Chapter Text
"Shh, shh," Ilya hushed his friends while he ticked the volume up on his TV. Svetlana drifted over to stand next to him, slinging her arm over his shoulder. None of their other friends could be bothered to pay attention, too strung out from a long night of clubbing in Moscow.
The Ottawa Centaurs had the first draft pick. They had been abjectly terrible since they had drafted Ilya two seasons ago. But this year they had the chance to draft a player that could help change that. Coaches and commentators spoke about Shane Hollander breathlessly. When the Centaurs got the first overall draft pick, Ilya had stayed up late watching game footage of the player his team would almost certainly select.
Even through grainy footage Hollander's talent was undeniable. What nagged Ilya was that he had no sense of Hollander as a person. Interview clips were too professional and polished. Hollander's social media presence was completely void of personality. Something told Ilya that this man was more than a hockey robot, but he hadn't seen evidence to the contrary yet.
"With the first overall pick, the Ottawa Centaurs select Shane Hollander!" The camera found Shane. He hugged his parents, then walked up to the stage to shake hands and accept a jersey.
"He is hot," Svetlana said calmly, noting an objective fact.
Ilya squinted at the screen. Shane was beautiful. His cheeks were turning pink from all the excitement, and his brown eyes looked warm and happy amidst the chaos. Ilya watched his face carefully, as if he could crack Shane's professional exterior through the TV. The broadcast moved on, and Svetlana lost interest. Eventually, Ilya switched it off. He wasn't going to learn anything about his new teammate through clips of the draft, it would have to wait until they met in the fall.
***
"Shane, just calling to say we're so proud of you," Shane's parents had phoned while he was checking his gear bag for the hundredth time. David Hollander's voice was dripping with pride.
"Thanks, Dad," Shane eyed the clock. Plenty of time, but maybe he'd hit the road to avoid the risk of traffic.
"Call us after and tell us everything," Yuna meant every single detail. Shane knew he'd need to commit it all to memory, his first significant hockey moment that his parents couldn't be present for.
Shane had been looking forward to this day his entire life, and the moment he got out of bed he was scolding himself for not enjoying every second of it.
Getting drafted by his hometown team should have been part of the dream, but the Centaurs hadn't been good in years. It was a terrible mindset to enter with, but Shane was preparing himself for a rookie year of disappointing, frustrating hockey. The elements were there-they had picked up Wyatt Hayes last season, an incredibly effective goalie. Zane Boodram was an excellent right wing, and Ilya Rozanov was nothing short of a revelation on left wing.
If there was one thing that got Shane hopeful for his first day, it was the opportunity to play with Rozanov. Ilya had won rookie of the year when he debuted two seasons ago. Impossibly fast, lethal instincts, and he scored goals at a staggering rate. Off the ice, he seemed intimidating. Brash, unafraid of bad press, a partying womanizer. Everything Shane wasn't.
Shane entered the practice facility early to meet with the head coach and trainers. Coach Wiebe was encouraging and warm as he laid out their plan for Shane's first week of training. As they pored over the schedule, the noise in the locker room built. By the time Shane exited Wiebe's office, it was at a crescendo. Loud music on the speakers, happy yelling from teammates excited to see each other after months apart.
Many players slapped Shane on the back, telling him how excited they were to have him. Shane found himself looking for Rozanov while he laced his skates, but Rozanov was absent. As the team began to head to the ice, Shane started worrying. Maybe Rozanov was injured. Maybe there was a surprise trade in the works.
A breath he didn't know he was holding escaped his lungs when he saw Ilya was already on the ice. It was the kind of thing Shane liked to do. Show up early for some time by himself, savor the silence.
As he stepped on the ice, Shane felt Rozanov staring. For a moment, anxiety started to build in Shane's stomach. Ilya's gaze was intense, hazel eyes fixed with a calculating expression that let Shane know he was being evaluated, thoroughly examined.
Then Ilya skated up and knocked his hand against Shane's shoulder. "Welcome, rookie."
Ilya smiled, a crooked, genuine smile. Suddenly Shane felt weak in the knees.
***
Shane was every bit as fun to play with as Ilya expected. He was precise and confident. For the first time since he'd started playing for Ottawa, Ilya felt hope rising in his chest. He still hadn't cracked Shane's true personality. The first few days Shane had just looked a little overwhelmed and extremely focused.
Ilya would have to gloat to Svetlana next time he called her. Shane was prettier in person. He had freckles splashed across his cheeks, and his hair was thick and glossy, just begging to be tugged on. Svetlana would be so jealous that Ilya got to look at him every day.
As the first week of practice wound down, Ilya beckoned Troy Barrett over in the locker room. Barrett had been traded to the team at the tail end of last season. He and Ilya had gotten close, and Ilya had recently decided it was time for Troy to finally make a move on Harris, the social media manager for the team who Troy seemed completely infatuated with.
"Troy, when will you do something about your crush?" Ilya murmured to him. Most of the team had left the locker room, save for their goalie, Wyatt Hayes, who was on the opposite side of the room, and Shane, who was a few seats away from them. Ilya noticed Shane's eyes get shifty, he was eavesdropping.
"Don't," Troy groaned. "It’s bad enough that I blush every time I'm around him."
Shane stiffened at the pronoun. Ilya chewed the inside of his cheek. Scott Hunter had come out a few years ago, and several players gradually followed suit. The commissioner wasn't happy about it, plenty of fans reacted poorly, but it did feel like the tide was turning in a small, infinitesimal way. Maybe Shane Hollander would finally disappoint Ilya, maybe his shifty expression meant he was homophobic.
The Centaurs locker room was decidedly not homophobic. Troy wasn't broadly out to the league yet, but he had mentioned an ex-boyfriend once at a team party, and nobody had batted an eye. Ilya remembered the relief that washed over Troy's face. It was the same that had flooded his body in that moment.
Ilya still needed to be able to go back to Russia, he couldn't come out to everyone and risk word spreading. But he had confided in Troy, and Troy had recently admitted to a "small" crush on Harris, so Ilya was determined to make it happen.
"I can always help. Tell him how nice you are, so funny, so cool. I am good liar," Ilya grinned. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Shane. Shane still seemed frozen.
Troy hung his head in his hands, clearly regretting that he had ever confided in his obnoxious friend. "Just...give me some time, ok? I don't even know if I'm ready, my ex just got married."
Ilya rubbed Troy's back in sympathy. In truth, he had hoped the crush on Harris was a sign that Troy was healing from his heartbreak, Troy's shitty ex who had cheated on him and gotten engaged last year. But maybe Troy did need a little more time. They could always go out, find some one-night stands for Troy. Casual sex always cheered Ilya up.
As Ilya considered their options, Shane finally picked up his bag and hurried out. Ilya's eyes followed him, questions forming in his mind that he wasn't sure he wanted answers to.
***
"Come for drinks with us," Shane startled at the words that came out of Ilya.
He and Ilya had been standing next to each other silently for a few minutes, watching the second line run drills.
Shane considered it for a moment. Ilya had been kind of distant, aloof. Shane wasn't sure if he wanted to spend time with him. But this was probably valuable team bonding, it would be the responsible choice to attend.
"Ok," Shane nodded emphatically. Ilya's eyes flashed, his cool exterior breaking for a moment of interest.
"See you there," Ilya slapped his shoulder and skated off.
***
Ilya was thrilled Shane had taken him up on the offer to spend some time with the team off the ice. Ever since his abrupt exit from the locker room, Ilya had been watching him closely.
Shane hadn't seemed to react poorly to Troy since he had first learned Troy was interested in men. In fact, Ilya felt it was to the contrary. He noticed Shane watching Troy more, giving him lingering glances and wearing an expression of pure curiosity. It was too early to tell, but Ilya had a sense for these things.
"Shane! You made it," Wyatt patted the seat next to him, and Shane sat across from Ilya and Troy. Shane's eyes darted once, nervously, to Troy before settling on Ilya's face.
"Thanks for inviting me," Shane said. Ilya was oddly charmed by his formal, polite behavior.
"Is important, team getting to know you," Ilya shrugged. Everyone was excited to have the rookie phenom on the team, but nobody seemed to have a good grasp yet on who Shane was off the ice.
If anyone could chip away at this tightly wound exterior, it was Ilya. Troy had arrived in Ottawa with a gloomy raincloud hovering over him and a complete inability to make small talk. Ilya had taken him under his wing, and Troy had slowly but surely opened up. Still shy, but now beloved by the team. Ilya could work that same magic with Shane.
"Ready for your first pre-season game?" Wyatt asked. Shane nodded without hesitation.
"So ready. I think then it'll all feel more real, you know?"
Ilya knew what he meant. He had arrived in Canada two years ago desperate to finally face off against the best of the NHL. His first game had been a confirmation that he belonged, that he was where was meant to be.
"Montreal will be tough," Ilya murmured. It was the truth, they were the defending Stanley Cup Champs.
Shane grinned. "I'm not afraid of them. I played with Hayden Pike, their left wing in Junior Worlds. You're better."
Ilya raised an eyebrow that clearly said "I am better than everybody," and Shane's smile broadened, an acknowledgement of unspoken fact.
For the next half hour, Shane politely sat back while Wyatt, Ilya, and Troy gossiped about the league's upcoming season. Ilya made sure to give him some openings to jump in, but Shane didn't seem to take the cues. Ilya switched strategies.
"How is it, staying in your hometown? Do you wish you were drafted to different team?"
Something crossed Shane's face, a flash of conflict as he weighed his answer, before he shook his head.
"I don't mind. I'm happy to be near my parents. I love Ottawa."
Ilya sat back, dissatisfied. Shane wasn't being completely honest, but Ilya worried that if he called Shane on his bullshit, Shane would clam up.
"What about you?" Shane leaned forward now. "What's it like playing so far away from home?"
"Great. It is everything I dreamed of," Ilya said. The answer was a slight deflection, and Shane seemed to notice. He gave Ilya a piercing look, one that made Ilya glance away.
Wyatt was forcing Troy to watch a movie trailer on his phone, some superhero film. Shane and Ilya had a modicum of privacy while their teammates were distracted. Ilya darted a cagey look at Shane again.
"It was harder when I first got here. Language, polite Canadians," Ilya waved a hand at Shane, who smiled. "All new. I feel like my words come out ugly, people look at me strange. But then I start playing and everybody loves me."
Shane nodded. "They really do. My parents were so thrilled when you were drafted."
"Ah, just your parents?" Ilya teased. Shane started to blush, pink tinting his cheeks. It made Ilya happy, seeing the first signs of Shane loosening up.
"I couldn't enjoy it. Too worried I'd have to play against you."
Ilya's spine straightened at the compliment. Shane didn't seem like the type to flatter for the sake of it. The thought of Shane watching Ilya play for his hometown team, studiously keeping a clinical distance in case he would one day be a rival...Ilya couldn't stop grinning picturing Shane's serious expression as he watched Ilya's past two seasons.
"Yes, I am nightmare to play against. Good thing we are on the same line," Ilya winked. Shane flushed a little, and he nodded eagerly.
Just as Ilya hoped, Shane slowly loosened up, and Ilya learned a bit more about him. Like Troy, he seemed to barely listen to music, his face going blank when Wyatt and Ilya compared workout playlists. Like Troy, he ate some kind of high performance diet, and the two compared notes on meal prepping while Bood elbowed in and tried to sell Shane on the virtues of smoked brisket. Like Troy, Shane laughed quickly and earnestly at Ilya's jokes.
Ilya had a half-formed idea. Shane seemed similar to Ilya's best friend on the team, an indication that he and Ilya could become close too. Maybe Shane and Troy's similarities—and the suspicions that Ilya had about Shane—could make him a good fit for Troy. At minimum Ilya could see it being a possible friends with benefits situation until Troy was back on his feet and ready to date.
Ilya shelved what he knew was probably a bad idea for later and enjoyed the way that Shane's nose scrunched when he laughed.
***
Shane skated up to Hayden during warm ups,who greeted him with a friendly smile.
"Ready to get crushed?" Hayden asked. He was a year older than Shane. They had gotten along well when they played on the Canadian youth team, and Hayden had texted a congratulations when Shane got drafted.
"You wish," Shane hoped his tone was confident, and not as doubtful as he felt inside. The team had good pieces, but it lacked depth. Training with Ilya had been amazing, but it remained to be seen if they would work as well in a real game.
As Shane skated back to the bench, Ilya called out to him.
"Did you tell Pike we will go easy on him? He is worst player on the Metros."
Shane rolled his eyes, but he couldn't keep the grin off his face. Ilya loved to antagonize, and he looked so pleased with himself when he did it.
When the game began, everything came into sharp focus. Ilya felt like an extension of Shane, exactly where he needed him, anticipating his every move. Playing with Ilya felt like pure instinct. Ilya's energy matched Shane throughout the whole game. Locked in and buzzing when on the bench, rabid on the ice.
The Centaurs won, and it was only then that Ilya's intensity lowered. He skated over and smacked a kiss on Shane's helmet. The affection from someone he had only known a few weeks short circuited Shane's brain for a moment. Ilya saw it on his face, and he looked upset with himself.
"Sorry. I am proud of you, great game. Will respect your personal space next time." Ilya patted his shoulder and skated off to give Bood a bear hug.
***
Pre-season drew attention, more than Ilya was used to. They were playing well. The team was clicking as a whole, but he and Hollander were getting the lion's share of media coverage. Talking heads on ESPN comparing them to legendary players, highlights from pre-season games. It felt premature, but Ilya could understand the appeal. They were incredible together. He had never played with someone who could keep up with him like this, it was intoxicating.
The team wanted to capitalize off the attention, so they pulled Shane and Ilya for marketing materials and social media spots one afternoon before the season started. Shane was fidgety between takes, so Ilya tried to distract him.
"Why is your Instagram 'Shanehollanderhockeyplayer?"
Shane's head jerked towards him. "You follow me on Instagram?"
Ilya shrugged, trying to appear casual. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from bringing up the fact that Shane certainly didn't follow him.
"It is very boring. Sometimes I look at it if I need to fall asleep." Shane blushed and narrowed his eyes, pretending to be annoyed. The smile that danced across his lips betrayed the illusion.
"Is there another Shane Hollander you could be confused with? Shanehollanderpornstar already taken?"
Ilya couldn't resist dipping his toe into a private game he had created a few weeks ago. See just how red he could get Hollander's cheeks. They were nearing peak flush, a tone that matched the fresh apples Harris had dropped off in the locker room this week.
Before Shane could bite back with a reply, Harris beckoned them over. Ilya had to abandon his favorite game so he and Shane could pose for more photos.
***
Ilya had stayed on the ice a little longer to joke with Harris. Shane went into the showers, rinsing off the stench of his hockey gear and the light layer of sweat he had worked up skating for promotional material. He heard Ilya walk in and glanced over.
Somehow he and Ilya had never been in the showers at the same time. Their different cool down routines after practice must have meant the timing never aligned.
Shane was mortified to realize that he might never want to be in a shower with Ilya again. His ass was incredible, the kind Shane wanted to grab a handful of. Shane's eyes darted down for a second, quick enough to register that Ilya's cock was huge. For a horrible second, Shane's mouth watered.
He had been coming to terms with the fact that he was attracted to men. He had no idea what to do with that information. There had been girlfriends in high school, but zero exploration with men. Lately, Shane had found himself fantasizing about random guys. An actor on a TV show. A man at the grocery store. And now, for a sickening moment, his teammate and the man he had a burgeoning friendship with.
Shane ran the gamut of these anxieties in the second that he took in the sight of Ilya naked, and his eyes flicked up to Ilya's face. Ilya was looking directly at him, something inscrutable in his expression, his eyelids looked heavy. Ilya raised his eyebrows, glancing down at Shane.
Fuck. Shane was half hard.
"Fuck off," Shane said, turning away for a moment. He couldn't help glancing back. Ilya was still watching him, his eyes traveling over Shane's form. His lips parted, ever so slightly. Shane was hypnotized watching a rivulet of water run over his bottom lip.
Against his better judgement, Shane stole a glance and was shocked to see that Ilya was growing hard. Adrenaline and fear shot through Shane's nervous system and he wrenched the dial on his shower to turn the water off, practically bolting out of the room.
***
Ilya watched Shane rush out of the shower with a sinking sensation in his stomach. For a moment his mind had completely drifted off, focused on the lust that clouded all reason. Shane looked incredible, and the moment that Ilya caught him staring, growing hard, felt like it had lasted an eternity.
Ilya appreciated all hot people, he didn't discriminate by gender. And Shane was truly, staggeringly hot. If he was anybody else—not a friend or a teammate—Ilya would have asked for permission to get on his knees right there and take Shane into his mouth.
The second that Shane rushed out, Ilya was filled with shame, regret, and fear. He switched off the water and wrapped himself in a towel, moving as quickly as he could to the locker room. They needed to talk about this, reset their status quo.
Shane was somehow already fully clothed, fumbling with a shoe.
“Hollander," Ilya wasn't sure whether to use his usual, swaggering tone, or something gentler. Either way, the name came out awkwardly, with too much purpose. Shane looked up, that deer in the headlights look Ilya saw when he had run out of the shower.
"We can forget that happened in there," Shane bit out hastily. It was a more direct statement than the one Ilya had considered, but the point was the same. They could ignore that Shane had gotten hard looking at another man, and that Ilya had reciprocated because Shane was undeniably sexy, and that for a moment Ilya had considered dropping to his knees.
"Sure," Ilya shrugged. Shane looked too relieved. Something coursed through Ilya, a familiar tingle he got when he could do something dangerous. "Or we don't forget. Is not big deal. I like men. I am bi. You like men, yes?"
Shane looked stunned. He half nodded, but he didn't say anything.
"You are not out?"
Several guys in the league had come out since Scott Hunter. Troy had been considering coming out publicly, it might not be too bad for Hollander if he did. It might even help him get laid, marking himself as a handsome, gay bachelor.
"No," Shane fidgeted. "I'm not even sure what I...I don't know yet."
Ilya nodded. It took some people time to figure out their sexuality, and Hollander seemed like the type who needed to analyze every angle and possibility.
"Is ok to take your time. Troy is the only one I am out to. But you do like men?"
Shane sighed as if it defeated him. "Yes."
Ilya decided to barrel ahead. His strategy to help Troy this season was looming in his mind, his half-formed ideas for guiding his friend through the joys of casual sex began bubbling back to the surface. "If you want, I can help you."
"Help me?" Shane squeaked. Ilya almost laughed, but he knew he'd feel terrible if he did. Shane's tension confirmed what Ilya suspected. Shane probably had very limited experience, if any, with men.
"Yes. Wingman, take you to gay bars, help you use apps. Get you laid. I think you need to get laid, if looking at a man in a shower gets you hard."
"What's your excuse?" Shane shot back. Touché. Ilya felt a small thrill at Shane's quick chirp.
Ilya decided to ignore it, and clapped his hands decisively, the same way he did when the team was about to hit the ice. "Let me help you. This will be fun."
He meant it. He wanted Shane to embrace it, to see if this could help take some of the edge off this tense man sitting across from him.
Shane bit his lip, and Ilya found his eyes fixating on it. Ilya would have to organize a line, complete with a velvet VIP rope the first time he took Shane out on the town to get laid. He was stunning, and he seemed to have yet to realize it.
"Yeah, ok. I mean, maybe not here? I'm kind of...known in Ottawa." Shane blushed at that, as if Ilya hadn't seen his face plastered on ads the past few years. Whoever his manager was had really capitalized on Shane's marketability in his hockey-obsessed hometown.
Ilya nodded thoughtfully, trying to run through their schedule in his head. "Not here, of course. First road trip?"
Shane's shoulders lowered a fraction of an inch, tension beginning to dissipate.
"Sure, let's do it."