Chapter Text
This has the potential to be Shane's worst nightmare. He's mic'd up, on a game against the Raiders, against Ilya. They've finally talked some things out in Tampa but he wanted to be able to actually talk to the man today. He would just have to wait till tonight. The question was would Ilya be able to wait to say something insane.
Ilya skates up to them.
"Hollander, ready to lose?" He completely ignores Hayden.
"I'm mic'd Rozanov. And you're going to fucking lose." Rozanov glances down at where the mic pack is then grins.
He skates away. This is going to be the worst game ever.
It's him and Ilya for the face off, which of course it is, why would it be anyone else? What to give Shane Hollander a break, they would never dare.
"How many times have they had to bleep you so far?" Romanov says, smiling into Shane's face.
"Eat a dick Il- Rozanov"
At that Ilya wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, which is fair enough, Shane set him up for that one.
"Hello public, Canadas golden boy has a mouth so dirty, it has taken 7 years to put him on a mic."
"I've fucking been mic'ed before asshole."
"Hmmm, we remember." Ilya says smiling at the memory of 18 year old Shane cussing excessively while miced.
Shane wins the face off.
10 seconds later, Marleau hits him. Shane falls, then stops moving completely. Ilya feels the world stop with him. Then he's next to Shane, holding his hand, or his glove, his own gloves are off.
"просыпайся Shane wake up, wake up Shane look at me Shane you have to wake up baby I need you to wake up Shane просыпайся, wake up - "
He doesn't realize he's the one saying it till the he has to stop because the refs are trying to pull him away while they put Shane on a spinal board. But Ilya is not going anywhere unless it's with Shane.
"Leave me alone! Let me go."
"Rozanov you need to get to your bench."
"Il- Ilya?"
He's back holding Shane's hand in less that a second.
"Yes baby I'm here."
"Ilya- you're here. We have- a game, they wanna fucking mic me. So no- no flirting during the game." Ilya barely catches what he's saying, he's so quiet, but he knows the mic-pack can hear it.
"It might be a bit late for that моя любовь" Is all he can say through the tears he now realizes have covered his cheeks.
"Why am I laying down?" Ilya sucks in a break.
"You got hurt Shane, they are going to take you to the hospital."
"Oh" Shane says eyes fluttering closed. "You're one of my emergency contacts now, so you come with me right?"
"Yeah baby, I come with you. Keep your eyes open."
And apparently that's all it takes to get everyone else to agree. He's one of Shane's emergency contacts so he's allowed to come with them. God bless whatever compelled Shane to be reckless enough to do that. He pulls off his skates when they get off the ice, he goes barefoot to the ambulance, and he never lets go of Shane's hand.
From the second Ilya Rozanov dives towards a mic'd Shane Hollander, throws his gloves off to hold Hollanders hand, and starts murmuring for him to wake up begins the most silent commentary of an NHL game ever. They don't start talking till Rozanov and Hollander have left the rink, and the mic pack, behind.
"Well that's a show of sportsmanship we've never seen before..."
The internet explodes.
Ilya sits with his head in his hands in a waiting room in Boston General. Shane is going to be so pissed when he realizes everyone knows. Everyone knows because Ilya couldn't keep it together.
"Family of Shane Hollander" Ilya shoots up.
"Yes"
"Follow me"
They walk towards Shane's room.
"Is he okay?" What he really means is he alive but that's not a question he can bear to ask.
"He should make a full recovery, he has a concussion and a broken collarbone." Relief fills Ilyas body. "But he is not awake yet."
"Okay" Ilya takes a deep breath and walks into Shane's hospital room.