Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Shane - Late 2016

It’s been a crazy year, Shane thinks to himself, driving to practice on a cold December morning. He’d led his team to back-to-back Championships, ended his on-off situationship with Ilya Rozanov, briefly dated his favorite movie star, and realized after years of questioning his sexuality that he’s gay.

He’d come out to Rose first. Things were great between them: they never ran out of things to talk about, between their crazy lives as celebrities or their shared love of hockey and movies. But sexually, things never seemed to connect.

So when Shane said the words “I’m gay” at dinner with Rose, he felt such a strong mix of emotions. Heartbreak because he couldn’t be the boyfriend she deserved. Relief at finally having told another human soul this truth about himself. Elation at being accepted and loved as his fully authentic self.

Their relationship only got better as friends rather than romantic partners. Of course, the media didn’t know they weren’t dating anymore, so anytime they met up for lunch or Rose cheered Shane on in the stands, there was a new headline in the gossip rags about Hollandry.

He came out to his parents next. This was tougher for Shane, having been conditioned to be hockey’s Golden Boy™. As expected, David and Yuna took the news with love and acceptance. His parents were completely supportive of his decision to come out, strengthening Shane’s courage going into the next chapter of his journey.

After a lengthy discussion with his agent, Farah Jalali, Shane made a plan to come out to his teammates after practice. He knew exactly what he was going to say, having rehearsed it in the mirror until he could say the words in his sleep. He mumbled the words as he drove to the arena, and they sat in the back of his mind through every drill and scrimmage.

Finally, Coach Desjardins dismissed them to shower and leave for the day. Once the team was in the locker room, Shane took a deep breath and called the room to attention.

“Okay, guys, good practice. Before you leave, I just want to tell you I’m so proud to be your Captain for our seventh season together. You guys know I’m an only child, so you’ve all been my brothers on and off the ice. I feel it’s as good a time as any to tell you something really important about me: I’m gay. This is me coming out, telling the people I’m closest to first before I tell the rest of the world. So…yeah, that about covers it.”

Hayden and JJ start a round of applause for Shane, heartily embracing him. Others in the locker room join the slow-building ovation. Nods, weighted looks, and a low murmur spread across the room until it’s swallowed by a sudden exclamation.

“Hell yeah, that’s my motherfucking Capitaine!! And if anyone gives you shit for being gay, the fuckers can take it up with me!” JJ declares, looking around the room with a sternness uncommon for the usually jovial defenseman.

“That goes double for me!” Hayden concurs. “Shane, I love you, brother. My wife and kids love you. I got your back in here, on the ice, and anywhere else we find ourselves.”

Miitka and Andropov join in with shouts of “Fuck yeah!!” and Shane breathes a sigh of relief. Some of the other players exchange looks, ranging from curiosity to respect to shock. Nobody says anything out of the way, but for now, the room feels safe. The clamor echoes off the high ceilings, surrounding Shane in a cloud of support.

After they’ve left the locker room, Hayden catches up to Shane in the corridor.

“Hey, Shane! Glad I caught you. Can we talk?” he asks, face red as if he’d sprinted from the upper concourse of the arena.

“Sure, Hayd. What’s up?”

“First off, I’m so fucking proud of you. That took some serious balls coming out to the guys, and you smashed it!”

“Thanks, I’m glad it’s over. You know I’m not one for speeches.”

“Yeah, but you handled it like a champ. Which brings me to something I wanted to ask you about.” Shane stops at Hayden’s words, throwing an incredulous look at the Assistant Captain.

“Should I be scared right now? Do I need to call Jackie?”

“Oh no! It’s nothing like that.” Reassured, Shane catches up to Hayden and falls into step with him as they continue heading to their respective vehicles.

“So have you told Rose you’re gay?”

“Yeah, she was one of the first people I told.”

“So are you still dating? Like as a cover?”

“Oh no, we’re not a couple anymore. We’re just friends. The media just likes us together, I guess.” Shane shrugs his unencumbered shoulder, resigning himself to the whims of the press.

“Okay, fair. You two have that look.”

“Dude, what look?” Shane asks, clearly not understanding where Hayden’s going with this.

“That Brangelina look. Like a Hollywood couple looks. Like you-should-be-on-a-red-carpet-somewhere look. I don’t know, Jackie explains it better!” Hayden exclaims as Shane giggles.

“I never thought about that, but thanks.”

“Sure, man. And I was also wondering…what about Boston Lily?”

“What about Boston Lily?” Shane asked, voice low, shaky.

“What about her?! She’s been your secret hookup for years! You downplay it, but I know this girl means something to you, man. I get that you’re gay, but you have to admit she is important to you in some capacity. You haven’t gone to see her in the last three games we were in Boston. Was she the first person you told?”

Hayden’s impassioned speech stops Shane in his tracks. They’re only a few meters away from Shane’s Land Rover but he hadn’t expected Hayden to remember his secret fuckbuddy.

“Okay, Hayd. I’ll tell you… but only in the car.”

Shane starts moving with purpose, body suddenly tense. He unlocks the vehicle and climbs in the driver’s seat. He waits a few beats for Hayden to get settled in the passenger seat, exhales, then turns to Hayden.

“First, I’m so sorry I lied. I was protecting myself and ‘Lily’ because we both had a secret, but ‘Lily’ has so much more to lose than I do. So here’s the truth that I can share: the person I was seeing, that I’ve referred to as ‘Lily’, isn’t a woman. He’s a man.”

“Holy shit,” Hayden breathed, running his hands over his face.

“Oh my god, that’s why you never brought her — er, him — around. Why you hardly brought him up, why he never joined the WAGs chat…it’s all making sense now. Dude, I’m shocked. I never would’ve been able to carry that secret as long as you did.”

“Oh, I know Hayd. You can’t keep shit to yourself longer than five minutes,” Shane comments, starting to relax now.

“Fuck you, I can last ten minutes!”

They burst out laughing, the tension from the previous moments dissipating into the air. Once they had both caught their breath and wiped the tears from their eyes, Hayden spoke.

“Okay, so I guess that answers the question of ‘Does Lily know?’”

“So, I haven’t formally told him I’m gay. We broke up before I met Rose.”

“Oh, so is that something you’re interested in doing, coming out — or I guess confirming you’re gay — to ‘Lily?’”

“I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it much. I don’t really talk to him much these days.”

“Well, either way, I appreciate you telling me, for apologizing, but you had good reason for lying. Keeping you and ‘Lily’ safe is more important than anything.

“I’m sorry I pushed so hard for you to bring him around. And for some of the idiotic things I’ve said. I know other guys have said way worse, but I didn’t stand up against it. And I’m disappointed in myself, and ashamed. Like that must’ve hurt.”

Shane nodded, eyes glistening with unshed tears. He smiled, and that’s when the first drops rolled down his cheeks.

“Yeah, it did. But thank you for apologizing. It means a lot. That you’re the stand-up guy I always knew you to be.”

“Okay, come here. Hug it out.” Hayden pulled Shane in for a hug and shed a few tears of his own over his friend’s shoulder.

Ilya - Christmas Eve 2016

It’s been a hell of a year for Ilya Rozanov. His father’s health was rapidly declining, his brother asked for exorbitant amounts of money to blow on God knows what, he’d watched Shane lead the Metros to a second Stanley Cup in as many years, and somehow bore his soul to the rival Captain in such a way that drove him into the arms of a Hollywood starlet.

Fuck my life, Ilya thought as Alexei’s name appeared on his phone screen. He ignores the call, tucks his phone into his cubby, and retrieves his helmet.

The Raiders coach says a few words about continuing the success they’ve built over the year so they can celebrate with full hearts afterward. Ilya doesn’t usually listen to Coach’s speeches, but he kept it short this time. After he leaves the locker room, Ilya stands and turns to address his team.

“Okay, boys! Last game before the holidays. I know you all have planned a holiday party and got me a present, which I will accept after the game. I will say the only thing I want this year is to fuck Montreal!! Now let’s go out there and fucking win this!!”

The locker room erupts in cheers, and the Raiders pour onto the ice in a tidal wave of energy. Ilya’s speeches had that effect of sharpening the already raucous energy into a weapon on the ice. The ensuing 3-2 Montreal victory was bittersweet on Ilya’s tongue as he wished his team “Happy Holidays” as he ducked out of the bar to text the one person who’d been on his mind.

Ilya’s Uber arrived at the apartment building with two minutes to spare. Christmas Eve traffic in Montreal was more congested than he had anticipated.

He made sure to tip his driver a little extra ($200 to be exact) for their effort to get him there on time. Ilya jotted off a quick text announcing he was here, and he barely had time to wonder what Shane wanted to talk about before he opened the side door.

“Hey,” Shane says softly, holding the door open for Ilya. His usually teary eyes lack their usual sparkle as he smiles, and Ilya braces himself for a difficult conversation.

“Hi,” Ilya replies, following Shane inside, ascending the stairs to his apartment.

“Good game today. It was a nail-biter towards the end there.”

“Yes, but you pulled it out at the end. Nice backhand.”

Ilya’s words stop Shane in his tracks. He’s been giving him shit about his backhand for as long as they’ve known each other. He stands in front of Ilya, searching his face for a hint of his usual sarcasm, a sign of a joke underneath the uncharacteristic compliment.

“Are you feeling okay? You never compliment my backhand. Not once. Even in your text earlier, you were teasing me about it.”

“I don’t know Hollander. You say, ‘We need to talk.’ Those are heavy words, words that come before difficult conversations. So, I come so we can talk.”

Shane lets out a long, slow breath and leads Ilya to the living room couch. He starts walking to the kitchen, returns to Ilya in the living room, then makes for the kitchen again.

“Please sit down. Can I get you something: water, ginger ale, Coke?”

“No, thank you. Come sit before you wear a hole in the floor.” Shane goes to the fridge and gets a can of ginger ale for himself, cracking it open before joining Ilya on the couch.

“Okay, so, I have something important to tell you.”

Shane pauses, taking a deep breath. Time slows as Ilya braces himself to hear the thing he’s feared Ilya, Rose and I are engaged. Ilya, Rose is pregnant. Ilya, I’m moving to LA to be with Rose.

“Ilya, I’m gay.” Well, that was a surprise. Ilya slumps over his lap, resting his head in his hands as his body shakes with relief. “Ilya? Ilya, are you okay?”

Shane asks, resting a hand on Ilya’s back as he shakes with…sobs? Laughter? It’s hard to tell from sitting next to him. Shane wraps his arms around Ilya’s torso and pulls him into a hug.

“Oh my god, I thought this was going to be hard! Don’t fucking scare me like that again!”

Ilya moved his hands away from his face to hold Shane closer, and it’s clear that he’s been crying. Shane rubs Ilya’s back slowly. He’s not done, but better to let Ilya get through this moment than dump everything on him at once.

“I’m sorry I scared you. It felt like a lot…to me. I suppose I didn’t think we’d have two different ideas of what serious might mean.”

“It’s okay. I forgive you.”

“And I’m sorry for how I left you back in Boston earlier this year. That was rude of me. I should’ve told you how I was feeling.”

“Shane, I mean it. I forgive you. For all of it.”

Ilya leans in, and Shane meets him halfway. Like a moth to a flame, Shane found Ilya’s kisses irresistible. But somehow he’d have to try. Before he gets totally lost in Ilya, he pulls back. This time, the moisture on Ilya’s face is from Shane’s tears.

“Then can you forgive me for saying I can’t do this anymore? I feel so much for you, Ilya, that it scares me. I can’t be sure I can trust it. How do I know this is real and not just…right because you’re the only man I’ve been with?”

Ilya sighed. It wasn’t pleasant knowing that Shane was ending their situationship. But knowing that Shane wasn’t leaving him for Rose was enough.

“No, no, you’re right. I want you to meet people, to learn what you like, who you like. Even if it’s not me. It’ll be good for you. I know it’s hard…like growing pains. But growth is still growth, yes?”

Ilya wipes the tears from Shane’s eyes with his thumbs so tenderly as if afraid of erasing the freckles on his skin.

“I am so proud of you. You’re being so brave, stepping into a new world.”

“Are you sure?” Shane asks, voice thick with emotion.

“I’m very sure. You’re your own man. A butterfly with new wings. You need to fly on your own to strengthen them.”

Shane looked down and saw Ilya’s eyes wide and damp with tears. He’s never seen Ilya look so open, so vulnerable, so happy. It seemed wrong for there to be joy in a breakup, but for this fucked up situation they were in, it worked.

They laughed together, holding each other as they came down from the emotional rollercoaster. Shane turned the TV on, the movie Elf playing on low.

“So why aren’t you with your parents tonight?” Ilya asked, his head lying in Shane’s lap.

“They were at the game, and I told them I’d see them tomorrow for Christmas, but I had a guest coming tonight,” Shane explained, fingers playing in Ilya’s curls.

Ilya nodded under Shane’s hand, watching as Buddy restored Christmas spirit to the city. The movie ended, the clock struck twelve, and Montreal sparkled with holiday cheer.

“Shane?”

“Yeah, Ilya?”

“Your Christmas is very boring.”

“Fuck you! I don’t usually have my archrival-turned-fuckbuddy over for Christmas,” Shane retorted with mock seriousness. “I did get you a present, though.”

“I got you one too, but it’s in the mail.”

“Yeah, sure, Rozanov.”

Shane patted Ilya’s shoulder, signaling him to get up. Shane crossed over to the Christmas tree in the corner. In his stress over the anticipated conversation, Ilya didn’t notice how Shane had taken the time to decorate. Evergreen boughs hung from the banisters by red ribbons. The artificial tree was bedecked in red and blue Metros ornaments and white tinsel. It was simple, not fussy, very Shane, and Ilya smiled wanly as he took it all in.

Shane returned a few minutes later with a small red gift bag, the tag simply labeled “Lily.”

“Merry Christmas, Ilya,” Shane said cheerfully as he handed him the bag. The surprise on Ilya’s face was plain as day, as if he’d been expecting it was all an elaborate prank.

“May I open it?”

“Sure, if you want to.” Shane sat back down on the couch, looking more relaxed than he had all night.

Ilya opened the bag and pulled out a snowglobe with the Toronto city skyline inside. He gave it a little shake and watched the snow swirl around. The meaning of it wasn’t lost on him. Toronto marked the start of a story that was rapidly closing.

“I love it. Thank you, Shane.”

“You’re welcome. I didn’t want you to think…that it didn’t mean anything to me. You changed my life.”

“Of course I did. Before you were best hockey player Canada ever saw. Now you’re second best.”

“Why do I even try?” Shane asks, rolling his eyes.

“Because you’re Shane fucking Hollander. You’re the most genuine person I know. And I love to push your buttons.”

“Sounds about right.”

“And if you don’t like the butt plug, just throw it out. No hard feelings.” Ilya gets up, checking the time on his phone. “I’ve got to be going. Early flight tomorrow.”

“Yeah, of course. Thanks for stopping by.” Shane stands up, walking Ilya to the door.

“I’ll always come when you call, Shane,” Ilya admits with a shy smile, his ears turning the slightest bit redder.

“Ilya…”

“No, I mean it. Call me. Anytime, anything. If you need somebody’s ass beat because he stood you up, I’ll be there with a shovel.”

“Ilya — wait, a fucking shovel?! You’ve got to be kidding,” Shane laughs and playfully pushes Ilya to the door.

“Okay, maybe not a shovel, but I will show up when you need me. Just because we don’t fuck doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

Now it’s Shane’s turn to blush, his cheeks pink and his eyes shining. He wraps his arms around Ilya’s waist and lays his head on his shoulder. The words I love you were so close, they hovered just under the surface of every word, every breath. But this was for the best. They both needed the space, and one day, who knows what the future might bring.

Shane opened his eyes and saw the sprig of mistletoe hanging from the doorframe. The decorator must’ve added it because Shane certainly didn’t buy mistletoe or instruct them to hang any. But right now, he could hardly think of a more fitting goodbye.

“Ilya,” he prompted one more time, pointing above them as he caught the Russian’s attention.

“Merry Christmas, Shane,” Ilya whispered, pulling him closer as they sealed this chapter of their story with one last perfect kiss.

Ilya’s present arrives just before New Year’s Eve. Shane signed the courier’s clipboard and took the surprisingly thin, wide box from her with careful hands, noting the word “FRAGILE” stamped on the front. He laid it on his coffee table and opened it carefully, finding a framed picture of himself from the CCM shoot in Toronto. A shot he hadn’t remembered posing for, but clearly he had.

The shot was in profile, zoomed in on Shane’s face as he smiled at someone — probably Ilya, during one of the times they broke character — out of the shot. As Shane lifted the frame out of the box, a short handwritten note fell out.