label onto himself quite yet. Shane has admitted that he’s out to a few teammates and his family, after all, and that’s something. But to have to hide how excited he is about Shane? To have to continue going to premieres and parties alone because his partner isn’t ready to be seen with him?
Just the idea makes Ilya’s heart drop. He can’t do that. It would break his heart too much.
Ilya has a car pick him up, and then they pick up his best friend and entertainment for the night, Svetlana Vetrova. He’d met Svetlana a while ago now, and they’ve been through it all together. She’s an up and coming model, and looks every bit the part – tall, lithe and graceful, with the most beautiful eyes and full, pouty lips to match. Ilya loves her dearly, and some days he wishes he could be in love with Sveta. It would make his life easier, for sure, if he could just fall for her. But alas, despite enjoying each other’s company and bodies every now and again, Ilya loves her in a platonic way rather than romantic.
And, Sveta has been his confidant through this whole Shane… thing. She’s good at keeping secrets, so he’s trusted her with this one, and she’s just as excited as he is to go to this game tonight. In fact, she’s been so excited that she hasn’t stopped asking him about it for the last week. He’d helped her pick out an outfit last night (Sveta is rocking a Emperors sweatshirt even though she’s infamously a Boston Bears fan) and they’d both spent most of the night giggling on the phone over Ilya’s post-game date. Because Sveta is just as happy for him to experience this as he is for himself, it would seem. And that’s what makes her such an amazing friend, truly. The fact that they’re both cheering for each other’s success, both building each other up instead of tearing one another down, is what makes their friendship so strong.
When they arrive at the arena, the car takes them around back to a more secure, private entrance. A person from the Emperors’ PR team is waiting for Ilya at the door, and she welcomes him enthusiastically with a handshake and high pitched ‘welcome!’
“I just have to say, huuuuuge fan of your show,” The girl chirps as she leads Svetlana and Ilya into a cinderblock hallway and down through the arena. She stops in front of a door and bites her lip, holding her hands clasped in front of her to her chest.
“Ok, I have a favor to ask –”
Ilya wants to sigh. He knows this is just a part of his life now, taking pictures with fans and being recognized and getting asked for selfies and autographs and little favors that all add up in the end. He braces himself, and is surprised by what comes out of her mouth.
“Sometimes we mic up celebs at the games… would you be down?” She looks so enthusiastic and excited about the prospect, that even if he wanted to say no, he doesn’t think he can. The girl is small, probably 5’3”, and her big brown eyes and dark curls are… endearing. Almost childlike. He can’t say no to her.
With a look over at Svetlana who shrugs, Ilya shrugs as well.
“Sure, why not?” He acquiesces, and the girl, whose name he still doesn’t know, claps her hands.
“Yay! Perfect. Just wait right here for a sec–”
“What is your name?” Ilya calls as she ducks back into an office. He hears a cabinet open then close, and she appears again a minute later, mic in hand, still grinning ear to ear.
“Oh! Laurel. Shit, I should have…” She waves vaguely and shrugs. “Honestly I’m just so stoked you’re here,” she admits.
“I am excited to be here, too,” Ilya chuckles and steps in, and she clips the little mic to the collar of his shirt, then steps back and nods.
“You’re gonna have so much fun,” Laurel promises as she steps back and nods towards Svetlana, who waves her hand.
“I do not need one,” Svetlana defers, but Laurel shakes her head.
“It works better if we get you so we can get all the convo,” Laurel says with a little frown. Svetlana looks a little embarrassed, and Ilya nudges her.
“C’mon. Sveta, it will be fun,” he teases with a little chuckle, and Laurel nods.
“It will be so fun! You don’t have to hold back, either, I promise not to use anything damning!” Laurel says as she gives Svetlana a pleading look and holds the mic out again.
Always one for drama, Svetlana rolls her eyes but finally nods. “Okay, fine,” she concedes, and Laurel clips the mic onto her, beaming proudly.
“Ok, maybe try not to cuss, and… don’t be too crude, you know? I’ll edit it around that though.” Laurel steps back once they’re outfitted and starts down the hallway again, and Ilya and Svetlana share a grin before following, taking long strides to keep up.
“I’m going to hand you off to Mike, he’s with security and he’s going to show you to your seats – they’re amazing seats, by the way. Right on the glass. Whoever arranged this put you next to the visitors bench, though, which is kinda dumb. Oh well.”
Not dumb at all, Ilya thinks as a tall, broad man meets them and nods at Laurel. Mike doesn’t speak, just turns and gestures for them to follow, and shows them to their seats. Ilya scoots into his and Svetlana follows, and they both plunk down and laugh, Ilya shaking his head as he settles in.
“I cannot fucking believe it,” he sighs, and Sveta arches a brow at him and gestures to his mic.
“No cursing, remember?” She teases as she tsks and shakes her head disapprovingly.
It isn’t too long before the teams come onto the ice for warm ups, and Ilya’s eyes immediately find Shane… and their gazes meet. Shane brightens and nods at Ilya, and Ilya’s stomach flips, and he feels like he’s freefalling from an airplane from the way Shane gives him a little giddy grin then turns back to his team mates.
“Was that…?” Svetlana has the decency not to say anything too damning on the mics, and Ilya is thankful for it. Ilya catches his lower lip between his teeth as he tries to keep his smile from growing too wide. He knows there are cameras pointed at them as well, and he doesn’t need rumors starting that he and Svetlana are dating. Not that that would be a problem, but he doesn’t want her to get dragged into all the insanity that is his fanbase these days. They can be a little… mean, and biting, for lack of a better word. And Sveta is tough, but she doesn’t deserve hate because of him, that’s for damn sure.
The first period goes without a hitch. Montreal scores early, and they’re seated at the Voyageurs’ goal side for the first period, which is exciting. He gets to see up close and personal the look of bold determination on Shane’s face when he’d scored the goal.
Watching Shane play hockey feels… religious. It’s obvious Shane loves the game, and that his body has been sculpted for it over the years. He’s lean lines and sharp edges, fast as a whip and precise where it counts. Ilya has never quite understood the idea of a competency kink until today, and now it all makes sense. Because seeing Shane doing what he loves and being fucking incredible at it is really doing it for Ilya.
Ilya and Svetlana chit-chat through the game, commenting on how hot players are, cheering when something big happens, and catching up in between all of it. They’re both careful not to say anything that gives away too much, because even if Laurel promised not to use anything too personal, who knew if they could trust her or not?
Montreal scores three more times throughout the game, and Ilya tries not to cheer too loudly for the opposing team… but he can’t help it. Shane feels precious to him, like an old friend, even if they’d never met. Talking with him daily has really made Ilya attached to Shane, and he’s a little bit scared of that feeling, because… it’s fast. And he shouldn’t be this smitten already, if he’s being honest. He’s being too trusting and too open with this hockey player, who maybe is just using him for a good time, but seems too genuine for that. Every time he talks to Shane, Shane reveals another secret about himself. It’s like unwrapping a box of chocolates and finding your next treat was better than the last. He wants to savor every morsel Shane gives him, because he doesn’t know how long he’ll be the hot new thing that Shane craves.
In the third period, after two intermissions, four goals from Montreal and two from LA, Shane gets slammed into the boards right in front of Ilya. Ilya flinches, but Shane seems to shake it off fast. He even has the audacity to wink at Ilya before skating away in pursuit of the puck. Svetlana squeals and bounces in her seat, and Ilya tries to keep his face trained into calm disinterest, but he knows he’s failing. Hard. He can feel the wide smile on his face, busting at the seams to break free. Finally he just lets that giddiness win, and throws his head back and laughs.
The game ends and Montreal wins. Unfortunate for LA, but Ilya is happy. He and Svetlana follow a security team member back to Laurel’s office where she un-mics them and tells them how good of a job they did. Ilya and Svetlana both thank her for her help tonight, and Laurel grins widely, and genuinely.
“Seriously, any time you wanna come to a game just let us know. We love having you here,” she gushes, and Ilya grins and nods.
“Thanks, I’ll definitely be back.” Definitely when they play Montreal again, but he keeps that to himself.
Once Laurel has left them at the door to wait for their car, Ilya checks his phone. He’s got a few texts from Shane which he opens quickly, feeling elated at having contact from Shane after the game. Maybe a little part of him had been worried that Shane was going to chicken out and forget about him after.
But no. There’s Shane’s name, emblazoned across his phone screen.
Shane: Good game for you to see tonight, hope you had fun!
Shane: I’m going to shower and get dressed then I’ll head over.
Shane: What’s your address?
Ilya sends back his address and a few winky face emojis. Unable to help himself, he adds a few messages as well.
Ilya: that was so hot.
Ilya: you are so hot.
Ilya: what the fuck?
The driver stops in front of Svetlana’s apartment complex and she kisses Ilya’s cheek then gives him a knowing grin.
“Don’t have too much fun tonight,” she teases as she hops out of the SUV. Ilya laughs, maybe a little shyly, because he doesn’t know if she realizes how much this means to him, or how invested he truly is in this relationship-that-isn’t. She’d probably tell him he’s getting too attached too quickly if she knew, and he doesn’t want to be told off, so he lets her think he’s just going to have a one night fling with a hockey player and leave it at that.
“I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do,” Ilya teases with a wink. She blows him a kiss as she closes the door, and then the driver is taking off again, delivering Ilya back to his apartment.
Once he’s back inside his home, Ilya straightens up. He’s buzzing with frenetic nervousness, and he feels alive with all of the emotions he’s experiencing. Excitement, anticipation, and an undercurrent of anxiety all rush through him. He doesn’t try to run from the feelings, just let them wash over him like a wave, letting them soothe him like the sound of the ocean lapping at the shore. There’s something soothing about feeling so much all at once. It’s like a steady reminder – his beating heart and his soaring emotions all say he’s alive, that this is a good thing, and that he’s right where he’s meant to be.
After lighting a few candles and fluffing the pillows on the couch, Ilya sits and waits.
He doesn’t have to wait too long, though, because as he’s scrolling Instagram there’s a knock at the door. Immediately he jumps up, flexing his fingers as he goes, and tugs the door open.
And there Shane is.
There he is, dressed in joggers and a gray t-shirt, hair slightly mussed, cheeks already flushed a blushing pink. Ilya drinks him in, and for a moment, neither of them say anything. They grin at each other, smiles splitting ear to ear, and finally Ilya laughs and opens the door wider, gesturing for Shane to come in.
“It’s so crazy to meet you, finally,” Shane admits, the words breathy as he stands in the middle of Ilya’s living room like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. His fingers open then close back into fists, and he takes in Ilya’s apartment, which is pretty minimal for now. Sure, he could probably afford to break his lease these days and move to a better place, but there’s something nice about this little spot in West Hollywood that he calls his own.
“Yeah, it feels…” Ilya searches for the right word and comes up empty. Instead he laughs again, and puts a hand on his cheek. “Crazy. It feels crazy, that we’ve been talking all this time and are only just meeting. I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.”
Shane nods in agreement, and steps forward to inspect a piece of art one of Ilya’s friends painted that hangs on the wall. It’s a water color forest, and Ilya bought it because he loves the colors; they’re soothing. He moves to stand beside Shane, head tilting slightly as he looks at the piece with him.
“Do you like it?” Ilya asks, curious to hear what Shane thinks. He could listen to Shane state his opinion on types of bread and still be happy, Ilya thinks, though he also assumes Shane doesn’t eat much bread in his line of work.
“It’s really nice. Kinda… soothing? In a way?” Shane cocks his own head to the side then shrugs. “I don’t know much about art, though, if I’m being honest.”
“You don’t have to understand art to know how it makes you feel,” Ilya shrugs and turns so he’s facing Shane now. Shane looks over at him, then turns as well so they’re face to face.
“Do you wanna–” Ilya was going to ask if he wanted to sit down. But next thing he knows, Shane’s hands are cupping his cheeks and Shane’s soft, sweet lips are on his, and oh. Yeah. This is good. This is… it’s really, really good.
Ilya thinks maybe his brain is short circuiting, and it takes his body a minute to catch up. Finally he lifts his hand to grip Shane’s bicep, and leans into the kiss, pressing against Shane, drinking him in, savoring this first moment of connection in a world that feels so disconnected.
Shane kisses like he’s parched. It’s like he’s been denied water for days and Ilya is a fresh spring, bubbling and singing to him, breathing life back into him. Shane’s tongue swipes into Ilya’s mouth and Ilya moans, embarrassingly, as his other hand wraps around to trace down the curve of Shane’s spine. Shane’s hands are in his hair now, and his desperation is palpable.
With a chuckle, Ilya pulls back and catches Shane’s eye. “Hey. We have all night,” Ilya promises, and Shane laughs, light and embarrassed, as he ducks his head.
“My roommate will want to know where I am…” Shane sighs and takes a step back, but Ilya draws him back in and presses a kiss to Shane’s forehead. He’s got a few inches on Shane, and while Shane is strong and built, Ilya thinks he could pick him up.
So he tests the theory. He bends at the knees, puts his hands on the backs of Shane’s thighs, and lifts. Shane gasps and clutches Ilya’s shoulders, then wraps his legs around Ilya’s waist and throws his head back in laughter.
“Did you really just –”
“Yes,” Ilya huffs as he starts towards his bedroom. “I could hear you thinking. It is too much. Just relax, Hollander, we’re going to have fun.”
Shane laughs again, and Ilya kisses his throat when his head falls back with it. The laughter turns into a soft groan of want, and Ilya, emboldened and excited that he can drag those noises out of Shane, nips at the soft, exposed skin of Shane’s neck.
“Don’t… leave a mark,” Shane breathes, and Ilya nods.
“Deal.”
Ilya unceremoniously drops Shane onto his bed, and Shane grins as he braces his hands back against the mattress.
“That was really hot,” Shane admits as he watches Ilya, his eyes dark and his lips quirked in a wolfish grin.
“Maybe you would just like me to carry you around for the night then? I can carry you back,” Ilya teases as he lifts an eyebrow.
With a shake of his head, Shane snorts a laugh. “I think you know that’s not what I want,” Shane admits, his words thick with his desire.
Ilya doesn’t answer with words. Instead he tugs at his shirt, pulling it over his head, exposing himself to Shane. Shane tugs him closer by his belt loops, then presses delicate, light kisses across Ilya’s stomach, making him shiver. He can feel Shane’s eyelashes flutter against his skin, and Shane’s fingertips press into his hips as he holds Ilya still, swirling his tongue around Ilya’s belly button, tracing lines between his moles like he’s a cartographer mapping a new route. Ilya’s head falls back as his fingers dig into Shane’s silky hair, and he hums his approval when Shane’s fingers pop the button of his pants and push his jeans down and over his thighs.
Then, without any encouragement, Shane slides down off the bed and kneels in front of Ilya. “Shit,” Ilya breathes as Shane smiles up at him, his grin sharp and wicked as his fingers gently caress the bulge growing in Ilya’s boxer briefs.
“Can I–” Shane starts to ask, and Ilya laughs.
“You can do whatever you want with me, Shane,” Ilya huffs the words out, and it’s all the agreement Shane needs. He nuzzles his nose against Ilya’s covered cock, then mouths at the cotton fabric, his tongue tracing the outline.
Finally, Shane tugs at the elastic of Ilya’s underwear, sliding them down over his hips and letting them pool at Ilya’s ankles. Ilya’s cock is already hard, and Shane doesn’t hesitate – he tongues at the slit, then swirls his tongue around the head before taking Ilya fully into his mouth and moaning. Obscenely.
“Fuuuuck,” Ilya groans as his fingers bury further into Shane’s hair and his head falls back. He breathes as pleasure floods through him, tingling in his fingers and making his toes curl. Shane is definitely good at this, and his tongue works Ilya over as he swallows him down. Finally, Ilya has the wherewithal to look down, taking in the sight of Shane on his knees and in front of him like this. Shit, it’s fucking hot. Everything about Shane – the way his hands grip Ilya’s hips, the curve of his spine as he takes Ilya in his mouth, the trace of his dark eyelashes against his cheeks as he works – it’s all beautiful.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Ilya breathes as his hand comes down to caress Shane’s cheek. Shane’s eyes flutter up and meet Ilya’s, and Ilya can see the corners of his lips stretch around his cock as Shane smiles, then bobs even deeper, taking Ilya further into his throat. A shiver runs through Ilya and his toes dig into the softness of his carpet, grounding him. He feels like he might float away on the waves of pleasure pulsing through him.
In all honesty, it’s been a while since he’s gotten off not by his own hand. Between filming and the intensity of his career taking off, he hasn’t had time to pick up. But he knows that isn’t just what makes this experience with Shane so pleasurable. He knows it comes from the deep bond they’ve formed over the past few weeks. It just makes this even better that he is actually into Shane. Sure, hooking up is fun, but when there’s feelings involved? It’s even better.
Shane picks up the pace, working his mouth around Ilya’s cock, and one hand reaches up to roll Ilya’s nipple between his fingers. Ilya moans, and Shane hums, a chuckle maybe, as he takes Ilya deeper, sucks him harder, picks up the pace and puts in the fucking work. God, Ilya is already so close to coming.
“I’m gonna come if you aren’t careful,” Ilya huffs, and Shane takes it as a challenge. His tongue swirls around Ilya, and Ilya grips one hand on Shane’s shoulder, the other still in his hair. His release spills out of him, down Shane’s throat as his whole body constricts with pleasure. Ilya’s head falls back and he lets out a long, low, ‘fuuuuuuuck’ as he comes. Shane lets Ilya’s cock grow softer against his tongue then pops off, and Ilya hauls him up, chasing the taste of himself on Shane’s lips. Ilya rucks up the hem of Shane’s shirt, pressing his hand against Shane’s stomach as he backs him up onto the bed, pushing Shane down, falling on top of him and devouring Shane’s lips with his own.
“Take your clothes off,” Ilya breathes, and Shane chuckles.
“Kinda hard when you’re on top of me,” Shane huffs, and Ilya sits up on his knees, which allows Shane to take his shirt off. Ilya stares at him with open admiration and lust, and Shane’s cheeks flush, making his freckles pop against the delicious pinkness. Shane next wriggles out of his pants and tosses them aside, and Ilya grins gleefully.
“You were going commando.”
“Well, yeah, I…” Shane bites his lip and looks away, then back at Ilya. “Maybe I was a little presumptuous.”
“I like it,” Ilya promises as he falls back down onto Shane, crushing him into the mattress, kissing him like a man with nothing left to lose. His hand reaches down to stroke Shane’s now freed cock, and Shane shivers under him, hips rolling as he pushes into Ilya’s hand, greedy and wanting.
“You want me to suck your cock, Shane?” Ilya asks, his tone soft and sweet, Shane huffs and wriggles, fingers digging into Ilya’s hips again.
“Yes, please,” he’s practically begging, and Ilya grins as he sits back on his heels and strokes Shane, taking in the way Shane’s head falls back against his bedsheets, how his eyes squeeze shut like he’s trying to focus, or trying to memorize this moment to have forever.
Ilya adjusts, then settles in between Shane’s legs. He continues stroking and presses soft kisses to Shane’s inner thighs. He nips at the sensitive skin there, and Shane’s back arches, pushing him slightly off the bed as Ilya’s tongue traces down his inner thigh to the crease of his hip. He presses a soft kiss to the juncture there before taking the tip of Shane’s cock between his lips, suckling on it lightly.
With his free hand, Ilya reaches around and grips Shane’s ass. He pulls off of Shane’s cock and looks up at him, grinning. “Can I touch you here?” He asks as he presses a finger to Shane’s hole, and Shane hisses with a soft shiver.
“Fuck, yes. Please.”
“Such a good boy,” Ilya teases as he rubs his cheek against Shane’s inner thigh and places another kiss there.
“There’s lube in the bedside stand, can you reach it?” Ilya asks conversationally, like he’s inquiring about the weather. Shane huffs and twists, and works open the drawer, then fishes inside and tosses lube down to Ilya. Ilya slicks his fingers up then teases Shane’s hole before taking his cock back into his mouth again.
Shane arches against the bed again, and Ilya opens his mouth, taking in more of Shane as his finger slides deeper and curves slightly, pressing against him. Shane moans, a long, drawn out thing that makes Ilya’s eyes flutter closed. He strokes the inside of Shane with his finger, then pulls it out slowly before pushing it back in. His head bobs on Shane’s cock, and Ilya must say, he’s doing a damn good job of multitasking.
After a few pushes of a single finger, Shane huffs and groans for more. Ilya, easily persuaded, pushes in his second finger, and Shane’s muscles relax as he melts into the mattress. Ilya continues sucking down his cock, swirling his tongue against the head, pressing into Shane’s slit, all while pumping his fingers in and out of Shane’s hole, working him open.
Shane is making obscene little noises, and it just spurs him on. After a few minutes of thrusting and sucking, Ilya pops off of Shane’s dick and grins up at him. He hoists Shane’s legs so they’re on his shoulders, then moves lower, pressing his tongue flatly against Shane’s hole. Shane shudders above him and digs his fingers into Ilya’s hair, and Ilya takes that as a good sign. He licks again, and Shane huffs out a long moan, back arching as Ilya’s hand strokes his cock.
Ilya continues lapping at his entrance, and Shane lets out a string of curse words as his fingers tug at Ilya’s hair. “Fuck,” Shane huffs, and his legs tremble as they squeeze Ilya’s head slightly. “I’m gonna–”
Shane doesn’t even finish his sentence as his orgasm rips through him and he moans, fingers stilling in Ilya’s hair as he shakes. Ilya strokes him through it as release falls on Shane’s stomach and chest and coats Ilya’s hand. With a small laugh, Ilya falls onto the bed beside Shane, whose head falls lazily to the side to meet Ilya’s eyes with his own hooded gaze. He leans in and kisses Ilya deeply, and god, Ilya is already gone for him. What the fuck?
“That was amazing,” Shane sighs when he pulls back, and Ilya chuckles as he brushes sweaty strands of hair off of Shane’s forehead.
“There is plenty more where that came from,” Ilya promises, trying to sound flippant, like sex with Shane will be enough. But he knows it won’t. He knows he wants Shane, all of him. Wants to hold his hand and curl up with him in bed and watch him fall asleep, then see his eyes flutter open against the morning sun, too.
Ilya rolls up to a sitting position and rubs his eyes with his clean hand. “Stay here,” he instructs as he stands, and Shane chuckles.
“I don’t think I could go anywhere right now if I wanted to,” Shane admits. His nose wrinkles as he looks down at the mess on his stomach and chest.
“I’m getting something for that,” Ilya promises. He goes into his en suite bathroom and washes his hands, then wets a washcloth and returns. Slowly, he cleans Shane off, peppering kisses across his skin as he goes. Once Shane is cleaned off, he tosses the cloth into the dirty hamper and flops back onto the bed.
Shane hesitates a beat, then snuggles in closer to Ilya, resting his head on Ilya’s bicep and putting them face to face.
“Hey,” Shane says with a small, tentative smile.
“Hey,” Ilya agrees, his own smile matching Shane’s. He knows how to do sex – he’s not always the best at the logistics after.
Taking a deep breath and going out on a limb, Ilya offers Shane a lifeline. “You can stay. If you want.” There’s a pause as Ilya takes another fortifying breath. “I’d like you to stay.”
“I’d like to stay,” Shane says mildly, his grin brightening as he leans in and presses a soft kiss to Ilya’s lips. “I just have to be back to make the bus in the morning, so… I’ll have to get up early.”
“Earlier, if you want morning sex,” Ilya teases, and Shane flushes again, then nuzzles into Ilya’s chest as his arms wrap around Ilya’s waist.
“I don’t really care about morning sex, I just want to wake up next to you.”
“Oh,” Ilya breathes, and he buries his face in Shane’s hair, breathing him in, trying not to get too overwhelmed with what that admission has done to him.
They fall asleep like that – tangled together, a mess of warm limbs and soft kisses and tenderly longing looks when one thinks the other isn’t looking. And they wake up like that, too, as the sun gently shines in through Ilya’s bedroom windows. Ilya makes them breakfast – eggs and avocado toast on wholewheat bread with coffee and orange juice and fresh fruit. He savors every minute like it’s a precious drop of sweet nectar, like he’s saving up all of this sweetness to last him for the next few weeks, or until whenever it is he gets to see Shane next.
“I don’t have much on my schedule coming up,” Ilya says as he takes a bite of toast. “I could come and see you in Montreal.”
Shane’s eyebrows raise as he tries to hide his smile. “Yeah? You’d… want to do that?”
After he swallows, Ilya clears his throat and nods. “I… really like you, Shane. And I know you aren’t out yet or whatever, but–”
“I want to be.”
The words stun Ilya into silence, and he just gapes at Shane. Shane takes a sip of coffee then shrugs.
“I think it’s time. I mean I know whatever is between us is so new, and we can take it one day at a time, but I won’t ask you to hide this. And I know your life is very public-facing, more so than mine. So if we’re going to do this, I’m going to be brave. I’m going to do this all the way.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah,” Shane agrees with a small smile and a sigh. “I’ll talk to my agent about it soon. But I just… I guess meeting you went above and beyond expectations. And I’m not ready to say goodbye to you.”
Ilya’s smile is giddy and wide, a feral thing that he can’t control as it spreads his lips. “We can give it some time, see what happens. But… I’m glad you’re open to coming out.”
Shane nods, and they continue eating, chatting over breakfast to delay the inevitable.
When it hits 8:30 AM, Shane sighs. “I’ve got to go,” he says as he takes the last bite of toast and gulps down the rest of his coffee.
Ilya’s heart feels like it’s full of lead with how quickly it drops into the pit of his stomach. He knows he’s going to miss Shane, but how can he miss something he hardly has?
Without a sound, Shane walks around the island and wraps his arms around Ilya, burying his face in Ilya’s t-shirt and breathing him in. They stand there for a few minutes, just embracing.
“Fuck,” Shane breathes against Ilya’s collarbone, and Ilya runs his hand soothingly down Shane’s spine.
“Is okay,” Ilya promises around the lump in his throat. “We will see each other again soon, right? You have a break, and…”
“And I’m going to play in the Olympics,” Shane chuckles, and Ilya laughs.
“And I have shoots scheduled,” Ilya sighs. “Then SNL. You should tune in, I’ll be very good,” Ilya teases. Because humor is the only way he knows to deflect.
Shane laughs wetly, and Ilya tilts his chin up. “We will see each other again soon. I promise.”
With a nod, Shane sighs and leans in, pressing a deep kiss to Ilya’s lips. “Okay. I believe you. Soon.”
“Soon,” Ilya parrots. Shane looks out the window miserably and grimaces when he sees the black SUV pull up. “That’s my car.”
Ilya sees him off, and he regrets everything he didn’t get to say.
It only takes a few days for Laurel to edit and post the mic’ed up moments video to TikTok and Instagram. Of course the video blows up, and people mostly seem to fixate on one very obviously prominent point – Ilya is caught on the mic multiple times saying how hot the players are.
Of course he’d been careful not to say which player he specifically was watching, and while he was secretly cheering for the Voyageurs hardest, he also made sure to cheer for the Emperors so people didn’t think he’d completely abandoned his city. He watches the video on his couch, chuckling at the stupid shit the mics picked up, from a lengthy and detailed conversation about the beauty of hot dogs as he and Sveta both ingested arena hot dogs, to a somewhat questionable conversation about an unnamed player and a beautiful goal he’d made.
Ilya knows that conversation was about Shane. The world doesn’t need to know that, though.
He sends the video to Shane and points out the conversation.
Ilya: It was about you. The conversation about the beautiful goal
It takes a moment, but then the three dots pop up on Instagram, followed by a reply.
Shane: Wow. You think I’m beautiful? 😉
Ilya: I do 😁
Shane: I think you like hot dogs a little too much
Ilya: I thought maybe you would appreciate that part
Shane: Why?
Ilya: you seemed to like it when I was sucking on your hot dog 😉
Shane: Oh my god. Never call my dick a hot dog again please
Ilya can’t help but laugh as he settles back into his couch and wishes Shane were here with him now. This long distance thing? It’s for the birds.
The mic’ed up bit does well, though, and Svetlana ends up earning a multitude of new followers thanks to it. It would seem Ilya is opening doors for her in the modeling world, too, and he drops her name where he can. He loves her and wants her to succeed, and he doesn’t mind sharing his own fame to help a friend.
The next few months are busy, full of photoshoots and interviews, events where he’s lauded as a guest of honor instead of being a part of the waitstaff. Ilya feels slightly overwhelmed with all of the positive outpouring and support from fans, and mildly annoyed at how many critics he also seems to have garnered in this time.
As promised, Shane makes good on his word to have Ilya come visit. After the Olympics are over and Canada brings home a silver (Shane had plenty to say about that, and he lets his anger and frustrations and pure passion out in a phone call to Ilya the next day before he flies home from Milan), they plan a little weekend trip. It’s all very convenient, since Troy lives in Montreal and Ilya has a reason to be spotted there. He goes out with Troy and Harris one night, is seen with his friend so when he’d been spotted in the airport it isn't weird, then he and Shane hole up in Shane’s condo and don’t see the light of day for the next forty eight hours.
Going home after that trip is hard, because Ilya just wants to be with Shane. He doesn’t want to go to auditions and fancy parties, all he wants is to hold Shane and curl up with him in the quiet, to remember that at the end of the day he’s just a man, not an idol like these people make him out to be. His days are punctuated with texts from Shane, his nights bracketed between FaceTime calls and good morning texts, and he’s falling so head over heels for this hockey player that he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
Between Shane’s agent and Ilya’s manager, they construct a plan. Because Shane had been serious when he’d said he was ready to come out. Because Shane is serious about Ilya, and that feels… that feels like the sun has made its home in Ilya’s chest, warming him through and lighting him up. Last night when he was half asleep and they’d been on FaceTime, Shane’s cheek pressed into a pillow, his glasses askew and his eyes half-lidded, he’d whispered three words that had made Ilya’s heart stutter and nearly stop – “I love you,” he’d said. After only three months of a long distance relationship that feels doomed to fail, because Ilya’s job is in LA and Shane’s job is in Montreal and how are they going to make this work?
But Shane loves him, and that’s all that matters. And Shane is coming to the fucking Oscars with him in a few days, and that matters, too. They’re going to be seen together, and maybe, finally, fans will stop speculating that he’s fucking Troy behind Harris’s back, or that he’s a part of a throuple with them.
When Shane arrives in LA ahead of the Oscars, he keeps a low profile and avoids being spotted. Ilya loves causing a scene, and he knows they’re going to do just that when they step out on the carpet together. He’s been meeting with stylists and fashion houses, all vying for his attention and hoping their name will be the one he wears on the carpet. Together with James, his stylist, they’ve put together looks for both him and Shane, looks that don’t necessarily match but definitely complement. They play it closer to safe than not, because while Ilya does like to be daring with his looks, this is the Oscars, and his first time appearing at them, and he doesn’t want to ruffle any feathers.
For this trip, Shane stays with Ilya at his apartment. Being back in each other’s space is the most incredible feeling, like he’s been reunited with a piece of his heart that goes missing when Shane is away. He steals as many kisses as he can, taps Shane’s ass and holds him close and pretends like he never has to let go after these 48 hours are up. They laugh and make meals together, and go to the gym together, and Ilya maybe feels invincible, with Shane at his side.
When the day arrives for them to walk the red carpet together, Shane is anxious, and Ilya can see it in the tight lines of his face and the way his shoulders don’t loosen. Ilya plies him with little kisses and whispers of adoration, and Shane melts, as he’d expected him to.
“We are going to have fun tonight,” Ilya promises as they’re driven to a ritzy hotel where a suite is booked for them. There, they meet James and a team of hair and makeup professionals, who immediately start applying face and eye masks and don’t waste a second getting Shane and Ilya into two chairs to work on their nails and style their hair. Shane looks dazed by it all, and Ilya leans over to press a kiss to his cheek, then squeezes his hand.
“Very pretty,” Ilya teases as a woman applies light coverage foundation to Shane’s skin. Ilya frowns, though, and Shane gives him a look out of the corner of his eye.
“What?” He asks, obviously self-conscious because of the way Ilya is looking at him.
“I do not want them to cover your freckles,” Ilya admits, and the woman laughs lightly as she finishes up.
“This is so sheer, they’ll still be visible, don’t worry. It’s just a color corrector,” she promises as she leans back and admires her work. Someone starts in on Ilya’s face then, and he huffs as he closes his eyes and allows himself to be pampered. Shane chuckles and squeezes his hand.
The day continues on like this – a torrent of people adjusting and toning and nitpicking until they’re perfect. Around 2:30 PM they get changed into their tuxes – Ilya’s white with black lapels, Shane in a classic black, and outfitted with accessories – a brooch on Ilya’s lapel, a high end time piece for Shane, and a few rings for Ilya’s fingers and matching Tiffany cufflinks for both of them. It wasn’t that Shane was uncomfortable with jewelry, but as a hockey player, he had told James he wasn’t into anything too flashy, so they’d kept it simple.
James takes some pictures of them, then sends them in a little group chat with him, Shane and Ilya so they all have them. Having a mini photoshoot in a high end hotel suite is more fun than it should be, and easily Ilya’s favorite picture is one of him and Shane on the bed, Ilya’s legs out and long in front of him, propped up on his elbow with Shane sitting up beside him. They’re both laughing, Shane’s head is thrown back and it’s impossible to miss the way Ilya is looking at him. The look is like Shane is his whole world, like his universe has been narrowed down into one beautiful, lovely, wonderful person, and he’ll never get tired of looking at him.
“This is the one I will post on Instagram tonight,” Ilya announces as he shows it to Shane, who flushes and nods.
“It’s a good one,” James agrees as he helps clean up the hotel suite and pack all of their bags up.
Once the suite is cleaned out, Shane and Ilya are loaded into the back of a sleek black SUV and driven the short distance to the Dolby theater. Shane’s palm is sweaty in Ilya’s hand, and he stares out the window quietly as they drive, taking it all in. Ilya watches him carefully, worried he’s regretting this decision, wondering if maybe he’s asked too much of Shane. Clearing his throat, Ilya voices his concerns.
“You don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to,” Ilya says gently. Shane turns, looking at him, and Ilya’s fingers caress Shane’s cheek, a soft, intimate touch that’s meant to soothe.
“I want to do this. I want to be with you, and I want…” Shane’s cheeks flush here, a spectacular sunset pink. “I want people to know you’re with me. And that’s kinda fucked up but, I hate seeing all the speculation in the media of who you’re dating, or… or fucking. I want them to know it’s me. I get to have you.”
Ilya’s breath catches in his throat and he leans in, pressing a loving kiss to Shane’s lips. The car comes to a stop, and they’re only a few cars away from disembarking. Ilya pulls back and Shane gives him a tentative grin.
“Then let’s fucking do this, sweetheart,” Ilya breaths, and Shane chuckles, shaking his head. He looks incredible in his tux with his hair styled just right, and Ilya can’t believe this is his fucking boyfriend. What the fuck.
Finally, it’s their turn to unload. Ilya steps out of the SUV to a roar from the crowd, and when Shane steps out behind him… that same crowd falls silent. Ilya hasn’t spoken out about his sexuality, not yet, anyways. Sure, people love to speculate, and a few have gotten it right – just like his Passionate Opposition counterpart, he’s bisexual, and is proud of that. Now, the world will know it.
Camera lenses snap and flashes blast as they walk past, and the crowd is chattering again, a loud, noisy thing. People aren’t subtle as they ask “Isn’t that Shane Hollander?” So Ilya isn’t subtle, either. He reaches back and takes Shane’s hand, intertwining their fingers together, then brings their connected hands up to kiss Shane’s knuckles with a knowing grin.
They make their way down the carpet, stopping for photograph opportunities and stopping at one point for a tiny mic interview where Ilya happily clears the air.
“Shane’s my boyfriend,” he says, proudly, chest puffed and head held high. Shane flushes and nods as the mic is pointed at him.
“Yeah, we started dating a little while ago. This is all super overwhelming, I gotta be honest,” he says with a little laugh.
At their next stop for pictures, Ilya leans in and whispers in Shane’s ear. “Can I kiss you?”
Shane looks taken aback for a second before fixing his face as people continue to snap away. “Yeah, of course.”
“Good. Don’t be startled…”
And then Ilya is dipping him, kissing him deeply, arm supporting Shane’s shoulders and the other at his waist. Once Shane’s been righted again, they laugh and move on and into the theater.
“Now no one will be left questioning now,” Ilya says breathlessly as they are directed to their seats.
After the show, they hit an afterparty where they’re served greasy In-N-Out burgers while surrounded by people Ilya used to dream about being peers with. Everyone wants to congratulate them and talk to them, they’re the hottest commodity for the evening, and while it’s nice to feel accepted and wanted and embraced for who they are, Ilya just wants to get his hands on Shane. They don’t have a lot of time on this trip, as Shane has to fly out to meet his team tomorrow, so he has to take what he can get while Shane is here.
So Ilya makes some excuse – too much champagne, he laughs as he ushers Shane out to a car and tells the driver to take them home. He knows his future is going to be studded with more moments like this, but in the back seat of this SUV, he truly savors it. He kisses Shane senseless because he can, and he savors the salty sweetness on Shane’s tongue, a mix of the burgers and champagne they’d had tonight.
When they get back to Ilya’s apartment, it’s almost two in the morning. Shane is fading fast, but Ilya isn’t done with him yet. He’s determined to show Shane just how much he loves him, and he shouts that sentiment through every kiss and touch, every shared glance and intimate caress. Tomorrow he’ll go back to reality, but tonight is just for them. Tonight they’re stars in the sky, untouchable, unbreakable, unbeatable.
After Shane leaves the next morning, Ilya takes to Instagram to make their relationship official. He does as he said he would – posts the picture James had taken and bites his lip as he types out the caption – I scored big time. It doesn’t take long for the post to blow up, and Ilya deletes Instagram off his phone, not wanting to deal with what he’d just put into the universe. He then switches to his text messaging app and shoots a text to Shane, who is probably still on his flight but he doesn’t care.
Ilya: Love you. I’m the luckiest. 🩷