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“How’s Lily?” Hayden asked and Shane could hear the smirk even though the hotel room was dark and he couldn’t actually see Hayden’s face as he climbed into his own bed. He’d really been hoping that Hayden would sleep through Shane sneaking back into their room tonight.
“Who?”
Hayden’s responding snort was loud in their quiet room. “Dude.”
Shane sighed.
“You never come out with us when we play in Boston. Haven’t you noticed no one even tries to force you to anymore? We all know by now that you’re going to see your Boston Lily.”
Shane’s chest tightened at the realization of how obvious he’d been in seeing Rozanov. It was supposed to be an absolute secret to keep them both safe and he hated that he wasn’t as sneaky as he thought. Surely Rozanov didn’t have this same issue when he came to see Shane in Montreal because… Well because Rozanov probably had someone he saw in every city so his team didn’t even question his disappearance. While the thought of Rozanov with others made him grimace into the darkness of the hotel room, at least Rozanov wasn’t putting them at risk of discovery like Shane had been doing.
Which… maybe Shane should take a page out of Rozanov’s book and… well he was never going to be the kind of guy who had a hook-up (is that even what his brain thought Rozanov was?) in every city… if he could make his teammates think that he did… Well, then they’d also stop harassing him to go out with them to party after every away game.
A small smile pulled at Shane’s lips. Two birds with one stone.
“Maybe one of us should get Hollander’s number and ask the best place to hook up in Utah.” Carmichael smirked as he said it, even as he kept his eyes on the small screen in the corner of their locker room where the Metros were currently up 2-0 over the newly minted Utah team.
“What?” Ilya asked sharply, since none of the words out of Carmichael’s mouth had made sense.
“My buddy, Mitchell, who was traded over to the Metros last year, says Hollander’s got a girl in every city this season,” Carmichael shrugged. “But, Utah is new, so he’s probably gonna be on the hunt tonight, eh? He could give us a heads up on where to go before we’re there next week.”
St-Simon, who stood next to Carmichael, hummed. “I wonder if he uses a specific app, though, instead of hoping to get lucky in some local club. Dude has always seemed a little awkward off the ice.”
“Well, we can ask which app, then,” Carmichael shrugged.
“You are not asking Hollander anything,” Marly laughed. “If he’s finally getting out there to get some, let the man live. He doesn’t give off the vibe like he wants you in his personal life. Right, Cap?”
Marly nudged his elbow into Ilya’s ribs with the question and it was first time he remembered to exhale and… breathe. What even was this conversation? Shane was going out after every game to hook up? Surely the fuck not.
Right?
They were supposed to be getting dressed for their own game. The only reason the Metros-Utah game was playing in the Raiders’ locker room was because they’d reached the point in the season where each win mattered for guaranteed playoff spots and they were trying to keep tabs on the Metros. So far, it looked like the Metros were taking the points for this game. The Raiders would need to beat Tampa tonight. At least they had home ice advantage.
“Maybe he just realized, like, this season, that he’s famous and also realized that girls probably like that,” Carmichael chuckled. “He should’ve asked Roz for tips years ago.”
Ilya pulled the laces on his skates tighter than he should’ve. Why were they still talking about Hollander? He lifted his eyes back to the screen and glared at on-screen Hollander.
On-screen Hollander was bent at the waist for a face-off and it reminded Ilya of how he’d bent Hollander at the waist last time they met, when they couldn’t even make it up to Hollander’s bedroom and had just fucked over the side of his couch. It was a good memory. The way Hollander’s back and shoulder muscles always felt under Ilya’s palms. The sounds he made and the volume he reached any time they were in one of their homes instead of a hotel room.
The thought of Hollander letting someone else hear that, see that, do that… Did they kiss him as well as Ilya did? Did they take care of him? Was Hollander as pliant for them? Did he wear that same soft, fucked out expression by the end of it?
He shook his head as if he could shake the thoughts away. It was ridiculous to get mad or whatever about it. The Raiders had been in Philly two nights ago and Ilya had brought a girl back to his hotel room. Who the fuck cares what Hollander does after his own away games? Aside from the games that bring him to Boston anyway.
Luckily, the guys’ conversation moved on to the absolutely beautiful goal Hollander had just whipped into the back of Utah’s net. Ilya pursed his lips to keep a smile contained as he watched Hollander’s grin as he celebrated with his teammates.
He scowled only a moment later, though, when he realized the game was down to the last two minutes, which meant Hollander would be freed from the ice and the stadium and the watchful eyes of his teammates to go do… whatever he wanted for the rest of the day. While the Metros had had an afternoon game, Boston’s was only just about to begin.
With the different time zones to consider as well… Shane now had soooo many hours before he’d be expected to be back at his team hotel tonight.
Unless Montreal was flying out right after their game? He knew the Metros were on a West Coast road trip, but he didn’t know any further details. He and Hollander didn’t really text that often outside of when they were about to see each other. He pulled up their schedule on his phone. Montreal was headed to Vegas next (fucking hell – he knew from personal experience the things someone could get up to in Vegas) but that game wasn’t until Monday night. They could stay in Utah tonight, fly to Vegas tomorrow? That left a lot of loose time in both Utah and Vegas…
Ilya threw his phone back into the top shelf of his stall and turned in time to watch some random Metros player score an empty netter in the last minute.
It had never really occurred to him how many hours were free to a person on their roadies. Maybe someone should look into that. Maybe the league needed to institute a policy that they all stuck together as a team outside of game time. Call it bonding time or something.
Shane had once again used his most innocent expression as he told his teammates he had plans tonight, before escaping the hotel lobby (and their crude shouts about what they assumed he was going to be doing) and into his waiting Uber.
It’d been a couple months and not only had Shane’s teammates bought that he was meeting up with someone instead of heading to the club with them, but he was becoming a pretty decent tourist. He didn’t really want to be spotted while he was out (plus if he was photographed anywhere alone it would blow his cover) so he researched each city ahead of time and chose something that was maybe not the most popular tourist attraction but would entertain him for a few hours.
Tonight, he had his driver make a stop on the way to his true destination in order to see the 2002 Winter Olympics Cauldron at the Rice-Eccles Stadium. It wasn’t dark yet, so the cauldron wasn’t lit up, but it was still impressive and he had enjoyed reading about its history on the plane ride to Utah. He took a quick selfie with it to send to his parents later.
They don’t love that he’s playing tourist by himself in each city and he doesn’t know how to explain to them that no, he cant ask a teammate to tag along. He’s taken to sharing photos and stories about what he’s seen, but only after he’s back in his hotel so they don’t worry as much.
By the website, Shane had assumed the Utah Natural History Museum was small (and hopefully not very busy) and that he’d be through it fairly quickly. He’d been to plenty of museums with his parents over the years but his mother had treated museums like a personal speedwalking challenge and Shane was always too competitive to stay behind and read plaques with his dad. In his recent tourist adventures, though, he’d become a plaque reader and had actually spent hours wandering from exhibit to exhibit tonight.
So, it wasn’t until he was ordering his Uber back to the hotel that he noticed that he had a few missed texts from Rozanov. It was odd timing, since Rozanov had a game tonight in Boston. He’s even more confused when he converts the local time shown on his phone to the East Coast time zone. Six-seventeen in Utah is eight-seventeen in Boston. That would mean Rozanov texted him during Boston’s first intermission, which… doesn’t make sense. They don’t even text each other in the middle of games when they’re playing each other. All plans to meet up are sent either before or afterwards.
Lily (6:17 pm): Hey
Lily (6:22 pm): Your goal in the 3rd looked like the one I scored against Carolina
Lily (6:22 pm) Been watching my games? Taking notes?
Still, Shane huffed a small laugh and shook his head at his phone.
Shane (8:57 pm): You wish dude
He expected that to be the end of it. It had been a few hours since Rozanov texted him. And while it’s almost eleven at night in Boston, which isn’t that late, he’s still surprised when Rozanov responds immediately.
Lily (8:58 pm): Is late for you yes? You been hanging out at hotel? Getting ready for bed now?
Shane was pulled away from the message as he recognized his assigned Uber pull up. But once he was settled in the back seat, he re-read Rozanov’s message and then frowned at his phone.
Shane (9:04 pm): I’m not back at the hotel yet but I’m sharing a room with Hayden so I’m not sexting you
Lily (9:05 pm): Who brought up sexting? Not me. An innocent man
Shane: (9:05 pm): You’ve never been an innocent man
Lily (9:06 pm): You wound me. I am wounded.
Shane found himself grinning at his phone.
Shane (9:06 pm): You are not.
Lily (9:07 pm): Ow Hollander. Ow
So, for whatever reason, Hollander has been too busy to see Ilya’s text for a couple hours. Whatever. It’s not like Ilya checked his phone during the second intermission so many times that Marly began sending him a judgmental side eye. Or again after the game. Or as soon as he was out of the shower. Or as soon as he had driven himself home. He truly doesn’t care that much about what or who Hollander was doing in that time.
At least Hollander had finally responded and he even eventually confirmed to Ilya when he was safely back in his hotel room. So at least Ilya knows that Hollander and the Utah mystery dick didn’t spend the entire night together.
And since Hollander had returned to a conveniently empty hotel room, he’d even managed to convince Hollander to swap a couple before and after dick pics (with the promise to delete them). Surely whoever he’d been with earlier that night couldn’t have been too satisfying considering how easy it has been to convince Hollander to sext with him after all.
They hadn’t really sexted before, and Ilya knows now that they’d been missing out. Maybe he could even work Hollander up to a Facetime call for it. Since they were on unprecedented ground now anyway, Ilya decided to keep going. If Hollander was going to keep responding to his texts… why stop now?
Hollander told him about a reality wilderness show he’d found on TV and Ilya quickly found it so he could watch it too. They even began joking back and forth about who would survive in the wilderness the longest. (Shane thinks he can build a fire without matches and Ilya believes the wildlife would sense his love for animals and therefore team up with him to bring him food).
Jane: That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard
Jane: If you’re ever in the wilderness like this, please run away from the animals and not towards them
Ilya: You do not understand. They would sense my whimsy and lead me to safety
Jane: Whimsy? Who taught you that word?
Jane: Hold on, I’m going to search for a picture of a moose or a bear next to a person and you’ll see why you should avoid them
Ilya: Pretty sure all bears need hugs. That’s why bear hugs are named after them.
Jane: jfc
Jane: Please have some self-preservation
Ilya: You worried about me? That’s cute Hollander
Jane: Fine. Let the bear maul you.
Ilya’s just glad no one else is around to see him sprawled across his bed grinning at phone.
Jane: Speaking of animals, I learned a fun fact after my game today.
Jane: Did you know pterodactyls weren’t dinosaurs? They were flying reptiles
Ilya stared at that last text for a few extra seconds, first to make sure he was translating it correctly and then to wonder just who the fuck would have a naked Hollander in bed with them and decide to share nerdy dinosaur facts?
Is that the kind of pillow talk Hollander likes? Would this Utah guy become more of a favorite than Ilya because of it? Fuck, does he need to learn about dinosaurs?
Ilya does manage to learn from Shane that the Metros are flying out of Utah first thing in the morning, landing in Vegas in time for a late afternoon practice, and then the team has Sunday evening to do whatever they want in the City of Sin before Monday is filled with morning practice, scheduled time for media, and then rest before the evening game.
He vows to do a better job this time and actually keep Hollander’s attention for himself for that duration of free time. Who knows what kind of guy Hollander has lined up in Vegas. Definitely not a guy who reserves a penthouse for Hollander. And probably not someone who makes sure to take his time with Hollander or focuses on that spot behind his ear that makes him arch and release one of those throaty groans Ilya likes so much. Some random guy doesn’t deserve those things anyway.
He decides to skip texting this time and just call at about the time he thinks Hollander would be free.
“Hello?” Hollander's tone is clearly confused, but Ilya ignores that and feels something settle inside him at the familiar deep tone. It’s truly a shame he does not get to hear Hollander’s voice more often.
Well, what he can hear of it anyway. The background noise is loud. Not necessarily club music but there is music and the general sounds of a crowd.
“Rozanov? You okay?”
He probably should’ve planned a little further than Call Hollander and keep him from sleeping with some stupid Vegas man.
“Yes, just wondering what you’re watching in Vegas hotel room?”
“Oh,” Hollander uttered, a single syllable full of surprise. “Well, uh, I’m out right now. Actually, I have to go, because it’s a… scheduled thing, but I can text you later? When I’m back in the room?”
Ilya’s mouth open and shut a few times, but he couldn’t come up with anything that would keep Hollander on the phone with him.
“I mean, I get it you’re going to be busy later,” Hollander said in a rush after Ilya failed to initially respond. “It’s okay if you can’t respond. But I’ve gotta go. Bye, Rozanov.”
And then he was gone. The crowd and noise of Vegas had won Hollander’s attention. Whatever he was doing, he was doing it publicly, which admittedly, did not fit what Ilya knew about Hollander. But maybe he and some Vegas loser were just meeting up in public and counting on the crazy Vegas crowd to allow them to slip away somewhere private without anyone noticing.
He wouldn’t say he sits at home seething that night. But add in the now three hour time difference between them and it’s late in Boston by the time Shane texts him. And when he does, Ilya is once again not sure what to make of it.
Jane: Have you ever seen the movie Moulin Rouge?
Ilya: It is on now?
Jane: No, I’m not back to the hotel yet.
Jane: Just wondering if you’ve seen it?
Ilya is beginning to feel a little delirious. It’s late and he hasn’t been sleeping well (for reasons he doesn’t want to examine) and he’s exhausted. What is it Hollander is trying to tell him? Isn’t that movie about some guy who’s hopelessly in love with someone he can’t have?
After what was already a disappointing evening, he falls asleep before he can respond.
For their final game of their West Coast roadie, the Metros are in LA.
Ilya hates it. Hates that he personally knows how easy it is to slip in and out of the LA gay clubs unnoticed. Hates that someone else might get to wrap their hands around Hollander’s hips and dance with him. Not that he can really picture Hollander willingly dancing, but he knows it’s mainly grinding in those places, anyway…
He also hates that he has his own game tonight and that the Raiders are boarding a plane directly afterwards to begin their own road trip to Utah, so he’ll be on a plane during Shane’s game and the period of time after Shane’s game when Shane is free to do… whatever.
It’s the thought of some scuzzy LA guy with his hands on Hollander’s hips that replays in his head throughout his game, leading to sloppy passes, too-hard checks, and several minutes spent in the penalty box.
He was cranky when the plane finally landed in Utah and not expecting much when he checked his phone.
Jane: Just watched a replay of your game tonight
Jane: Was that you being your normal amount of annoyed with Hunter or did the Admirals do something to piss you off?
Jane: I’m honestly mad you guys still won after all that
Jane: We’re still ahead of you in points though
He’d barely slept on the plane, they were checking into their Utah hotel at ass o’clock in the morning, and he had to be up in a few hours for morning skate, but this was enough to brighten his entire outlook on life.
He was going to pretend that Hollander has gone back to his hotel after his LA game and spent the entire evening lusting after Ilya beating the Admirals – which would obviously take the entire night – and there’d be no time for picking up anyone.
That was the absolute truth as far as he was concerned.
The thing was, Ilya didn’t think Hollander was hooking up with random Montreal men. He could be, but Ilya thinks Montreal men are metaphorically but also truly geographically too close to home. He’s Shane fucking Hollander and Ilya believes every Montreal man should recognize him. So, the possibility of anonymous sex is out of the question.
Still, it doesn’t help explain why he finds himself texting and sometimes calling Hollander several times throughout the week even though Hollander is in Montreal with a string of home games. Hollander doesn’t ask about their increased communication, either. And, Ilya has noted, he’s certainly way more available when he’s not traveling.
Tonight, though, Hollander is in Winnipeg and when Ilya called him, Hollander mentioned that he was out walking but hadn’t mentioned where yet.
Ilya was just happy to keep him on the phone and had spent the last ten minutes debating with him about who would end the season with the most points between the two of them, with Hollander throwing in other random star centers’ stats just to annoy him.
Hollander was mid-sentence when he suddenly murmured, almost to himself, “Oh, wait, I recognize this building.”
“Are you wandering Winnipeg? Have you been lost this whole time?”
“Not the whole time,” Hollander joked back. “Hey, can you Facetime? I found a bear you can actually hug if you want.”
Ilya switched to video with a curious grin on his face. He barely got a glimpse of Shane’s face before Shane’s video was swapped to the opposite view and Ilya found himself looking at a statue of a man with a bear cub.
“What am I looking at?” And if Shane could see that he still had a grin on his face, then so be it.
“It’s the famous Winnipeg bear. I’m sending you my current location. Next time you’re here you can hug it. Safely share your whimsy, Rozanov.”
Ilya’s head was thrown back with his laugh. His shoulders were shaking with it. “You’re an asshole.”
Shane’s camera swapped back so he was treated to Shane smirking at him.
“This statue is based on a real orphaned bear cub that a Canadian officer bought from a trapper during World War I. He named her Winnipeg because it was his new home. Eventually, he left her at the London Zoo, because, you know, it was time to go to war, and that’s where Christopher Robin fell in love with her and named his toy teddy bear Winnie.”
Ilya settled himself further into his couch cushion and listened quietly about the history of Winnie the Pooh. Mainly he watched Shane’s face – he’d begun walking again, so while he kept the video on, he was mainly watching where he was going – leaving Ilya free to admire his freckles, the flush in his skin from the cold air, the way his black hair shone under the sun, and the way his lips moved when he spoke.
And for whatever reason, Shane never said he had to hang up to go do some other mysterious thing in Winnipeg.
When his phone buzzed and the caller ID shared that it was Jane, warmth spread through Ilya’s chest. This was the first time Shane had initiated a phone call. Even better, Ilya knew that Shane was currently in Toronto for an away game. Maybe Shane didn’t have a Toronto hook-up for the same reason Ilya suspected he didn’t have anyone in Montreal, but Ilya didn’t care.
Apparently, Shane called to ask Ilya’s thoughts on how to best walk through the Hockey Hall of Fame without anyone noticing.
“Sunglasses inside would make people look at you even more, Hollander.”
“I should’ve packed my fake moustache,” Shane said in the driest tone possible.
The laugh that burst out of Ilya couldn’t be stopped. Truly, it was a crime that most people didn’t get to experience Shane’s humor.
“Why do you want to go so bad? You’ve been before, yes?”
Although, Ilya was going to support him in this endeavor. Even if he got mobbed by fans. Hockey HOF tour would be better than Toronto hook-up.
“They have the Triple Centennial Exhibit right now.”
Ilya groaned and tried to make his despair sound real. “Those aren’t even your teams, Hollander.”
“It’s part of hockey history. You know enough about it to know Montreal isn’t included but you still don’t find hockey history fascinating?”
“Not like you do, no.”
“Well, you’re missing out,” Shane said, primly. “Although, I guess so am I since I cant figure out how to get in there without a crowd forming.”
“So tough being beloved Canada golden boy, yes?”
“Fuck off,” Shane murmured, although Ilya swears he can hear a smile in his voice.
Shane had hung up with Rozanov after his failed morning attempt to get into the Hockey HOF, gone back to his hotel room, napped, and then joined the team for the game against Toronto tonight.
Most of Toronto’s players suck as people in general, so it’s always the best feeling to beat them. But Shane is also looking forward to rubbing Montreal’s new points in Rozanov’s face. Their two teams were still irritatingly close in the points race towards finals.
As their bus pulled up to their Toronto hotel, Shane dug his phone out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket when he felt it buzzing.
Lily: Get off bus last and don’t go inside
Shane huffed a small laugh. Rozanov had the strangest timing. Sometimes it felt like he knew exactly when Shane would be free to talk or text. Still, he did as instructed and used the excuse to wish each guy a good game as they exited the bus. When almost everyone was off, his phone buzzed again.
Lily: When they’re all inside, come out to parking lot. Red Porsche.
Shane: Is this payback? You want me to be murdered by going to a stranger’s car?
Lily: Come here
“No way,” Shane whispered to himself.
He exited the bus and walked around the front – away from where the equipment crew was working on the bags under the bus. And there sat a red Porsche Boxster. He opened the passenger side door and bent to stare incredulously at Ilya Rozanov in the driver’s seat.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he laughed breathlessly.
Rozanov grinned at him in response. “Get in here.”
Shane grinned at him for another moment – still in shock to see him here – before finally sitting in the passenger seat and pulling the door shut behind him. Rozanov waited for him to be buckled before he pulled out of the parking lot.
“Now will you tell me what you’re doing here? Is this your car? Didn’t you have a game tonight?”
Rozanov smiled. “I’m here for surprise. This is rental car – luxury one. I had afternoon game, not evening game – we won by the way – and it was just in Buffalo. Less than two hours from here.”
Shane continued to stare at him as he spoke. His curls were absolutely wild, as if he’d showered quickly after his game and then jumped right into this car. His game day suit jacket was in the back seat, leaving him in a button up with sleeves rolled deliciously up to expose his forearms. And as stupid as Shane thought the car was, Rozanov looked really good behind the wheel. And he kept glancing at Shane, like maybe he was checking in, as if Shane could be anything but thrilled by this surprise.
“Wait, is you being here the surprise? Did you get a hotel room? Or is there another surprise?”
“Hotel room is for later.”
Shane waited impatiently but remained silent, willing Rozanov to continue.
“You will see other surprise in just a minute!” Rozanov laughed.
Shane grumbled lightly but watched out the window as they passed Toronto’s tall buildings, all lit up for the night.
Finally, Rozanov pulled up to a curb with a valet waiting and handed over the keys to a young man whose wide eyes told Shane he definitely recognized the two of them. Shane glanced a little worriedly at Rozanov but he only shook his head in what Shane had to assume was a gesture that meant don’t worry.
It wasn’t until they were walking away from the valet and reached the first city street corner that Shane realized exactly where they were.
“Rozanov, did you drive up to Toronto and kidnap me from my hotel so we can break into the Hockey Hall of Fame after hours?”
“Kidnap?” Rozanov made an exaggerated offended expression. “You climbed into car willingly.” He leaned in close to Shane then and lowered his voice to say, “You do most things I ask willingly.”
He probably assumed it would piss Shane off, to blatantly flirt with him in public, but Shane didn’t move away from him. He let his eyes fall to stare at Rozanov’s lips instead. He was regretting not trying to kiss him in the car.
“Oh fuck,” Rozanov sighed as he took a step away from Shane. “You are going to make me be responsible one tonight, yes?”
“This was your idea,” Shane murmured.
Rozanov groaned pathetically. “Come. We are supposed to be inside in five minutes.” He began leading them to the door. “Only way to make this work was to call ahead and ask if Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov can visit. Which of course they said yes, please, top two hockey players of course, you can even move in if you want” – Shane snorted – “and made it an official private event. We shake hands with a few donors first and then you get to walk around and look at your boring exhibits and no one cares we are here together.”
Shane stopped in his tracks, forcing Ilya to stop and turn back to him with an eyebrow raised in question.
“You set this up for me? In just a couple hours? And drove up here to go with me?”
Ilya’s eyes scanned back and forth on his face before he nodded.
Shane swallowed over a sudden lump in his throat. He knew his eyes were probably shiny and hoped Ilya knew it wasn’t due to feeling sad. “Ilya,” he said quietly.
Ilya stepped closer to him and briefly brushed a thumb over his cheek before his hand dropped to his side again. “You are happy?”
“Very.” Shane nodded and swallowed again. “And then you have a hotel room?”
Ilya leaned in just a little closer. “For you, I have penthouse.”
They’d barely made it into Ilya’s hotel room before Ilya had Shane pressed to the back of the door so he could kiss him exactly how he’d been wanting to all night. He fell to his own knees and had Shane’s pants around his ankles while Shane was still trying to catch his breath from the kiss. He swallowed Shane down and moaned at the thought of being Shane’s Toronto hook-up. Maybe he should just quit hockey and follow Shane from city to city like a puck bunny. It wasn’t a terrible idea…
Shane at least pulled him to his feet and kissed him as he guided him to the penthouse bedroom before shoving him to sit on the edge of the bed and dropping to his own knees to reciprocate. Ilya found himself wrapping his upper body around Shane’s head as he finished embarrassingly quickly. Then Shane shoved him so he was far enough up on the bed to reach the pillows before Shane fell half wedged into his side and half on top of him.
“That was fast for you,” Shane murmured, still panting slightly.
Ilya groaned, since apparently Shane cant just let him live. So what if he’s teased Shane about how fast Shane has been in the past? “It’s been a while,” he grumbled.
“Really?” Shane asked, voice filled with wonder and maybe a little bit of disbelief. “What’s a while?”
Since you learned stupid pterodactyl facts from stupid Utah man, Ilya thinks but refuses to say.
“I’m thinking,” Ilya started instead, “that maybe – you and me – maybe we decide to be exclusive.”
Shane’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open as he stared up at Ilya. “You would want that?” he asked quietly.
“Um, I think so. Yes.”
Shane pushed himself up to claim Ilya’s mouth. One hand slid into his hair and tightened around his curls before he whispered, “Okay.”
“So, no more, like, hooking up on the road.”
“Yeah, I know what exclusive means –” Shane cut himself off abruptly and considered how hard Ilya was trying to appear casual right now. “Oh.”
“Oh? What?”
“You heard the rumor that I was hooking up with someone in every city.”
Ilya shrugged one shoulder.
“Is that why you started texting and calling so often? Were you… jealous?” Jealousy could explain that behavior but Shane couldn’t honestly believe that Ilya Rozanov would be jealous. Especially not when Shane had also heard rumors about how many people Ilya hooked up with.
“Is that not what you were doing?” Ilya asked. “Why else would there be rumor?”
Shane chewed on his lower lip and lightly ran his fingers up and down Ilya’s chest. “Will you promise not to make fun of me?”
Ilya rolled his eyes and blew out a dramatic breath. “You ask so much of me, Hollander,” he teased.
Shane only hesitated for another second before saying, “If my teammates think I’m ditching them to go hook-up, then they don’t bug me to go out with them to clubs or bars when we’re on the road. So, I just… let them think that.”
A stupid wide smile spread across Ilya’s face. He tightened his arms around Shane and squeezed him. “You are most boring man.”
“I mean, yeah,” Shane said with a shrug and a grin as he settled himself even closer to Ilya.
“So, you did not learn pterodactyl fact from stupid Utah hookup?”
“Say that again.”
“What?”
“The dinosaur name.”
“You said they are not dinosaur,” Ilya said haughtily.
“I want to hear it in your accent again.”
“You are mean to me,” Ilya accused as he pushed Shane away only to pull him close again.
Shane laughed but also shook his head. “I like your accent,” he admitted softly.
Ilya ducked his face into Shane’s neck before murmuring, “Pterodactyl.”
Shane kissed Ilya’s forehead in thanks before deciding to add onto his explanation. “Also, Hayden said he and the team knew about Boston Lily, so it was either stop seeing you every time we’re in Boston or –”
“Make everyone believe you have a Lily in every city?”
Shane nodded.
“Good choice,” Ilya said quietly. “So, definitely only one Lily for you?”
Shane wasn’t a fan of the insecurity in Ilya’s voice as he asked the question. “Hang on,” he murmured as he rolled away from Ilya. He climbed out of the bed, found his pants, and climbed back into bed once he had his phone.
He swiped away the text from Hayden asking where the hell he’d disappeared to between the bus and the doors of the hotel and then opened his photo gallery. He tilted the phone so Ilya could see. “Well, first, for that Utah trip, here’s me with the 2002 Winter Olympics Cauldron.”
Ilya didn’t get to see Shane in many selfies – the man did not post on social media like that. Ilya was left scouring Metros’ social media and even some of the public accounts of his teammates for Shane photos.
He wasn’t prepared for how aggressively cute Shane would be grinning in front of a giant piece of Winter Olympic history.
“Then I went to the Utah Natural History Museum.” Shane flipped through some photos he’d taken inside – sadly none included him, Ilya noted. “And they had a dinosaur exhibit. That’s when I learned the truth about pterodactyls. I feel like dinosaur movies have been lying to us.”
“Oh my god, Hollander.” Ilya couldn’t hide the fondness in his voice.
He had a hand on Shane’s chin and was pulling his face towards him to kiss him silly before he could even think about it. Shane responded instantly and with enthusiasm like he always did. He seemed to have forgotten what he was doing prior because the hand holding his phone remained comically in the air.
“Okay, show me more boring visits,” Ilya nodded towards Shane’s phone. Shane blinked slowly at him for a moment – in that well-kissed way that Ilya loved – before he seemed to realize what Ilya meant.
“There’s a place in Vegas called the Neon Museum. It has a bunch of old neon signs and when you called me that time that I couldn’t talk, the nighttime history tour I signed up for was beginning.”
“History tour, Shane,” Ilya moaned and ran one of his hands up and down Shane’s side before squeezing his hip.
Shane bit back a smile. “It was interesting! They said that Moulin Rouge was the first racially integrated casino in the country.”
“That’s why you asked if I’d seen the movie?”
“Well, yeah. If you didn’t know what Moulin Rouge was, its probably not an interesting fact.”
“Yes, so very much more interesting because I know name of casino,” Ilya nodded with a flat expression.
Shane elbowed him but continued to flip through photos. Ilya watched as Winnipeg the bear appeared on his phone screen before tonight’s HOF photos began.
Ilya rolled himself enough so that he could climb on top of Shane. He kissed Shane’s perfect mouth before finding the place behind his ear that makes him arch and release that throaty groan Ilya likes so much.
“We should go to more places together.”
“Yeah?” Shane smiled softly at him but Ilya watched as it slowly transformed into the competitive smirk he usually wore on the ice. “I probably get an A in tourist now, so I can pick out the best places in any city for us.”