Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Home
Chapter song: Home by Matthew Hall
Shane
The front door slammed with a bang that reverberated through the house, followed by another loud noise, likely a bag hitting the wooden floor.
“Sweetheart, is that you?”
“Yes, honey bunch, it’s me, your favourite little girly girl. Ouch!” A fake high voice answered mockingly before being shut down by what was probably a case of sibling violence.
“You are such an arse, go fuck yourself!”
“Happily. Although unlike for others, solo isn’t my only option. But let’s not go into details, my innocent baby sister.”
“The girls are only into you because of the saying.”
“What saying?”
“Dumb fucks well.”
“Children, good god, mind your language.” Shane sat on the kitchen counter with a cup of tea and stared disbelievingly towards the entrance of the house. Ilya stood opposite him, stirring a big pot of stew, eyes wide and the corner of his mouth raised the tiniest degree.
“В этом нет никакого смысла. Как же тогда получается, что ты всё ещё девственник?”
“Не всем же быть шлюхами.”
“Kids. Cut it off for fucks sake. You realise your dad also knows Russian. Come here, both of you!”
Shane rolled his eyes. “And I wonder why they talk as if they were raised in the gutter. Great role modelling there.”
Ilya smirked and turned towards the door as trudging steps announced the arrival of the two teenagers, who turned the corner in single file and then stood in the doorway.
He took both of them in. Kolya leaned casually against the wooden frame, thumbs hanging loosely in the pockets of his wide jeans. Fenya was the opposite, eyes narrowed, lips pressed together, and a storm brewing above her head. Just another Friday at the Hollander household.
“What’s going on with you two? This was nastier than usual.”
Kolya raised his hand and inspected his nails. “You heard. Your princess called me a whore. And that after I was kind enough to pick her up from practice. She was already in a bad mood when I got there. Perhaps it’s her time of the...”
“You better not finish that sentence. And we do not shame people with sex – or lack thereof – in this house. Especially if they’re underage."
Ah, his husband was finally deciding to join his parenting efforts. He shot him a thankful look and then turned his attention back towards Fenya, who had turned bright red and looked even more annoyed. Great.
“What’s gotten into you, Fen? Did something happen at practice?”
Their sixteen-year-old daughter shook her head. “No. Everything was just perfect.”
Unfortunately, the moisture in her eyes told a different story. Shane pressed his lips together. “You sure?”
She nodded, not meeting his eyes. “May I be excused from dinner? I am not hungry, and I have tons of work to do.”
“Fenyushka, you worked hard; your body needs food to stay strong.” Ilya looked at her, his head slightly inclined as if to listen better for what was bothering his daughter.
She let out a breath that seemed to come from deep inside her. “Look at me. It’s not like one skipped meal will cause me to wither away.”
Alarm shot through Shane's chest, grabbing his heart like a vice. Ilya was about to reply, but Shane cut him off, being painfully reminded of a different time in his life.
“Alright, Fen, go and rest, do your work. But we’ll put some food aside, and I’ll come up to your room later, alright?”
The teen nodded sullenly, then turned around and walked towards the stairs, an air of defeat hovering around her. Back at the door, she grabbed her backpack and disappeared from their view. He took a fresh breath, wanting to remind her to wash her hockey gear right away but stopped himself. Later.
Ilya looked at him, silently communicating his concern before turning to the remaining teen in the room. “OK, out with it. What’s going on?”
Kolya grimaced and played with the strings of his hoodie. “I dunno. She didn’t say. But the junior men’s team was practising. Perhaps it’s boy trouble? Or they were being dicks. Who knows with chicks.”
He sighed. “Okay. Thanks for picking her up. Go take care of some stuff until dinner is ready. And be nicer to your sister. You might not be here for most of the winter, but you do remember what sixteen feels like, right?”
Their son nodded. “Sure. It sucks sometimes, but she is so moody all the fu... effing time. She needs to lighten up a bit, let loose a little...”
“It is called empathy, Kolya. Show it. Not everyone can be Mr Sunshine like you are.” Ilya was back at the stove and emphasising his words with hand movements, causing stew to splatter from the wooden spoon in his hand all over the kitchen surface.
Shane winced and dropped his head into his hands. This was his life. Wonderful, happy, total chaos.
Kolya yawned widely. “I’m gonna go into my room for a bit. My teacher called about this Christmas placement for the foreign students. You guys still good to take one for a couple of weeks?”
He nodded. “Sure, we have plenty of room. This will be nice. Boy or girl?”
Kolya smirked. “Pretty sure they’re assigning us a guy, but I know what I prefer.” He winked, then turned around and disappeared up the open stairwell.
Now Ilya sighed opposite him, shaking his head a little. “He is relentless. All he thinks about is girls.”
Shane huffed a laugh. “And snowboarding. I am sure with school, and his training schedule up in Calgary, he is too busy to womanise too much.”
“Never stopped me...”
“Well, you know what they say, don’t you?”
“No, Hollander, but I am sure you will tell me.”
“Karma is a bitch.”
Ilya hummed, carefully stirring the thickening dish. “Unfortunately, yes. But it is good to have him home. I missed him.”
His husband briefly looked up at him and then returned to his work, eyes staring through the bubbling food unseeingly.
Kolya attended a specialised high school outside Calgary, which allowed him to combine a semi-professional snowboarding track alongside his education. He only returned for the school holidays and had practically been out of the house since his ninth grade.
They FaceTimed him regularly, and so did the rest of the family. That way, and via visiting friends and his social media presence, they were well aware that he was milking the boarder lifestyle to the fullest. Exploits amongst his female peers included.
Kolya did everything with intensity. Snowboarding, playing the drums, making the most of his free time. Hardly a party at home or in Calgary without Kolya Hollander’s enthusiastic participation. Shane watched with astonishment, never having been popular in his youth, even as an up-and-coming hockey prodigy.
Thank goodness they had nothing to worry about from Fenya. Yet. She loved her sport, played hockey with the focus of her dad and the playfulness of her papa. In that respect, she was a true mix of her fathers.
She did reasonably well at school, had a set circle of friends, a stable rhythm of school, practice and home life. At sixteen, she had never shown an interest in a crush, male or female. Ilya was relieved in a way only a former bad-boy turned protective girl dad could be. But inside Shane, the supposed safety sat oddly. It reminded him too much of a time when he moved through the world rather than lived in it.
“I worry about her.”
His words caused Ilya to stop stirring. He turned off the stove, slowly laid the spoon across the pot and walked around the counter to step to his side.
“Why do you worry, Solnyshko? She is teenager, moody. Yes, perhaps too focused on her body, but that is also normal. And hopefully it will pass.”
Shane was quiet for a bit, allowed the thoughts in his mind to settle a little before voicing his fears. “I know. But she is so much like ... I mean, what if she is – like me?”
Ilya’s eyes looked straight into him, causing his insides to flutter. Thirty-seven years after Ilya first shook his hand, his body and soul still responded whenever he laid eyes on this beautiful man.
“Perhaps she is like you. She is beautiful. Smart. Talented. Loyal to those she loves.”
A breath left Shane’s lungs. “I appreciate your positivity, babe, but you know what I mean. What if she has trouble connecting? Or what if she is struggling with her sexuality?”
Strong arms drew him against a broad chest. “Then we are here for her, to support her. What else can we do?” One of Ilya’s hands softly squeezed Shane’s neck, and he sighed.
“Besides, it would be better. No disgusting boys lusting after her.”
“Who is lusting after whom?”
They both looked up at the new voice disrupting their moment. Their niece entered the kitchen and inspected the pot.
“Anastasia, hi. How was uni?” Shane found his voice first, deliberately ignoring her question. She shrugged.
“Uneventful. But good. And long. I’m starving.”
“You are right on time, Nastya. Freshen up while we set the table.”
Anastasia was Ilya’s youngest niece who had joined their household two years ago, when she was eighteen and allowed to leave Russia on her own terms. She was the result of an extramarital affair of Ilya’s brother with a younger woman. After raising Anastasia on a shopkeeper’s wage, her mother had one day reached out to Ilya and asked for help so that her daughter could have a shot at a better future.
Six months later, they had picked up a skinny and wide-eyed 18-year-old wearing faded jeans and a polyester shirt under a fake leather jacket at the Montreal airport. Ilya struggled at first, as the young woman looked like a female version of his brother, stirring up the past and memories that he thought had been laid to rest at Dr Gallina’s office years ago.
They ate in relative silence, exchanging stories about their days and plans for the weekend and the remaining week until Christmas. Shane felt heaviness creep into his chest as he eyed Fen’s empty chair and mentally prepared himself to bring some food up to her and coax her into sharing what’s up.
Kolya’s phone pinged mid-supper, and he pulled it out of his hoodie to read the message. “That was quick; they sent the list already!”
“What list are we talking about?”
“We’re picking up another stray over Christmas, an exchange student from Kolyuna’s school,” Ilya explained. “Does it say who we are getting?”
“Yes. Here it is. Killian Fichtl. Huh. I’ve seen him around. Austrian or German, I think, one year below me. Snowboards. Could be worse.”
“Does it say when he arrives and where we have to pick him up from?” Shane walked over to where his phone was charging, already running through their family calendar hoping their guest’s arrival would fall on a free spot.
“Next Wednesday, arrival in Ottawa 3 pm.”
“Is perfect. Fen’s team plays Montreal that afternoon. We can pick him up and take him to the game. Watching the Junior Chargers kick Montreal’s ass will be perfect welcome.” Ilya leaned back, smirking.
“Ugh, I should have guessed. More hockey. But after the game I am showing him the Ottawa nightlife. He needs to have a proper experience.”
“Afterwards you’ll let the poor guy drop his stuff and recover from travel. You have two full weeks to corrupt him, Kol.”
The young man sighed and lifted his hands to the skies. “Oh, to be damned to live amongst the uninspired.”
Ilya laughed. “If you are so inspired, you can clear the table and clean the kitchen. I read in the New Yorker that boring work is good for one’s creativity.”
Ana sniggered softly at her cousin’s fate. “Studies have shown it is also very calming and healthy. I can help you, little dvoyurodnyy brat.“
Shane leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He would count to ten and then go up to her room. Whatever it was, they would handle it. A warm hand landed on his shoulder.
„You go first, Hollander one. I will follow you in a bit.“
„Ok, Hollander two. That sounds like a plan.“