Chapter Text
Ilya moved to Ottawa at the age of twelve.
His mother, needing to escape her husband, took her two boys and fled. He couldn't imagine how difficult it must have been for her to gather the means to leave, settle in a new country with a language she wasn't fluent in, find a job, and make sure her sons were enrolled in a good school.
He was grateful for all of it. For her.
Who knew what would have happened if they stayed in Russia? How would he have turned out? Would he and Alexei have the bond they had now? Would Alexei be about to graduate with a forensic science degree, or would he have become some grimy, scum police officer like their father? Would his mother have, even now, still be enduring his father's abuse?
He didn't know.
He didn't want to know.
All he knew was that he was grateful.
Ottawa gave them peace.
Ottawa gave them the opportunity to thrive.
Ottawa gave him Shane Hollander, his best friend.
At the age of twelve years old, Ilya Rozanov met a boy in middle school.
His very first friend— who couldn't fully understand his English through his Russian accent, but tried anyway. Who loved hockey just like he did.
Shane thought Ilya was funny, an asshole, and secretly caring. He enjoyed competing against him in nearly everything, and felt comfortable talking to him about literally anything.
And Ilya loved to listen. Loved listening to Shane talk about hockey, random articles he'd recently read, and his deep interest in design, from buildings to bridges to landscapes.
He always teased him about how 'boring' he is, but Shane knew Ilya was always listening.
They were as attached to the hip as two best friends could be .
That's why when they both got accepted to McGill University, they were ecstatic.
With their other friends Svetlana, Marleau, and Wyatt, they rented a house near campus.
Svetlana Vetrova was Ilya's only Russian friend. She was someone he occasionally hooked up with, but he had never developed any romantic feelings for.
Cliff Marleau, Shane and Ilya's teammate since their old hockey league, was a sophomore at McGill. He'd had his own apartment, but when he and his girlfriend broke up, he desperately needed somewhere else to live. It felt like perfect timing when Ilya brought up the idea of rooming together.
Wyatt Hayes was a late addition, which explained why his name wasn't on the lease. He technically had never asked to move in. After weeks of him staying in their spare bedroom, he strolled into the kitchen one morning on the first of the month while Shane was drinking tea and left a stack of bills on the table right in front of him.
'For Rent.' he said around a yawn, then walked right back out.
Shane, who had been mid-sip of his chamomile, watched the whole thing with confusion. He considered giving Wyatt the money back, or at least part of it since he had given too much, but Ilya talked him out of it.
'Good. It's about time. Motherfucker drank half my bottle of elite, top shelf,Russian Vodka. And the worst part is that he mixed it with orange juice,' Ilya said, disgusted.
It was a good setup they had going on, and it helped that they all enjoyed each other's company.
They all had their quirks— Svetlana liked to sing badly in the shower at max volume, Marleau gave himself pep talks about anything, in the mirror that hung in the living room, and Hayes could not begin eating a meal without setting his phone up first so that he could watch either The Bachelor, The Bachelorette, or Bachelor in Paradise— but they were all accustomed to it at this point.
Shane's quirk was that he needed everything to be super organized— dirty dishes in the dishwasher, books on the shelves, the whiteboard calender in the kitchen.
Ilya on the other hand, was the opposite. There was never a day that went by when Ilya didn't leave something of his somewhere in the house. A shirt in the living room, his extra hockey stick in between the fridge and the kitchen counter, his textbook in the bathroom. Hayes once found his razor on his desk… Ilya couldn't explain that one.
Another thing the roommates had become accustomed to was the close bond Ilya and Shane shared.
They were best friends, that was obvious. But over the years since they'd met, they developed a bond filled with comfort, dependence, and a deep understanding of the other person.
After months of living together, everyone understood it was nothing more.
Especially since Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander were straight.
In the short time he'd been here, Ilya had come to be known as the McGill's freshman womanizer. He made sure to go to almost every party and had been seen making out with multiple girls before deciding on who to bring back to the house. This worked out for Marleau, who was still freshly heartbroken. Ilya made it a point to bring him every time and be the best wingman out there.
Shane had probably been to a total of three parties this semester, very much not into the scene. The only good thing about them, besides alcohol, was catching up with Rose, a friend he'd made at freshman orientation.
Another reason he didn't care for parties was that the main reason they were thrown was for people to hook up with each other, and Shane already had a girlfriend.
Shane had been with Jessica since junior year of high school. He'd met her through Hayden Pike, one of his closest friends. Shane had seen Jess around school, but she was never someone he went out of his way to talk to.
Then Shane got invited to a BBQ hosted by the Pikes , Hayden's parents, and Jess was there with Hayden's group of friends. Hayden and JJ encouraged him to talk to her, so he did. After their second date, he asked her to be his girlfriend. He had been very nervous about it, and she said yes.
After that, they were pretty much always together.
Well, not always.
Shane understood that having a girlfriend meant he would probably have to sacrifice time with his friends, and he found that he did. Hangouts with Hayden and JJ became fewer. Sometimes Shane would miss family dinner because he was at Jess's having dinner with her family. But in all that time he sacrificed, he made sure to spend as much time with Ilya as he could.
It was something he had to explain to Jess. Ilya was his best friend, and it was really important to spend time with him too. Of course, during their junior and senior year, Ilya and Shane had hung out less, but Jess understood when he turned down an invitation to her house or to go out because he was with Ilya.
Sometimes, all three of them would hang out, and though it took time, she saw that what they had was really special.
~.~.~
Ilya had walked into the house, feeling the stick cling of sweat where his shirt stuck to his skin.
"Fuck, man, I can't believe you make me run that fast every time," Marleau said, still panting as he toed off his shoes and left them on the shoe rack. "I've played hockey for years. Won many games. There's no reason for your military-style sprints."
Ilya smiles at him before sipping from his water bottle. He holds the cool water in his mouth for a second before swallowing. "No, Marly. I have won us many games. It's not my fault you want to settle for good enough."
"Fuck you." They both start walking toward the kitchen. "The only reason you score is because of my assists." He shoves Ilya playfully.
"Ah, okay. Next time, just choose to shoot it into the net. Simple. Don't let me be the reason you never win an Art Ross Trophy one day when we play in the NHL." Ilya pushes back.
"Nah, just make sure to include me in your acceptance speech when you win one. I'm talking full-section dedication."
They entered the kitchen, Marleau taking a seat at the table with the premade shake he'd bought from the store while Ilya pulled out a blender to make himself a post-workout shake. He hadn't use to do this until Shane got him hooked on the ones he made.
"'…And lastly, I'd like to thank Cliff Marleau…" Ilya began, his voice shifting into something professional as he pretends to give a speech and added ingredients to the blender. "… for being a slow runner, a slow skater, and slow at picking up women..."
In the middle of his speech Marleau flipped him off with both hands.
"… he makes me look even better at what I do. Which is really hard to do, because I'm already the best. Don't believe me? Tell it to the Art Ross Trophy in my hand.'" Ilya turned to look at Marleau."How was that?"
"Has anyone ever told you how humble you are?" Marleau asked as he lifted his shake to take a sip.
"Ehhhh, no."
Ilya turns on the blender.
While he poured the shake into a glass, he heard the front door slam. From the kitchen, he could hear Shane in the living room, who seemed to be on the phone.
"I don't know what you want me to do. Hockey isn't something new in my life, and it's definitely not something you haven't had to get used to either. I don't choose when we play, Jess. You know this."
Ilya and Marleau went silent, the air filling with awkwardness as Shane continued to argue on the phone.
"Of course I want to see you. I'm not the one who told you to go all the way to fucking U of T. You were accepted into McGill too… I know what I said…"
Ilya and Marleau, who had been silently drinking their shakes, froze when they heard footsteps coming toward the kitchen.
"Okay, but you're acting like you're the only one stressed out and I can just easily drop everything…" Shane paused when he entered the kitchen, not having expected to see his best friend and his roommate. "Fuck," Shane whispered.
From where Ilya stood, he could hear Jessica yelling through the phone.
"I'm not asking you to do that, Shane. I simply asked if you could just, for ONCE, prioritize me over 'something'. Hockey, study groups, school club meetings, Ilya… anything. You TOLD me the six-hour commute was doable, but I've barely seen you since school started. Why are you making it sound…"
"Jess." Shane says lowly in to the mic, bypassing the guys to grab a can of ginger ale from the fridge.
"What?" Her voice was laced with frustration.
"Can we just talk later? I feel like we keep talking in circles, and I just… I didn't want the little bit of time that we get on the phone to be like this… I promise I'll call you tomorrow, and we can figure something out… okay… yeah, love you too."
After the call ended, Shane stared at his phone with his back turned to the others before pocketing it.
He glanced at Marleau briefly before looking at Ilya for a long moment, jaw tightened. With a resigned sigh, he made his way out of the kitchen.
Marleau and Ilya watched him leave, his shoulders still tense from the phone call.
"Dude…" Marleau began. "Maybe you should..."
Before he could continue, Ilya cut him off.
"Yes, I know."
Ilya downed the rest of his shake before making his way upstairs and into his bedroom. He grabbed his freshly air-dried towel and a pair of boxers , threw them over his shoulder and made his way to Shane's room.
He knocked, out of courtesy, before turning the knob and pushing the door open.
Shane didn't look up . He stood by his desk, eyes glued to his phone as he typed something out.
"Hey" he said to Ilya, hitting 'send' before placing his phone down on his desk. He figured he should send a text to Jess, apologizing for yelling.
"You okay?" Ilya, who had been leaning against the doorway, asked.
When his best friend didn't respond, the crease displayed between his brows deep, Ilya decides to walk towards him.
He came up behind Shane and wrapped his arms around his torso, hugging him tight against his chest. Shane relaxed ever so slightly. He placed his hands on Ilya's forearms, the embrace helping calm some of his anxiety still sitting under his skin.
"Yeah…maybe… I don't know." He didn't want to talk about the conversation just yet. He and Jess had gone back and forth for about an hour, and now Shane was just exhausted from it.
Turning his head, Shane nuzzled his nose against Ilya's cheek. He could smell the sweat radiating off of Ilya's skin. It wasn't a bad smell, at least not to him. Maybe it was because he had been around him so much, but Shane actually liked the way Ilya smelled after a workout. He pushed his nose in further into the crook of Ilya's neck, which Ilya always lets him do.
"You went running with Marly?"
Ilya felt the tickle of Shane's nose against his neck but stopped himself from squirming away. He knew how Shane felt about his post-workout musk, and Ilya liked that it provided his best friend with a sense of calm.
"Yes. Had to stop like a hundred times so he could catch his breath."
Ilya felt a puff of air leave Shane's nose as he laughed. Ilya smiled, then pulled back just enough to look at him.
"Wish I could have made it back in time to join you guys."
"Is okay," Ilya dismissed. " You worked long hours this morning. How was the diner?"
"Busy." Shane unwound Ilya's arms from around so he could turn and look at him without straining his neck. "Francis called out again, and Joe finally fucking fired Antonio. Ms. Rodriguez came in today, sat in my section, so that made the morning better."
"Ah," Ilya takes a step back towards Shane's closet. " Regular, who likes to leave only you a hundred dollars."
Ilya reached up to the tall shelf and grabbed what he needed. Then he went back to Shane, took his hand, and walking them out of the room.
"Don't be jealous," Shane teased. "I'm sure it's not just me."
"No, Shane." Ilya flickers on the bathroom light and shuts the door once they were both inside. "I've had her in my section four times. I give her the best service ever. Make sure her coffee never runs out, that her butter tarts are hot and fresh, and that her bacon is "extra extra crispy". And I laugh at her terrible joke every time. The one where she says, 'Don't go bacon my heart.' Every. Single. Time. Shane."
Shane started laughing halfway through Ilya's rant. His shirt got caught on his arm while he was taking it off, as he doubled over.
Ilya steadied him, laughing at Shane's reaction but not wanting him to fall.
"She's never told me that one," he gasped.
Ilya's eyebrows shot up, which only made Shane laugh more.
"AND SHE DOESN'T EVEN TELL YOU THE FUCKING JOKE?" Ilya said, his voice loud enough to carry around the house. "What the fuck?"
Ilya tossed his shirt onto the floor in faux frustration. He lowered his shorts and underwear, kicking them off his feet.
"I didn't even fucking get it the first time. I needed Bood to explain it to me. All that, and she leaves me thirteen dollars."
Shane strips the rest of his clothes off and turned the water on, waiting for it to get hot.
This wasn't the first time they had showered together. It was an easier way to continue whatever conversation they were having, plus they had seen each other naked plenty of times in the showers after practice. Ilya and Shane couldn't reason why this would be any different.
"Maybe you're trying too hard." Shane teased as they both stepped in.
The shower wasn't big. The house wasn't anything luxurious. If they weren't comfortable with each other, they probably wouldn't do this as often as they did.
Shane got under the hot water first, letting it fall into his hair and over his shoulders. With the lack of space, Shane could feel Ilya standing close behind him.
"I kind of just let her tell me about her day," Shane said. "She tells me about the new book her book club is reading. Complains to me about this lady named Marie who keeps flirting with her husband at the supermarket. Stuff like that."
Ilya rolled his eyes. "So, what? I just let her tell me gossip? Then I get a hundred-dollar tip?"
Shane smiled as he massaged his neck and shoulder. When he turned to face Ilya,his arm brushed against Ilya's chest.
"Uhh, I don't know. Honestly, Ilya, you might just have to give up." Ilya saw the glint of mischief pass through Shane's eyes. "Maybe you just aren't charming to every woman. Maybe it's time you retire your womanizer title while you're ahead."
Shane couldn't hold in his smile, not when Ilya's mouth fell open in surprise.
He tried his best to brace for it, but still squealed when Ilya pulled him in by the waist and tickled his side.
"Oh yeah?" Ilya said.Shane tried to push Ilya away as he squirmed and laughed into his touch. "Maybe I'll bring Ms. Rodriguez over and fuck her on your bed till she's screaming my name. Maybe then she'll start tipping me two hundred bucks every time she comes in and just completely forgets about you."
Their bodies rubbed together as the kept play-fighting, Ilya keeping Shane planted against him. He still hadn't even gone under the water yet, but his body was already wet.
"Ah, Ilya. Don't go bacon my heart like that." Shane couldn't help himself. His abdomen hurt from how hard he was laughing.
"YOU FUCKING—" Ilya shouted, but he was laughing when he said it.
Their dicks were pressed against each other, but neither thought too deeply about it. They weren't doing anything sexual.
Eventually, their laughter died down and they actually began cleaning themselves. They don't wash each other's bodies, because that would be 'gay' but when it was time to clean their backs, well, it wasn't 'gay' to help a friend out.
After they finish, they went back to Shane's room wrapped in their towels. Ilya had made sure to bring Shane's to the bathroom along with his.
"I have a paper I gotta finish by twelve. It's pretty much done," Shane said as they dried themselves off. "I finished everything else, so luckily I don't have to hop on my computer just yet."
"Yeah, it's still pretty early. I did all my shit before my run with Marly." Ilya tapped on Shane's phone to wake the screen. The time reads 6:21 PM. "Maybe we can watch that tennis movie with Zendaya. Svetlana said it was really good."
"Yeah, I'm cool with that."
Once he was done drying himself, Ilya forwent putting on underwear and sat on Shane's bed. His body still felt warm, and he liked the way Shane's duvet felt against his skin. He took out his phone and scrolled through Instagram, one hand planted on the mattress as he leaned back, feet on the floor.
Shane hung both towels to dry on the hooks of his closed door, and threw both their dirty clothes in his laundry basket. Before he could grab a pair of underwear, he reached for his phone to see if he Jess had responded.
All he received was a simple '❤️'.
He frowned, nervous that their fight was worse than he thought.
Ilya saw the frown grow on Shane's face, saw the worry etches itself between his brow.
He put his phone down and reached for Shane, who was only about two feet away.
He pulled Shane onto his lap, both of them still naked. Shane went willingly, adjusting himself until he could sit comfortably and recline against his favorite person, his hands on Ilya's outer thighs.
"Okay," Ilya said, his chin resting on Shane's shoulder. One hand lay on Shane's lower abdomen, lazily running over his skin and occasionally, accidentally, feeling Shane's pubes underneath his fingers. "Now tell me what happened."
"Jess is pissed at me," Shane started. He too was running his own fingers along Ilya's skin, finding the hairs on his legs satisfying to touch. "We argued on the phone the whole hour it took me to run errands and drive home after work. "
"Mhmm," Ilya hummed, knowing Shane needed to feel like the other person was listening.
"She says that I don't make time for her. Never go out to visit her. I tried to tell her about my busy schedule, but she didn't wanna hear it. It's been hard for me to find time to go to Toronto. I don't know what to fucking do. It's not like I don't miss her."
"Why doesn't she come here?"
"She doesn't have a car, Ilya. And I can't afford to buy flights for her every time she wants to see me."
"Well, I know it's not ideal. But you're both college students trying to make it through. It can't all fall on you, Shane."
Shane lifted his head from where it had rested against Ilya's to look at him.
"Maybe you can plan for her to come here by bus. It's much cheaper. She has an online class, yes? So maybe instead of being in class there, she can do it here. Bring her to game, or the diner or wherever. Gives you guys a few days."
Ilya's hazel eyes met with Shane's brown ones, and for a moment, the just looked at each other while Shane considered it.
Then Shane rolled his eyes.
"She's not going to want to take the bus."
Now it was Ilya's turn to roll his eyes. He'd known Jessica since high school. Had talked to her long before Shane had. And he knew from even then, from that first conversation, how high maintenance she could get.
She was beautiful— wavy blonde hair down her back, breasts that laid perfectly and a sexy body that even sophomore Ilya had wanted to touch. He'd given Shane credit when Shane had told him they were officially together. Not that he thought Shane couldn't have pulled that.
Respectfully, Ilya thought Shane was also pretty attractive.
Shane worked out, and it showed. His hair was always styled. His face, even his nose, had perfect angles. His lips were full and pink, and something that always stood out to Ilya were Shane's freckles. He could only imagine how many girls wished they could bend over for Shane just because of his freckles.
Unfortunately for them, Shane had been off the market for over two years.
"Well, fuck, Shane. If she wants to see you this bad, she can compromise." He waved his free hand in the air to emphasize his point.
Without paying attention, he placed his hand back down. It landed on Shane's dick.
It wasn't where he'd meant to rest his hand, but he left it there anyway.
Shane looked down at Ilya's hand as he considered the idea a bit more.
For a moment, he got distracted as he watched Ilya absentmindedly run his fingers along him. Ilya wasn't doing it to turn him on, seeing as Ilya was very straight, but Shane couldn't deny that it felt good. Shane didn't really have the right to talk, anyway. Everyone in the house knew about his other quirk. This was another one of Ilya's— no matter where his hand landed on Shane's body, he almost always ran his fingers there.
"Yeah," Shane nodded, eyes still on Ilya's hand for no other reason than it gave him something to look at. "You're right. I'll talk to her. If she says no, then the ball is in her court. She'll just have to wait till break."
Shane felt his dick swell up from the soft friction. Ilya didn't stop, though, knowing it would be mean to stop. His eyes dropped to Shane's dick, watching precum coat the tip. The tip was the same pretty pink color as Shane's lips.
"If she says yes, then I'll help you plan it," Ilya said. "Bus routes, best times to take it, stuff like that. Make it easier for you."
Ilya continued moving his hand because it gave his hand something to do. He stroked at a steady rhythm,running his index finger along the ridge because he liked the way it swelled.
Shane could feel his orgasm building up. He involuntarily pushed his hips up, causing himself to jerk into Ilya's hand. When he settled back down, his ass accidentally ground against Ilya's now hardened cock.
That was the thing about biology.
Even though Shane and Ilya weren't attracted to each other, they were only human. Any kind of real friction against their dicks would probably make them hard, even if they didn't mean for it to happen. Luckily, they didn't have to feel the kind of embarrassment that might have come with anyone else. They'd been each other's person since they were kids. They had seen each other grow up, and experience all kinds of things.
Shane and Ilya knew other people just lacked security in their sexuality. Enough to be able to cuddle with their best friend on the couch. Shower together. Sit on the other's lap, even while naked. Play with their best friend's dick just because they felt like it.
But Shane and Ilya knew where to draw the line.
So even though Shane didn't mean to jerk his hips, causing his dick to push into Ilya's hand and his ass to push back against Ilya's cock, he knew it wasn't like that.
And when Ilya's hips jerked because Shane's ass was accidentally grinding against his hard cock, he knew wasn't like that.
The moans that escaped their mouths weren't to be taken like that.
The line is drawn when both Shane and Ilya felt themselves right at the edge. Shane pushed Ilya's hand away so that he could finish jerking himself off. Ilya pushed Shane to sit on the bed next to him so he could get a hand on his own cock. And when they were both shooting their load onto the bed and the floor, well, technically, they could say they had never made the other person orgasm.
Because that would be 'gay'.