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November 15th, 2030 - Ottawa, Ontario.
Shane found himself with a moment of quiet.
That was rare with an eight year old, a six year old, and a newborn. He loved them beyond words, but he would be the first to admit that his kids were tiring. Loud and endless, but oh so full of love.
Love that typically presented itself as excited laughter, eager shouts of look daddy, look! or daddy, I need…, and egregiously wet kisses pressed to his cheek or arm or knee— whatever was in reach.
Shane would be remiss not to acknowledge that all these actions came from their kids growing up safe, with parents who made their love for their children— and each other— so well known, so abundant, that it was embedded in the foundation of their home.
Love that became the most important thing in his life.
Ilya and Shane had had so many hushed conversations in the quiet of their home, under the moon when the quiet of the night transformed into a cradle for soft voices marvelling at the life they created. At the growth of their little ones, at the overwhelming feeling of belonging.
Love that introduced itself tonight as soft breaths that filled the living room as Shane dozed. The boys were tucked safely in bed, Ilya was taking a long, hot shower, per Shane’s sleepy instruction to unwind.
Nadia was asleep on his chest, her soft blonde curls contrasting the black of his shirt as his body moved her up and down to the rhythm of his breaths. She had been fussy today, spitting up no less than four times (most recently was fifteen minutes ago, on Ilya, hence the shower), refusing to eat for most of the morning, and napping for only four hours throughout the day.
Nadia and Shane were both exhausted.
Which is why Shane startled so hard when he opened his eyes to find his eight year old standing next to the couch, staring at him intensely. The relief that washed over him when Nadia didn’t wake by his jostle cannot be overstated.
“Jesus— Luka,” he muttered, rubbing his face with one hand, the other on his daughter’s back.
“Hi, dad,” Luka whispered, eyes flicking from Shane’s face to Nadia’s. He watched his sister with rapt attention.
“Whatcha doin’, buddy?” The Canadian asked after a long moment of silence, eyes flicking between his daughter and his son.
Luka tilted his head. “Looking at the baby,” he responded quietly. “Wanted to make sure she was okay.”
Shane’s eyes softened. He moved his free hand to Luka’s face, gently smoothing his thumb over the boy’s freckles. “She’s okay, baby. Sleeping soundly. Like you should be.”
The third grader looked down, blushing lightly as he always did when reprimanded. “I was trying,” he mumbled. “Papa dropped something when he was getting in the shower. Said a bad word. It woke me up.”
Shane exhaled slowly, fighting the amused/fond/exasperated smile growing on his face. “That papa of yours, huh? What are we to do with him?”
Luka giggled, muffling the noise in his palm. “Ask him to make pancakes for breakfast.”
Shane raised a playful eyebrow. “Oh yeah?” He teased gently, poking Luka’s stomach. “Doesn’t seem like much of a punishment to me.”
“Early,” Luka added, squirming away from Shane’s touch. “Like, when Dimitri-gets-up kinda early.”
“Hm. I can get behind that.”
The boy nodded, looking down at his feet. Shane let him gather his thoughts.
“Can I lay down with you and Nadia?” He asked after a long moment of silence, voice soft.
Shane’s smile was fond. “For a little bit. Then you need to get to bed.”
Luka beamed, nodding in agreement. He carefully climbed onto the couch, mindful of the sleeping baby as he crawled over Shane, curling into the space between his dad and the back of the couch.
Shane adjusted, gently shushing the baby as she stirred. He placed his right hand on Nadia’s back, wrapping his left arm around Luka. He gently rubbed the eight year old’s shoulder. “Good?” He asked in a hushed whisper.
Luka nodded, sighing contently. He tucked his head under Shane’s armpit, closing his eyes. “Good,” he mumbled.
Shane’s sigh was fond. He shifted a little, trying in vain to find a slightly more comfortable position. After a moment, he settled as he was. Parenting, he learned, was a lot about getting comfortable being uncomfortable.
Luka and Nadia’s breaths were slow and even, each to their own rhythm. In the back of his mind, he knew he should stand up, get Nadia settled in her crib and Luka tucked back into bed.
But that thought was far away. And his babies were so warm against him, their comfort a lullaby to his own. Nadia sniffled, making a small noise of satisfaction and contentment. Shane held back a sleepy laugh.
Luka was becoming heavier against his side, squished so tightly between Shane’s heavy frame and the couch, the Canadian wasn’t surprised that the kid was drifting off. They both liked the feeling of being squished just right— the security of pressure. Shane added a weighted blanket to the mental list of gifts he wanted to get his kiddos for Christmas. He and Ilya planned to go shopping for the holiday the following weekend while David and Yuna watched the kids.
The thought left Shane’s mind as Nadia made another sleepy noise. Luka shifted against his father’s side. Shane craned his neck, glancing down at the boy as he soothingly rubbed Nadia’s back.
The eight year old, on the brink of sleep, propped himself up and pressed a gentle, featherlight kiss to Nadia’s head. “Sleep, baby,” he mumbled to his sister, dropping his head back down onto Shane’s arm. The man winced, though his heart warmed in his chest. To his surprise, Nadia immediately settled, falling into a deeper sleep. Luka was following closely behind.
Shane blinked back sudden tears. This love was everything he’d ever wanted. Everything he and Ilya built over decades. Pride and adoration swam in his mind. The retired hockey player closed his eyes, thumbs working back and forth absentmindedly over his children’s backs.
Another hour wouldn’t hurt.
~
Shane didn’t know much time had passed when he opened his eyes. He hummed as he tried to get his bearings, waking himself as much as he could without moving. His focus first went to the small weight on his chest; Nadia was still curled up and sleeping deeply. Then, his arm, half-asleep under Luka’s head and shoulders. A new pressure on his legs was what woke him.
Angling his neck, Shane tried to blink through his drowsiness. “Dimitri? What are you doin’?” He asked in a whisper, registering the shape of his son.
Dimitri was lying on top of Shane’s legs, head pillowed on his hip as he wrapped his arm around his father’s left leg. He settled comfortably, looking up at his dad with a sleepy grin. “Hi, daddy,” the six year old greeted quietly. “Had to pee. But then I saw the lamp on, an’ I found everyone cuddlin’. I want to sleepover in the living room too.”
Shane nodded a little, too tired to argue with the first grader’s logic. He would have reached the same conclusion, had he been in Dimitri’s position. He blinked.
“You did pee first though, right?”
Dimitri nodded against Shane’s hip. “Uh huh. I stood up too. Only missed a little.”
“Proud of you,” Shane murmured, carefully bending one of his legs and bumping Dimitri’s foot with his own. Parenting, he learned, was about celebrating the small wins.
Dimitri giggled, squirming a little. “Did you foot high-five me?” He asked, voice a little too loud. Neither of his siblings stirred, much to Shane’s relief. He gently shushed his son while returning his playful smile.
“It’s the second coolest thing that happens at couch sleepovers,” he whispered lightly.
“What’s the first?” Dimitri asked in an excited whisper.
“Sleeping,” Shane replied, giving his son a pointed look.
The first grader was quick to nod, resting his head against Shane’s hip. He adjusted his hold on his dad’s leg. “Goodnight, daddy, I love you.”
Shane’s smile was exhausted but oh, so genuine. He hoped he never stopped smiling like that.
“I love you too, honey. Sleep tight.”
Just for a little while, Shane thought as he let his lashes flutter, breaths evening out. Just a little longer.
~
When Ilya stepped out of his shower after forty-five minutes, he felt rejuvenated. He had learned the importance of a good shower in his twenties, but he really learned the sanctity of a good shower after the birth of Luka. With a newborn, sleep was a fleeting thing, proper nutrition was too much preparation, and hygiene was an obstacle. Taking thirty minutes to decompress under a stream of hot water, to let the steam cleanse any anxieties, to be intentional with movement and care— it was a saving grace.
Throw in a six and eight year old on top of caring for a two month old, and showering became a lifeline.
Shane and he had spent most of the day trying to get Nadia to sleep, to no avail. When she did manage to get down for a nap, Ilya sent Shane off for a brief workout, knowing his husband would feel better with the chance to decompress, before ordering him to take a long shower. Then it was time to get the boys from school, and Ilya allowed himself fifteen minutes of alone time as he drove to the school.
That time was precious; Ilya and Shane both savoured it when they could.
So when Shane tiredly took Nadia from Ilya’s arms and insisted the Russian take a warm shower, Ilya didn’t do much arguing. What he did do was kiss his husband as reverently as he could manage, pouring as much gratitude as he could into the embrace. Based on Shane’s soft smile, he had been successful.
Ilya pulled on a pair of sweatpants and toweled his hair dry. He opened the door to their en-suite bathroom, furrowing his brows in confusion at the sight of the empty bed and bassinet. The confusion faded quickly, being replaced by a fond exasperation.
Nadia was their fussiest baby, and after the day she had, Ilya would not be surprised if she wanted another bottle or a wander around the house before she settled for the night.
Making his way out of the master bedroom and down the hall, Ilya scratched at his bare chest absentmindedly, prepared to take the baby and let Shane get ready for bed before they settled for the night. He glanced at the staircase as he passed it, making a mental note to check on the boys after checking with the little one.
Ilya’s footsteps were soft on the hardwood floor as he approached the living room. He opened his mouth, about to speak before his eyes fell on the couch.
Shane was fast asleep, quiet, almost inaudible snores escaping him. Nadia was asleep on his chest, curled in that newborn baby way that made Ilya want to cry. Dimitri was starfished across Shane’s legs, drooling against his hip as he slept. Luka’s face was completely hidden from view, tucked securely into Shane’s ribs. His black hair was sticking up between Shane’s arm and chest, body rising and falling with his deep breaths.
A wide smile spread across Ilya’s face. His beautiful, amazing family. His his his. He was sure his heart was about to burst from his chest. Approaching the couch, Ilya carefully sat down by Shane’s feet on the L-shaped couch. He paused at every step, not wanting to jostle any of the sleeping angels.
Ilya reclined, resting his elbow on the back of the couch and propping his head up. He gazed at his family fondly, committing each of their individual, unsynchronized breathing patterns to memory.
Just a little longer.
~
January 9th, 2044 - Ottawa, Ontario.
Ilya and Shane were in the stands of the Canadian Tire Centre, cheering, a little disheartened, as the final buzzer sounded. The Centaurs had won against the New York Admirals, clearing the game with a 4-0 finish.
Being veterans of the Ottawa team, Hollander and Rozanov were often at home games to cheer for the new generation of Centaurs that took the ice. Since their running win streak in the early 2020s thanks to the couple, the Centaurs had been strong contenders for the Cup every year since. They were a good team.
Their conflict came from the Admirals jersey that bore their shared name over the number 22.
When Dimitri was drafted third overall, he was picked for the New York Admirals, and very eagerly signed his contract. Shane and Ilya swallowed their mild disappointment, supporting their son completely and entirely.
They certainly chirped him, whenever they could.
Tonight though, would not be the time.
Dimitri played an off-game— missing passes, being checked more often than he was checking, skating sloppily.
Shane mentioned it during the second play.
“He’s off today,” he commented, brows furrowed in concern.
Ilya couldn’t deny it. “Yes. Is skating like baby giraffe.”
Shane rolled his eyes, but kept his eyes on his son the whole game.
The couple watched as Dimitri yanked his gloves off, gripping his stick tightly in his fist as he skated around the rink to the wall. He pointedly kept his head down, shoulders tense.
Ilya’s concern grew as he watched the team get off the ice. “Something’s definitely wrong.”
Shane could only nod.
~
Two hours later, Shane and Ilya were sitting on the couch at home, waiting eagerly for Dimitri to walk through the door.
He almost always stayed with them when he played in the city, taking the time to have dinner or breakfast with his family before being escorted away to another game. Tomorrow his flight wasn’t until three in the afternoon, leaving plenty of time for the family to spend time together.
Shane knew Dimtiri, Luka, and Megan had plans to get drinks after the game. He hoped they could get Dimitri feeling better.
Nadia came down the stairs, humming along to whatever song was playing in her headphones. She wore an Admirals crewneck, much to Ilya’s chagrin, and a soft pair of pyjama pants.
“Did we win?” She asked, removing an earbud and approaching the couch.
Ilya hummed, shifting closer to Shane so Nadia could sit next to him. “We did. Four nothing.”
Nadia whistled, plopping down next to her papa and pulling her headphones out completely. She set her phone on the coffee table.
“Yikes. Dimitri’s still coming over? Or does he want to lick his wounds in private?”
Shane gave her a pointed look. “Be nice. Something’s wrong, I think. He’ll be frustrated.”
The thirteen year old nodded, expression softening. “Is he okay?”
The Canadian let out a breath. “I’m not sure. We’ll be here until he is.”
Right on cue, the front door swung open, causing Anya to bark excitedly. The family could hear her paws on the hardwood floor as she eagerly greeted the middle child.
~
Dimitri slipped out of the backseat of Luka’s car, holding his bag tightly. He inhaled the fresh air greedily, letting the chill settle in his body. He closed the car door, waiting for Megan and Luka to exit the car.
Megan offered him a soft smile as she joined him in the driveway. “Feeling a little better?” She asked, taking his bag for him gently.
Dimitri was too tired to fight. He offered a barely there smile. “Yeah,” he muttered, following Megan around to the front of the car, meeting with Luka. His older brother patted his back. “Dad and Papa aren’t mad at you, you know.”
They arrived at the front door before Dimitri could respond. Megan opened it carefully, smiling as Anya yipped excitedly. The hockey player smiled, following his almost sister-in-law into the house, crouching down to greet the golden retriever.
“Hi, puppy,” he cooed, petting behind her ears and resting their heads together. “Such a good girl, I missed you so much!”
Luka and Megan exchanged a small smile. They each toed off their shoes, setting them off to the side. Megan slipped off her jacket, hanging it on a hook before walking further into the house.
“We’re here,” she announced, smiling when she saw Shane, Nadia, and Ilya comfortable on the couch.
Nadia immediately grinned, waving Megan over. “Come sit! I have to show you something!”
The twenty-two year old smiled greeting her fiancé’s fathers softly before sitting next to Nadia. She leaned into her side, looking eagerly as she pulled up her phone.
Luka, in the entrance, looked down at his younger brother. Their age difference was relatively small, especially compared to their gap from Nadia, but Luka always thought it important. For teasing purposes mostly.
He crouched down next to Dimitri, petting Anya gently. His brother had spent most of their outing only half-engaged, laughing half-heartedly and answering in short sentences.
“Bad games happen,” he reminded, voice gentle.
Dimitri paused, eyes fixed on Anya, who sat expectantly in front of them.
“I know,” he replied after a quiet moment. The answer was emotionless.
“They happen to everyone. Even Dad and Papa,” the elder continued, picking loose hairs off Anya’s coat.
“Uh huh.”
Luka sighed, standing up and holding his hand out for his brother. Dimitri looked up at him, brows furrowed.
“Come on. We’re gonna cuddle on the couch.” Dimitri made a face.
“We’re a little old for that.”
Luka gave him an unimpressed look, pulling his brother to his feet.
“You’ve been spending too much time in the locker room. C’mon,”
The young player let himself be led into the living room, meeting his fathers’ eyes with a quiet sigh.
“I played like shit,” he announced, trailing behind his brother as he was guided to the couch. Luka raised a brow, pushing the hockey player to no avail. With a sigh, he sat down on his own, curling into Megan’s side and resting his head on her shoulder.
Ilya snorted. “I wasn’t going to say it.”
Dimitri stiffened.
Shane shoved his husband, looking up at his middle child, having been waiting impatiently to see him since he got off the ice. Ilya’s eyes softened.
“It happens, buddy. C’mere,” the former encouraged, reaching for the Admiral’s hand. Dimitri flopped onto the couch, landing mostly on top of Ilya. The Russian groaned loudly from under his son.
“You are heavy,” he complained, adjusting himself to hold his baby, pulling his legs up onto the couch beside him.
Dimitri pressed his face into Ilya’s shoulder, his upper half squished between Shane and Ilya, with his legs uncomfortably draped over the latter’s lap.
“‘S payback. For chirping off ice. Ref can’t get me,” he mumbled. Ilya laughed fondly, arms securely around his son.
“I am sorry. Was not nice of me. What happened today? Just feeling off?”
Dimitri nodded a little, turning his head to the side, facing Shane. The elder was surprised to see tears in his boy’s eyes. Shane gently shushed him, cradling the back of his head.
“What’s going on, buddy?”
Dimitri was quiet. Nadia, Megan, and Luka were quiet on the other side of the couch.
“I just want you to be proud of me,” he whispered after a long moment of silence. “Wearing both of your names and all. I usually deal with it, but you were both in the stands and the Centaurs are fucking strong this year. I was already feelin’ off and then I got nervous. I’m sorry.”
Ilya tightened his grip around Dimitri’s waist, pressing a firm kiss to his head.
Shane swallowed, gently petting his son’s hair. “We are so proud of you, Dimitri. Every single day, you make us proud. You don’t have to apologize, okay? Not for anything. You could never pick up your stick again and Papa and I would still be so proud of you.”
Ilya nodded, resting his cheek atop Dimitri’s head. “‘S true, Dima. You are so strong and so smart. Hockey didn’t do that, you did. We didn’t do that, you did. You’re a good hockey player, and we are so proud of you on the ice. But you are also good man. Kind. Dad and I are proud of you off ice too. We love you everywhere, all the time. No exceptions.”
Dimitri’s shoulders slumped. He nodded, the action heavy and slow. He rested his head back down in the spot Ilya and Shane’s arms touched.
Nadia crawled over the couch, draping herself over Ilya and resting her head on Dimitri’s leg. “You’re amazing,” she whispered.
Dimitri swallowed the lump in his throat.
Megan and Luka shifted closer, Megan tucking herself next to Ilya and Nadia, smiling as the teenager put her legs on her lap. She gently squeezed Dimitri’s ankle, resting her head on Ilya’s free shoulder.
Luka was pressed tightly against Megan, nodding a little as he rested his head on the top of his fiancée’s.
“You’re the best brother too. I love you, Dee.”
Dimitri smiled, letting himself relax into the support and comfort. Eventually, they would have to move and get into their own beds. But for now?
For now, things were good.