TXVII



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    “What is the League saying?” Shane asks. He’s almost scared to find out, but they need to know what they’re dealing with here.

    “They want you back, obviously. They don’t know why Rozanov hasn’t made any demands yet-”

    And it’s ridiculous and so, so like his Mom to be disappointed in someone for being inefficient at kidnapping her son.

    “I am thinking about it!” Ilya protests. “Has been only two hours!”

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    04 Jun 2026

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Apparently, Shane’s no better than a skittering lab rat, except he doesn’t press a button when he’s hoping for scraps—he knocks on Rozanov’s door.

    Or: Rozanov is never going to love him back, so Shane decides to go to war with biochemistry. He buys a psychology book with a five-step guide to help him do it. If only he could actually stick to the plan.

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    27 May 2026

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    Ilya widens his eyes, moves his hands in an impatient “get on with it” motion. He has the urge to say it for him, end both their misery. Shane blinks rapidly a few times, takes another deep breath. “I want to stop,” he says simply.

    Ilya lets out one humorless laugh, “Stop what?”

    Shane ignores him. “At the All Star Game, I told you I liked you. And you said about Russia and your family. And I looked some things up. I get it. I get it better now. I know we can’t but I can’t stop wanting to be…more. Unless we stop.”

    OR

    Shane just wants to be friends and Ilya is, like, fine with that or whatever

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    25 May 2026

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    After his second Cup win, Shane had stared down the gaping maw of August stretched open before him and, for the first time, the thought of spending it fishing and birding at his cottage, alone, without anyone to make him a sandwich or press his head into the space beneath their chin, was unbearable.

    Thus, Los Angeles.

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    15 May 2026

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    “You are planning to rob me or what?” He hears Rozanov call, and he can’t help but smile slightly even as he rolls his eyes, closing the door to the linen closet and feeling strangely lighter than when he opened it, reassured that he’s just trying to read into a blank page, that today doesn’t mean anything more than Rozanov doesn’t mind him being around, which is strangely flattering.

    “I don’t know,” he calls back. “Don’t Russians like diamonds and fur and stuff? Where should I start looking if I want to know what my options are?”

    He hears Rozanov laugh, and it makes him smile.

    When he joins him in the living room once more, Rozanov tugs him down to lean against him again. Shane goes easier this time, settling into it, knowing it doesn’t mean anything other than the fact that he just happens to be the closest warm body, the person on Rozanov’s roster who filled today’s slot.

    (the tuna meltdown doesn't happen) (this does not mean they get ANY better at communication)

    (or: how shane didn't realize he had a boyfriend for several months)

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    13 May 2026