MM17SS

Xian Le



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    “Uh,” he says, looking up from his screen and feeling his ears go hot, realizing for the first time that this habit of his hasn’t actually come up before until this exact moment.

    “What?” Rozanov asks, sounding more amused than anything else. “You are one of the people who does Instagram for food now?”

    “No,” Shane says, stalling between answering and finishing his Snap so he can send it to Melissa, “one sec.” He finishes typing out 'Tuna melt. Chips. Pickles. It smells really good. Swiss cheese, I think.' before he looks back to Rozanov, putting his phone facedown on the coffee table. “Just sending it to someone on the staff. She likes knowing what I’m eating.”

    He doesn’t know if Melissa likes knowing what he’s eating, per se, but she also seems pleased when he talks about enjoying food for things beyond how many grams of protein it has in it.

    “Ah,” Rozanov says, in a tone Shane can’t quite read. “You always send her your food then, this girl?”

    (shane has a habit of sending his team's dietician his meals for approval) (the problem with this habit? he forgets to tell ilya exactly what it is that melissa does) (how the tuna meltdown is AVERTED through the power of miscommunication)

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    13 Jul 2026

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    “Go?” Rozanov repeats, and Shane thinks he manages to nod, thinks he manages to spin some kind of excuse that he knows Rozanov doesn’t really buy, but he needs to go. He needs to get out of here. He needs to find somewhere quiet and calm where he can ride out this panic and painful tightness until he can catch his breath again. He needs-

    He needs to go.

    “I’m sorry,” he says, turning heel and resisting the urge to just book it right for the front door only because he’d rather not have to explain to Hayden why he returned from a hookup with Boston Lily in men’s clothes that he certainly didn’t leave in.

    It’s not until he makes it halfway up the stairs to Rozanov’s bedroom that it occurs to him in a cold rush that it isn’t just anxiety that makes it this hard to breathe.

    “No,” he tells himself firmly, white knuckling the bannister and trying to take a deep breath just to prove that he can.

    It wheezes.

    (how the tuna meltdown is averted through the power of food allergies and anaphylaxis)

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    13 Jul 2026

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    “The arena is just buzzing with nervous energy after that hit, ladies and gentlemen at home. And down on the ice, it looks like we have-...hold on…is that...

    Ilya Rozanov…crawling to Shane Hollander?”

    In which instead of Marleau, it is Ilya who crashes into Shane.

    The way they choose to deal with the fallout surprises them both.

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    12 Jul 2026

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    Cliff watches him squeeze the phone between his cheek and shoulder, lifting the jersey over his head as he continues to talk, a bit distracted now by the multitasking.

    “And was good practice, you know, for when I am your husband."

    Immediately, the locker room goes dead silent. And so does Rozanov, in fact.

    In which Ilya accidentally calls himself Shane's future husband in the middle of the Bears locker room. Worse still, they're not even dating yet.

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    12 Jul 2026

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    “It’s not something we’ve discussed too much,” Shane admits reluctantly. “I mean, I think we talked about it once or twice, after being around Hayden’s kids. But…I was afraid…I don’t know if you want…” His sentence falters and he presses a hand to his stomach, inhaling slowly like he’s trying to soothe more nausea.

    It takes Ilya’s brain a few moments to process, to catch up, to piece together this half-filled puzzle Shane’s laying out for him.

    “We talked about having babies,” Ilya supplies, arching an eyebrow, “are you trying to say we are…having a baby?”

    Shane sucks in another slow, controlled breath. “Um, yeah. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

    “You are pregnant?”

    Wincing, the shorter man nods. “Mhm.”

     

    -or, vignettes of shane's unexpected pregnancy-

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    06 Jul 2026