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Seeing the cottage felt surreal for Ilya. He’d spent so many nights listening to that boring special about Shane Hollander’s Fortress of Solitude, Shane’s small interjections soothing his mind that refused to let him sleep. His TV was always on a lowered volume, just enough to register Shane’s voice, but quiet enough that Ilya had to focus on the muttering coming from the speakers to make out any coherent sentence.
Now that he was here, it felt larger than life. It was an all-encompassing safe haven for him and Shane, and he had stupid Scott Hunter to thank for urging him to accept Shane’s invitation. He still hadn’t processed the whirlwind that Hunter’s coming out sent his emotions into, and maybe the cottage would be the calm that broke that tornado. The hollowed sounds of the lake sloshing around softly filled his ears, dissipating once Ilya broke the surface of the water. “Very impressive, Ilya.” Shane smirked, sitting with his feet pulled away from the water on the rock he sat on.
“I know, you are so turned on right now,” Ilya smirked.
“You know just how to get me going.” Shane fingered the grooves of the slippery rock, “I’ve always wanted a guy who could do a handstand.” Ilya remembered a clip from the special, Shane positioned in downward dog and those tiny shorts teasing Ilya.
“Is this where you do yoga, or up there?” Ilya gestured his head to the open yard that preceded the lake, slicking his hair back and noticing how Shane’s thigh twitched at an image of wet Ilya. He hadn’t missed Shane’s staring in Florida when he got out of the pool, water trickling down his skin and moving with the curves of his muscles. Shane’s eyebrows furrowed, connecting the dots on how Ilya knew he did yoga.
“You watched that?” His lips curled upward when he made the connection, and Ilya couldn’t stop the heat that built in his cheeks. It was ridiculous to be embarrassed now, he just cried in Shane’s arms the night before, told him he loved him and heard him say it back, and he’d beared himself raw when he told Shane about his mother, the only person outside of Ilya’s family to know the truth. Despite all that, Ilya couldn’t help himself from fidgeting, his fingers—that were beginning to prune in the cool Canadian waters—over the familiar skin on his ear.
“I needed help sleeping.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the entire truth. It covered up the embarrassing truth that Ilya had a hard time sleeping some nights when he missed Shane, especially when they’d gone through their long draughts between seasons. Christ, maybe coming to the cottage meant he didn’t have to go long stretches of time without Shane near him.
“Do you want pasta from last night or hot dogs?” Ilya’s sandals squeaked as he and Shane made it up the grassy hill, towels shielding them from the sun they’d just basked in. He felt his heart twitch at the question, even as simple as it was. Pasta from last night, the phrasing felt so oddly domestic, commonplace. Ilya had been fighting off the urge to imagine what visiting the cottage with Shane was like, up until he actually managed to pick up his phone and call him to accept his invitation.
He fought off the scenarios that lulled him into sleep where Shane was clearing the picnic table just outside the sliding doors while Ilya sipped the last of his Coca-Cola. Now, it felt like Ilya really could have the normal, boring life he wanted with Shane, if it was only for a few months in their hideaway.
“Hot dogs.” Ilya answered, his eyes fixated on the hand Shane let swing softly as he walked. Ilya grasped softly at his finger tips when they swung back, making Shane glance over his shoulder with a soft smile.
“They’ll have to defrost a bit.” Shane smirked as he turned his back to the wall of windows, that damned smirk splitting his lips as his eyes found their safe place gazing at Ilya’s cupid’s bow.
“So we have a little time.” Ilya could think of endless ways to waste time. He still hadn’t managed to fuck Shane in the kitchen, against the counter, maybe he could even convince Shane to walk around one morning in nothing but an apron while he made breakfast. His lips interlocked with Shane’s, feeling his smirk transfer to his lips. He loved the feeling of Shane trying to resist a smitten smile against his lips, because the resistance never lasted long. He trailed his hands down to Shane’s ass, squeezing as his eyes flicked towards the kitchen. He was going to have fun with Shane for a—
Holy fuck, it’s Yuna Hollander.
Ilya’s entire body tensed, like a spooked horse. His hands slid away from Shane’s ass, but still stayed grounded on his hips. He needed to make Shane look over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't hallucinating a shocked Yuna Hollander who stood motionless in the kitchen. When Ilya’s smirk fell, it took, at most, a split second for Shane to follow his gaze, and his heart nearly fell out of his ass.
“Fuck, fuck.” Shane muttered as he pushed past Ilya, who blindly followed behind him because he didn’t know what else to do. “Mom, I can explain.” Shane threw his towel onto one of the dining chairs, but Ilya kept it wrapped around his back, rubbing the coarse fabric between his finger and thumb.
“Shane, what is…” Yuna sounded so exasperated that you’d think she’d just walked into a crime scene. Well, maybe it was the equivalent when she had the assumption that Shane hated Ilya and vice-versa. It made Ilya smirk, and with his nerves going haywire with nowhere to put this energy, he snorted. He didn’t even try to stifle his laugh, not even when Shane was giving him that cute little glare that made him look like an angry cat.
“Ilya, this isn’t funny!” Shane spat. No, it really wasn’t, but it was a little funny. They’d gotten so good at hiding after all these years, and all it took was Shane, of all people, leaving his phone on the counter and trying to relax for once. That was probably who kept making Shane’s phone ring all morning. Ilya didn’t know Yuna as a mother all too well, but he had seen her act as his unofficial manager for his whole career, and she seemed a bit…overbearing. He wished he had a nicer way of putting it, but he couldn’t place one, not in English at least, at the moment. It was weird, when had he started thinking in English so much?
“Ilya?” Yuna looked at Shane, like he’d cursed to the gods. He might as well have confessed his undying love for Ilya right there in front of his mother, because it was rare for hockey players to refer to each other by their first names. Ilya didn’t even call Marleau, his closest friend in hockey, Cliff. Calling each other Shane and Ilya was their new normal though, that intimacy was their norm.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, Shane.” That wasn’t helping the situation, but he couldn’t help but say it. He liked saying Shane’s name, the way it rolled off his tongue. “I’m going to put shirt on, you should too.”
“Right, right.” Shane felt oddly exposed in his swim trunks and he tried not to let the fact that Ilya was dripping water onto his floor add to his growing panic. “I should call dad before I do this.” Shane muttered to himself, nearly bumping into a dripping Ilya. He was waiting for him, waiting for instructions on how to navigate this situation. “Go get a shirt on.” He gestured to their bedroom, where shirts and pants were thrown haphazardly that they couldn’t tell whose was whose sometimes. “Mom, just sit down, I’ll get you some water.”
“Do you have anything stronger?” Yuna asked, walking to the couch like she hadn’t been in Shane’s cottage before. Shane felt a little bad, suddenly throwing his mom into unfamiliar territory, because if he’d just answered his phone for once, he could’ve avoided this situation.
Ilya absentmindedly threw a shirt on while Shane called his dad. “No, everything is okay. I just need to tell you and mom something.” Shane’s voice was shaky, and Ilya worried about an impending panic attack.
“Shane, Shane.” Ilya took a strong hold on his shoulders, those ocean-blue eyes reading every microexpression on Shane’s face so accurately, that he wondered if Shane could read him as thoroughly. “It is okay. She is your mother, she did not run away.” Ilya said after Shane threw his phone onto the bed.
“Yes, but…” Shane’s voice cracked, and Ilya realized he'd never seen Shane entirely cry. He had a habit of little tears pricking his eyes before he quickly wiped them away. “Okay, okay. My dad is on his way. Please, just let me do most of the talking.”
“You insult me, Hollander.” Ilya smiled, the crooked smile he knew drove Shane crazy, in an attempt to get him to calm down. It looked like it worked, even just a little, when he unfurrowed his eyebrows and smiled. “I am always very polite and respectful.” Ilya knew the words sounded ironic, but he always made an effort to be nice to the parents of players, on the rare occasion they’d met. He was so nice to Marleau’s mom that Marleau had to warn Rozanov on making a move on the newly-divorced woman.
He wished the NHL hadn’t made such a big deal of his and Shane’s rivalry, because otherwise, Ilya would have had the courage to at least approach Yuna and David the few times he saw them with Shane at ceremonies. Shane sighed and hung his head, resting himself. “Okay.” Even though he seemed like he wanted to leave the threshold of their bedroom, what little sanctuary they had left once Yuna had unknowingly invaded their paradise, Shane didn’t move. He stared down at Ilya’s cupid's bow. Ilya fulfilled the silent request, whether Shane knew he was asking for a kiss or not, and pressed a domestic kiss on his lips.
“The only way out is through?” Ilya asked, and Shane looked at him with furrowed eyebrows again. “That is the correct phrase, right?”
“Yeah, yeah.” The kiss derailed the barreling train of thought in Shane’s mind, stopping it from turning down into a cavern of chaos and panic. “Sorry, yeah.” A knock broke the tension that was suffocating the air between the bedroom and living room. “That’s dad.”
“I’ll get it.” Ilya said, another attempt to get Shane to loosen up. He would get the door if Shane hadn’t practically leapt from his chair when he saw Ilya set down his can of Coca-Cola.
“No, you will not.” His tone was pointed, and Ilya could be imaging it, but he swore he heard a small snicker leave Yuna’s lips. Maybe it did, because she cleared her throat when Ilya glanced at her.
Yuna couldn’t help but stare at Rozanov—Ilya. He sat so naturally in the chair that she wondered if he’d come to the cottage before, and how long had he been staying there for this visit? Was he Shane’s “silent retreat”? Shane could’ve just told her that he was having company over instead of lying. She had so many questions, but she saved them for later.
Ilya looked so much smaller when he wasn’t in his gear and wielding his stick that he loved to use for cross-checking. Sure, he was still big but not much taller than Shane and similarly bulky as well. He flicked his thumbnail against the edge of his can, rocked his foot on its side softly. His eyes didn’t seem to find somewhere to snag onto, so he flicked them between the scenery outside, the game of Uno that looked abandoned half way through, the night before. Yuna’s eyes stared at the same cards, vaguely picturing how a game of Uno went between Shane and Ilya. Yuna’s eyes must’ve wandered to staring again, because Ilya shifted in his seat while he avoided eye contact, gripping his can like a lifeline.
Shane and David rounded the corner, and Ilya forgot that Shane hadn’t given him any warning, and he was likely more confused as to why Rozanov was sitting on his son’s couch when he wasn’t the one who walked in on Shane and Ilya.
“Rozanov…” David huffed, and Ilya pursed his lips, nodding politely. “Shane, why is–”
“I’ll explain. Just please sit, dad.” David took a seat next to Yuna, and right away, Ilya could tell who Shane got his anxiety from.
Shane sighed as he stood in front of them, like he was ready to give a presentation. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, his legs, or even where to start. “Which one do you want first?” Shane’s eyes flicked to Ilya, then to his parents who listened with bated breaths. No one answered, because Ilya had already known everything, Yuna wasn’t sure what to make of what they were, and David was just thrown into the situation without knowing why Yuna was so tense and why Rozanov was a part of this conversation. “I’m gay… and Ilya and I are…” Yuna, David, and Shane all looked to Ilya, each one looking for a label to put on them. Ilya wasn’t sure if he should talk. Shane would have his head—and not in a fun way—if he said the wrong thing. “We’re together…” Shane answered, seeing Ilya’s hesitation. Ilya couldn’t hide the smile that broke his lips when he heard those words. He was with Shane, they were a couple, in the most untraditional sense of the word.
“But, what about Rose?” Ilya’s smile faded when he heard Yuna’s interjection. “You two seemed so happy together.”
“We weren’t. Well, not as a couple.” Shane did damage control so his parents didn’t see how Ilya rolled his eyes. “We’re still friends, but we just aren’t…”
“Compatible.” Ilya smiled proudly. He didn’t think he could’ve gotten more relief from an Oxford definition than he did when he looked up that word, right after the All-Stars game in Florida.
“How…” Yuna sounded just as hesitant to speak as Ilya was, terrified she might spook Shane or Ilya. “How long have you been together?” Shit. Maybe that was something Shane should’ve covered in his original plan to ease his parents into the idea of him and Ilya being in a relationship. He didn’t even know when they’d started, they had a very loose anniversary. He knew when they’d met, and he knew the rough date of their first hook-up, but he couldn’t pin point that exact moment he saw Rozanov as Ilya, when he’d finally stopped feeling so guilty for this fucked-up arrangement he had with the captain of his rival team.
Shane looked to Ilya for an answer, and maybe he should’ve asked more help from Ilya. “Since rookie season.”
“No, no.” Ilya wagged his finger in the air, adjusting himself to cross his legs in his seat and grabbing Yuna and David’s attention in the process. “Since commercial. Summer before.”
“The summer before?” David finally managed to mutter out, and Yuna glanced between Shane and Ilya. She looked almost, hurt? Ilya just hoped she wasn’t looking at Ilya with disapproval. Not that he needed it from her, not from anyone, but this would all go over much smoother if Yuna liked Ilya.
“I’m going to get a drink.” Ilya stood up with his empty can, thankful he’d spotted a bottle of vodka at the airport. And not shitty vodka, but good Russian vodka. He expected to hear muttering behind him, Shane’s parents asking him why the hell he was with someone like Rozanov, but he was met with more awkward silence. Well, maybe it wasn’t awkward for them. Maybe they were the type of family to exist in a comfortable silence that didn’t feel like a ticking time bomb to the next impending criticism, like the days he spent with his father.
Ilya brought back four glasses, sliding a coaster underneath the cold Ginger Ale he’d grabbed for Shane. He poured the vodka into three glasses, sliding them to David, then Yuna and lastly one for himself. “Oh, that’s the good stuff.” David said, reaching for the bottle and examining the label.
“Canada has very few places to get proper vodka.” Ilya shrugged, and he was glad to have at least one thing to bond with David. “Shane, you did not tell me your dad was much cooler than you.” He felt a bit bad now calling David boring, because he clearly wasn’t. He looked like he was taking everything better than Yuna, who looked like she was still caught up in a web of her own thoughts.
The four of them sat in silence for a moment, the only sound was Shane cracking open his can. “I know it’s a lot to process, but I love him. I don’t think I ever really hated him.” Sure, Shane went through bouts of heavily disliking Rozanov, typically on the ice and in the media, but Ilya was hard to hate. Yuna perked up at the word ‘love’.
“You love him?” Yuna asked, like it was so outlandish to love someone like Ilya. Maybe it was, and for a long time, Ilya thought he was. He still thought he didn’t deserve Shane’s love sometimes, certainly not the patience Shane afforded him, but he had a tendency to be selfish and accept that love without feeling guilty.
“I really do.” Shane’s eyes caught Ilya’s, and they both smiled at each other.
“I-” Yuna began. “Are you going to come out? Go public with this or…”
That was what sent Shane into his long-winded explanation of his plan with Ilya, the bottom-of-the-barrel Ottawa Centaurs, and the charity. “It’ll all go to mental health organizations.” Shane glanced at Ilya, asking him if he wanted him to explain any further.
“My mother was not…well. She did not have much help. I would not want others to go through that.” Yuna’s eyes softened when she looked at Ilya, that same expression she wore when she looked at Shane. Shane was nearly the spitting image of her, and they both teared up in the same way. She refused to let tears fall for a moment, blinking them away quickly. Shane took it back, but Yuna kept glancing at Ilya, like he was going to break at any moment.
Yuna couldn’t help but imagine a younger, scared Ilya. Not many years before she’d unofficially met him in an elevator. Well, almost met. She hadn’t even gotten the chance to introduce herself before the doors closed. She didn’t know how close he was with his father, but a small part of her hoped he still had a mother when she heard about his father’s passing, but now it hurt even more. He was navigating through Canada and America all alone, with possibly no family. No parents, at least, to fall back on. “Mom?” Shane’s voice cut through her thoughts, and she looked back at her son, who suddenly wasn’t her little boy anymore. He was a grown man with his own life, and she’d made him feel, in some way or another, that he needed to hide Ilya away from her, even just a part of himself away. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you sooner.”
“No, no. I don’t need an apology, Shane.” Yuna cleared her throat. “I’m sorry that we made you feel like you couldn’t tell us.” Ilya could see Shane’s lip quiver in the corner of his eye, and for the first time in their relationship, Ilya realized he could reach out and comfort Shane in front of other people. He ran his knuckles over Shane’s freckles, so soft that he could feel the hair of his skin.
Yuna and David were staying over for dinner, and while Shane and David worked away in the kitchen, Ilya found himself stuck in a room with Yuna Hollander. He realized he hadn’t really met anyone’s parents as their boyfriend. He’d always known Svetlana’s dad, but he wasn’t Svetlana’s boyfriend and he rarely interacted with the man. He really hadn’t known what to do in this situation. Shane would’ve likely done so much better with his mother. His mother had that knack for being naturally sociable and polite. It was definitely where Ilya got it from, because his father was always on a high-horse in conversations.
“You and Shane…” Yuna began, chuckling nervously.
“Da, me and Shane.” Ilya sipped his vodka, which he should likely start laying off soon if he wanted his future in-laws to like him. Future in-laws. In some small part of his mind, Ilya had known he was going to marry Shane. It felt like something he just intrinsically knew. He was Russian, he was twenty-seven, he was going to marry Shane Hollander. But he didn’t put two and two together until now. He was going to be the son-in-law to Yuna and David Hollander. “It is funny, I was asking about you a few days ago.”
“You…were?” Ilya hummed in approval.
“I asked if you had known about him. Maybe about me.” Ilya shrugged, replaying the way Shane was so hesitant to come out to his parents. They took it so well, that he could only assume they’d had some sort of knowledge that their son was gay.
“I think we might’ve, at least a little bit.” Yuna replied, as if she had read Ilya’s thoughts. “I was a bit surprised, but David seemed a bit unfazed.”
“You knew?” Ilya adjusted himself to face Yuna more than watching the small glimpse he could catch of Shane and David preparing dinner, fascinated whenever she opened her mouth.
“A mothers instinct, maybe. I was a bit surprised when I saw those pictures of him and Rose.” Yuna reminded Ilya of his mother, in a way. Maybe it was the fact he’d talked about her more in the past weekend than he had in so many years. Irina’s death, even her whole life, was such a hush-hush topic in Ilya’s family that he questioned how his brother had even managed through life without her. Well, clearly he hadn’t fared well, but he didn’t even visit his mother’s grave.
“He did not tell you about her?”
“No. Shane keeps a lot of his relationships private.” Ilya smiled, because he remembered Shane saying the same thing while he sat on Ilya’s couch, wearing Ilya’s shirt and eating the food Ilya had made for him. That day was going so well for him until he just had to be greedy and take too much from Shane at once. “I try to get him to open up, but he’s so much like his father sometimes.” Ilya didn’t know what else to say. He should’ve asked more about Shane’s parents, than he would at least have something to grasp on to make conversation. But in Ilya’s extensive research about everything Shane-related. He’d only found a few small notes about Yuna and David. David played hockey for McGill, which he’d vaguely heard about before Shane told him, his mother was Japanese but spent a lot of her life in Canada and she was a Metro’s fan. Maybe hockey was a good middle ground for him and Yuna. “I’m sorry.”
“What?” Ilya muttered.
“I’m sorry for how I reacted.” Yuna cleared her throat, choosing each word carefully. Ilya knew about mincing words, but this was more due to a Russian upbringing clashing with Canadian culture. Maybe Yuna had the same problem when she was younger. Did she speak Japanese, or did she grow up learning English and French? Ilya had so many questions that he saved to ask Shane later. “I may have been a bit…apprehensive to the idea of Shane being with you.”
“I do not blame you.” Ilya shrugged, because of course he didn’t blame her. Everyone in the NHL saw Rozanov as either a juggernaut on the ice or the ladies man who didn’t hold a relationship. Why would any suspect he was entirely obsessed with and undeniably smitten for Shane Hollander of all people. Canada’s golden boy taken advantage of by Russia’s greatest love machine. “I keep waiting for…” Ilya paused, “other shoe to drop?” Yuna nodded, and Ilya continued. “I do not want him to realize how much work we are and decide to go somewhere else. I love him too much.”
Yuna was silent for a beat, and Ilya’s gaze left its locked place on the coaster Shane had left behind. She was just staring at him, smiling with this squint to her eyes as the lines at the corners of her eyes creased. She’d clearly smiled a lot in her life and Ilya wondered how much one would have to smile, how often and how wide, for those wrinkles to form so prominently. He wondered if his mother would have them. “I’m glad he has you then.” She glanced down for a moment, “I’m glad he’s always had someone, actually.” She patted Ilya’s knee as she stood up, making him realize that he could actually have a pleasant, even familiar relationship with Shane’s parents.
He knew he’d thrown away his chance of having a family when he told his brother to never contact him again, but sometimes he wished his brother had pushed just a bit more to have a relationship with his younger sibling. One that wasn’t only held onto for financial reasons. He wished he could go back to the days before his mother passed when he and Alexei would rough-house outside in the yard, or when his brother had comforted him in the hospital after a broken arm. But watching Yuna, and now David and Shane coming back inside with the hot dogs from the barbeque, Ilya realized that he doesn’t have to just sit on the outside of the picturesque family.
“Mr. Hollander,” his accent, made harsher by the vodka, cut through to David, Yuna and Shane looking up for just a moment before returning to their own conversation while they set the table. David, who was already making his way over to the kitchen, was grinning. “Do you want more vodka?”
“No, no. I can manage with ginger ale.” Ah, so boring is not the only thing Shane got from his father. “And David is fine. I got Hollander enough in university.” Ilya smiled as he watched David crack open a can in the same way Shane does. Pull the tab once, push it back and pull it again to be just it’s opened enough. David was already fidgeting with the tab in the same way Shane does.
Ilya joined the family at the table, and for the first time since he’d left Russia for the World Juniors Championship, he felt at home.