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It was the anniversary of when Hayden had accidentally outed Shane and Ilya. To celebrate, the Centaurs team decided to spend a night on the town. Ilya was in from the start. An excuse to go and party? Yes, please! Shane was wary at first, not feeling like it was something worth celebrating. All that Ilya had to do was give some sweet big eyes (while giving head) and Shane was sold on the idea.
The team had just finished their morning practice at home in Ottawa and the locker room was all abuzz.
“I can’t fucking wait, it’s been too long since we’ve all gone out together,” Bood bellowed across the locker room.
“Just don’t do anything too crazy, please. I’d love for this to be a chill night out,” Shane pleaded. Many of his teammates booed his remark.
“Oh come on, Shane, it is anniversary of when we were finally free from hiding!” Ilya said, plastering a big grin on his face. “You haven’t let loose in so looooong,” the Russian whined in a sing-songy tone, “let’s just have fuuuun, don’t be so booooring.”
“We have a game tomorrow-“ Shane was cut off by more boos.
“Shane Hollander, I won’t be drinking much either, we can stick together!” Said Luca Haas from across the locker room.
“Luca, again please just call me Shane. And thank you, that sounds great.”
The team went on reminiscing on the last few times they went out drinking and clubbing together once Ilya joined– all the wild stories that everyone only vaguely remembered. Shane remained quiet. He was grateful to have such a tight-knit team, but he had never gone out with this group before for more than one of Bood’s BBQs. Ilya, on the other hand, was hoping to introduce the team to Drunk Shane tonight.
—-
That evening, Centaurs slowly started trickling into a bar in downtown Ottawa. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a sports bar with some pool tables and lots and lots of beer.
Wyatt and Luca were the first ones there, with Bood, Troy, Harris, and some rookies following soon thereafter. Shane and Ilya were some of the last Centaurs to arrive. As soon as they walked in, the bar erupted in cheers. Even the regular people that were there for a drink after work had been informed (by an already tipsy Harris) that it was a very special coming-out-aversary. Shane and Ilya were handed celebratory shots by a female waitress, who was giving one to everyone in the bar.
“I would like to cheers,” started Harris as he stood up on one of the chairs. He was projecting his voice loud enough for the entire bar to hear. People quickly quieted down for the man. “Cheers to an amazing couple, whose lives got turned upside down in the blink of an eye-“
“FUCK PIKE!” Yelled someone from the back of the bar. Shane muttered something to himself and Ilya smiled wide.
“But they handled everything with grace, with advocacy, and with pride. I am so lucky to call Shane and Ilya my coworkers and my friends, and I’m so glad everything has worked out for the better. Cheers!” Everyone raised their shot glasses and proceeded to throw it back. Ilya followed suit, but Shane stood still, shot glass growing warm in his hand.
“Drink it,” Ilya whispered to Shane.
“I don’t want to, there’s a game-“
“It’s a party for us, it was a cheers for us, is basically bad luck if you do not. Are you saying you want for us to end up in divorce?"
“What? No! That’s not-“
“COME ON, HOLLANDER!” Shouted Wyatt from down the bar. All around Shane people started cheering him on.
“You have to, now. Whether you want divorce or not,” Ilya said, a smirk tugging on his face.
“I don’t want a fucking divorce,” Shane said as he threw the shot back. He recoiled with a cough as soon as the vodka hit the back of his throat. He forgot how much this shit burns. “Fuck,” he muttered to himself.
“Is good, yes?” Ilya asks.
“Better than divorce,” Shane retorted.
—-
As the night continued, Shane slowly nursed a beer while many of his other teammates were getting trashed off cheap liquor and shitty beer. Troy had yelled to the whole bar that drinks were on him, and Shane couldn’t even begin to fathom how much the tab would be.
Shane was sitting at the bar top next to Luca, making small talk about traveling Europe when Ilya walked up to him with a drink in hand.
“I got this for you,” Ilya said as he took a seat.
“What is it?” Shane asked with his nose scrunched up. He observed the drink- it was a tall glass filled with a brownish colored drink and ice to the top. A black straw and lemon wedge stuck out of the top.
“It’s tea.”
“Tea? This is not tea,” Shane said as he sniffed it. It smelled like cola and some other vague type of liquor.
“It is called tea. Try it, I think you will like it.” Shane begrudgingly took a sip. It was surprisingly crisp and citrusy. While Shane often turned his nose up at Ilya’s sodas, he had to admit they tasted good, and this was no exception. “What do you think?” Shane took another sip from the straw, this one much bigger.
“It’s good, actually. What’s in it? Coke, lemon, and… vodka? Rum? I can’t tell what the alcohol is. It does have alcohol, right?” Shane said.
“Yes, you are right. It has a little alcohol, I’m not sure though,” Ilya lied. He knew very well that the long island iced tea he had just given Shane had five different types of spirits. He told the bartender to put in extra lemon juice and syrup to make it a little less “alcoholy”, and it must have worked.
Shane took another big sip, and the drink was already halfway gone. “Well thanks, I guess. Are you having a good time?”
“Oh yes, next I will play Wyatt in billiards and he will go home crying. You can come watch your talented husband and cheer him on if you want, or you can keep having boring conversation.”
“Hey, I’m enjoying this conversation with Luca, we’re talking about the art museums in Germany and how-“
Ilya groaned. “Shane, you are no fun.” Shane took another big sip.
“Hey, I’m fun! I’m totally fun!” Shane said, words threatening to slur together. Dear god, he is such a lightweight, Ilya thought.
“Whatever you say, Kotonok.” Ilya patted Shane’s shoulder as he got up and headed towards the billiards tables.
“I’m not a cat!” Shane yelled at Ilya as he walked away. Shane finished his drink and waved down the bartender to ask for another.
—-
“WOOOOOH!” Shane cheered as he ran up to the billiards table. Ilya was deep into a serious game of pool with Wyatt. All around the table Centaurs and bystanders were gathering to cheer on one another. Both men were pretty decent at the game, making it a solid match up. Ilya was chirping away with each turn as Wyatt stayed rather quiet. “How’s my husband doing?” Shane announced loudly to the group. The team all slowly turned to face Shane. Bood’s jaw dropped when he made eye contact with Shane. Shane’s eyes were glassy and he was extremely smiley. His ears were bright pink and he had a fresh long island iced tea in his hand.
“Holy shit, Shane you’re fucking drunk!” Bood accused, eyes still wide. He never thought he would see the day where Shane Hollander had more than half of a beer.
“-’m not that drunk, we have a game tomorrow ya know,” Shane said, words slurring together as he tried to keep his composure. Ilya stood up a little straighter and set the pool queue down on the table, despite it being his turn.
“Shane,” Ilya started slowly, as if he were talking to a stray dog he didn’t want to scare away. “How many of those did you drink?” Shane looked down at his hand as if he were surprised to see a drink in it. The group around the table went silent in anticipation.
“Uhhh, three? I think? No wait, maybe four?” The men around the table erupted in a mixture of snickering and hollers.
“Kotonok, those have a lot of alcohol, I didn’t think you’d have more than one or maybe two,” Ilya looked genuinely concerned as he walked up to his husband and took the drink from Shane’s hand. Ilya felt bad. He never intended for Shane to get plastered on a Thursday night, he just wanted Shane to loosen up a little and to have fun instead of sulking on the anniversary of them being outed.
“-‘m not a cat, Ilya, and I can take care of myself. I can drink however much tea I want!” Shane said. Ilya gave a sideways glance to Troy and then to Bood. Ilya sat Shane’s drink down on the billiards table and put his hands up in defence. The whole team could sense the tension between the two men, but they weren’t quite sure what the problem was.
“Okay, okay I’m sorry, you are not a cat, you are my big strong husband,” Ilya said, locking his eyes onto Shane. “Why don’t we sit down or we can go home if you are ready.” Shane didn’t reply. His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “Troy, why don’t you come sit down with us,” Ilya said without taking his eyes off of Shane.
At that moment, Troy realized what was going on. Troy thought back to a conversation he had with Ilya ten months ago in a hotel room. They were kicking back after a game in Texas, comparing Harris to Shane. Ilya and Shane had recently gotten outed and Troy had so many questions. They started talking about the Drover family business and Troy suggested Ilya bring Shane around to the orchard and to try the cider. Ilya was quick to mention that Shane rarely drinks, even in the off season. He mentioned that Shane is a lightweight and also that he often runs when he’s drunk. Troy was confused what Ilya meant by “runs”. Ilya responded with “You know, he is drunk runner. He is flight risk when he is drunk.” Troy didn’t fully comprehend that statement until this moment around the billiards table.
“Yeah, let’s uh, head to that booth and we can maybe get some chips,” Troy stumbled, trying to help but desperately failing.
“I don’t… I don’t want to sit down,” Shane said, glancing at Troy and taking a step backwards. “Why are you… Are you just…” Shane’s eyes fluttered back and forth as if he were reading a book in front of him. He was trying to make sense of the conversation. Shane’s eyes paused and he realized what was happening. They are trying to keep me here. But I’m so free, I don’t have to hide anymore, I can be myself and let Ottawa know who I am. Shane took one deep breath in and out, smiling wide.
“Shane,” Ilya started, reaching for Shane’s wrist. It was already too late. Shane had turned around and bolted out of the bar in one fell swoop. “Shit!” Ilya shouted. The crowd around the billiards table all shared confused glances with each other.
“Did I do something wrong? Shit, I was trying to help!” Troy bellowed to Ilya. He felt awful, as if it were his fault.
“No. Fuck. Is not your fault, we need to find him,” Ilya said, shoving his way through people and high top tables to get towards the front door. Troy followed closely behind.
Once outside, the two men were slapped with the cold breeze of Ottawa’s winter. Luckily there wasn’t any snow on the ground, but fuck was it freezing.
“What do we do?” Troy asks.
“What the fuck do you mean, we fucking find him!” Ilya shouted back.
“But like, where would he go? Is there somewhere he usually goes? What about-”
“Troy, he’s never drunk. I don’t know where he is, if I did then this wouldn’t be a problem. He’s fucking fast, he could be across fucking town by now!” Ilya spat back.
“Ilya,” Troy said, taking a deep breath. “Shane is a grown man. He’ll be fine. He may be drunk but he’s not stupid. He’ll be okay and he’ll turn up eventually. College kids do this shit all the time.” Ilya pondered this for a moment. Troy did have a point. Shane didn’t need to be babysat, but the idea of Shane being out in this cold night, drunk and alone somewhere downtown, sent a shiver down his spine. “My car is around the corner, do you want to drive around looking for him?” Troy asks. Ilya’s face was full of rage, yet he understood there wasn’t much he could do in this situation.
“Fine,” Ilya huffed as he let Troy lead Ilya to his car.
—
The pair drove around a twenty block radius for almost an hour and there were no sightings of Shane. As the two were deciding to call it a night and head back to the bar, Ilya yelped and Troy slammed his car to a stop.
“What?! Do you-”
“His shoe!” Ilya screamed as he bolted out of the car. The Russian quickly crossed the street and picked up a black and white sneaker that lay alone in the middle of the sidewalk. Ilya muttered some Russian curses as Troy quickly pulled off to the side of the road and joined Ilya.
“How do you know it’s his?” Troy asked.
“What other adult man wears Reeboks? And… Yes, Shane wrote his name on the inside.” Ilya says, studying the shoe. It was sopping wet and warm, which confused the Russian, but it was undoubtedly Shane’s.
“Why is Shane writing- you know what, not the problem right now. We’re only a block away from the bar, let’s head back there and see if anyone saw anything.” Troy puts a hand on Ilya’s shoulder trying (and failing) to console him.
“What if…” Ilya’s voice was wavering with each word, “what if something happened to him?”
“Shane can hold his own, I’m sure he’s fine.”
“You don’t know that!” Ilya shot back, tears welling in his eyes as he clutched the dirty, dripping shoe into his chest. “What if someone took him or if he’s hurt or-“
“Stop spiraling, Rozy,” Troy said, “get back in the car, he’s around here somewhere.” Troy let out a heavy sigh. He knew this technically wasn’t his fault, but he couldn’t help but feel responsible for this whole situation. Had Troy spooked Shane? Did he say the wrong thing? What if Shane got fucking abducted or jumped and it’s all Troy’s fault?
Ilya was having a similar inner turmoil. He hadn’t meant to get Shane so drunk. He just wanted Shane to relax a bit, let loose. Not get hammered at a shitty billiards bar. This night was not going at all how Ilya had wanted.
The pair grimly walked back to Troy’s car, shoe in Ilya’s hand. They drove back to the bar in silence, both men worried for Shane but not wanting to show it.
When they got back to the bar and stepped inside the men noticed a crowd at the back corner of the bar by the billiard tables. Ilya wondered who was taking on Wyatt next. The group was very rowdy, not too different from a dance circle at a wedding.
Ilya shook his head as he walked up to the crowd, Troy following closely behind. Ilya went up behind Bood and was about to ask if he had seen Shane when he heard a familiar voice mid-sentence.
“-and then I saved her! I’m going to name her Kotonok! Ilya’s going to love her.”
“I don’t know Shane,” started Wyatt, “I think Ilya is more of a dog person.” Ilya shoved his way past Bood to see Shane. He was sitting cross legged on a pool table with a white cat purring in his lap. Shane was sopping wet and missing one shoe.
“Shane, what the fuck-“
“ILYAAA!” Shane shouted, lighting up like a Christmas tree as soon as he saw his husband. “This is Kotonok! She’s ours now!” He held up the cat to show Ilya. The cat’s legs sagged as her back was pulled up. The whole cat made an arched shape. Kotonok let out a protesting cry and Shane quickly pulled the cat back to his lap.
Ilya shook his head as if it would set the world back to normal.
“Shane!” Ilya yelled. The crowd went silent and Shane’s big doe eyes lazily locked onto Ilya’s concerned blue ones. “What the fuck, Shane! I thought something happened to you! You just run off drunk downtown and you go missing for over an hour? What the actual fuck!”
“Uh ooohh,” Wyatt said, breaking the silence. Harris whispered something into Troy’s ear and he chuckled. Shane burst into tears. For a still moment, everyone silently darted their eyes from the irate Ilya and the sobbing Shane.
“Oh Shanya,” Ilya said, dropping his tense shoulders and walking up to Shane. “This is my fault, I’m sorry, Kotonok.” Ilya gave Shane an awkward hug over the side of the billiards table. The cat jumped out of Shane’s lap and sat down next to Shane.
“Why are you apologizing to the cat?” Shane asked through sniffles and gasps. Ilya sighed. Even when drunk, Shane was overly literal.
“Let’s get you home,” Ilya said.
“No, I don’t want—“ Shane was cut off by Ilya scooping him up and throwing him over his shoulder. Shane tried to wiggle free, but his defenses were futile. “KOTONOK! Ilya, we have to get Kotonok!” Shane started slapping wet wrists onto Ilya’s back like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Ilya gave side eye to Troy, who understood the gesture and scooped up the cat.
“You really named a cat kitten?” Ilya asked.
“Duh, what else would I name it. Puppy?” Shane asked, finally accepting defeat and going slack over the man’s shoulder.
“I like the name,” Ilya said quietly to his husband, “reminds me of you. Now let’s get you home, princess.” Shane’s heart fluttered at the nickname and Ilya could feel Shane’s erection grow against the front of his shoulder.
“Goodbye everyone, see you tomorrow!” Ilya belted as he carried Shane to the door, Troy following closely behind with the cat.
“Bye cap!” Many of the Centaurs responded. Ilya knew he would be hearing more about this tomorrow in the locker room.
“Did you drive? I didn’t see your car,” Troy asks once outside in the chilly night.
“No, I didn’t know how much we would be drinking so we called taxi.”
“I’ll drive you two home then, I’ll text Harris that I’ll be right back.”
“Three. You three. Don’t forget Kotonok,” Shane muttered into Ilya’s shirt, still being lugged over the Russian’s broad shoulder.
Troy shook his head. “Sure. You three.”
“Yayyyy,” Shane sang. Troy opened the back seat of his car and gently tossed the cat in. It meowed in protest and quickly hid under the passenger seat. Ilya laid Shane down across the back seat and then got in next to him. Troy closed the door behind the couple.
“Shane, why are you wet?” Ilya asked as Troy circled to the driver’s seat, quickly typing on his phone.
“From the rain,” Shane responded as if it were obvious.
“It… Shane, it's below freezing. What rain?” Shane just shrugged in response.
The drive home was complete silence aside from the occasional meow from under the passenger seat. Ilya had his hands wrapped around Shane’s soggy midsection as if worried he would bolt from the moving car. Ilya rested his forehead on Shane’s shoulder and kept whispering something in Russian that neither Shane nor Troy could make out, but it seemed to be half anger and half relief.
“Home sweet home,” Troy said, pulling into the long driveway. Shane grunted in response. Troy looked back to see Shane almost asleep in Ilya’s arms.
“You want me to find the cat or do you?” Troy asked Ilya.
“Mmm, don’t let him fool you,” Ilya said, “He will run again. You need to get Kotonok and I will get my Shanya to bed.” Troy nodded in response and watched as Ilya threw a half-asleep Shane over his shoulder once more.
—
Troy was able to yank the cat out from under the passenger seat while only getting a couple scratches to his arm and one to his car’s leather upholstery. In doing so, Troy made a horrible realization. There was a collar on the cat. It had a tag reading “Donut” and had a phone number to call.
“Shit,” Troy muttered to himself. He went into the house, carrying Donut… Kotonok… in with him. Anya was instantly curious about the creature and followed Troy around, trying to sniff at the cat. The cat was furiously meowing and hissing at the dog.
Troy found Ilya and Shane in their bedroom. Shane was passed out diagonally on top of their bed and Ilya was taking off Shane’s single shoe and wet socks.
“I think his other shoe is still at the bar,” Ilya said when he saw Troy walk in.
“Well, it has his name on it,” Troy said with a chuckle. “I’m sure we’ll find it. Ilya, I uh… I think Shane stole the cat,” Troy says quietly as to not wake Shane.
“You… what?” Ilya says, slowly turning to face the man.
“She has a collar, and a nametag with a number. And like… She’s clean and well fed. She doesn’t exactly seem like a stray cat.”
“Blyat,” Ilya muttered to himself.
“He probably won’t even remember the cat, we can just call the number and I can drive it to its home tonight.”
“No,” Ilya started. “No, Shane wouldn’t steal a cat. He has too many, ah, morals… is the word I think.” Ilya rubbed his eyebrows in exhaustion. His Russian accent was growing thicker by the minute as English took longer for him to translate in his sluggish brain.
“Well then what do you want me to do with the cat?” Troy asked as if stating the obvious.
“Leave the cat here, Shane will explain himself in the morning.” Ilya glanced at the clock– it was already almost 2am. Jesus, how long were they out looking for Shane?
“I’m not sure the cat is going to like that, she doesn’t seem to like Anya.”
“Whatever. Fine. Give Kotonok to me,” Ilya said, stretching out his arms for the cat.
“Actually, her name is Donut.” Troy corrects.
“Mmmm, no, she is Kotonok,” Ilya said. Troy rolled his eyes.
“Okay, well I’m Harris’ ride and he’s still at the bar, and it’s fucking two in the morning, so…”
“Yes, yes, you go. I will take care of Kotonok and my sleeping beauty,” Ilya sighed. Troy paused for a moment before turning to walk out the door. “Thank you,” Ilya said, “for everything tonight. It was a mess, I am glad you were here.”
“Of course, Cap,” Troy said, “keep me updated on the cat.” Troy walked out of the bedroom.
—
The following day, Shane slept until one in the afternoon, only a few hours before they had to be at the rink for tonight’s game against Seattle. Ilya, on the other hand, woke up around noon and made himself brunch before going back to bed and laying beside Shane. The cat was curled up next to Shane’s head. Shane slowly blinked awake and stared at the cat beside him in confusion.
“What…” Shane muttered to himself.
“This is our cat, we have a cat now,” Ilya said, pursing his lips and staring lasers down at Shane. There was no doubt Ilya was pissed off at the whole situation and it showed in his tone of voice.
“That… what?” Shane asked again, rubbing his eyes. He looked around the room and let out a big groan when he saw the time. “Fuck, what the fuck,” Shane said, shoving the balls of his palms against his eyes.
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Ilya said. He clicked open the shades using the remote and sunlight beamed into the previously dark room. Shane’s eyes squinted, the light causing the pounding in his head to amplify. Shane reached out and touched the cat. She purred in response and cozied up to Shane’s hand.
“Kotonok?” Shane whispered, eyebrows knitted together.
“Yup,” Ilya replied, “That’s the one.”
“What the fuck happened last night?” Shane stared at the cat.
“Well, you got drunk, you ran out, you were missing for over an hour, you came back wet and with one shoe and with cat. That is what I know, so maybe you can enlighten me.” Ilya said back pointedly. The couple laid in silence for over a minute. Shane wasn’t entirely sure what happened last night, but the more he thought, the more he was able to piece it together.
“I was in that neighborhood behind City Hall, I remember running and seeing a cat in the middle of the street,” Shane spoke slowly and quietly. He was both unsure of the story he was telling and was trying to keep his head from exploding. “A car was coming and the cat wasn’t moving, so I went and grabbed it and took it across the street. Once the car passed it jumped out of my arms and bolted into a backyard. I went to get it…”
“You went into someone’s backyard?” Ilya asked.
“I… I guess I did?” Shane replied. “I hopped a fence and followed it up to the back patio of a house and it kept trying to run away from me, it went up onto the gutters. When I was trying to reach it I climbed onto a hot tub and I think… I think I fell in?”
“Jesus Christ," Ilya said, shaking his head. Drunk Shane was nothing at all like the Shane that he knew and loved.
“And then… and then I don’t know. I just remember being back at the bar with the cat and everyone cheered and then you came in and… that’s kind of all I remember.” Ilya silently nodded, running his tongue over his teeth as he processed his husband’s story. “Ilya,” Shane asked as he scratched the purring cat’s neck. He had spotted the collar. “Did… did I steal this fucking cat?”