Chapter Text
Ilya knew his husband better than almost anyone. He knew all of Shane's emotions and how to care for him if something was wrong, and he knew when Shane was internally panicking or when he was about to have a panic attack. There had been many changes made in the past few months, with both men coming out to the world officially, moving in together, and Shane moving to the Centaurs. Shane didn't do well with change- he never did. So, Ilya really wasn't surprised when he saw his husband pacing around the locker room before a game against his previous team, the Metros.
Since Shane's departure from the Metros, there was a lot of backlash he had to go through. Not only did his announcement of being gay cause chaos amongst the team, it also created a stir on social media; people began to lose interest in the Metros and the Centaurs after the couple came out, and Shane had been threatened multiple times by "fans" and his previous teammates. Ilya had been along for the whole ride, hiding Shane's phone so he wouldn't see the hateful and racist comments on social media, holding him through the tears and panic attacks, and doing his absolute best to distract Shane from thinking any less of himself. Ilya had already been through the rough patch of Shane's life with his eating disorder (that Shane still refused to admit he had) and helping Shane through that was already stressful for the both of them. He really didn't need a repeat of that time of their lives.
That being said, Shane was panicking bad.
It was the first game of the season, a game the Centaurs had been working hard to prepare for and had spent countless hours at practice to prepare for the new season. Shane had been preparing himself, mentally, to face his old teammates during the game, but now that the time was here, his confidence was lacking. Ilya had given him an hour long pep talk before bed last night and early this morning about not letting anything get to him and just keep his head in the game, but it was so much easier said than done. It didn't help that, although Shane had played against the Centaurs many times and has gotten to know them during practice, he still wasn't very comfortable with any of them yet.
Shane has been walking back and forth in the small corner of the locker room for almost 20 minutes now, his hands tangled in his hair as he tried talking to himself to calm his nerves. Ilya sat on one of the benches across from him, watching his husband intensely as he tried to find the perfect time to intervene. It was a sad sight.
"Shane, моя любовь, maybe we should sit for a moment, da? Take a big breath or two." Ilya suggested lightly, his tone low and measured so he could get Shane's attention, but the Canadian only brushed his attempt off and continued to walk back and forth. Ilya could tell the signs of a panic attack brewing and just prayed Shane could get it together in the next 15 minutes before they had to go on the ice.
"I can't do this, Ilya. I-I just can't. They're going to fucking kill me I swear." Shane rushed out, his words slightly slurring together the way they would when Shane was regressed. Ilya raised a brow at the slurred words, trying not to let the panic show on his face as he stood from his spot on the bench and made his way to stand in front of his husband.
"Hollander, breathe. I will not let them hurt you or kill you. Remember, big, strong Russian husband who will never let you get hurt. Follow my breathing, in for four, out for four, follow it with me." Ilya instructed gently, his hands coming to caress Shane's face as he watched the Canadian come to a halt before him, his body tensing under Ilya's touch before he slowly began to follow Ilya's instruction. Shane was just glad the rest of the team wasn't paying any attention to them, most of the Centaurs had their backs turned away from the couple and were doing their own thing. Thankfully.
It took a bit for Shane's breathing to slow down into a more concentrated rate, his body relaxing little by little under Ilya's light touches and gentle instructions. It wasn't until there were 3 minutes until they had to be on the ice when everything came crashing down again. Ilya had just barely managed to bypass a full blown panic attack at the last second, but he watched as Shane's eyes got glossy with unshed tears- a tell-tale sign that Shane was trying to suppress his feelings and was internally panicking.
"Listen to me, Hollander, we need to go out to the ice right now. I know everything feels like a lot right now, but it will be okay. You will not get hurt, I will make sure of that."
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Shane tried to keep his emotions and anxiety at bay once he got onto the ice. The sight of his old teammates made his heart jump, suddenly terrified of what could possibly happen during the game. He knew he needed to focus on the game so he wouldn't let his new team down, but something was off. Still, Shane kept his expressions neutral as he got into his position, one of his former teammates just inches away from him.
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The first half of the game was going easy enough for Shane's anxiety to slowly ease. The Metros had something to say, of course, but between the shouts from the crowd, the ref's whistle, and sound of the skates on the rink, it was kind of hard to hear the derogatory terms being thrown at him.
Until it wasn't easy to ignore.
Shane and Ilya had just skated past a few of the Metros, both of them smiling slightly, even behind the mouth guards resting in their mouths. After a few, short seconds of skating beside his husband, Ilya had to go back to the other side of the rink to attempt to block one of the Metros from getting the puck. Unfortunately, a few guys from the opposing team took that as an opportunity to make their way towards Shane.
"Surprised they let a Little in the NHL. It isn't very common for such a baby to be on the rink without their daddy following their every move." One of the guys mumbled behind Shane, snickering loudly as he skated around the Canadian, the other guy giving Shane a brief shove towards the boards surrounding the perimeter of the rink.
It wasn't the first time Shane faced backlash at being one of the very few Littles in the NHL but, when he did get targeted for it, his mind automatically went into panic mode and sometimes he would regress because of the anxiety.
It wasn't until the fourth comment from different Metro players when Shane's mind couldn't do it anymore. He tried not to shake or wobble too much as he continued to skate around, still trying his absolute best to keep up with his teammates, but he could feel Ilya's eyes boring into the back of his head as he managed to score his first goal of the night. As intermission grew closer, Shane's mind began to slowly grow fuzzy. He wasn't diving head first into headspace like he's done before, but he could feel the creeping sensation in the back of his mind. His skin itched and his body suddenly felt too big for his Little mindset, the hockey gear and uniform he had on was just overwhelming him and the bright lights and screaming were just adding onto the list.
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Ilya made sure to keep an eye on Shane, his gaze flickering to watch his husband any time he didn't have the puck in front of him. He noticed when Shane got shoved twice by some of the Metros players, and he noticed when everything suddenly began to pile onto Shane. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Shane regressing or even showing possible signs of regression during a game was one of Ilya's worst nightmares, knowing that his boy would refuse to admit he was feeling Little and would try to carry on throughout the game. An ice rink surrounded by a bunch of 200-something pound men who, biologically, were all stronger than Shane (and all other Littles) was the last place Ilya wanted his boy to be. Shane was a strong man, he worked out almost every day and kept his diet clean, but when he was regressed, almost any and all Caregivers had an advantage over him due to biology.
Anyone on the ice right now could easily over power Shane if he was showing any sign of regressing.
"Rozanov! Stop eye-fucking your husband and get your head in the game, man." Troy Barrett shouted over the crowd, giving Ilya a light shove to the shoulder as he skated around the captain and made his way towards the player with the puck.
Normally, Ilya would have his full attention on the game and would even give a snarky comment back, but it was kind of hard when the words died in his throat while he watched Shane shove around some of the guys to get to the puck, his movements slowly but surely becoming more and more uncoordinated. He needed to get Shane off the ice.
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"Let go, Hollander. Look, your Papa is right there. Why don't you go cry to him to fix your boo boos?" Ilya overheard one of the Metros comment to his husband as he passed by, he waited for Shane to respond or for the sound of the skates moving, but Ilya heard nothing. He tried not to show any panic as he turned around to check on his husband, but his heart stopped once he turned around to see the very familiar look on Shane's face. The glassy eyes and innocent look on his face was enough for Ilya to know that the mocking had just managed to tip Shane over the edge.
Ilya was quick to skate over to Shane, his eyes widening when Shane's hockey stick fell the ice with a loud thump, his eyes filling with tears quickly- just like they always did when he first went down into headspace.
"What the fuck are you two doing?! Get out of your heads and focus on the fucking game." Troy and Luca both snapped, the rest of the Centaurs coming to meet Shane and Ilya halfway as they circled around the couple, the Metros even circling around to see what happened. The crowd of people caused Shane to shift uncomfortably, his eyes flickering between all the players in panic as he tried his best to avoid going fully into headspace.
"Is he going into headspace in the middle of the game? We can't afford this loss, Rozanov! Get him off the ice for fuck's sake" One of the Centaurs commented, some of the other plays shouting their agreements while some of the Metros began to laugh under their breath and Ilya heard some men say something under their breath about Littles shouldn't be allowed in sports.
Both teams slowly began arguing, some of the players defending Shane, while the rest began arguing and yelling over each other. By this point, Coach Wiebe and Theriault began making their way over to the circle of men, both coaches blowing their whistles loudly until everyone had their eyes on the two of them.
"Hollander and Rozanov, get off the ice. You're both out for the rest of the game. For the rest of you, get back into position. Half the stadium is already leaving because of this shit show." Theriault shouted, pointing to the benches behind him.
Shane's breathing was picking up heavily as he got more worked up, the nerves and anxiety from the entire night began to make a reappearance as he followed Ilya off the ice and into the penalty box. It wasn't until Ilya helped him take his helmet and mouth guard off when he let the tears flow.
"Oh baby, it's okay. I know it was hard, but you did so well." Ilya cooed, standing to engulf his boy into his arms so Shane could cry against his shoulder and get the release he desperately needed.
"I didn't mean to Papa, I swear. I was a big boy the whole game, don' know what happened." Shane sobbed out, gasping for air as he cried into his Papa's jersey harshly.
"I know you were a big boy, you were so good, too, played so much better than Papa. It's Papa's fault, though, he should've let you regress for a bit the other night so you weren't so anxious and worked up, da?" Ilya whispered, pressing gentle kisses to Shane's hair while the Little continued to work himself up into a sobbing mess in his arms. Shane was shaking his head before Ilya could even finish his sentence, mumbling about how it wasn't Papa's fault and he should've been better. Something Ilya heavily disagreed with.
From the rink, Ilya could hear the reporters narrating what had just happened, and he could still hear some of the players arguing. This is what he had been afraid of. It wasn't Shane's fault, not at all, and Ilya actually did have a part to play in why Shane dropped so quickly; Ilya had been meaning to make time in both of their schedules for Shane to go down into headspace, but he had been too busy and didn't have time to before the season started again. It was crucial for Littles to go down in headspace at least twice a month so their hormones would be balanced. All Littles were different, and Shane actually could go a bit longer than a month without dropping, but when he was due for a drop, anything could push him headfirst into headspace; especially someone, a Caregiver, mocking him.
"Roz, why don't you take him home? I'll talk with press about everything and make sure not too much gets out, but I think it's best if you get him home. " Coach Wiebe suggested lightly, standing a few feet away from the couple as Ilya worked on calming his boy down.
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Shane was still crying slightly as Ilya helped change him out of his skates and his gear, quiet sniffles and hiccups coming from the Little every few seconds as Ilya helped change him into some sweats.
"I know, sweetheart, so many big feelings. Papa will take full blame for this, okay? We don't even have to think about this for the rest of the night. We're gonna go home and get into a nice, warm shower and have some dinner and go lay down. I know you're so tired and sad, but Papa will make it all better, da?"
Ilya tried to ignore the guilt he carried as he carried a crying Shane on his hip, tucking the Little's face into the crook of his neck so Shane could hide his face from the paparazzi circling around the block.
There were already news reports and articles made about Shane going down during a game. The game wasn't even over yet.