Chapter Text
“What the fuck is wrong with Hollander?” Scott thinks watching Shane trip over his unlaced shoes. They’re supposed to be filming a detergent commercial together, which Scott thought was strange but the money was good. He’s already in a pre-stained jersey waiting for Shane to make his way back from wardrobe and onto set.
He watches Shane get directed towards the fake kitchen room where he’s supposed to be spilling food on himself. He’s nodding like he’s listening but Scott can tell that something’s wrong. They play and interact often enough that Scott knows he’s not crazy. Shane is unnaturally quiet. And his momager wasn’t on set due to some kind of scheduling issue. Scott was sure if she saw her child this way, she’d be all over him and asking what was wrong. The thought crosses his mind that Shane could just be like this when he’s off the ice, but… there’s an instinct that tells him differently.
The director calls Scott into the scene and he plays his role using the opportunity to take stock of Shane. The kid is saying his lines and acting (terribly, but Scott won’t tell him that) and it’s enough that the director is pleased. But there’s nothing behind Shane’s eyes. The way he moves is too robotic, like he’s only doing something because he’s being told. His brain is void of any kind of conscious thought. He follows the script but does nothing else besides that.
Eventually, the director calls cut and announces the wrap. Something tugs in Scott telling him to step in, so he does.
“Hey,” He plants a warm friendly hand on Shane’s shoulder.
Shane jumps like he’s been shocked. He looks at Scott like he’s expecting something.
“You doing okay?” Scott asks. “This commercial is uh… different.”
“Yeah.” Shane says and doesn’t offer more than that.
“Let’s go and get changed back into normal clothes.” Scott tries a different approach, “And then we’ll go get lunch. Okay?”
Shane just gives a nod, “Okay.”
Scott grins at him trying to coax out a reaction but nothing happens. Planting a hand on Shane’s shoulder he guides him back towards Wardrobe where they get changed. He’s changed quicker than Shane and settles for sitting on one of the folding chairs to wait. He watches Shane go through the motions of getting dressed. His hands have no strength, his head sort of lolls with his movements, and Shane is far clumsier than Scott knows. He knows for sure something is wrong.
He’s not even a dad but he thinks that’s what this instinct is. “Captain instinct,” Scott corrects himself, although team dad might be more accurate. After watching Shane fumble with his shoes before giving up on them, Scott stands and kneels down with him. Gently, he brushes Shane’s hands aside and ties the laces.
“Sorry,” Shane mumbles. His voice sounds so far away.
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Scott reaches up to feel Shane’s forehead. He’s not warm like he expected, he’s cold and clammy.
“I’m fine,” Shane replies but it’s an automatic response.
Scott feels the back of Shane’s neck, then his hands. Shane is cold everywhere. And it’s a New York summer so it’s not like being cold is a common issue. If anything Shane should be sweating because of the gross humidity. But he’s not sweating, he’s just cold. “Shit, you need to get warm.”
“It’s okay,” Shane slurs slightly, “I’m always cold.”
“This is a different kind of cold,” Scott informs him. He has an inkling of what’s happening but he can’t say that. Not here and not now. “Let’s grab lunch.”
“Sure.” Shane’s voice agrees.
“There’s a lot of good places to eat in New York,” Scott starts walking Shane back to his car, “Is there something you feel like eating?”
Shane shrugs, “Not really.”
“Have you eaten today?”
There’s a long pause like Shane has to actually think if he’s put food in him. “Um…”
Scott decides to save him from whatever seems to be going through his mind, “I have an idea. We’ll still do lunch, but how about you come back to my place instead? I uh-” He pauses, both wanting to say that his boyfriend is a great cook, but also not wanting to immediately out himself while they’re still in public. He settles on, “Someone I love is at home who can cook really well.” He winces to himself, but it’s the best he can do.
“Okay.” Shane replies.
“Great, I’ll text him.” He waits for Shane to react but there’s nothing. “Fuck,” he worries, “What the hell happened to him?”
They slide into the car and Scott texts Kip that he’s bringing Shane back to the apartment. “Hey, I kind of have a big favor to ask you and I need you to be supportive about it.”
Kip replies almost immediately, “That sounds ominous, is everything okay?”
“I don’t know,” Scott decides to be honest, “You know how I’m shooting that commercial with Shane Hollander today?”
“Yes…” He can practically feel Kip’s anxiety leaking into that one text.
“Well, I think something happened to him. Something bad. I’m bringing him back to the apartment.”
“Is he going to be okay? Do you want me to leave for a while?” Kips replies.
“I don’t know and No,” Scott answers, surprising himself (and he’s sure, Kip.) “Stay please.”
“Really? Because I can always go back to my Dad’s for a bit.”
“I’m sure. I think I’m going to need your support on this one.”
“???? Okay.” He wishes he could call Kip instead and explain more, but with Shane in the passenger seat of the car he’s not thrilled about that being his first introduction to Kip.
“Is there food in the fridge?” Scott asks hoping there’s at least something Shane can eat.
Kip takes a moment to respond, “Sort of? There’s last night’s soup but I was going to go out and do groceries. Anything you want me to get?”
Scott checks the time wondering how fast Kip can do groceries and come back to help him with Shane. “Can you do a run and be back in an hour?”
“Um… yeah, probably. If I go now I’ll make it back before you get here." Scott imagines Kip getting up from the couch and grabbing little totes to carry their groceries in. Fuck, he loves that man.
“You’re the best. Can you do me another favor?”
“Anything.”
“There’s a heating blanket in the bedroom closet, can you grab it? The weighted one.”
“It’s summer.” Scott can practically hear Kip saying it aloud as he types it.
“I know. Trust me.”
“Always.”
Scott really loves his boyfriend. “Be home soon.” He starts his car noticing that Shane has his head pressed to the window. It’s scary to see him so… lifeless.
“So,” he tries a conversation with Shane, “I saw that documentary segment they did on you. The one about your cottage.” There’s no response. “It must be nice living so close to your parents.” Again, no response. Scott sighs. “Shane, can you say something? Or look at me?”
Shane’s head sluggishly turns to face him. His eyes are open but unseeing. It sends chills down Scott’s spine. “Listen, I want you to answer me honestly, okay? Can you do that?”
“Um…” He notices that Shane goes a little stiff when he asks.
He tries to be comforting without sounding like he’s lecturing Shane, “You don’t have to go into details, but I gotta know what’s going on with you. So you can nod or shake your head, but I’ll need an answer. Okay?”
Shane hesitates but gives a shaky nod.
“Are you hurt?” The question seems to be too vague or strike a nerve because Shane’s eyes start to water and his hands clench. Scott takes it as confirmation and reaches out with one hand to gently grasp Shane’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. You’re safe with me, alright?”
Shane just gives a shaky nod.
Scott moves his hand to take it back but stops when Shane seemingly leans into his touch. Curious, Scott wonders what’ll happen if he removes his hand entirely. He does and notices how Shane chases the touch briefly before sinking into the seat. Guilty, Scott pretends to scratch his beard before placing his hand back on Shane’s shoulder. For the first time, he feels the tension in the kid’s shoulders release a little.
They drive in silence the rest of the way back to Scott’s apartment, his hand never leaving Shane’s shoulder. But eventually, he has to let go when he parks.
Scott gets out of the car going to the passenger side where he opens the door for Shane who fumbles with the handle. “I got it, no worries.” Scott says as nonchalantly as he can. “Look uh… when we get to my apartment, there’s someone- my someone- his name is Kip. Uh…” Scott frowns not wanting to cheapen who Kip is to him. “He’s- we’re together.”
That seems to get Shane’s attention a little. “Together?”
“Yeah,” Scott starts walking, showing Shane to the elevator, “Together.” He pushes the button and the doors close taking them up. “He’s my boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” Shane’s eyes now look at Scott. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Actually, he was. He was expecting either nonchalance, maybe anger, or complete dissociation (this was the more likely outcome). But what he wasn’t expecting was wet sad eyes. And Scott wasn’t sure how to take that. Was that good, or bad?
“Uh…” He feels stupid for asking but he needs an answer, “How do you… feel about that?”
Shane’s mouth quivers, “You’re gay?”
Scott can’t help the nervous smile that crosses his face, “Uh, yeah… I’d say so.”
“For real?”
“Yeah, for real.”
Shane just nods and the tears slip silently down his cheeks. He brushes them away. The doors open and they step out, Scott leading the way. “Hollander,” Scott pauses before he opens the door, “I’m about to introduce you to my boyfriend so… uh, I kinda need to know if you’re cool with that or not.”
“I’m… cool.” Shane starts but words stop in his throat. “This is real?” He asks instead, “This isn’t a joke? You’re really gay?”
Scott frowns wondering where this is going, “Yeah, Hollander. I’m really gay. This isn’t some kind of elaborate prank.” At that Shane gets shifty, like he’s scared that maybe Scott is pulling a prank on him. His breath hitches and Scott quickly grabs him by the shoulders. “Hey. It’s not. I promise it’s not.”
Shane nods and whispers, “Okay.” The way he answers opens a pit in Scott’s stomach. He’s always suspected Hollander might be into men, but the way he answered with such fear only confirms it.
He opens the door and is immediately greeted with the smell of Kip making pasta. If Shane weren’t with him, he’d let the pasta burn just to sweep Kip into his arms and take him to bed. Or the couch because it’s closer.
“Hey!” Kip beams and Scott can tell he’s a little nervous.
Scott lets the door shut behind him and he greets Kip with a hug and a light kiss on the lips. “Hi,” He smiles dumbly. He leaves an arm wrapped around Kip and walks him towards Shane who still stands awkwardly in the door. “Kip, this is Shane Hollander. Shane, this is my boyfriend, Kip.”
Kip smiles and holds out a hand to Shane who takes it. On Shane’s end, his hand is quite limp and Kip gives Scott a concerned look. “Nice to meet you, Shane,” Kip says, taking his hand back. “I have hot tea on the stove, you um… look like you could use a cup. Your hands are freezing.”
“Sorry,” Shane mumbles, and then, “Oh uh… it’s also nice to meet you.”
Scott kisses Kip’s cheek before releasing him to grab tea from the stove. “I left the blanket on the couch,” Kip calls back to them, “It’s already plugged in.”
God, Scott loves his boyfriend. He’s so intuitive. “Thanks. Shane, how about you join me on the couch.”
“Oh, uh, okay.” Shane looks down at his feet and clumsily takes his shoes off before padding in his socks to the living room.
Scott sits him down and wraps the blanket around him. Shane’s eyes flutter shut for a moment before he opens them. He looks utterly exhausted. “When’s the last time you slept?” Scott asks. “Properly slept, I mean. Where you felt rested.”
Shane’s hands clench like they did in the car and Scott just nods. “It’s okay, you don’t need to answer.” Kip comes over with the cup of tea and Scott takes it from him. Reaching into the blanket, he gently guides Shane’s shaking hands to wrap around the warm mug. “Drink,” he instructs.
Shane does as he’s told, lifting the mug and taking a sip. Color seeps into his skin a little satisfying Scott. Kip meets Scott’s eyes before gesturing back to the kitchen. Scott sits with Shane a little while longer before he notices a light sway in the kid. Taking the mug, he places it on the coffee table.
“Rest,” He says, placing a comforting hand to the side of Shane’s face, “You look exhausted. Kip and I aren’t going anywhere.”
“But your home-” Shane starts to protest but Scott shakes his head.
He grabs a pillow and gently nudges Shane sideways. It doesn’t take much effort for Shane to submit to gravity. “It’s okay, Hollander. I promise. Sleep, you’re safe here. Like I said, Kip and I aren’t going anywhere. We’ll be here when you wake up.”
Shane mumbles something that Scott doesn’t get, but it doesn’t matter. Shane’s eyes flutter closed and his breathing evens out.
After making sure that Shane is actually sleeping, Scott joins Kip in the kitchen. He wraps his arms around his boyfriend resting his chin on his shoulder. “Is he okay?” Kip asks softly, “I mean clearly not, but… what’s going on?”
Scott sighs, “I don’t know. He just showed up to the shoot like that. No one else seemed to notice but I mean… I’ve known that kid since he was eighteen so I know this is not normal for him.”
“You said in your text that something bad happened to him.”
“Yeah,” Scott pulls away from Kip to lean against the counter, and so he can look his boyfriend in the face. “I don’t want to jump to any conclusions but, he doesn’t seem like he’s sick. I mean, we’ve all played sick before and it doesn’t look like this. He’s not physically hurt, not that I can tell so… it’s something else.”
“Something traumatic?” Kip fills in the blanks for what Scott isn’t saying.
Scott just nods worriedly, “Looks like it. He’s jumpy, not really responsive… just does what he’s told.”
Kip swallows, taking a glance back at Shane’s sleeping form, “Do you think… he might’ve been… assaulted?”
“God, I hope not.” Scott swallows down bile at the thought of someone hurting Shane like that. But he also can’t deny that the thought crossed his mind. “I thought by bringing him here he might feel safe enough to open up about what happened to him.”
Kip worriedly reaches out and takes Scott’s hand, “I’m glad you’re looking out for him.” He gives Scott a small smile that he finds so irresistible. He leans forward and captures Kip’s mouth in a deep kiss. “Fuck, I love you so much. You’re so perfect.”
“I love you too.”
-
Shane wakes up long after the sun goes down but still early enough that Kip has dinner already ready.
“Couch?” Kip asks, holding all three plates of pasta.
“Couch.” Scott confirms carrying the drinks. He doesn’t want to move Shane from the couch especially since the shivering hasn’t seemed to stop. He’d made sure that the heated blanket stayed on, and it did help some but not enough.
The food is set down and the drinks passed out. Shane, looking marginally better, thanks them and the three start eating. Kip offers light conversation about his love of art and Scott is more than happy to listen to him ramble on. He keeps one eye on Shane making sure he’s properly eating.
Eventually, he needs to ask. “How long have you been like this?” Scott asks, finding no other way to start the conversation.
“Um…” Shane blinks at Scott. His eyes are so fucking glassy Scott wears this kid is going to give him a heart attack. Shane shrugs, “Vegas, I think? No big deal.”
“Vegas,” Scott pries, “Did something happen in Vegas?”
Shane grips the blanket tighter, still shaking. He shakes his head and whispers so softly, “I can’t tell you.”
Scott’s heart plummets to his stomach. Kip’s worried eyes tell him the same. He doesn’t want to assume the worst, but the way Shane is acting… he doesn’t want to think about what could’ve happened. “Shane,” Scott tries to be as delicate as possible, “Whatever happened to you, it’s not your fault. I want you to know that.”
Shane squeezes his eyes shut. “But it is,” he whispers, his voice cracking slightly.
“Oh,” Kip’s voice is so soft and he gets up from sitting next to Scott so he can sit next to Shane. “I’m going to hug you, is that okay?” Shane nods stiffly and Kip wraps his arms around Shane.
“Hey,” Scott ducks his head slightly to try and make eye contact with Shane, “Listen to me. This isn’t your fault. None of what happened to you is your fault.”
Shane shakes his head, tears leaking out, “I should’ve… I should’ve said something.”
Kip’s eyes are watering and he starts gently rubbing Shane’s arms through the blanket, “Don’t do that to yourself.”
“..lya…” Shane croaks out. “Should’ve said…”
“Who?” Kip asks and glances at Scott who shakes his head. He didn’t catch the name either.
“Do you have your phone?” Scott asks gently. Shane nods and slips it from his pocket handing it to Scott. “Look, I’m not going to invade your privacy or anything, but I’m going to call your mom. I think she needs to be here.”
More tears drip from Shane’s eyes. “Please don’t tell her.”
“I won’t,” Scott promises. “I’m just calling to tell her to fly to New York. Whatever you’d like to say to her is up to you.”
Kip keeps his arms wrapped around Shane, “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be okay.”
“Password,” Scott instructs, pointing to Shane’s phone. “Unlock it.”
“-iya.” Shane mumbles softly.
Scott frowns, not quite catching it. “Numbers, Shane.” He says as gently as possible, “I need numbers.”
“4…5…9…2...”
The numbers work and Shane’s phone opens. “I’m going to call in the bedroom,” Scott says, “Just rest.”
He vanishes into his room, just in case Yuna Hollander does some yelling over the phone. He doesn't need to stress Shane out even more. He’s ready to scroll through the contacts for Yuna Hollander’s number but there’s already a message open. An unsent text to “Lily”.
We didn’t even kiss.
It fucking clicks. Vegas, the numbers, the mumbled name, Lily. Scott knows Shane is sleeping with Rozanov, but he wasn’t sure until this moment. His fucking password on his phone spells Ilya. Lily is Ilya fucking Rozanov. And the text-
Scott calls him. He’s fucking right because Ilya Rozanov answers.
And he sounds… something. “Hollander? Why are you calling me?”
“Because it’s not Shane, it’s Scott.” He replies.
Rozanov’s voice gets sharp, “Why do you have Hollander’s phone?”
“I was going to call his mother for help-”
“Why does Hollander need help?”
Scott ignored the question, “But instead I found you, Lily.”
“What the fuck do you know old man?” Rozanov quips.
Scott snaps his anger boiling over. Rozanov has some fucking balls. Motherfucker. “I’m not stupid. I know you two are… involved. And I’m telling you to fucking stay away from Shane.”
“Fuck you,” Rozanov snaps back, “Who the fuck are you to tell me to stay away?”
“Someone who actually fucking cares about him,” Scott snaps. “Next time I see you, I’m breaking your fucking hands. You’ll never play hockey again and you’ll never fucking touch him again, you fucking rapist.”
That gets the Russian to reply, “What?” His voice is so quiet and he actually sounds… hurt? “Shane was raped?” There’s a hitch in his voice, a fear so primal that even Scott pauses. He doesn’t say anything until Rozanov’s voice goes higher, “Hunter! What do you mean, rape? Who touched him? Is he okay? Please, fucking tell me!” He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears. “Hunter!” He says something in Russian, and it sounds like he’s begging.
Scott takes a chance and listens to his gut, “He said he’s been like this since Vegas.”
Rozanov sucks in a sharp breath, his voice is cracking with unshed tears. “I will fix. Is my fault, I will fix. We had… I-” His english is rougher than usual, “I have… dangerous feelings about him. Too many. I didn’t want to say, thought it would be better.”
“Well it’s not,” Scott can’t help the bitterness that creeps in, “Whatever you did, you fucked him up and it’s killing him.”
Rozanov lets out a pained cry, “I… I didn’t want to hurt him.”
It’s such a sincere answer that Scott almost can’t believe the next words out of his mouth, “I’m texting you my address. I don’t give a fuck if you’re in Russia or wherever right now, get on the next flight to New York and fix this. If you don’t fix this, you will fucking kill him. Do you understand?”
For once there’s no snarky response from Rozanov. “I will be there.”