Chapter Text
At breakfast, Shane was eating an apple when Ilya looked up from his cereal and over to Shane. Shane was on a strict health diet, especially since he was just getting back into working out at his full speed, so Ilya was pleasantly surprised that the sugary Captain Crunch was actually in the pantry.
"What?" Shane asked hesitantly, probably reading the devilish look in Ilya's eye.
"I play for Ottawa."
"What?"
Ilya read the look of horror on Shane's face at the suggestion, and he rushed around the counter to sit with Shane at the table. His hand rested on Shane's forearm as he spoke.
"I am free agent after next season," he reminded. "I sign with Canadian team. I become citizen, and we can be together."
Shane gave a tender smile. "But Ottawa sucks," Shane pointed out. "You're better than that, Ilya."
Ilya shrugged. "But they have opening. They could use me," Ilya insisted. "Maybe they wouldn't suck so much if I was there."
Shane gave a skeptical expression, and honestly, Ilya understood. Ottawa hadn't been to the playoffs in over a decade and the entire hockey world counted on games with them to rack up more points. They defintely weren't taken seriously.
"We'd only be a couple hours away, look," Ilya said, thrusting his cell phone into Shane's face, where he had pulled up Google Maps between Montreal and Ottawa, as if Shane wasn't a born and raised Canadian that defintely already knew that.
"I get it," Shane said, pushing the phone down. He pivoted in his chair. "We'd still be rivals though. They'd just pit us against each other with a new team."
"I don't care," Ilya said. "I want to be close to you."
Shane's heart melted at the open admission. "You'd really sign with Ottawa?"
"Yes."
"Just like that?"
Ilya looked around like there could be any other option in this scenario. "Yes," he said.
Shane struck was with the simplicity. "You'd do that for me?"
Ilya smiles bashfully, but his composure held. He was more certain about this than anything in his entire life. He is all fucking in with Shane. Ever since he told him he loved him, it was more than words. It was a commitment. It was his heart given freely and fiercely. There was no hesitation. He wasn't scared anymore. He knew what he wanted. He knew what he had.
He cupped Shane's face, observing him in a way that felt delicate. Ilya would do anything for Shane. The switch had been flipped. Shane was it for him. Nothing would come before him. He would change anything for him. Teams, countries, languages, all of it.
"I will do everything for you."
Shane huffed breathlessly, and Ilya could feel his heart pound in his chest. His eyes watering without notice as he stared into the brown eyes of the man he fucking adored.
Shane leaned in, pressing his lips against Ilya's. They moved their mouths against each other until that familiar burn ignited in them once again.
Ilya grabbed at Shane's shirt as he pressed in, deepening the kiss as he pushed Shane back into his chair. His lips left Shane's, traveling down his neck, hands pulling at his zipper and pushing into his waistband. Shane was already hard, and a bead of pre come drizzled over the slit, allowing Ilya to use it as a lubricant as he worked Shane's cock over with his hand.
Shane moaned, head rolling back and eyes closed as Ilya continued sucking into his neck, nibbling at soft flesh. He wanted to mark him. Wanted to claim his as his.
"Mine," Ilya whispered huskily into Shane's ear.
"Yes," Shane agreed. "Yours."
Ilya didn't stop when he got his confirmation. He continued his assault on Shane's neck, tongue soothing after his teeth grazed and bit down hard enough to claim. In Ilya's head it kept going.
Mine, mine, mine
Shane is mine
"Fuck, Rozanov, yes," Shane agreed to what Ilya had probably said out loud. "Ilya."
Ilya pulled away, briefly admiring the mark he could see already forming against Shane's perfectly tanned skin. He lowered himself between Shane's open thighs, hands gripped his hips as his mouth replaced his hands over Shane's cock.
Ilya licked a stripe up Shane's cock, sucking the slit and pre come that was drizzling out of Shane. He loved how wet he got for Ilya. It was perfect. Shane was perfect. Perfect for him. Only him.
Ilya put his entire mouth on Shane, taking him far into his throat. Shane's hand gripped Ilya's hair, pulling him in time with the way he was bobbing his head on the erect cock he was sucking.
"Oh God," Shane gasped. "Ilya, I'm gonna, fuck, that's—shit I'm gonna come, fuck—"
Ilya felt Shane's cock twitch and release flood his wanting mouth. He watched Shane from hooded eyes, all flushed and panting like he'd run a five k in a dead sprint.
He was still on his knees when Shane's eyes finally opened and he looked at Ilya. Instantly his eyes snapped into something possessive, and soon Ilya found himself being shoved back, barely catching himself on the floor and saving his ass.
Shane attacked, leaping from the chair and pulling roughly at the waistband of Ilya's shorts. Ilya grinned, recognizing what Shane wanted. He lifted his hips to help Shane obtain it. Shane yanked his short half way down Ilya's thighs and jerked his exposed cock.
"Fuck, Hollander," Ilya said.
Shane was possessed, giving a dickmatized expression before he swallowed Ilya whole.
"Shit," Ilya roughly said, his own throat sore from how deep he had been taking Shane. He watched Shane put himself in a similar position as he swirled his tongue around Ilya's uncut head before slipping it farther than Ilya has ever seen him go.
It didn't take long for Shane to send Ilya into oblivion. The man on the floor cursed in Russian and panted like a dog as his release was swallowed.
"You will kill me," Ilya predicted.
Shane crawled over him as he laid against the floor. He kissed him on the lips gently. Then his cheek and his neck.
"I will love you," Shane corrected.
"Always," Ilya said. He had meant that he would love Shane always, but his brain was a jumbled mess.
Shane didn't bat an eye at it, happily agreeing with a reverent whisper, "Always."
————————————————————
"I don't want us to be rivals."
They were walking down one of the many trails that were along the edge of the cottage grounds. Shane was showing Ilya the land and the well that was his own source of pride.
"But we are," Ilya responded.
Shane frowned, turning around in the middle of the path. The trees were so tall they created a nice canopy of shade for them on the small hike.
"But we don't have to be," Shane argued. He took Ilya's hand, smiling as he tugged him along.
Shane looked at their hands as they walked. It felt so good to do this in the open.
"I don't think I can pretend I don't like you," Shane confided.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I don't want to keep pretending that I hate you," Shane explained. "I love you. I can't hate you."
"No one knows this," Ilya said.
"And they don't have to," Shane assured. He stopped, and Ilya gave him a once over.
"Is okay?" Ilya asked him.
Shane could feel himself shaking. He had been thinking about this all day. The entire trip really. They had to figure something out. They couldn't keep being rivals. They couldn't hate each other until the end of time or until their careers were over. How would they ever be able to be together if that was the consistent narrative?
Not to mention, it would be way more difficult to actually be together and their odds of being discovered would be significantly higher if they could never been seen together, even innocently.
"Shane?"
"Yeah, sorry," Shane said, shaking his head. "I just, I have an idea."
Ilya shrugged his lips, indicating that he wanted to hear Shane's plan. Shane took a steadying breath that he could see Ilya clocked as him being nervous. Ilya smiled and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.
"We could start a charity."
"A charity?"
"Yeah, it could help us change the narrative," Shane explained. "Like we could say we have always respected each other, and found something that we both care about and decided to work together on it. Through that we became friends."
"What kind of charity?" Ilya said with a glint in his eye. "I already fuck you for free—ow!" He exaggerated the pain from the gentle swat that Shane delivered.
"Shut up," Shane said with a blush. "No, I'm serious. We could shift things. It would make the league have to look at other people. Let younger guys duke it out. We can't be fighting each other until we are retired."
Ilya raised his brow like he understood. "So, what for charity? Hockey camp for kids or something?"
Shane smiled, pleased that they are on the same track more often than not. "Yeah, I was thinking we could use hockey camps to raise money for it. Maybe get a few other NHL players to help."
Ilya nodded like he thought it was good. "And for the charity?"
Shane bit his lips. "What was your mother's name?"
Ilya's eyes narrowed in confusion, but because he trusted Shane he didn't hesitate to answer him. "Irina."
Shane smiled. "That's really pretty."
Ilya smiled back. "Why do you want to know?"
"I thought, we could put the money towards mental health things. Like, to help people get the mental health care they need. Maybe suicide prevention." The words tumbled out, and Shane hoped they made sense. "I thought we could call it the Irina Foundation. After your mom."
Ilya stood staring at him and for a second Shane wondered if he'd overstepped. Ilya had always been so private about his mother and Shane didn't want him to feel like he was trying to expose the small parts of her that Ilya let him in on to the world without his permission.
"We don't have to do that, I just—"
Shane was caught off guard when Ilya lunged for him. Large hands holding his face as he pressed their lips together. When they broke apart because oxygen isn't optional, Shane's heart pulled at the tear that had escaped Ilya's eyeline. He reached up and brushed it away.
"Hey," Shane said, softly.
"I love you," Ilya told him. "I think she would have loved you too."
Shane was nothing. Absolutely nothing. His body weightless and airy. "I wish I could have met her."
Ilya grabbed his hand, pulling it up to his lips. "Me too."
Shane wrapped his arms around Ilya and they just held on to each other in the midst of the forest.
———————————————————
They were sitting on the couch, playing a hockey video game that Ilya smugly pointed out he was on the cover of. Shane was watching Ilya's face out of the corner of his eye. At times he would look at him openly, when his smile was wide and tooth filled. Shane always thought Ilya was hot, but when he smiled unabashedly he was more than that. He was beautiful.
Ilya glanced back at Shane as well, noticing the way Shane was looking at him. "What?" He asked, chuckling.
"You're really pretty."
Ilya scoffed. "Don't take my thing."
"Your thing?" Shane repeated.
"Yes," Ilya confirmed. "My thing. Calling you pretty. Being pretty is your thing. Me telling you is my thing."
Shane laughed. "I can call you beautiful if I want to."
"You said pretty, not beautiful," Ilya corrected.
Shane smiled, moving to sit directly beside Ilya. His hands abandoning the controller he was holding in favor of tracing his thumb down Ilya's cheek. He was looking everywhere but Ilya's eyes, until he wasn't.
"You're very beautiful, Ilya."
Ilya's cheeks flushed a crimson he hadn't felt in forever at the intimate compliment. It was exposing in so many ways. Ilya closed the gap, needing to close his eyes and kissing Shane felt like a good reason.
Shane whispered against Ilya's lips when he tried to deepen the kiss. "Will you meet my parents?"
Ilya froze, eyes opening wide now. He swallowed as he watched Shane come from a blissed out state. "Your parents?"
"Yeah," Shane shrugged, like it wasn't the biggest deal in the world. He wanted Ilya to meet his parents. He wanted to introduce the man he was irrevocably in love with to the people that, before him, were the most important people in the world. They still are. Just in a different way.
He didn't want to make it a big deal, but quite literally Shane couldn't think of a way they could be together without his parents knowing. He was already lying to them about being gay. He couldn't add a secret relationship on top of it.
Especially because as of right now, his parents think that Shane hates Ilya. They hate him as a family, actually. Shane can't have that continue. It would be too hard because he loves Ilya. He's told him. Maybe he could go along with it when he was in denial as well, but he can't now. He can't.
"You know, I just, I don't want to keep lying to them about who I am," Shane tried to explain.
"I think you can tell your parents you are gay without giving the list of guys you are fucking," Ilya teased. "Pretty sure at least. May have to check rule book."
"Fuck off," Shane said. "You're not just some guy I'm fucking."
"Awe."
"Right now."
"Brat," Ilya said, hands gripping Shane's hips so he couldn't go anywhere. Not that Shane planned on it.
"You know what I mean," Shane said, more seriously. "I'm in love with you, Ilya. I love you."
"I know, Shane," Ilya whispered.
"So, meet them?"
It was a hopeful request, because Shane knew that this relationship couldn't be one sided. Ilya would need to be on board with whoever Shane wanted to tell and vise versa. If Ilya said no, then it was a no.
"You really want me to?" Shane bit his lip, and nodded. Ilya's wide smile was back on display, grinning. "I will."
"Really?" Shane said, giddiness in his tone and stomach.
"Yes," Ilya said, swaying as he leaned in to kiss Shane. Shane pushed him back into the sofa, kissing him as he straddled him.
Ilya's hands trailed up Shane's back, slipping under his shirt and pulling it off. His fingers spread against his soft skin. It was so smooth. He loved touching Shane. One hand left his back to pull at the hair at the nape of his neck, making him gasp so his tongue could run into his mouth.
Ilya could feel his cock getting hard, and it rubbed against Shane's crotch, groaning when their clothed dicks pressed into each other. "Fuck, Hollander."
"Please," Shane whimpered, pulling to remove Ilya's shirt as well. "Oh God, I want you."
Ilya felt his head get dizzy. He pulled Shane closer just so he could ground himself in something. He didn't want to get pulled into the air. That was probably not going to happen. The most obvious reason being that Shane was on top of him and grinding his hips down into his center, so Ilya doesn't think he could get out if he wanted to.
Ilya tugged at the basketball shorts Shane was wearing, easily able to lower them enough so he could comfortably run his hand over Shane's cock and balls.
"Such a slut for me," Ilya purred. "Not wearing briefs."
"Yeah," Shane shuddered.
Ilya stroked his length, spitting into his own hand to add lubrication. He wasn't going to be able to fuck Shane if they didn't have actual lube. How was he going to convince him to go to the bedroom?
As if Shane could read his thoughts, he reached over Ilya's head, opening a drawer on the end table and produced a small bottle of lube.
"You are a slut," Ilya said with awe.
"Shut up and fuck me," Shane ordered. "Please."
"Exactly what a slut would say."
"Then fuck me like one," Shane breathed.
Ilya didn't need to be told twice. He took the lube, pouring a generous amount on his fingers and slipping them between Shane's legs. He stroked his cock and played with his balls, eliciting a musical moan from Shane, who let his forehead fall against Ilya's shoulder.
Ilya's hand traveled lower, finding that sensitive spot that opened Shane to the world. One finger circled his rim, teasing.
"Don't be a dick," Shane requested.
"I think you like that I'm a dick," Ilya countered.
"I love it when you get on with it more."
Ilya tsks, not spurred on at all. He pressed in just slightly before pulling out and continuing to edge him at his rim. "Be nice."
Shane lifted his head, looking him in the eyes for a second before he surged forward, filling Ilya's mouth with his tongue, communicating his urgency through the kiss.
Ilya didn't delay after that. He pushed his index finger in and felt Shane relax at the intrusion. He did want it. Ilya fucked him with his fingers, adding a second and third before Shane pulled him out of his own shorts and lifted his body above Ilya's erect cock.
"God, I can't believe you love me," Ilya said in Russian just before Shane began to lower himself onto his cock.
"Fuck," Shane hissed at the stretch. He was going much faster than he had ever before, but the burn didn't slow him down. Ilya guided his hips back up, encouraging him to lift and sink until Ilya was buried in his ass, reaching so far into him it felt like he was everywhere.
"You good?" Ilya said with a shaky breath.
"Fuck, yes," Shane said, rolling his head back. He gave himself a moment before he raised his hips, and rocked back down. They both moaned into the movement. Shane felt the fullness and Ilya was overwhelmed by the tightening around his cock.
"Perfect," Ilya whispered. "Keep going, sweetheart."
Shane did. He lifted and came down, creating a rhythm that was steady and quick. Ilya could only hold onto him, muttering praises in a mix of Russian and English. He didn't really care how the words came out he just knew he had to say them. Shane was taking him so well. Riding him like the good boy he was.
He was struck by how unbelievably lucky he was. He was in a cottage, alone, in love with the man he'd been pining years for, and this man wants him to meet his parents. He wants him to be a part of his life in an unchangeable way. Shane didn't want to be in the dark. He wanted to share the light. He wanted to bring Ilya into it.
Shane loves him.
It was almost too much. Ilya could feel every emotion sweep in his heart and soul. It was leaking out of him. He could feel the dampness on his eyes and he prayed that Shane wouldn't look down and see how vulnerable and open he was. How shattered he was that Shane wanted him in his life.
Fuck, he's never felt something this strongly. He doesn't even know what to do with it.
"I love you," Ilya said. "I love you, Shane. Fuck, I love you."
It's the only thing he can say as he feels himself build. He watched Shane's face change, nodding his head frantically to signal that he was close as well, even if his own words were failing him.
"Ilya, Ilya, Ilya," he repeated like an anthem. Ilya loved the way his name came off of Shane's tongue.
"Fuck, Shane," Ilya said, release leaving him when Shane dragged his blunt fingernails on his chest and clenched down on his dick, finding his own high, sputtering out onto Ilya's chest and stomach.
Shane collapsed onto Ilya's chest, not caring about the mess he was lying in for the moment. Ilya again, traced his fingers against Shane's back in a comforting motion.
"I love you," Ilya whispered to him, kissing his head.
"Oh my God, I love you so much," Shane said back, exhaustion in his tone.
Ilya didn't think he could be happier. He didn't think he would be anything but happy. He would know nothing but bliss from here on out. He was sure of it.
——————————————————————-
Bliss was not what Ilya was feeling when the door to Shane's cottage opened the following evening and Shane's parents walked through the threshold.
He had seen Shane's parents a number of times over the years. He can remember Shane and his mother sitting in the empty stands, watching Ilya and the rest of his team practice before the World Junior's. He saw his dad give him a warm embrace after a game they had won over Montreal. Then there was when Ilya met Yuna in Shane's hospital room not even that long ago.
Each time had been a different array of emotions. Calculating fierceness, affectionate loyalty, and protective defensiveness were all among them. Now, it's just utter shock.
Ilya was sitting on the sofa when Shane answered the door because he locked it, not wanting his parents to walk in on them at some random point in the last couple weeks. Ilya stood when David entered the room first, followed by Yuna and then Shane. Yuna spotted him first, even though she was second to come in. Her pause had David stopping to look back at her, like he could sense her falling behind, before he looked in the direction she was.
Ilya made eye contact with Shane, who gave a nervous smile as he cleared his throat.
"Rozanov?" David questioned first.
"It's him," Yuna confirmed, tight lipped. Ilya suddenly got the feeling that he was being perceived like someone who wasn't supposed to be here, rather than someone Shane invited. Like he had broken into Shane's cottage and was holding him hostage or something.
"Hello, again," Ilya said, reminding Yuna that they had met before and he wasn't the threat the way she was looking at him implied.
"What are you doing here?" Yuna pressed.
"Mom, Dad," Shane started. "Uh, Ilya is visiting—staying. H-he's staying with me."
Ilya wanted to pout at the way Shane's bottom lip trembled at the confession. He wasn't so adorable sometimes it sucked.
"Oh, okay," Yuna somewhat laughed. "I didn't know you were friends."
"We're, we're not really friends."
Ilya didn't like the distance between Shane and himself. They hadn't really talked about where they would be standing during this conversation but Ilya hadn't thought that Shane was be standing in the doorway to the living room like he was ready to bolt while Ilya was in the middle of the room and Shane's parents were practically in the kitchen.
Ilya closed the distance, feeling the intense stare on his cheek as he walked over to Shane. He didn't touch him, but he was closer. He could smell Shane's body wash and see how he was just barely shaking.
"What are you then?" Yuna asked, eyes darting between them like she was trying to solve the puzzle herself and coming up short. Because in no sane world would her son be inviting Ilya Rozanov over to his house in the middle of the off season. "Oh."
Ilya and Shane both look up at her then at each other.
"You are a free agent next year," Yuna pointed at Ilya. "Are you signing with Montreal?"
Ilya really did try not to laugh. He was not successful. Shane swats at his torso, getting him to reign it in.
"No, God no, Mom," Shane grimaces.
"What?" Yuna exclaims, palms raised. "What else would you be if you're not friends and you don't hate each other?"
"Honey," David said, pulling at her arm a little. Ilya can see he gets it. If not for the tone he was using with his wife, it was the way he made eye contact with Ilya right after he tried to steer her in the right direction. It was like he was speaking directly to Ilya.
"Let's sit down," Shane said, rolling his shoulders back .
Yuna rolled her eyes but complied. She clearly didn't like not knowing things for certain and was irritated that she was being treated like she needed to be managed. Ilya didn't blame her for that. The way Shane talked about his mother was like he was talking about a force of nature. This was not a position she was easily in.
Shane and Ilya took one side of the table and Yuna and David the other. Ilya sat directly across from Yuna, who was not meeting his eye. Maybe she knew more than she wanted to admit.
"I want to tell you guys something," Shane said.
Suddenly Yuna's annoyed expression evaporated, and she and David are both leaned over the table, concerned expressions on their faces as they looked at their son.
Shane took a visible breath. Ilya was proud for the way he looked them both in the eye when he said, "I'm gay."
Ilya had never come out to either of his parents. He didn't even really know he was anything but straight until high school and by then his mother had passed away. He's never had to consider what it would be like to have to do that. If he did, he thinks he would like it to be how Shane's parents reacted.
"Oh, Christ," Yuna sighed with relief. "Is that all?"
"What?" Shane said, lilt in his voice.
David beside his wife shook his head, like he was feeling the weight of a thousand things far worse than what Shane had just told them. Still, Ilya doesn't look away when David looks at him again.
"I thought you were going to say you had an illness or thought you were being traded," Yuna explained. "Can you imagine?"
"What we're trying to say," David interjects, hand covering his wife's. "Is we love you and we support you."
"Yes, of course," Yuna quickly agreed. Tears came into her eyes and she was soon getting up from the table to give Shane a hug. It made Ilya yearn for his own mother.
When Yuna is back in her own seat, Shane scratched the back of his neck. "That isn't all."
Ilya straightened his back slightly, bracing himself. Yuna's concerned face is back. David's isn't.
"I'm not just gay, I'm with someone," Shane entered slowly.
"With someone?" Yuna repeated, keeping her eyes decidedly on Shane.
"Ilya," Shane said, nodding slightly in his direction. "We're together."
Ilya was wrong before. Now he's seen shock on the Hollander's faces.
"I'm sorry," Yuna said, shaking her head. "Together? What does that mean?"
"I am his boyfriend," Ilya informed. He slipped his hand over Shane's thigh, taking his hand and interlacing their fingers when Shane reaches for him.
"His, what?"
Shane and Ilya explain in vague details the nature of the start and progression of their relationship. Shane obviously didn't want to go into details with the beginning, but they had to be honest or his parents were going to think that they've been star crossed lovers their entire career instead of the fuck enemies they really were.
Yuna didn't buy any of it though, Ilya could tell. She challenged everything that Shane tried to explain, oddly doubting how frivolous their relationship was to them over the years. It must have gotten to her the way Shane was down playing it all, and if he was being honest, Ilya wasn't a fan of it either. But he understood where it was coming from.
Ilya and Shane had spent so long running from their own feelings that he hardly knew when things shifted. Who could really say they weren't in love with each other a lot longer than either of them recognized. Maybe that was too hard to admit. All the time they lost by playing stupid games.
Yuna excused herself with a sharp screech of her chair. Instead of heading towards the bathroom like she mentioned, walked directly to the front lawn. David retreated after her.
"Fuck," Shane said, covering his face.
Ilya rubbed his back. "Is okay," he promised.
"She thinks I'm lying about this."
"Well..."
"I'm not," Shane argued.
Ilya didn't press back. "Let me talk to her."
"What?" Shane said through his hands.
"Let me," Ilya repeated.
Shane's face went awestruck, but not in the good way. "Are you really sure you want to do that?"
Ilya wasn't, but he loved Shane enough to try.
When Ilya walked outside, he saw Yuna and David engaged in an intense discussion. Not fighting. Just the end of what was clearly a frustrated spell from Yuna onto her supportive husband.
David looked up and Yuna looked away. Ilya made a gesture to indicate that he wanted to speak with Yuna, and David gave almost the exact same face that Shane had given him. Ilya nodded and David gave his wife's arm a squeeze before he walked back into the cottage.
Yuna walked a few feet to the bench that Shane had in a little garden area of the front yard and sat down. Ilya followed and sat beside her. They stayed like that in silence for about twenty seconds before Yuna turned towards him suddenly.
"So, I'm supposed to believe that you both didn't care for each other for years, and now, when all of Shane's progress is soaring, that you want more?"
Ah. She was suspicious, then, Ilya thought. She thought that Ilya was trying to derail her son in some way. Ilya would have laughed if it were coming from anyone else. Out of anyone else's mouth it would have been a hilarious joke. What lengths did she really think Ilya would go to fuck with his rival? But Yuna was serious.
"I am in love with your son," Ilya told her. "That is not a game to me."
Yuna eyed him, refusing to give anything away. "When did you fall in love with him?"
Ilya looked at the sky. He thought about it a lot. It was hard to pin point. "I think I was denying my feelings a long time. Hard for me to remember when they started."
"So, when did you stop fighting them?" The question seemed soft, but make no mistake, this was an interrogation.
"Little before Rose Landry."
"You were jealous," Yuna astutely accused.
Ilya rolled his eyes before remembering who he was talking to, and stopped. "Yes," he admitted with reluctance. "I did not like not having him."
"Why did he not want to be with you then?"
That felt like it was meant to sting, but the thing is, Ilya's pretty confident Shane did. He'd said as much. How he was denying who he was and trying to move on from Ilya all at the same time. Poor Rose Landry was just the prop to do it.
"He is not the only one who ran away," Ilya told. "I pushed away too." Ilya remembered all the times he left Shane on read, how he'd ignored him. When he would feel Shane get too close he would leave, downplay, pretend. Not to mention all his own tramping around in an attempt to prove to himself that he didn't need Shane.
"Why?" Yuna asked, face growing softer.
"Because we are rivals. Because being in love is scary. I have only loved one person," Ilya explained. "I love Shane."
He said it earnestly. Because he really wants Shane's mother to know that. Ilya wanted her to feel like her son was safe with him.
"It is good you are protective," Ilya said. "Good to have strong mother in life."
"Hmmm," Yuna hums. "What does your mother think of all this?"
Ilya smiled sadly.
"You haven't told her?"
"Um, no. She is dead."
Yuna's entire face shifts immediately. He can see that she wants to pry. She wants to know more. Of all the hockey information she has stored in her head like a super computer, family ties were clearly not a statistic she held onto. The gap in her assumptions to reality looked like it hit her square in the chest.
"I'm sorry about that," she said sincerely.
Ilya shrugged his lips, shaking his head like there was nothing to apologize for. Because there wasn't. "I am happy Shane has you. He ah, he needs you. He loves you very much." He feels himself tear up, and looks away to blink quickly before speaking again.
"I will not hurt him."
Yuna stared silently for a moment. Her features shifted. "You love him."
It wasn't a question.
"I think I always have."
Yuna looked critically at Ilya. Like she was calculating something. Looking back on every moment where Shane had mentioned Ilya, or not mentioned him, or watched him. The way he acted when Ilya was in the hospital visiting him. She could see it.
"I think he has always loved you, too."
———————————————————————
"Okay," Yuna said, clapping her hands together as she and Ilya rejoined the table. "We need to plan."
Shane and Ilya told Shane's parents about their plan for the Irina Foundation. How it would help those with mental health struggles, like the ones Ilya's deceased mother had struggled with. They discussed plans for Ilya to go to Ottawa to rebuild that team from the crust of the earth up so they could be closer together.
Yuna was sad that they both expressed the need for things to remain private for now. Neither of them could risk coming out with their contracts both being up in the next two years. If they made enough waves without contracts to cover them, they could really be looking at getting kicked out of the league.
Yuna strategized about everything with them. It was invigorating. By the end of one planning session with her, Ilya was feeling like there was nothing he couldn't do. Was this what made Shane so good? His mother just injecting him with endless support and belief in him? Fuck, it felt like they would be able to take on anything if they had her in their corner.
When the time came for Yuna and David to leave, Shane and Ilya walked them out. Yuna hugged Shane while David gave him a firm hand shake that communicated more than words ever could. David was quiet, but he was still easy to understand.
When Shane's dad brought him in for a hug, Ilya stood in front of Yuna, ready to extend his hand and shake hers like he had David. It would feel formal, but that was the nature of their relationship at the moment. But she completely surprised him, only glancing at his extended hand long enough to softly roll her eyes and wrap her arms around his arms.
It was an awkward angle because Ilya wasn't prepared for it, but he didn't draw back.
"Take care of each other," Yuna said.
Ilya wrapped his arms around her as well, feeling himself relax into her embrace. Take care of each other. Not just Shane. She wanted them to care for each other. She wanted Ilya to be taken care of too.
Yuna pulled back, holding onto his arms so he couldn't get away from her. He suddenly felt like he was ten years old and being held down so his mother could scold him.
"You call if you need anything," she instructed.
Ilya had no idea what he could possibly need from her, but he felt confident that if the time came, she would be on his side. He looked around at the three people in the drive way, and realized that they were all on his side.
He'd made his choice with Shane. He chose to take a risk. He chose love. And what did it get him?
All his life he didn't think he had ever really had a family. His father was a monster. His brother hated him. His mother left him too quickly and his step mother was not even fifteen years older than him. He's been alone for so long. He's had no one. And now he has everyone. He has a family now.
"I will," he rasped.
They watched Shane's parents drive away, and Shane slipped his hand into Ilya's.
"Thank you," Shane breathed.
"For what?"
Shane looked at him like he had to be joking. "For fucking everything."
Ilya lifted his other hand, cupping Shane's face and drifting his thumb over his boyfriend's freckles. His boyfriend.
"You are my boyfriend now," Ilya informs.
"That's what I heard," Shane laughed.
Ilya looked at him seriously and Shane returned his gaze in a way that made him feel completely vulnerable and completely full all at once. God, he loved this man.
"One day you'll be more."
Shane's eyebrow's lifted. "Is that what you want?" Shane nervously asked, like his own insecurities were trying to sabotage the moment. Ilya wasn't going to let that happen though. "In ten years, are you still gonna want to be with me?"
Ilya shook his head, contemplating. "I will probably get tired of you in like, fifty years."
Shane shoved him. "You're such an asshole."
Ilya came back, pulling Shane's waist to his. "Yeah, but you love me."
"A stupid amount, actually," Shane agreed.
Ilya imagined what the next fifty years would be like. Every single possible moment had Shane by his side. He used to imagine that and chastise himself for the fantasy. Now he can openly tell Shane exactly what he wants. Exactly when he's feeling.
He kissed Shane slowly, before pulling back.
"Good, me too."