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October 2035 - Ottawa, ON.
Ilya loved ice cream.
He always was partial to colder desserts and drinks, despite many assuming otherwise because he grew up in cold Russia. He found them refreshing, and liked the way they settled on his tongue.
Vodka on the rocks, popsicles, sorbet. Ilya was not picky when it came to a cold treat.
His favourite though, was ice cream. Strawberry specifically, to Shane’s amusement. He would roll his eyes and smile whenever Ilya wound down with a glass of vodka and a bowl of strawberry ice cream. Claimed the palette was “unexpected” and “unusual” whenever Ilya pressed him for answers.
Ilya preferred this fond teasing to the judgement he used to receive— back when Shane struggled so much with his eating, he couldn’t stand the mere sight of food that broke his rigid, self-imposed rules. It was rarely overt, usually raised eyebrows or a scrunched nose, but every time it happened, Ilya found himself growing annoyed.
Annoyed and devastated for his husband. For the loss of joy he allowed himself with different flavours and experiences.
But that was in the past. Shane had gone to therapy and done the work, and the two had had extensive conversations to navigate the food situation. Which led to now, where Ilya was able to keep a box of neapolitan ice cream sandwiches in the freezer without Shane batting an eye.
Ilya typically did the grocery shopping, but on the occasion Shane did, he picked up more of the dessert without batting an eye. They were a hit in the household— all of the kids loved them and it was an easy and tasty treat every so often.
Neither man acknowledged that they were more for Ilya than the kids.
Details.
Today, around seven in the evening, seemed like a perfect time to indulge in an easy and tasty treat. Ilya had a good day— organizing the gym and helping Dimitri clean his room before making dinner for the family. It wasn’t hard work per se, but Ilya had been doing a lot of heavy lifting.
So after the dishes were done and the kids were off to their own devices, Ilya made his way to the freezer and grabbed one of the wrapped ice cream bars. He hummed to himself, walking back to the living room, petting Anya as he passed her, and flopping down on the couch.
Upstairs he could hear Dimitri and Luka talking back and forth as they played some game up in Dimitri’s freshly cleaned bedroom. Down the hall, the shower was running as Shane began unwinding from the day.
Ilya unwrapped his snack, kicking his feet onto the coffee table in front of the couch and stretching out, taking a bite of the chocolate section of the ice cream sandwich. He liked to save the best for last.
Reaching for the remote, Ilya flicked on the tv, channel opening to the hockey game. LA against Tampa.
Taking another bite of his ice cream bar, Ilya settled on the couch and watched the game passively.
Behind the couch, he heard a smothered giggle. Raising his brows, Ilya smirked and uncrossed his legs from where they were stretched onto the table. He sighed dramatically.
“Oh, what a lovely day! Alone, by myself on the couch. I love being alone with no one to spy on me.” Another giggle, this one louder than the first. Ilya’s face sparkled in amusement. He bit off another piece of his dessert.
“This hockey game is so interesting. I hope no one finds out that I am watching it,” he declared. Movement happened in his periphery, a small figure darting to hide behind the armrest.
“Beautiful evening for my children to be playing games together. Leaving me alone to watch hockey.”
At that, Nadia jumped up, arms wide.
“Gotcha!”
Ilya pretended to startle, flailing his arms dramatically. “Ahhhhhh! There is super secret spy in my house! Oh no! Oh, what am I to do!”
Nadia grinned, climbing up onto the couch and plopping herself on Ilya’s lap, legs on either side of his. She grabbed one of his arms with both of her hands, trying to still him.
“Papa!” She giggled, jostling around with his movements. “No spy! Just me! Nadia!”
Ilya’s eyes were wide as he ceased his movements, looking at his daughter suspiciously. “Hmmm. I do not know. You could have very good disguise.”
The five year old giggled, pigtails bouncing as she shook her head. “Nooooo! ‘S me, I promise!”
Ilya narrowed his eyes, wrapping his free arm around Nadia’s back, pointing at her with his ice cream sandwich.
“Are you sure? My Nadia is not usually so sneaky.”
The girl nodded emphatically. “Your Nadia has been practicin’!” She declared, eyes falling to the dessert. “You have ice cream?”
Ilya followed her gaze, humming indifferently. “Yes. But I do not share with sneaky spies.”
Nadia’s eyes widened. She leaned forward, knocking hers and Ilya’s foreheads together and staring into his eyes.
“Papa,” she said very seriously. “Is not a spy. Just Nadia. Really me, okay?”
Ilya couldn’t hold back his smile. He lightly tickled the girl’s side, laughing as she squirmed and giggled.
“Okay,” he relented, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “My Nadia.” He held out the ice cream bar, offering the girl a bite.
Nadia swiftly plucked it out of Ilya’s hand, grinning as she rotated it and took a large bite of the strawberry portion of the dessert. Ilya blinked in disbelief.
“Nadia,” he admonished, looking between his daughter and the ice cream sandwich. Nadia blinked up at him, tilting her head as she took another bite, leaving only a small sliver of the strawberry ice cream left. She chewed haphazardly in a way that made Ilya anxious over the possibility of her choking.
The five year old handed Ilya back the ice cream bar, grinning through her mouthful.
“Pink is yummiest!” She declared, mouth open as she chewed. Ilya looked forlornly at the remnants of his dessert before sighing.
“Swallow before you talk,” he chastised quietly, fond exasperation written on his face. Nadia huffed, making a show of chewing and swallowing what was in her mouth. She opened wide, sticking her tongue out to show Ilya she was done. Ilya raised a brow.
“Thank you,” he said dryly, patting the girl’s back. Nadia grinned and slipped off his lap, running towards the stairs.
“Gonna go spy on Dee and Luka!” She called over her shoulder, beginning to climb the staircase. “Bye, papa!”
Ilya watched her go, blinking in disbelief. He exhaled slowly, shaking his head and turning his focus back to the game, taking a bite of the last third of his snack.
Kids. Ilya shook his head with affectionate exasperation.
December 2032 - Ottawa, ON.
Rose was Shane’s very best friend.
She just… understood him in a way that no one else really could.
Ilya and Hayden, of course, understood different intrinsic facets of him, and he loved that so much. Loved being known and knowing in return. Hayden was the first person who actively sought out Shane as a friend. Shane and Ilya’s connection was something incomprehensible in its composition; they clicked with so much ease. Ilya was devoted to Shane, and Shane was devoted to Ilya. It was everything Shane could ever want and more.
Still, his connections with his friends were different.
Growing up, Shane didn’t really have friends. He was too busy, between school and hockey, there wasn’t time. He was friendly with many people, but none of them were really his friends. Shane remembered being eleven years old and sitting in a parent teacher conference, listening to his teacher express concerns over his anti-social behaviours. He remembers the quiet but heated conversation his parents had over the kitchen table that night after they thought he was asleep.
Shane didn’t understand why it mattered so much. He was good at hockey, he was quiet in class, and he got his work done. He didn’t need friends.
That carried through his adult life. He couldn’t possibly be lonely if he was on a hockey team. There were too many people around him for that.
He held that belief firmly in his chest until he had dinner with Hayden and Jackie.
The two of them spoke to him like a person. Not just a renowned hockey star or a prospect, but like they cared about his thoughts and memories and life.
It was refreshing.
But there was still something he couldn’t quite tell them about. What Ilya and Shane had was theirs, but the way it impacted Shane personally was entirely his.
So when he was able to come to Rose and have her readily accept him and that newfound part of him… it felt monumental. Rose was the kindest, funniest (don’t tell Ilya) person Shane knew. He loved her and trusted her with his entire being.
It’s why she was the godmother to all three of his babies. Technically she and Svetlana shared that title. It didn’t really matter when they had started dating anyway (which had thrown Ilya completely for a curveball, though Shane wasn’t entirely surprised. Rose often joked about Shane’s impeccable lesbian radar, to which he blushed).
In summary, Shane loved Rose and Rose loved Shane.
With their busy schedules before Shane’s retirement, they never got to spend too much time together to both of their disappointment. When Shane retired, that hadn’t really become easier with Rose’s busy schedule and Shane juggling parenting and the charity. Their dinners became a little less scarce, but they were often accompanied by both of their partners. It was lovely, going on double dates, but all four of them knew that Shane and Rose needed some time to be Shane and Rose, just as Ilya and Sveta needed time to be Ilya and Sveta.
Tonight was a rare night where Shane was free of external responsibilities, and Rose was able to sneak away for a night in Ottawa. The two had made reservations at their favourite restaurant and planned to spend the evening enjoying each other’s company and some drinks.
Which led Shane to now, where he was getting ready in his bedroom, adjusting his watch and smoothing out the front of his shirt. He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair when the door was slowly pushed open. A soft smile spread across his face.
“Hi, baby,” he greeted, despite not knowing who had walked in. He turned, meeting Dimitri’s eyes. The eight year old smiled back, tilting his head and holding onto the door handle.
“Hi, dad,” he responded, rocking back and forth on his heels, swinging the door with his movements, balanced against the handle. “Whatcha doin’?”
Shane glanced back in the mirror to check his hair again. “Getting ready to see Auntie Rose. I’m leaving in about five minutes. What are you doing?”
Dimitri made a face. Shane raised a brow, leaning against the dresser. “What’s that for?” He asked, voice teasing but light. Dimitri had been off for most of the week, less expressive and excitable than he usually was. Ilya and Shane had both been keeping an eye on it, though they were sure it was just a bout of bad moods.
The boy shrugged, still rocking back and forth in tandem with the door. Shane waited a minute, knowing his kid would cave into the quiet. Dimitri, no matter how he was feeling, did not like the quiet. Just as expected, the boy began to speak.
“I just… I dunno. You’re gonna be like… gone.”
Shane nodded slowly. “Yes,” he agreed, tapping his finger absentmindedly against the wooden dresser. “For a few hours. I’ll be back sometime after you’re in bed.”
Dimitri nodded weakly, letting out a slow breath. Shane pushed himself off the dresser, crossing the room to his son. He crouched in front of him, gently taking the boy’s chin and tilting his head up. When Dimitri’s eyes met his, he gave a small, reassuring smile.
“What’s going on in that head of yours, buddy?” He asked quietly. Dimitri blinked, searching Shane’s face. Shane took a moment to appreciate the boy’s light smattering of freckles, mostly on his strong nose.
Dimitri swallowed. “Hug?”
Shane didn’t hesitate. He opened his arms, lightly tugging the eight year old into his chest, wrapping his arms around his back. Dimitri melted into the touch, burying his head against Shane’s shoulder. The man found it easy to ignore the slight burn in his legs from the crouched position he rested in. He cradled the back of Dimitri’s head, gently playing with his hair. The boy exhaled slowly against his dad.
They stayed like that for a couple of minutes, concern growing in Shane’s chest. He waited for Dimitri to pull away, as was customary for a Hollander hug. Shane never let go first. Not when it was his little ones.
Shane was about to speak before Ilya appeared in the doorway, eyes widening a little in surprise at the scene. Shane met his eyes over their middle baby’s head. Ilya gently cradled the back of Dimitri’s head, palm warm as he smoothed his thumb over the boy’s ear. Dimitri settled at the extra touch.
“Rose called to say she was on her way to restaurant,” Ilya murmured. Shane noticed his phone in his husband’s other hand just then. The retired hockey player nodded.
“Dimitri,” he called gently, patting the boy’s back. “I gotta go, honey.”
Ilya hummed, gently running his fingers through the boy’s hair.
Dimitri’s breaths hitched. Shane stilled, Ilya’s hand paused its ministrations. The two exchanged a look. Shane’s grip tightened, just slightly. His alarm grew as he felt his shirt grow damp. Ilya, always the perceptive husband, noticed Shane’s change in demeanour. He crouched down next to his boys, ducking his head and trying to meet Dimitri’s eyes, still stroking his hair.
“Dima?” He murmured, brows furrowed.
A small, hiccuping breath was the only response. Shane’s chest clenched like a blood pressure cuff.
“Please don’t leave.” The words were whispered, coated in distress and anxiety. Shane bit his bottom lip. This anxiety was new ground, coming from Dimitri, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to navigate it. He shook his head, focusing on the pain in his calves for just a moment to ground himself. This was the longest he’s squatted for quite some time. Shane swallowed the lump in his throat.
Ilya, used to Shane and Luka’s anxious tendencies, didn’t cease his movements. He lightly scratched the boy’s scalp.
“Will only be for little while,” he soothed, voice a calm timber. Shane let Ilya’s tone calm his nerves like it’s done countless times before. He managed a small nod.
“I’ll be back by ten thirty,” he promised, pressing a kiss to Dimitri’s temple. “I’ll come check on you, and say goodnight if you’re still awake. Then I’ll be there in the morning, first thing. Promise.”
Dimitri shook his head a little, hiccuping against Shane’s shoulder. The Canadian scrunched his nose in thought, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Ilya moved, gently taking the boy’s shoulders and tugging lightly.
“Come here, malysh,” he murmured. “We can go cuddle on couch, yes? Nadia will want to see you.”
Dimitri gripped Shane a little tighter, pressing against him. Looking at Ilya desperately, Shane reluctantly loosened his grip. Ilya offered a small, reassuring smile.
“I love you, baby,” Shane murmured, gently taking the boy’s fists and loosening his fingers from his shirt, gently prying him off. Dimitri made a panicked, breathless noise.
“Daddy, you can’t!” He gasped, shoulders trembling under Ilya’s warm palms. The men stilled, both processing the short, shallow breaths. Ilya gently shushed the boy. He cradled the boy’s head, carefully guiding his face back to Shane’s neck, holding Dimitri against his father’s skin.
“Deep breath through your nose,” he instructed, thumb stroking the back of the boy’s head. Shane held him securely, taking his own deep breaths. Ilya continued.
“Take nice big breath. Inhale Dad’s smell, yes? Can you tell me what he smells like?” Shane was grateful for Ilya’s quick thinking and the intentional, grounding distraction. He rubbed the eight year old’s back soothingly, eyes flicking between his husband and his son. He ignored the wet press of tears against his pulse point.
Dimitri inhaled shakily, sniffling quietly. “Like laundry,” he mumbled, voice shaky. “An’ shampoo. An’ cedar.”
Ilya nodded, leaning forward and pressing a short but loving kiss to Shane’s forehead. He slipped Shane’s phone into his pocket before carefully lifting Dimitri up from under his armpits, fighting against the boy’s tight grip. Dimitri sobbed.
“Daddy, no!” He cried, squirming in Ilya’s hold, clutching Shane’s shirt. “Papa, you tricked me!”
Shane furrowed his brows, gently prying Dimitri’s fingers away. “I’ll be back before you know it, honey,” he soothed, standing in tandem with Ilya as the Russian managed to get a hold on their boy.
Dimitri broke into a fit of loud, distraught sobs. “Dad! No, you can’t! Papa, please!”
Ilya wrestled a little with the strong eight year old, trying to keep a secure hold on him. He turned the boy in his arms, holding him in a loving hug against his chest. “Shhhh, shhhh,” he whispered. “You’re okay, solnyshko. Dad will be back so soon.”
Shane smoothed out his shirt, eyes concerned as he gazed at his son. “I love you,” he said again, side stepping around the duo to get out to the hallway.
“Put me down!” Dimitri demanded through tears, fist hitting the back of Ilya’s shoulder. He reached out for Shane, despair written across his face. “Papa, you have to let go!” He shouted, kicking his feet.
Ilya, unrelenting as he held his son, rubbed his back soothingly. “Settle,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the boy’s head. Shane made his way down the hall, exhaling slowly. Dimitri’s shouts could be heard through the house.
Luka, who had his two year old sister balanced on his hip, came into view from the living room. Shane looked at his two babies, smiling lightly.
“Hi guys,” he greeted gently, a hint of weariness in his voice. “I’m going out with Auntie Rose, okay?”
Nadia blinked, looking at Shane and pointing in the direction of the hallway. “Dee,” she said informingly. Shane nodded, walking over to the two and gently brushing Nadia’s hair out of her face.
“Papa’s got him,” he assured, only feeling a little bit of reluctance. Luka blinked, adjusting his sister on his hip and tilting his head. He listened to Dimitri loud sobs and incoherent shouts.
“Sounds like he’s panicking,” Luka stated after a moment. Shane’s chest felt tight. He couldn’t help but agree.
“Papa’s got him,” he repeated, feeling a little less sure. Nadia blinked, trying to look around Shane to get a glimpse down the hallway. Shane kissed the girl’s forehead. Luka looked apprehensive. He tilted his head, opening his mouth to speak. Shane waited a moment, shifting his gaze to his eldest.
A moment passed.
“Papa, I hate you! Let me go, let me go!” Came from down the hall, words laced with fear. Shane sniffed, pausing for a moment. Quiet sounded through the house before Ilya’s soothing words could be heard. That seemed to break Luka out of his stupor.
“You shouldn’t go,” he blurted, bouncing Nadia absentmindedly on his hip. Shane couldn’t help but agree. He placed his hand on Luka’s shoulder, pressure grounding. The ten year old relaxed a little. He worried his bottom lip with his teeth. Shane took his chin, lightly tugging his lip free. Luka let it go, eyes focused down the hall.
“Dee had a bad dream, about a week ago. I don’t know all of what it was about, but I think you got hurt. He’s been really quiet at school and he carries a picture of you and Papa everywhere. I’ve seen him looking at it during lunch and recess. He hasn’t been really talking to his friends. I think you should stay, if it’s this bad.”
“Dee,” Nadia said again, a little more insistent. She pointed down the hall. Shane took her hand.
He nodded a little through Luka’s explanation, relieved to have such an attentive, caring son. He did feel a small amount of guilt at not being the one to recognize Dimitri’s off behaviour, but it was quickly overshadowed by concern.
“Okay. Okay, thank you, honey. Why didn’t he say something?” He asked, letting Nadia play with his fingers as he spoke, the toddler growing a little restless even as Luka bounced her on his hip.
The boy shrugged. “I dunno, dad. He’s probably embarrassed. He’s not a little kid anymore, getting nightmares is embarrassing.” Shane frowned, though bit back his protest of the kids not being little. They would always be little in Shane’s eyes. Still, he did remember what it was like to be eight years old with a desire of proving yourself as grown. He gave a small nod, Dimitri’s cries only growing in intensity.
Shane quickly pulled out his phone and dialled Rose’s number, pressing a kiss to Luka’s head and stepping away from the kids, offering a small smile at Nadia’s whine from losing her fidget. Luka bit his lip, glancing down the hallway before walking back to the living room, speaking softly to his sister.
Shane held the ringing phone to his ear, his own chest tight with anxiety. After about three rings, Rose’s cheery voice sounded through the phone.
“Shane, hey! I just arrived at the place. Are you nearby?”
Shane suddenly felt nauseous. This was a lose-lose situation; he was either a bad friend or a bad father. He knew what he’d choose time and time again.
“Is everything okay?” Right. Rose would be able to pick up the crying over the phone. Shane exhaled slowly.
“Hi, Rose. I’m really sorry, but I’m going to have to cancel. Dimitri isn’t doing well, I need to be here.” His stomach churned. He could practically see Rose’s understanding nod. God, he didn’t deserve her patience.
“Okay,” she agreed readily, voice soft. “We can reschedule. I’ll be in Montreal next week for a shoot. I’ll drive down one of those evenings.”
God, Shane loved her so much.
“No, I’ll come to you,” he assured softly. “You’ve already put in so much work.” Rose made a noise of disagreement.
“No, it’s okay. I’m not the one with three little barnacles attached to my hip,” she teased. “It’s really okay, Shane. We’ll see each other soon.”
Shane felt tears well in his eyes. He swallowed thickly, forcing a deep breath.
“Yeah,” he agreed, voice hoarse. “I just really miss you.” He felt petulant admitting that, but it had been months. Shane needed his best friend. But his son needed him. And Dimitri, Luka, and Nadia always came first.
Rose’s voice was soft. “Hey. I miss you too. You go take care of the kiddo, okay? If you can sneak away later tonight, give me a text and we can go to the park or something, yeah?”
Shane took a slow breath through his nose, exhaling through his mouth. He nodded, despite the actress not being able to see him.
“Okay. Yeah, I’ll let you know. You keep the reservation though, okay? Have Svetlana come meet you from your hotel and charge the bill to my card.”
Shane could practically hear Rose’s face of protest. He let out a small, amused breath.
“No, Shane—”
He interrupted her. “Rose, please? It’d make me feel a lot better.” Maybe that was a little manipulative, but it was the truth. Shane would never blame Dimitri for ruining the night, not like this. But still, he couldn’t help but bear the responsibility and blame. If he could treat his and his husband’s best friends, he damn well would.
Rose sighed, the sound long and drawn out. “Okay. But we will be ordering multiple cocktails. And trying all the appetizers. And getting dessert.”
Shane laughed, his chest feeling much lighter. He nodded, turning away from the wall and looking around his house. “Please do,” he responded, lips ticking up in a smile. “And get the most expensive entrée.”
“You know it,” she teased, voice soft through the phone. “Give Dimitri a squeeze for me, okay? I love you, I’ll see you really soon.”
Fuck, Shane was so lucky to have her. He stepped towards the hallway, grateful that Dimitri’s shouting had ceased. “I love you too, Rose. So much. I’ll keep you updated, but enjoy your date, okay? Give Sveta a hug.”
“Will do. Bye, Shane.”
“Bye, Rose.” Shane hung up the phone, exhaling slowly. He scratched his nose before making his way down the hallway to the master bedroom. He pushed open the partially closed door, peering his head inside.
Ilya was sitting on the edge of the bed, a tired but patient expression on his face as he watched Dimitri. The boy in question was sitting on the floor, holding Shane’s pillow tightly to his chest, face buried into the soft item. He was rocking himself back and forth slowly, clearly trying to dispel his anxiety.
Shane lightly rapped his knuckles against the door, tilting his head. Ilya looked up, relief and apology written all over his face. Shane offered him a spent but forgiving smile. Dimitri looked up from the pillow, face flooding with relief.
Shane barely had time to fully step into the room before Dimitri was crossing the room, slamming into his legs with the force of a young hockey player. Shane grunted, steadying himself and gently placing his hand on the boy’s head.
“Hi, honey,” he whispered, relief flooding his chest. He kept himself braced against the door handle, running his calloused fingers through Dimitri’s soft black hair. “I’m here, buddy. I’m right here.”
Dimitri nodded against his stomach, teary and coughing as he caught his breath. “Dad,” he breathed, hugging Shane’s waist tightly. The man nodded, squatting and wrapping his arm around his son’s legs, lifting him into his arms with ease. Pros of being a retired athlete.
Dimitri wrapped his arms around Shane’s shoulders, settling on his position on his dad’s hip. He rubbed his face against his shirt, sniffling into the fabric. Shane mourned, just for a moment, the idea of having to dry clean his nice shirt.
Anything for his kids.
Despite Dimitri reaching the age where he was too big to be carried the way Shane had him, he carried him to the bed, kissing the boy’s hair and taking a seat next to his husband. Ilya placed his hand on Shane’s back, rubbing it soothingly. Both men took intentional deep breaths, pleased when the eight year old mimicked them.
“We’ve got you, sweetheart,” Shane murmured, settling the boy on his lap and holding him securely. Dimtiri sniffed, sitting back a little and rubbing his eyes. Ilya smiled easily at him, gently brushing a tear off his cheek with his thumb. The Russian leaned closer, resting his head against Shane’s shoulder.
“There’s my boy,” he murmured, voice soft. Dimitri leaned into the touch. “What is wrong?”
The eight year old took a shuddering breath, rubbing his chest. “I panicked,” he admitted, blinking through his cloudy eyes. Shane admired the long lashes against his cheeks. Ilya smiled lightly.
“We gathered that, solnyshko,” he teased. Dimitri rolled his eyes.
“Papa,” he huffed. Shane snorted, elbowing his husband’s side. Ilya’s grin was easy. Relief replaced the tense anxiety that blew through the room.
“What caused it?” Was Shane’s gentle question. Dimitri straightened his posture a little. Shane and Ilya waited patiently.
Dimitri deflated after a moment. “Don’t laugh,” he whispered nervously. Ilya immediately shook his head, lips pursed in concern.
“Never,” he promised. “Is okay to be scared, yes? Lots of things are scary. But you are so brave.”
The eight year old huffed again, looking away. His cheeks flushed lightly. “Shut up.”
Shane and Ilya shared a private, brief smile. The Russian continued, lightly poking his son’s side.
“You are. You’re brave.”
Dimitri took a deep breath. “I just. I got worried dad was going to die. Or something. I had a dream like that… and I dunno. I keep thinking it’s real.”
Shane made a quiet noise of understanding. He held Dimitri a little closer, gently bonking his head Dimitri’s foreheads together. A smile teased at the boy’s lips.
“That must have been really scary,” he murmured, eyes searching his son’s. The young hockey player nodded.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Sorry I ruined your night.” Shane shook his head.
“No, it’s okay. Auntie Rose and I will see each other next week. I’m… a little disappointed. But you didn’t ruin anything. I am more than happy to sit here and cuddle with you.”
Dimitri blinked, smile growing. He tilted his head as he played with the buttons on Shane’s shirt.
“Really?”
Shane nodded without hesitation. “Really.”
Dimitri nodded before taking another deep breath. Ilya rewarded him with a light squeeze to his elbow. The boy turned his attention to his papa.
“I love you,” he mumbled. Ilya heard the quiet part out loud. He clearly understood Dimitri’s remorse for what he shouted earlier. He pressed a kiss to his baby’s head.
“Ya tebya lyublyu,” he whispered, stroking Dimitri’s hair back. He leaned into the touch, breaths even. Shane closed his eyes, resting his head atop of his baby’s and letting himself breathe.
October 2026 - Ottawa, ON.
When Ilya and Shane had a conversation about their careers and the changes needed to accommodate kids, Ilya readily volunteered to retire. He loved hockey and he was damn good at it, but it wasn’t his passion. Not like it was Shane’s, who had hockey coursing through his veins. Who spent the first two and a half decades of his life eating, sleeping, and breathing hockey. Shane, whose first word was ‘puck’.
So when it came to Dimitri’s birth and they had to accept the fact that playing professional hockey on the road as a family of four with two little ones under two was nearly impossible, Ilya volunteered to stay home.
Shane had been slightly surprised— had expected Ilya to be a little more hesitant. Both of them made their careers work with Luka as long as they could— Ilya needed an outlet, somewhere to dispel his pent-up energy. Hockey was good for that. Shane needed to fulfill his purpose. Hockey was good for that.
But then again, Shane maybe should have seen it coming.
Ilya had taken to fatherhood like a house on fire. It was immediate. Fiery and vibrant and capable of warming Shane’s entire body like nothing else. Shane never had any doubts about this— he knew that Ilya would be the best damn father in the world. That certainty was what made him want to have kids with Ilya in the first place. He just hadn’t anticipated how grounding fatherhood was to Ilya’s identity.
Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov loved their children more than anything. There was nothing, nothing, in the entire world that either of them wouldn’t do for their sons.
That didn’t mean that sometimes these sacrifices weren’t hard. Shane was merely surprised at how easy the decision seemed to be for Ilya, was all.
Perhaps naively, Shane thought that they could make having a bigger family and still being active in their careers work. And they had, for two years, until Dimitri was born.
With Luka, they travelled with the baby when they could, bringing him to most of their games. The team loved him, spending time on the bus cooing at the infant or playing peekaboo in the airport. During games and practices, Luka was either sitting with David and Yuna in the stands, or strapped to Harris’ front, babbling excitedly as he watched his dads zoom across the ice. On one memorable occasion, Wiebe held the one and a half year old on his hip, talking his players through their next play and cradling the toddler with ease. That one had made headlines.
Luka was unofficially declared the league’s golden boy after Shane and Ilya won the Cup together in 2023, and paraded around the rink with their nine month old securely in the trophy. A picture of Shane and Ilya grinning as they held the Stanley Cup with Luka cradled in the bowl of the award. The picture covered the internet for months after. It was also framed and hung on the wall in the entry way. David and Yuna had at least four prints of the image between the house and their cottage.
It wasn’t always easy, but Luka wasn’t a difficult baby. Shane and Ilya lucked out. When Dimitri was born halfway through Ilya’s last season, things quickly became complicated. It was difficult to balance the two little ones and make every game and practice. Ilya, being captain, was often the one to go in his and Shane’s place. It worked, but Ilya missed being at home. It was more of a relief when he was finally able to retire, another Cup under their belt. Another picture, of Luka and Dimitri squished into the trophy came to existence.
Shane had that one plastered all over his house. It was his lockscreen. The picture was for the next two years. There was a billboard of that picture in downtown Ottawa. Both Shane and Ilya would be asked about it at every interview. Yuna had printed and framed the picture at least a dozen times. A blown up print of the photo hung over the Hollander’s couch.
Shane thought that was the hardest thing he and Ilya had ever done. Parenting was hard enough, but parenting an infant and a toddler and still managing to win the highest award in the MLH?
Yeah, that was fucking difficult.
But Shane was endlessly proud of both his husband and himself. He knew that Ilya would be retiring— he had gone into the 2023-24 season knowing it would be his last.
Shane did not have the same courtesy of prior knowledge.
About halfway through the first playoffs series in 2026, he realized with startling immediacy that this season would be his last. Ilya had kept him in the loop often— Shane received dozens of texts when he was on the road, and the family had made a consistent effort to bring the four and two year old to Shane’s games, but it was just so much harder.
Throw in the growing charity and the growing anxiety Shane had of his absence, and it was best for him and his family to retire from hockey. Ilya and Shane discussed it extensively. Came to agreements and made plans, then backup plans, then backup plans for their backup plans.
Having those conversations in between playoff preparation games was not good at reducing the stress. Shane worked himself into the ground, desperate to finish his career with a bang while also desperate to finally be with his family.
The Centaurs brought home the Cup for the third year in a row.
It was the exact worthwhile end to a long, historic career. Shane Hollander was going down in history as the most successful hockey player in the world. Ilya Rozanov had gone down as second best. (Ilya chirped constantly that they had just done the math wrong, but he knew damn fucking well they were right. And he was so fucking proud of Shane. Always will be.)
But yeah. That brought Shane to now, the night of the Centaurs first game without Ilya or Shane on the ice. They had watched the game on TV with their boys, cheering and joking around with the toddlers. That was a couple of hours ago.
Now, Shane was sitting in the rocking chair in Luka’s room, the four year old fast asleep against his father, head lolled on his shoulder. Shane rocked them slowly, lost in his thoughts.
Perhaps it was the suddenness in his departure that left him feeling so… sad. Maybe even lost. Ilya had a whole year to appreciate and commit to his last year on professional ice. Shane had a year to appreciate the last opportunity he would have to play alongside his husband. That had stung, felt like a bittersweet goodbye.
But he only had a month to properly grasp the end of his livelihood. And okay, it felt dramatic phrased as such— his family was his livelihood, but they hadn’t always been. Hockey had always been something Shane could rely on. And then he was winning the Cup and skating off the ice for the last time.
Now, he was watching his team carry on in his place. And that was so special, but Shane wasn’t ready.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Shane blinked back rapidly growing tears from his eyes. He continued rocking Luka, savouring the quiet of the moment. The warm weight of his son in his arms soothed the ache. Made things feel a little easier. Shane sniffed, hand steadily moving up and down the sleeping toddler’s back.
“I’d do it again in a heartbeat, y’know,” Shane whispered to the boy. His voice was rough with tears. “Every single time, I’d choose you. I thought I knew what love was. I loved Grandma and Grandpa and I loved hockey. Then, I met your papa and I just…” Shane shuddered, tears slipping down his cheeks. He rested his head against Luka’s, letting the warmth of his hair seep through his flushed cheek.
“I loved him more than I thought I could love anything. You and Dimitri are everything we could have ever wished for. Looking at you is like watching my heart run around outside my body. Luka, I love you so much.” More tears. Shane’s voice was quiet, nearly inaudible. “It hurts. It hurts to give up my first love. But god, I’d do it again and again. Every minute of the day, I’d do it. I hope you never ever forget that.”
Shane adjusted the toddler, blinking rapidly. He let out a breathless, humourless laugh. “You’re worth every little thing. I’m so proud of you for breathing. I promise you will never forget that. I’ll remind you every day. You and Dimitri and Papa make me the happiest I have ever been in my entire life.” He ran a hand through Luka’s soft hair, smiling at the sleepy sniffle he got from the little boy. He sniffed again, fruitlessly letting the tears stream down his face. “Thank you for being mine.”
Shane continued rocking back and forth as the room lapsed into a meaningful, tender silence. Every single time, he would choose this.
Every single one.