Chapter Text
The party was in full swing by the time Ilya rolled up. He and Shane had thought about arriving together, but then that would probably have alerted at least half the people there as well as anyone within five miles with a phone camera that they were arriving together and this really wasn’t the time for that.
Ilya checked his phone again for Ryan and Fabian’s ETA. The two of them had driven down from Toronto the previous day, making a road-trip out of it and spending some good, quality time together. Scott had done his best to pick a day for the event when they could all come, but of the many reasons Ilya was glad that Ryan wasn’t with the Guardians any more, their game in Tampa this afternoon would have added yet another layer of complexity.
As it was, the Admirals were at home tomorrow, Ottawa was playing New Jersey (so Ilya was going to drive over at lunchtime), and Shane (unfortunately) was going to be flying first thing in the morning for an away game against Detroit. Not the worst it could have been, but Ilya knew that he was going to struggle to get Shane to let loose at all.
It didn’t help that as far as he could tell, the pre-season with Montreal had gone no better than the end of last season. Shane was wound as tight as it was possible to be without snapping, and even then Ilya wasn’t sure.
His determination to move Shane — whether to the Centaurs with him or to literally anywhere else — was only growing. But Shane was loyal to a fault, and the discussion felt sometimes like pulling teeth.
At least now he had some people to talk to. Kip and Fabian had been good for him. Just like he was sure being friends with Ryan and Scott had been good for Ilya. Not that he’d admit that under pain of death.
Ilya had never seen the Kingfisher this busy. A wall of sound hit him when he opened the door, and the somewhat cramped walkway between bar and seats was clearly not designed for the frames of the dozen-or-more professional hockey players that filled it. He hadn’t walked far into the room when he was recognised.
“Rozanov? Hey guys look! Fucking Rozanov is here!” He wasn’t sure of the name of the guy that was shouting, but his voice carried well enough that most of the heads in the room turned, and a somewhat drunken collection of noises went up - cheers and boos alike. He was pretty sure he’d never been greeted like this outside his own team, but he let himself be pulled in by their effusive (and drunken) enjoyment. By the time he reached where Scott was holding court at a booth, he had a beer in his hand that he absolutely had not ordered, and had managed to greet or insult every member of the Admirals bar two at least once.
“Ilyaaaaaaaa,” Kip yelled and flung himself out of his seat and Ilya only just caught him without spilling his drink. Someone rescued it from him so that he could focus on the fact that Kip — well into drunk — had gone entirely boneless against him. Ilya hauled Kip back onto his seat next to Scott and plopped down next to them both. His drink was returned — fuck, he had been hoping that it disappeared and he didn’t have to obviously turn away the weak American beer that was probably all they offered — and he ignored it in favour of greeting Scott properly.
“Scott Hunter! At last you claim your child bride.” Scott laughed and grabbed Ilya’s hand in a handshake that he pulled into a half-hug, Kip squashed between them. When they separated Kip looked like he was going to vibrate out of his skin.
“So Rozanov, is Jaaaaane coming tonight?” Kip leered, though he cracked into a giggle fairly quickly.
Scott’s eyebrows raised up high and he stared at Ilya. “Yes, Rozanov — I hear your Jane is gracing us with their presence tonight.”
“It is last chance I have to make Kip so jealous that he decides to marry more attractive and athletic hockey player instead.”
“Noooooooo, I don’t want Jane, I want Scott. Jane wouldn’t appreciate my cooking as much he’s weird.”
Ilya couldn’t help but laugh. He saw Scott pass Kip a large glass of what he hoped was straight lemonade. It was much to early in the evening for Kip to be this drunk, but Ilya supposed that if it was his engagement party (oh god, that was a thought that made him both insane and terrified, best not dwelt on) he would not be making the best choices. Although he was fairly sure he was better at holding his alcohol than Kip.
“Don’t worry, Kip. I think if you stole my Jane I would have to murder you, and then Scott would have to murder me, and then Jane would have to avenge me and it would be very messy.” Ilya grinned. “And yes, he is going to be here tonight. He is very pleased to be invited.”
“Yayyy!” Kip smiled and leaned back against Scott to give him a kiss. It almost reminded Ilya of how Shane had behaved after his concussion.
Ilya checked his phone again.
Jane: Just getting on the metro. Should be about 20 mins?
That had been fifteen minutes ago.
Ilya saw the door open and he couldn’t help but crane his neck to see who it was. He was a little disappointed to see that it wasn’t Shane, but it was the other hockey player that he’d been looking forward to seeing.
“Ryan!”
Ilya waved at the ex-defenceman, his height still towering even in a room that was all bulky athletes. Ryan smiled at the familiar face and pushed — somehow apologetically — through the crowd, and as he approached Ilya grinned at the sight of Fabian encircled protectively by Ryan's arms. He understood the urge, though he was sure Shane would be mad if he tried, as the rowdiness was only increasing.
“Ilya! Scott! Congratulations man… I mean, congrats to Scott. Not Ilya. You're not marrying Ilya, heh,” Ryan blushed through his words, and Fabian pressed a gentle kiss against Ryan's chin.
“They know babe, it's alright. Kip, Scott — we're so happy for you. Congratulations!” Fabian said.
“Awwww Fabian. Ryan. Thank you!” Kip stood and climbed over Ilya, wrapping Fabian up in an enthusiastic hug, and then offering the same to Ryan who reciprocated with slightly less vigour. They reshuffled around the table a bit and somehow managed to sit all six of them — Vaughan included — in the definitely four-seater booth.
As Fabian and Kip started up a conversation, Ilya felt his phone vibrate.
Jane: Found a friend on the platform so he’s coming along.
Ilya frowned.
Ilya: You have NY friends?
Jane: You’ll find out in 2 minutes be patient
Ilya pouted at his phone, and looked up to rejoin the conversation.
“Yeah he’s doing alright I think. They’ve been so separate for so long that I don’t think much changed, really. I’m glad he came, but I do worry that throwing my relationship in his face is a bit mean.” Scott said.
“Who is this?” Ilya asked.
“Benny.” Vaughan said. Ah, yes. Their goalie. For all Ilya liked to chirp about Scott’s age, Eric was actually one of the oldest players in the MLH. And apparently was having… wife troubles?
“Ah. Well, you have come to many team parties being single and sad. I’ve done the same. Marlow wants us all to meet his latest girl and I have to listen to every one of them tell me all about all of the people they are fucking and how wonderful their wives and children are and I am thinking about—” Ilya side-eyes Vaughan, the only guy at the table who he hasn’t come out to, and figures that it’s all about to come out anyway and carries on “—my beautiful man and his freckles and his cock and—”
“OH MY GOD Ilya!” Fabian put his hands over his ears and closed his eyes. “He might actually kill you if he finds out you just said that.”
Kip laughed and then had to put his hand over his mouth with wide eyes. After a moment of laughter, Kip instead cups his hands around his mouth and starts to whisper-shout to Ilya.
“I didn’t tell Scott so he still doesn’t know who Jane is. He’s going to be so mad that I didn’t tell him but shhhhh, he doesn’t know I know.”
Ilya started to cackle at Ryan, Fabian and Vaughan put their hands over their faces in despair while Scott frowned at Kip.
“Wait, but you invited him? How did you add him to the guest list without me seeing?” Scott asked.
“Scott I literally have a job here. Kyle is one of my best friends. I could do pretty much anything here without your input.” Kip said, sticking his tongue out.
“Hey, Ilya. Cool. I mean. Yeah. That you’re uh. You know.” Vaughan looked like he was sucking on a lemon.
“I hope you were better when it was Scott that came out, this is not very Ally behaviour.” Ilya said.
“Fuck you Rozanov, I’m great. We even went to the figure skating at the Olympics. And oh my god I straight-’splained to Hunter and Hollander about being gay in Russia. Fuck.”
“Is ok. I think Hollander lives in a hockey hole that means he knows nothing about anything that isn’t written on a hockey stick.” He heard Fabian snicker but decided to ignore it. “And yes, very good. You saw Sport at the Sport Event in Russia, you are so brave.”
“Fuck you. Hollander said he had a buddy that was gay and performing,” Vaughan said, pointing accusingly at Ilya.
“No, you assumed he was gay and Hollander said nothing,” Scott said.
“You do know that straight people can also ice skate, right? Although, based on this table, you might be the minority here.”
“Okay Rozanov, you can stop chirping now.” Scott swatted at him and Ilya just grinned. “You don’t even have a drink what the fuck happened to you?” Kip had, in fact, stolen Ilya's drink and was drinking it delightedly.
“Ah, I am settled down man now. Also I must have clear head to make sure my man is well fucked. We don’t usually see each other in the season like this — we have nearly six weeks until we meet next so there is much to do. Many athletic positions to try when we are a whole day removed from hockey games.”
“Aaaaand thanks Roz, remind me never to ask you a question again,” said Scott, and the rest of the table laughed. Ilya smiled — he had meant to get a drink, really, but now that he’d thought of it, maybe Shane would be more likely to relax if he knew that Ilya had all his wits about him. It was a good plan.
The door opened again, and Ilya turned to see who it was.
Shane!
And… A guy?
“Oh good! Hollander made it! And… wait did he bring a boyfriend?” Scott stood to see better, and Ilya did the same. He didn’t recognise the man next to Shane, but they were standing close. When Shane said that he’d met a friend on the metro, he didn’t think that he meant a nice looking boy who was clearly checking out every available ass in the room, including Shane’s.
“Woah Roz, you look like you’re gonna start a fight. Can’t you leave it on the ice for one night?” Vaughan laughed, but there was an edge to his voice that said he was totally serious.
“I do not like Hollander bringing strange man to Scott’s party.” Ilya said, simply. He turned around to the rest of the table, trying hard not to obviously pout.
Kip and Fabian shared a wide-eyed glance.
“I’ll be right back, Scott,” Kip said, and he only wobbled slightly when he stood.
“Me too. I’ll bring back drinks, yeah? Ryan text me everyone’s orders.” Fabian also stood and started to climb over Ryan and then Ilya’s knees.
“Uh, yeah okay. Take my card.” Fabian plucked the card neatly out of Ryan’s hands, and he and Kip linked elbows and walked away from the table.
All four hockey players exhaled at the extra space opened up.
“So, uh… You alright Roz?” Ryan asked.
“I am fine.”
“Mhm,” Vaughan raised his eyebrows at Ilya, “because that’s the face of a man who is just fine. Are you seriously gonna be mad that Hollander brought a boyfriend to what is essentially gay hockey cotillion?”
“Oh shush, they’re friends now, Vaughan. Just because you weren’t invited to the camp.”
“I’m just saying, I think you needed more than Voyageurs as your token straight people.” Vaughan’s eyes were still tracking Shane and his friend over Ilya’s shoulder, which was the only waning he had when Shane finally approached.
“Hollander! Glad you could make it. And… Who’s this?” Scott said, his eyebrows doing something that might, in his head, have been suggestive but actually made him look a little bit insane.
“Scott, Carter, Ryan, Ilya — This is Miles. He’s a friend of Rose, and we just met on the metro. Total coincidence.”
“Oh my god, guys. When Shane said that he was coming to the Gay Hockey event of the season I knew I had to come along. Rose was always very complimentary about the eye candy available when she went out with Shane’s team, and she was absolutely correct.”
Shane laughed at him, and Ilya felt a subtle seething jealousy start to bubble. He’d had plans to help Shane relax, and here this friend of Rose Landry was, making him laugh like that.
“Well, great to meet you Miles. Though we’d half thought that you’d come as Hollander’s plus-one.” Scott said.
“Ah, well, he is tragically taken.” Miles put a hand on Shane’s shoulder, and Ilya was relieved to see Shane shrug it off, his smile turning nervous again.
Wait, no. He didn’t want Shane to be nervous. He wanted Shane to be happy.
Ilya stood, crowding subtly into Shane’s space, and Shane’s whole body turned straight in to him, everything about him suddenly focused.
“Rozanov,” Shane said, the nervousness obvious in his face.
“Hollander,” Ilya said in return, but he wasn’t able to stay serious for long. His face softened into a smile. “Shane.” Ilya raised his eyebrows, checking in that they were still on with their plan, and Shane nodded subtly. Ilya leaned forward and captured Shane’s lips in a kiss.
A kiss that very rapidly went from simple to filthy as both of them realised how long it had been. Summers spent together — first at the cottage, then at the camps — were spoiling both of them for each other’s time, and the breaks between being able to see each other — even with Ilya being in Ottawa — felt longer and longer every time.
“Uh… holy shit. What the actual fuck.” Ilya was vaguely aware of someone talking, but in that moment he couldn’t help but wrap his hands around Shane’s hips, pulling him millimetres closer as though they could somehow inhabit the same space.
“Yeah, that’s hot. Really hot. Christ that should be illegal.”
“I think it is illegal. They’re rivals!”
“They’re clearly not rivals, Vaughany. Unless this is also a competition of some kind.”
“No they’re just like this. All the time.”
“How the fuck do you know Price?”
“They are not good at locking doors.”
Ilya was desperately trying to pretend the rest of the room wasn’t happening, but clearly Shane wasn’t as committed as he was, and he broke the kiss. At least he checked his hip more firmly into Ilya’s side, wrapping an almost possessive hand around Ilya’s waist as his own hand did the same. Here they were, in front of the whole Admirals team (fuck, fuck, was the whole bar watching? Ilya didn’t want to check) and after a moment where they looked each other in the eye, they turned to the table.
“Hi all. I’m Jane,” Shane grinned at his own prank, and Ilya couldn’t help but mirror it as they stared at Scott’s still gobsmacked face.
“THE FUCK ROZANOV?!” he eventually yelled. He stood up and lunged over Vaughan to get out of the booth, and flung his arms around them both, gripping them in a tight hug. “Shit, it’s been Hollander the whole time?” Scott asked, and Ilya nodded. Scott simply gaped for a long moment, his brain clearly doing something complicated, and Ilya let out a nervous laugh, pressing a kiss to Shane’s cheek to let himself hide his face.
“Shit. You said this has been a thing since you first came from Russia. Were you… really?! All that time?!”
“Hah, yeah. We, uh. We met at the World Juniors. Remember? Oh-eight and oh-nine Canada and Russia traded the gold and silver.” Shane explained, his hand reaching up to Ilya’s hair. Ilya really hadn’t expected him, of the two of them, to be the one that needed comfort, but the reality of his… fuck his friends really seeing him for the first time was overwhelming.
“Yeah and you fuckers got drafted in the middle and that was what started the whole rivalry thing! But you were… what? Meeting up behind the bike sheds while your chaperones were busy?”
“No. We, uh. You remember that CCM ad? Just before we started our rookie season. The one where we stared at each other really intently. That was, uh, I guess when it started.” Ilya’s face against Shane’s cheek meant that he could feel how it heated up as he blushed, and he pulled himself away.
“I had to make sure I stake my claim quick, before he decides to fuck a hockey player that is worse than him. Would have ruined his game; it would not be nearly so fun to play against him if bad sex made him bad at hockey.”
“Christ Rozanov, seriously? What did he do to deserve you?” Scott grinned, but Ilya felt the way that Shane stiffened at the question.
“Shane Hollander is best hockey player and nicest guy in the whole league, the rest of you wish you were on his level.” Ilya stared Scott down, then did the same to Vaughan. Ryan was let off — he’d been cool about it after all.
“Oh man, sorry Roz. I guess this is… this is exactly why you’re kinda leery about this.” Scott’s eyes scanned the room behind them. “Come on — sit down. I’ll go grab some more chairs.”
Ilya and Shane took what had been Scott’s seat — Shane huddling into the corner with Ilya sitting between him and Vaughan. Miles was leaning on the table, engaging the lonely Admirals player in conversation that barely counted as not-flirting.
Ilya let himself burrow into Shane a little, reassuring himself that Shane was there.
“So Ryan, how are you doing?” Shane opened, and Ilya let the conversations happening either side of him wash over his consciousness. Now that everyone knew — well, everyone he gave a shit about knowing — he could relax.
His hand on Shane’s thigh was covered by Shane’s own, the slight chill of his fingertips from the short walk here slowly leeching out to leave only warmth between them.