Work Text:
Shane Hollander is absolutely certain about three things in his life:
- He was born to be a hockey player
- He’s in love with his rival - Ilya Rozanov, a man the hockey world would most certainly persecute him for in the court of public opinion if it ever got out
- And Ilya Rozanov is keeping a secret from him that has nothing to do with them or hockey (necessarily)
Shane and Ilya used to spend most of their time apart. They used to only communicate via sexts, chirps on the ice and in dark hotel rooms where Ilya commands Shane to get on his knees (with which Shane complies since he is only human). Ilya whispers sweet nothings in Russian in Shane’s ears and Shane whimpers for ‘More!’ because he can never have enough of Ilya.
Shane had never been around Ilya long enough to notice anything different. Anything odd. But Shane wouldn’t be Shane if he didn’t notice things. Especially if his observations were to do with his favourite subject - Ilya.
He studies Ilya with the diligence and patience he does the only other thing he loves. Hockey. While Shane studied hockey so he could improve his knowledge and skill in the game he loved, he studied Ilya for absolutely no reason. Just because.
Ilya exists. And by existing alone he is Shane’s reason. He is Shane’s will to go on. Shane’s hope for the future, for life. Knowing Ilya, loving him, comes naturally to Shane. Like breathing, yes. But Shane would describe it more like skating on freshly resurfaced ice. It’s second nature.
Ilya notices everything about Shane too. But if Shane’s style is more silently cataloguing, Ilya uses his observations to love Shane out loud. Or as loud as he can be within the confines of their home.
He stocks frankly concerning amounts of ginger ale in the garage of his Ottawa home just because it’s Shane’s preferred drink. He always waits for Shane to mark the page in the book he’s actively reading before launching into whatever story he’d been excited to tell. He always makes sure the shoes by the door are arranged neatly and never gets on the bed in outside clothes once he knew that Shane didn’t like to dirty the sheets that way either. He always dims the lights when he notices it starting to overwhelm Shane or lowers the volume on the television for the very same reason. He’s learnt the recipes of Shane’s favourite Japanese comfort foods (which he took from Yuna and spent several weekends perfecting with her help).
If Shane were a subject in school, Ilya would be acing that class.
They’re planning on coming out soon. Very soon. After all, it’ll be weird if they get married before they tell the world they’re even together. Though there may be some advantages to doing exactly that. The world won’t have a choice but accept them if they get married first. Something to consider, I guess.
So yes, it’s safe to say that Ilya and Shane are OBSESSED with each other. Anyone who knows them and knows about their relationship can see it very clearly. Or hear it, if they’re unlucky enough to spend the night in the same house as them or share a wall with them in a hotel.
Since Ilya moved to Ottawa to join the Centaurs, perhaps even before then, perhaps since Shane and Ilya decided to give their relationship an honest to God chance, Shane has started to notice something about Ilya. It’s taken him years to put the clues together to form a coherent pattern, but now that he has, he cannot unsee it.
And mostly, he’s surprised Ilya never mentioned it. Not once in all their years together.
Ilya has made numerous comments in the past about his love for books like Lord of the Rings and Russian literature like Crime & Punishment, War & Peace and even Anna Karenina claiming that reading them in their original Russian is far superior to their English translations.
Naturally, when he spent whatever little time he did at Ilya’s home in Boston, he noticed the books.
Or lack thereof.
For a man who claims to read extensively, his bedside table isn’t littered with battered old copies of his favourite books. Shane had snooped around the house and still hadn’t found many books on shelves or even drawers he dared to open during his explorations. He did find the Russian translations of the Lord of the Rings, those seemed well loved, like they'd been read a few times and now were put away for safekeeping. And one copy of Pride & Prejudice again in Russian. But that's about it.
It’s the same with Ilya’s current home in Ottawa.
Shane reads a lot too. For the little time they get to themselves during the season, Shane loves to squeeze in a few chapters of his favourite books–even if they are all hockey related–something Ilya loves to make fun of him for.
Other than the coffee table books that serve more as a design feature than literature, Shane finds no trace of Ilya’s alleged love of books. Yet Shane also knows that Ilya maintains a frankly active Goodreads account. He apparently reads in English and Russian and re-reads the works on J.R.R. Tolkien at least once a year.
Yet Shane has seen no physical evidence of it. Neither the books nor Ilya in the act of actually reading.
It’s only when Ilya’s phone connects to his very impressive (and loud) soundsystem by mistake instead of the bluetooth headphones he has sitting on his perfectly messy golden curls, as he potters around the kitchen readying to make them some dinner, when Shane finally understands what he’s been missing.
Ilya quickly scrambles to pause the audio with wide eyes, before typing something on his phone. Presumably to disconnect his phone from the loudspeakers and switch it to his headphones.
Shane needs to be cool about this.
“Was that an audiobook?” Shane asks. He keeps his voice casual. It’s just a simple question after all.
He’s been lounging on the couch all afternoon, laptop balanced on his lap, working on their colour co-ordinated joint calendars. It’s another one of his ways of taking care of Ilya who sometimes finds it hard to get organised when his default setting is ‘chaos’. He adds in therapy appointments, dentist visits, physical therapy sessions, workout schedules, flights, foundation meetings.. Everything he can think of goes in with its own notes and specific colours.
Shane also prefers sitting here because it’s the only spot on the couch that also has an unobstructed view of the kitchen. He loves cooking with Ilya. But he loves watching Ilya cook even more. He loves watching Ilya do just about anything.
Now as he watches the kitchen, he sees several emotions flicker on Ilya’s face. Surprise, then fear before settling on resignation.
“Yes,” Ilya huffs finally. When he says nothing more, Shane decides to take charge of the conversation. Clearly Ilya’s been nervous about this for a while. Years if Shane’s right.
“Which book are you listening to?” Shane is actually curious.
Ilya had mentioned starting a new Brandon Sanderson series recently, but from a quick google search, Shane quickly realised that Mr. Sanderson writes more than he eats or sleeps. He puts out an inhuman amount of books a year. There’s no way Shane has the time to keep up. But Ilya was excited at the prospect of diving into a new series, even when Shane questioned how on earth he’d have the time to read them all while captaining a quickly rising team in the MLH, taking care of Anya, co-partnering a charity foundation and spending all their free time with each other or driving to each other.
“Oathbringer.” Ilya responds dutifully, trudging to the couch to sit beside Shane, dinner prep temporarily forgotten.
Shane shuts his laptop, placing it on the coffee table before pulling Ilya on top of him. Ilya slumps in his arms, hiding his face in Shane’s neck, giving Shane a face full of his curls. His massive noise cancelling headphones narrowly miss clipping his nose.
Shane pulls them off Ilya before they do any damage, stretching to reach the coffee table so he can place them on top of his laptop, while he has his arms full of a 6 foot hockey player.
Ilya groans dramatically.
“Aren’t you going to ask me any more questions, moya lyubov?”
It’s clear that Ilya knows that Shane has maybe put the puzzle pieces together.
Shane runs his fingers through Ilya’s beautiful curls a few times–he knows Ilya loves it when he plays with his hair–before he replies.
“Only if you want to talk about it.”
Ilya lets out a sigh. His breath tickles Shane who only just manages to stifle the giggle that almost escapes. This is not the moment for laughter. Ilya needs his full, undivided attention.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Shane asks after Ilya’s second non-verbal sigh.
Ilya squirms, digging his face deeper into Shane’s neck before saying “I don’t know how..”
"Then let me?” Shane asks. He feels Ilya nod in agreement.
“You love to read, right?”
“Da,” Ilya murmurs.
“But you prefer audiobooks?”
Ilya finally pushes himself off Shane into a comfortable sitting position. He looks Shane dead in his eyes.
“I can read,” he stresses to Shane like that was ever in doubt.
“I know, babe.”
“When I was little, my mama, she used to read to me.” Ilya gets that look on his face. The one that was reserved for when he thought about his beautiful mama. Shane ran his thumb over Ilya’s knuckles in comfort. It’s all the encouragement Ilya needed to continue.
“She would find ways to get a hold of children's books, ones she knew I would enjoy, and at night before bed, she would read to me. When I was finally in school, I was excited to learn to do it also. I thought that we could read together. I could read to her. I loved to show off for her. I already did that with skating. So I wanted to do the same with reading. But when I opened a book and tried to read the words they.. How do you say.. Danced?”
Shane nods in understanding, not wanting to interrupt Ilya’s story.
“I tried so hard. But school was no longer fun when I couldn’t even read my lessons. My classmates, they made fun of me. My father never let me forget that he was ashamed that I was stupid. Who wants a son who cannot even read? I kept trying. Even after the official diagnosis from the doctors. My mama, she somehow got copies of the Russian versions of the Lord of the Rings books. We read them together. I tried very hard and she helped.”
“That’s why you love them so much,” Shane says. “Not only for the story but because it was something you both did together.”
“Da,” Ilya responds.
Shane made a quiet mental note to also read them now. Anything that was this important to the love of his life (and his mother) is worth investing time in. Maybe he could also plan a date to watch all the movies together as well. Ilya would love that. He would also figure out a way to display his fiance's copies of the precious books since they were important but also deserved to be in a place of prominence. Not hidden away like a secret.
But here it finally was, the confirmation he had been looking for. His fiance was dyslexic.
“My father made sure nobody found out, even after mama died, he ensured that I passed my classes. Reading was no longer fun without mama anyway. So I did what I could, read what I could and spent the rest of my energy focused on hockey. I listened to my coaches, memorised hockey plays since I was no good at deciphering them from a board, I memorised opponent teams, the player’s names..I needed to be the best at the game somehow. I needed to get out.”
“And you did,” Shane says, his voice taking on the tone of a proud fiance. “You became the best. You got out.”
“That’s nice of you to say, Mr. Golden Boy of Canada,” Ilya jokes lightly, “but we both know it’s not true. You are the best of the both of us.”
Shane just smiles back at him. Because in all honesty, they were evenly matched. That’s what years of trying to out-do each other got them. A spot at the top. Together.
Once again Shane was struck by just how much Ilya had been through before they had even met. When he was drafted by Boston, he spent his rookie year building an image that portrayed overconfidence and charisma and a chaotic menace, all of which did a very thorough job of covering up or re-directing anyone who tried to look too closely, from the fact that Ilya was terrified. He was 18, in a new country, and barely spoke the language. His brother constantly hounded him for money while also accusing him of abandoning them and his father (when he remembered who Ilya was) would call repeatedly to tell him how disappointed he was in his son. He captained the Raiders and got them a cup, while being bisexual and dyslexic.
Ilya was probably scared out of his mind.
Shane should know. That’s how he felt. He’s gay, Asian and autistic. He’d only moved a couple of hours away from home. But at least he knew his parents loved him.
Ilya never had that.
Shane had a very long time ago decided that there is nothing he would not do for Ilya. He would love him in every conceivable way. And today’s discovery is just another pillar fortifying that decision.
While Shane has spent the last several minutes thinking about how he didn’t think he could love Ilya more than he already does, it seems like Ilya’s waiting for Shane to say more. So he does.
“I’m so proud of you, Ilyusha.”
Ilya looks at Shane with startled watery eyes.
“You are proud of my learning disability?”
“It’s not a disability,” Shane says patiently, “It’s a learning difficulty. One that you’ve spent your life working through. At no point did you let it stop you. You found ways around it and when you couldn’t you persevered through it. You are brave, smart and unbelievably talented.”
A laugh bubbles out of Ilya.
“And hot,” he adds with a grin.
“Yes, let’s not forget ‘hot’,” Shane agrees with a laugh. “That’s the one that tops the list of reasons why I want to marry you.”
Ilya throws a couch pillow at Shane in retaliation.
“Hey!” Shane says when it hits him in the face. “I was agreeing with you! Your hot body is all I wanted.”
Ilya pounces on him with an evil grin, hands roaming. Shane’s laughing so hard, he almost falls off the couch. He totally would’ve if Ilya’s strong arms hadn’t bracketed him in just in time.
“You really mean what you said?” Ilya asked when their laughter died down.
Shane sees the very real vulnerability shimmering in Ilya’s eyes. He knows his fiance needs reassurance about this. Ilya’s probably spent all his life thinking he’s broken, a thought that was no doubt reinforced by his dysfunctional family.
“Yes, I mean it.” Shane says gently. “I won’t lie to you, Ilya.”
He can see that Ilya needs a few moments to let that sink in. So they lie in comfortable silence while Shane resumes running his fingers through Ilya’s hair.
“When did you start listening to audiobooks?” Shane asks some time later.
Ilya lifts his head off of Shane’s chest and adorably squints at him, like the light is too bright in his eyes. Shane suspects he’d fallen into a light nap.
“When I first came to Boston,” he says, his voice a little rough. “I read online somewhere that listening to audiobooks counts as ‘reading’, so I wanted to try. I went to the library to get card and then borrowed my first audiobook. It changed my life. Most of the audiobooks are in English so I had to slow down the pace to be able to keep up but it still changed my life. It was easier than reading so..”
“Listening to audiobooks does count as reading,” Shane says. It does.
He smiles imagining a teenage Ilya going to the public library for a card. He remembers that Ilya very well. And yet mourns that he didn’t know this little fact about him. They didn’t really chat very much in those days, did they? They only did a whole lot of competing and fucking. And that’s about it. But having dyslexia is hard enough in your own language. Ilya had to learn a whole new language just to be dyslexic in that as well.
They spent years texting each other. It’s only now sinking in that that must’ve been difficult for Ilya. Yet he never once complained or let on that he was struggling. All teams have group chats, all important communication is in the written form, all contracts need to be reviewed before they’re signed. How careful did Ilya need to be all this time so that he’s not unknowingly taken advantage of?
Shane’s chest aches as another wave of love and devotion for Ilya rolls through him. He doesn’t need to push it down anymore so he reaches forward and grabs Ilya’s face, pulling him into a kiss. Ilya’s surprise lasts all of a split second before he enthusiastically kisses him back.
When Shane pulls back he sees the unasked question on Ilya’s face.
“Potomu chto ya tebya lyublyu, Ilyusha.” Shane says, not that he needs a reason to kiss his soon-to-be husband.
“Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu, Shanya.” Ilya responds leaning forward to catch Shane’s lips in another desperate kiss. He follows that up with reverent kisses to Shane’s forehead, the freckles that cover Shane’s cheekbones (It’s no secret that Ilya loves them) and even his nose.
“Spasibo, chto lyubish' menya, nesmotrya na moi nedostatki.” llya murmurs as he once again buries his face in Shane’s neck.
Now Shane’s Russian has improved. He’s spent many many hours being tortured by the green owl, taking online classes and getting Ilya to practice with him. But it still takes him a few seconds to comprehend what Ilya’s whispered words mean.
When he does get it, he’s taken aback. Ilya can’t really believe that, right? But apparently, he does deep down. Shane immediately feels guilt churn in the pit of his stomach. Perhaps he’s not been very good at showing Ilya how much he loves him.
“I don’t love you despite your flaws, Ilya.”
He pulls Ilya up so he’s staring into the blue eye as he says this. He needs Ilya to believe him.
“I love you with all your quirks, your chaos and your perceived flaws. Because your flaws have never been that to me. They’ve always just been a part of the Ilya I love. You speak in a direct, no-nonsense way in English because you have to be literal since it isn’t your first language. To my autistic brain, people’s sarcasm, jokes and innuendos don’t always make sense. But I never had any trouble understanding you. It felt like you speak directly to my soul. We fit together perfectly. We were always meant to find each other, Ilyusha. There’s nothing I believe more than that. It wasn’t really a choice to be in love with you. I think I always was. Before I even knew what it meant.”
Ilya stares at Shane with watery eyes, like he can’t believe he’s real.
“Shanya…” he whispers in awe. A tear slips out of his right eye, sliding down his cheek. He swipes at it roughly.
“I love you, Ilya.” Shane adds. Just in case there was still any doubt. “Thank you for telling me about your dyslexia. And about your mama and the Lord of the Rings. I’m glad I understand now.”
“I’m sorry for keeping it from you,” Ilya replies, his voice still thick with emotion.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. Maybe we can listen to audiobooks when we’re in the car together?”
Ilya’s answering smile is like a radiating sun.Shane cannot look away. Gosh, he loves this man more than humanly possible. His heart may just burst trying to contain it.
They sit there looking at each other as the room grows steadily darker. The living room lights automatically flicker on. So much for having dinner ready before dark.
“Shall we order in tonight instead?” Shane asks, reaching for his phone. There’s no way Ilya can cook after such an emotional conversation.
“Yes,” Ilya responds eagerly. “Pizza!”
Shane rolls his eyes at his fiance. “Salads.”
He needs something that will fit with this performance diet.
“You just told me you love me,” Ilya says dramatically. “You were lying?”
“Of course not!”
“Salads means you don’t love me, Shane.”
“I would argue that I love you so much I want to make sure you’re healthier, so you can stick around and entertain me with your chaos for a very long time, Rozanov.”
When Ilya continues to sulk, Shane caves. Kind of.
“How about I order us pizza..” Ilya lights up at his words.. “But I also make us a salad using what we have in the fridge and we eat that as well?”
Ilya reluctantly agrees.
Shane’s going to have to have his hands full in a few years when he has to convince their kids to eat their vegetables when he can barely convince his own partner to eat them without a suitable bribe.
But then he imagines this home with a couple of kids, he imagines Ilya with them.
He can’t help the grin that spreads across his face.
Of course, Ilya notices.
“Chto?”
“Nothing. What pizza would you like?”
He can have pizza tonight. It’ll make Ilya happy. And that’s all that matters right now.