Chapter Text
Playing against Montreal used to be Ilya's favorite thing in the world, but now that Shane is playing on the Centaurs, it's turned into a nightmare. That goes double when they're playing in Montreal. The crowd is hungry for Shane's blood. They always are, these days.
Even worse, the Metros are hungry too. They've been slamming into Shane all night when he's nowhere near the puck, but the referee has only called them on the most egregious of their hits. Absolutely ridiculous.
Ilya watches from the bench as another Metro sends Shane sliding. The crowd cheers and jeers while the ref turns a blind eye. If only there were a penalty, he'd be able to be on the ice with his husband and protect him, since apparently the officials won't.
All he can do is watch with gritted teeth. He'd keep a list of the names of the offending players, but at this point it's the whole team. Even Ilya can't take on the whole team at once.
Comeau, Montreal's new captain – and fuck him for making Ilya wish Pike got the role – is among the worst to deal with. He took Shane's fall in the playoffs personally and has made that clear in every game since. That's who Ilya is keeping his eye on most, which is probably why he doesn't see Carver coming.
Shane tries to brace for the hit, but Carver's one of the biggest men the Metros have. He rams his shoulder solidly into Shane's sternum and sends him flying. Shane hits the ice hard and doesn't get up. Ilya's already on his feet when play stops, but Boodram grabs his jersey to keep him from jumping the boards.
The medics rush over. Ilya's chest clenches into a tight ball of terror. For a moment, he's years in the past, watching helplessly as Shane gets carted off to the hospital on a backboard.
Finally, Shane moves.
Ilya can't hear what the medics are asking him, but Shane shakes his head and pushes himself up to sit. He pulls a glove off and rubs his chest with his bare hand as he takes visibly deep breaths.
It isn't until Shane meets Ilya's eyes and gives a thumbs up that Ilya can finally suck in a breath of his own. He's okay. He's going to be okay.
The rest of the game passes in a blur. Montreal got a penalty for that one, thank goodness, and the resulting point that Ottawa scores evens the score. Shane, ever the professional, doesn't give any indication that the whole thing had bothered him at all. Ilya knows it does, though. He can see the tension at the corners of Shane's mouth.
Shane still scores the game-winning goal.
The fans and team may hate Shane now, but Montreal's media is even more in love with him than before. It's not even a question of if he's going to have to talk to them. What they're not prepared for is how his time with the Centaurs has weakened Shane's filter and upped his sass.
"Hollander, how does it feel facing your old friends across the ice?" one of the reporters shouts.
"Hayden and J.J. are just as fun to play against as they were to play with," Shane answers. Nobody misses the specificity.
"We noticed that tonight's game was a bit rough. Are there any lingering emotions that affected your game tonight?" asks another reporter.
"I played to the best of my ability, just as I always do. My goal is always to leave personal problems off the ice," Shane replies diplomatically. Then he flashes a sliver of a smirk. "I can't speak for anyone else, though."
"Do you believe that you were being personally targeted tonight?" one of the braver reporters asks bluntly.
Shane shrugs. "You'd have to ask the Metros." It's the only media-appropriate answer he can give, because the truth is that it was obvious.
Once the cameras and microphones are gone, Shane releases a heavy sigh and rubs his chest again.
"Are you okay?" Ilya asks, finally giving in to his worry.
"Yeah, he just knocked the breath out of me," Shane says and starts focusing on wrestling his skates off.
"I just don't get it. They pushed you out, didn't they? Why are they so butt-hurt?" Wyatt asks.
Shane grimaces. Ilya knows he hates talking about Montreal. It just drags up bad memories. The team knows that Shane left on bad terms with most of them, but he hasn't disclosed the details. Until now.
"They think I threw our last game," Shane admits. Everyone in the locker room turns to face him, bewildered.
"You? They think you threw a game?" Boodram asks in disbelief.
"I tripped. They think it was on purpose," Shane shrugs.
"Well that's stupid," Barrett blurts out. "Anyone who knows you knows you'd rather die."
"Yeah, well, I guess they didn't know me that well," Shane replies bitterly.
The locker room falls into an awkward silence until someone manages to change the subject, but even after the conversation picks up again, Shane remains quieter than normal. Ilya wants to scoop him back into the bus and take him home. Unfortunately, they have a plane out of Montreal to catch the next day, so they're staying overnight. Even more unfortunately, they've already made plans with Hayden and J.J.
Boodram and Barrett invite themselves along to the bar. Ilya doesn't mind. Shane doesn't seem to either. It turns out to be a good thing, too, because halfway to the bar, a text from Hayden comes through.
Fair warning, like half the team decided to come out tonight. We can cancel if you want.
Suddenly this isn't just a friendly meeting with old friends; it's an off-ice face-off with Montreal. Shane sighs and rubs his forehead.
"It's up to you," Ilya says gently, reaching out to squeeze Shane's shoulder.
"We're already almost there," Shane grumbles and starts texting back.
Thanks for the heads up. See you soon.
Before they reach the door, Shane pulls Ilya aside. "None of us are throwing the first punch tonight," he commands.
"Yes, sir," Ilya replies drily.
It's not quite half the team, but there are more Metros in the bar than Centaurs. Maybe half a dozen, not including J.J. and Hayden. Comeau is there, of course, as are Drapeau and Carver, sitting at a table with a perfect view of the large corner booth where Shane's friends are waiting. It's like they're preparing an ambush.
Shane takes a deep breath and leads the way forward. He doesn't acknowledge them at all as he crosses the bar, just slides into the corner booth next to Hayden with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
"Hope you don't mind, some of the boys are joining us," Shane tells Hayden, who isn't hiding his concern at all.
"That's fine, they're cool," Hayden replies with a forced smile. Something tells Ilya it isn't the Centaurs that are his problem tonight.
Ilya leaves Shane with his friends for a few minutes to grab drinks. He returns with a beer for himself and a ginger ale for Shane to find that Barrett and Boodram have joined the table. Both men are casting occasional glances at the Metros players, but things seem to be cool for the moment.
That doesn't last. Within half an hour, the drinks start kicking in and the Metros get rowdy. Comeau breaks the dam around the forty-five minute mark when he comes sauntering up to the booth.
"Pike, Boiziau, you should watch who you're hanging out with," Comeau sneers, giving the rest of the table a look-over. Shane shifts uncomfortably under his gaze.
"You mean our friends?" Hayden clarifies with an unamused glare.
"You've got some pretty low standards for friends," Drapeau says, stepping up beside Comeau.
Ilya can't help himself. "What does it say about you that you can't meet them?" he snarks. Comeau's lip curls.
"At least I have the self respect not to hang around with cheaters and f–"
"Watch your mouth, Captain," Hayden cuts him off.
"Just walk away, Comeau," J.J. advises, looking uneasily between his new captain and his old one.
Ilya's about to open his mouth to tell Comeau off himself, but Shane puts his hand on Ilya's leg and shakes his head. Unfortunately, Drapeau catches the movement.
"What, Hollander? Something to say?" the goalie taunts.
"Not really," Shane replies reluctantly.
"Of course not. He's a coward," Carver comments smugly, joining them on Comeau's other side. "Couldn't face his team after throwing a game, so he ran off to Ottawa."
It doesn't escape Ilya's attention that they're now pinned into the booth. Judging by the line of tension in Shane's shoulders, he's noticed as well.
"Okay, that's literally not what happened," Hayden says.
"Uh, no. It literally is," Comeau says in a mocking tone.
J.J. sighs heavily. "Could you try to be less of a –"
"Hayd, J.J., it's fine," Shane interrupts. "They're gonna think whatever they want."
"Yeah, the people who matter know the truth," Barrett chimes in. Bood nods in agreement.
"Is not your fault your teammates are homophobic idiots," Ilya can't help adding.
"It just gets annoying," Hayden gripes. "It's like they're obsessed with you."
"He's right. They talk about you all the time, it's honestly embarrassing," J.J. agrees.
Ilya grins. "Oh, I see. They are the jealous ex."
"Shut your mouth, Rozanov," Comeau barks loud enough to draw the attention of the whole bar. The rest of the Metros get up from their table. Ilya feels the rush of adrenaline that precedes a fight and he's itching for more.
"There's something I don't get," Bood says, glancing around at the gathering Metros. "You said he left the team out of shame or whatever, but we all know that's not true. He left because of you."
"That's a good point," Barrett agrees. "We heard all about how you treated him. And knowing Shane, he probably hasn't told any of us the worst of it."
"They have a point, Comeau," Shane says, catching them all off guard.
"What, that we wanted you gone after you threw the game?" Comeau asks, but Shane just scoffs.
"No, that you treated me like garbage. Why would I want to re-sign with Montreal when my own teammates would accuse me of something like that?" Shane asks.
"Why would we want you when you did that?" Drapeau snaps in return.
"If you actually believe I'd throw a game, that's on you," Shane replies firmly. "Anyone who actually knows me knows I'd rather hang up my skates than let someone else win. Especially Ilya."
"Seriously! And anyone who watches our team's Instagram reels knows that they're just as competitive now as they were on opposing teams," Boodram points out, making Barrett snicker.
"Oh, as if you wouldn't roll over and do whatever he tells you," Carver snorts.
"You've got that backwards," Hayden says with a smirk.
"You really do," J.J. says, backing him up.
"Holly walks Roz like a dog," Barrett informs the Metros that have gathered around them. "Roz might be the captain, but we all know who's in charge."
"This is true," Ilya agrees eagerly. "Everyone with a brain knows this.”
“You seriously expect us to believe you just… happened to trip?” Comeau demands, but he's starting to look a bit uncertain.
“Yeah, because that's what happened,” Shane says as if he's talking to an idiot. “It was probably the most embarrassing moment of my career. I sure as hell didn't do it on purpose.”
Drapeau and Carver glance at Comeau, gauging his reaction. Comeau seems to be coming to the realization that he and his team may have made a small error.
“It is easy to blame him, yes? Easier than accepting that you lost to the worst team in the league,” Ilya says gleefully.
“Shut the fuck up, Rozanov,” Carver snaps, almost as if on instinct.
“And now it is easier to stick to your bullshit than to admit that you were wrong,” Ilya adds. “If you admit you are wrong, you have to admit that you destroyed your team for nothing.”
Comeau drags Ilya out of the booth and into his fist by the front of his shirt. Ilya wasn't expecting the sudden escalation, so it takes him a moment to get his feet back under him. Long enough for Shane to jump the fucking table.
Everyone stares in awe as Shane Hollander, Canada’s golden boy, punches Comeau so hard that he stumbles into the nearest table. If it weren't for Drapeau and Carver grabbing him, he would probably have ended up on the ground.
He may not fight, but that apparently doesn't mean he can't.
“Take another hit, Comeau. I dare you,” Shane challenges with fire in his eyes.
Comeau stares at Shane with a mix of shock and what might be awe. Ilya doesn't notice this, because he is also staring with a mix of amazement and adoration. He's never wanted to kiss Shane so badly before.
“I gave Montreal everything I had,” Shane continues when Comeau doesn't respond. “I almost burned my life to the ground for that team. I was your friend, your fucking captain, and you treated me like shit because of who I fell in love with.”
Shane’s trembling now, whether from fury or adrenaline. Ilya closes rank behind him, glowering at Comeau despite the blood leaking lazily from one nostril. None of the metros seem to be able to find their words.
After a long second of staring, Shane delivers the final blow. It begins with a long, disappointed sigh.
“I used to think the world of you,” Shane says sadly, then turns to J.J. and Hayden. “I'll talk to you guys later.”
“Yeah,” is all Hayden manages to say.
Without another word, Shane turns and makes his way to the door. Ilya glances to Barrett and Boodram, who both nod, before rushing after him. Neither of them speak until they get back to their hotel room.
When the door is finally closed behind them, Shane sucks in a deep breath that almost immediately escapes as a sob. Ilya wastes no time in wrapping his husband in a hug, holding him tightly. This is horrible to hear, but not unexpected. The adrenaline crash after such a violent, emotional confrontation is a hell of a thing.
“I'm so proud of you,” Ilya whispers in Shane’s ear.
Ilya holds Shane through the sobs. Once they've trickled away, he releases his grip and draws back enough to pull Shane into a kiss. He tastes of the sweetness of ginger ale and the saltiness of tears. Finally, they break for breath, still leaning in so close that their foreheads are pressed together.
“Thank you,” Shane says softly.
“Always,” Ilya replies.
They strip together, but there's nothing sexual about it. Ilya will be horny about Shane’s show of violence later. There's time. For now, they both slip into pajamas and slide into bed together. Ilya wraps himself around Shane from behind, keeping him close with an arm around his waist.
“I love you,” Shane murmurs sleepily.
“I love you too,” Ilya replies and presses a kiss on the back of his neck.
Tomorrow, Ilya will wake up with a black eye. Shane will press a gentle kiss to his swollen eyelid.
Tomorrow, the video someone took of the argument and fight will go viral. Hockey news will explode with the realization of how bad things were for Shane in Montreal. Hayden and J.J. will come forward confirming it – after talking to Shane, of course.
Tomorrow, the world will scrutinize footage of Shane’s fall in that last game and come to the conclusion that it really didn't look intentional. That Shane looked shocked and horrified to have tripped, even though it happens to everyone.
Tomorrow, everyone will fall even more in love with Canada’s golden boy now that they can see a sliver of the man underneath.
But that's all for tomorrow.