Chapter Text
A couple of days after the Centaurs’ Pride Night, Ilya texted Shane in the middle of the afternoon while Shane was in a video review meeting with the Voyageurs.
LILY: i have been thinking
Shane looked at the message for a full five seconds before answering.
JANE: That’s never a good thing.
LILY: that is mean моя любовь (my love)
JANE: Mean but true.
LILY: whatever
LILY: we should leave little pieces of bread
JANE: what?
LILY: you know
LILY: little info
JANE: Ah. Breadcrumbs.
LILY: same thing
JANE: About what?
Three dots appeared immediately.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
LILY: our relationship
LILY: maybe engagement later
Shane stared at the screen. The little typing bubble appeared from Ilya’s side again, vanished, came back.
LILY: soft rocket launch
Shane stifled a laugh in the middle of the meeting. Three teammates looked over, “sorry,” Shane said automatically, already typing.
JANE: Soft launch.
JANE: Rocket launch is the opposite of soft launch.
LILY: yes
LILY: that thing
JANE: You want to tease the information?
LILY: yes
LILY: what do you think
Shane didn’t answer immediately.
Ilya watched the three little dots appear.
Disappear.
Appear again.
Disappear.
By the third time, he was fully sitting upright on his couch. By the fifth, he was convinced Shane hated the idea. Until finally:
JANE: Okay.
Ilya blinked.
LILY: ok?
JANE: Yes.
JANE: Let’s do it.
Ilya grinned so hard his cheeks hurt.
JANE: But we need a plan.
LILY: we only need our love
JANE: No.
JANE: We need a plan.
LILY: dramatic
JANE: We need professional help.
LILY: 🧐
JANE: We can ask Farah.
LILY: she is not professional breadcrumb launcher
JANE: Neither are we.
LILY: i have idea
JANE: Another one?
LILY: yes
LILY: very good idea
LILY: maybe best idea i ever had
JANE: That is statistically impossible.
LILY: rude
JANE: What’s the idea?
LILY: trust me
JANE: Ilya.
LILY: Shane.
JANE: This is going to be a disaster.
LILY: no
The following day after practice, Ilya knocked twice on Harris Drover’s office door before stepping inside.
Harris was sitting behind his desk, halfway through answering emails. He glanced up.
“Hey,” he said easily. “What’s up?”
Ilya closed the door softly behind him, then locked it.
Harris straightened immediately. “…Is everything okay?”
Ilya turned around, smiling so broadly he practically glowed. “Yes. Even more than okay.”
Which somehow worried Harris more.
“I…” Ilya lowered his voice dramatically. “…we need your help.”
Harris stared, “we?”
“Yes.”
“Oh,” Harris said slowly. “This is either very good or very bad.”
“Very good.”
Ilya stepped closer to the desk. “But first you must promise secret.”
Harris leaned back cautiously. “Well, if it’s about the team…”
“Not team. Personal.”
“…Okay.”
“And no talking to Troy.”
Harris froze. Then narrowed his eyes immediately. “Oh, this is juicy.”
“Maybe.”
“You’re smiling way too much for this not to be insane.”
Ilya shrugged.
Harris looked physically torn between professionalism and catastrophic curiosity. He looked like a man being handed classified government documents and a live grenade at the same time.
“And if I say no,” Harris said carefully, “you won’t tell me.”
Ilya smiled wider.
Harris groaned, “fine. I promise.”
“You can not tell Troy.”
“Yes, okay.”
“Not even hint.”
“Sure.”
“Not even face expression.”
“I get it!”
“Okay.”
Harris rubbed both hands down his face, “tell me.”
Ilya sat down in the chair across from him and leaned forward slightly, “we need help talking about our relationship. With breadcrumbs. Or like rocket launch but soft.”
Harris blinked, “wait. Stop. Too many things at once.” He shook his head, trying to piece things together, but failing. “…What?”
“We are engaged,” he said happily.
Harris stared at him, “no way! Congratulations. Holy shit. I didn’t even know you were dating somebody.”
“Is secret.”
“Okay but now I need to know everything.”
Ilya grinned.
“Who is the very lucky woman?”
“No woman.”
Harris’s eyebrows shot up.
“Oh.”
“Yes.”
“Troy told me you came out to him as bi.”
“Yes. Which is why you keep secret from Troy. Because Troy will become Sherlock Holmes.”
“That’s fair.”
“So.” Harris leaned forward slowly. “…Who’s the lucky man?”
Ilya smiled softly this time. “My Shane.”
Harris stared blankly for three full seconds.
Then, “Shane as in Shane Hollander?”
Ilya nodded proudly.
“HOLY SHIT.”
At that exact moment, Harris’s phone started ringing. TROY ❤️ flashed across the screen. Harris looked at the phone. Looked at Ilya. Raised one finger. “Sorry, one second…” He answered. “Hey! I’m in a… meeting right now… yeah… ah, no, nothing’s wrong… I’ll call you later. Love you.”
He hung up. Then immediately looked back at Ilya. “HOLY SHIT.”
Ilya laughed.
Harris stood up and started pacing. “No, okay, listen. You have to control the media narrative. You need coordinated messaging. Timing. Public response management. Fan engagement patterns…”
“Yes, yes,” Ilya interrupted. “That is why I am here.”
“Your agent can absolutely help with…”
“No press release.”
Harris stopped pacing. “…No press release?”
“We want… to launch.”
Recognition lit Harris’s face instantly. “Oh.”
“Yes.”
“Oh, I get it.”
“Yes.”
“You want people to figure it out slowly.”
“Yes!”
“You want plausible deniability.”
“Yes!”
“You want the internet to psychologically destroy itself.”
Ilya pointed at him excitedly.
“Yes! You understand!”
Harris sat back down immediately, visibly energized. “You came to the right person.”
“да, you are expert.”
Harris straightened automatically at the compliment. “Yes,” he said with complete confidence. “Yes, I am.”
He grabbed a notebook. “This is going to be so much fun.”
About a week later, Harris was waiting near the ice after practice, smiling like he knew state secrets. Which, technically, he did. “Can you come to my office before you leave?” he asked casually.
Ilya narrowed his eyes. “You look dangerous.”
“I’ve made spreadsheets.”
“…Very dangerous.”
Twenty minutes later, freshly showered and still damp-haired, Ilya arrived at Harris’s office. The door closed behind him.
Harris dramatically slid a printed packet across the desk. On the front page:
SOFT LAUNCH STRATEGY
v1.3
Ilya burst out laughing. “You made title page.”
“There are tabs.”
“…There are colours.”
“There’s a projected fandom response chart.”
Ilya opened the packet reverently. There were timelines, suggested images and captions, engagement pacing, post categories, risk assessment levels, and even one entire section labeled: EMERGENCY RESPONSE IF ILYA MAKES IMPROPER COMMENT
Ilya laughed so hard he nearly fell out of the chair. “Is incredible.”
“Thank you.”
“You are evil genius.”
“I know.”
Harris pointed at the pages. “Okay. Phase one is subtle. No direct interaction that screams relationship. Just enough for the obsessive fans to notice patterns.”
“Obsessive fans are terrifying.”
“Yes,” Harris agreed immediately. “Which is why we weaponize them carefully.” He flipped pages. “Same songs. Shared locations. Timing overlap. Suspicious wording. Matching energy.”
“Matching energy?”
“Trust me.”
He flipped another page. “Then phase two escalates into recurring interaction patterns.”
“Ohhh.”
“Then phase three is fandom civil war.”
“Excellent.”
“And phase four is whatever dramatic nonsense you will inevitably do by accident.”
“Very professional plan.”
“Thank you.”
Ilya looked through the pages again, genuinely impressed. “How can we thank you?”
“For the plan? Wedding invitation.”
“And for Troy murdering you?”
Harris sighed. “I guess I’ll see you at the wake.”
The second Ilya got home, he texted Shane.
LILY: we have plan
JANE: Plan for what?
LILY: for crumbs duh
JANE: …
LILY: i sent email
Ilya waited somewhat patiently for Shane to open the file, then:
JANE: WOW!!!
LILY: good plan yes?
JANE: This is forty-three pages
LILY: professional help
JANE: There’s literally a section called “controlled emotional escalation”
LILY: sounds romantic
JANE: Who did this?
LILY: Harris
LILY: he promised secret
LILY: we can trust him
A few minutes passed.
JANE: Okay.
JANE: I’ll share it with my mom.
JANE: She should probably be first post
LILY: good idea
LILY: give kiss to mom
LILY: from favorite son
JANE: I’m not passing that message along
LILY:😭