Chapter Text
They knew it wouldn't be easy. Like everything that had happened up until this moment, they also knew it was inevitable. There would be a day when they would have to play against Shane’s old team, but most importantly, a day when they would both have to face the people Shane once considered his family.
That day was today. And this time, Shane wasn't alone.
Shane was a man of habit. On game days, he had his routine mapped from beginning to end. Wake up at 6:00 AM when the alarm goes off, go for a run, come back home, take a shower, wake up Ilya, eat breakfast together, pack his bag, make sure his necklace was safely kept inside, take Anya for a walk with Ilya, and so on. He barely had to think about what came next, his body reacted before he even had to remember. That’s why he didn’t understand, at first, why today he had to actively think about every little thing he had to do.
He woke up before the alarm went off (5:00 am, that was strange). He had to drag himself out of bed (uncommon). He thought twice before putting on his shoes and going for his run, and when he came home, instead of waking Ilya up with kisses, he just yelled for him to come downstairs. (Okay, there is definitely something wrong with him, he would never miss an opportunity to kiss his husband).
“Shane” No answer from him.
“Shane. Shane.” Maybe he forgot his own name, Ilya thought. Like moms when they call their child by anyone's name but theirs.
“Solnyshko,” Ilya tried again, this time putting a gentle hand on Shane’s waist.
Shane looked up from the blender where he was making one of his smoothies.
“Are you here with me?” Ilya asked gently, rubbing circles on his waist.
Shane looked at him with confused eyes. “What do you mean?” he replied, still not stopping the blender.
“The blender has been running for 10 minutes now, there is nothing left to blend. It must be getting sick of rolling around,” Ilya said by pointing with his other hand at the blender. “Called your name three times.” Ilya continued.
“Sorry I didn’t hear you,” Shane said, finally turning off the blender.
“No shit, I know that. Are you ok?”
Honestly no, he wasn’t okay. He knew this much by now, but he didn’t want to worry Ilya while he still wasn’t sure why he wasn’t okay, or while he wasn’t ready to admit why he wasn't okay.
“Yeah fine, don’t worry,” he lied, trying to look normal.
Ilya looked at him knowing full well that he wasn't okay, but also knew that Shane needed time to process and would come to him if he needed his support.
They arrived at the rink 3 hours early, as usual. They liked having time to do things at their own pace (or rather Shane liked it, and Ilya liked Shane). Shane was still mentally somewhere else, he wasn't present. He was likely stuck inside his own mind, trapped with his thoughts. Ilya gave him the space he needed, allowed him to get lost, not too far away, but lost in a sense where he didn’t need to force himself to be present when he wasn't feeling it. They changed clothes, grabbed their sticks and headed to the ice before the fans started arriving. Ilya loved these moments, where he could have Shane all to himself in their favourite place. They have been playing together for a few months now and it was magical. They had never played better, they absolutely loved it. But it was also exhausting. All eyes were on them, all cameras were on them, and when there weren’t cameras, there were people. Staff members, their coach, their teammates (whom they love and who were like family), but sometimes it could be too much. So, they took advantage of these few moments where it was just them and the ice.
After a few missed shots from Shane, a few frustrated growls, and not a single glance toward Ilya, he decided to intervene.
“Shane,” Ilya said softly. “Sweetheart, let's take a break”. Shane looked at him for the first time since they had skated on the ice, as if he were just realising he wasn't alone.
Shane thought about refusing, about saying he was okay, but took a moment to look at Ilya again and realised he didn't have to lie. “Okay,” he simply said. He didn't need to say much, Ilya understood him without needing many words. He stood there while Ilya skated over to him, placed a gentle hand on his back, and guided them both off the ice.
In the locker room Shane allowed Ilya to guide him to sit down, to strip him off his gloves, remove his helmet and set down his stick. He allowed Ilya to give him a soft kiss on his forehead and wrap him in a hug.
“I…” Shane tried to say something but couldn’t find the words. He wasn't even sure what he was trying to say, but he wanted to justify his behaviour, as if he needed to.
“I know,” Ilya said simply, caressing Shane’s hair with one hand. “I know Solnyshko, and it’s okay”.
Of course he knew. He knew Shane better than anyone. He knew this was going to be a hell of a day, and there wasn't much to do but face it. Ilya knew exactly what he felt and what he was going to do later on the ice when he was finally face to face against them, but Shane probably didn't know what he felt himself, or didn't know how to name what he was feeling.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Ilya asked. “I would never suggest you do anything you don't want to do, but as your husband, the number one player in the league and your captain, it is my responsibility to let you know when you suck. And what you just did on the ice was embarrassing to be honest Shane,” Ilya joked, trying to lighten the mood and get a laugh out of him.
“Shut up,” Shane replied and Ilya could tell he was smiling a little because he could feel Shane's mouth brushing against his neck. “I wonder what they are thinking of me right now,” He continued. “If they are laughing at me, or talking about how I betrayed them just to run after my rival.” He said, pushing his head deeper into Ilya’s neck, into his warmth and smell, looking for something to ground him.
Ilya waited a few seconds to see if Shane was gonna say something else but he didn’t. So Ilya said calmly “You didn’t betray them, they betrayed you. And I was never your rival, that's what they refuse to accept, we were always lovers.” Ilya intentionally used the word ‘lovers’, knowing Shane despised it, hoping to shift his emotions into something else. “Besides, who wouldn't run after the hottest and bestest player in the league?” he continued, a smirk evident in his tone. “They can’t blame you, I’m impossible to resist. I bet if they were in your position they would have run after me sooner, they would all be Bears by now.” And that made Shane laugh, properly this time.
“Imagine,” Shane said. “That would be one hell of a plot twist: Ilya Rozanov turned Metros into Bears.” They both laughed, and wouldn't that be so satisfying. The air in the room grew a little less tense.
Ilya kept running his hands over Shane's back and hair. “You know you are no longer alone, yes? When they forced you to leave you had no one to back you up, you had to carry that weight all by yourself. But now, you have your family with you. We are your family Shane, and we have your back,” And that’s also one hell of a plot twist. The Metros who were supposed to be his family didn't hesitate one second to kick him when he was already on the floor. And the Cents who didn't really know him, picked him up and built a wall around him. And now it was time to test how thick that wall was and see if his old team could get to him after all the protection and healing he had found here. “Also,” Ilya continued, “you have me, your husband, I would never let anything happen to you.” He said firmly.
Shane pushed him slightly with no real intention of creating any actual distance between them. “You don’t need to defend me, I can defend myself,” he said rolling his eyes as if Ilya could see him.
“Oh yes, you can,” Ilya teased. “Who wouldn't be scared of a little kitten? So angry, so scary.” That earned him an elbow to the ribs and Ilya placed a soft kiss on Shane's head.
“Shut up”
“But seriously Shane, I know you can defend yourself, I don't doubt your strength one minute after everything you went through alone back in Montreal. But you have us, you have your home crowd that loves you almost as much as they love me of course,” Shane laughed. “You have your parents, your team, and…” He cut himself off before continuing, unable to believe he was about to say this. God, he must really love his husband to say such an atrocity. He took a deep breath and said, “And you have Pike. I know it's not much, but he must be useful for something. Still don't know for what, but you seem to keep him around. So he must be nice or something.”
“Or something…” Shane repeated, he was smiling against Ilya's neck. And God, he must really look like he's in a bad shape for Ilya to kind of compliment Hayden. He let out a long breath he didn’t know he was holding, he felt more at ease now that he was able to communicate his feelings. Honestly he felt better by being surrounded by Ilya's body, having his touch, his body so close. Grounding. I am okay. We are okay. “It’s just… I haven't seen them since that day. And I don’t know what to expect. I don’t know how they will react,” Shane paused, “I don’t know what they could say about me… or you.” He said softly, almost a whisper.
And God, wasn’t Shane the most intriguing person Ilya had ever met? He had spent all day feeling like shit about facing the traitors that were his old teammates, yet here he was worried about Ilya. Meanwhile Ilya has been fantasising about beating the absolute shit out of every single person on the Metros roster.
“Sweetheart, you worry so much about a team that has twenty of the worst players in the league. A team that let their captain go after he gave them three Stanley Cups. They clearly don't have much going on in their heads. You have too much faith in them.” Ilya said, laughing this time. “Don’t worry your pretty little head. I'll handle them when the time comes," he continued, pulling Shane by the neck to look directly into his eyes. “You think that after all that we went through, after everything we faced, there is anything those fuckers could say that could cause harm to me? Or to us? We fought so hard for what we have,” Ilya said, gently caressing Shane’s cheek right above those freckles he adored, “We get to be together on ice and off ice, we get to go home together, we get to have a life we never thought we could, we get to have a supportive team, a loving family, a beautiful, perfect daughter,” he continued, and Shane smiled softly at the thought of Anya, “and four Stanley Cups. That is so much more than any of them could ever dream of.” And honestly, Ilya was right. Even when he was comforting Shane, he had to be smug about his achievements, on and off ice, and he deserved it to be honest. He fought damn hard for what he had now, they both did. He continued, “A lot of people tried to get in the way of our happiness but didn’t succeed. They can keep trying, I don't care and neither should you.” He took a moment to look into Shane’s gentle eyes, trying to transmit all the tranquility and calmness he could muster. Then he began pressing kisses all over his face, “I love you Solnyshko, I’ve got you. You don’t have to shake their hands, or even look at them. Keep your eyes on the puck. Keep your eyes on me.”
“Always” Shane wanted to say. His eyes were always on Ilya, like he’s the only moon caught in his gravitational pull.