Chapter Text
Ilya loved this.
He couldn't believe he got to have this.
Shane, sprawled on one of the reclining deck chairs, napping in the early August Canadian sun. It had been raining for three days straight, they'd spent every second of it that they weren't eating with Shane's parents with their bodies pressed together. It wasn't even necessarily entirely sexual. It had sated the part of Ilya that wanted to carve Shane's chest open and crawl inside his very skin.
Shane had started wearing his steel ring on his ring finger, too, after the first surprise dinner with his parents.
David had shown up with a medium sized photo frame tucked into the bags of groceries, the perfect size to fit their marriage certificate in. It hung right at the entrance to the cottage.
Ilya realized he had next to no pictures with Shane, except for the ones he'd taken on stage mere hours before they got married. He started taking more; photos of Shane asleep, of their feet pressed up against each other, of Shane leaning into Ilya as they brushed their teeth. He sent them to the small printer Shane had attached to his laptop on a desk in the small gym. Then he deleted them from his phone.
It was, in all honesty, probably paranoid, but he was sure it was better than any cloud hacking scandal outing them.
Ilya sat on the chair next to Shane, alternating between reading the trifold Odyssey translation (the original Greek, English, and Russian) Yuna had found at a bookstore in the nearest larger town and stealing glances at Shane.
The sun suited him, bringing out more and more of his freckles.
When he glanced over and found Shane watching him he set his book aside and shifted to crawl into Shane's lap.
"You are horrible distraction," Ilya murmured, slowly lowering his head.
"Mm?" Shane hummed.
"The worst," Ilya confirmed, kissing Shane deep.
Maybe, he'd thought once. Now he thought mine.
Mine, he thought as he pressed another bruise into the bouquet of shades that covered Shane's neck.
Mine, he thought as he trailed his lips down to the freckles that peppered Shane's chest.
Mine, he thought as Shane's sleep-heavy hands grasped at Ilya's hair when his lips closed around one of Shane's nipples.
Mine, he thought as he pulled a chorus of delicious noises from Shane's throat with just his tongue.
Mine, he thought as he kissed further down Shane's chest and Shane's hips lifted before Ilya's fingers were anywhere near the waistband of his swim trunks.
Mine, he thought as he closed his lips around the head of Shane's cock, savouring the taste of home on his tongue.
Mine, he thought as he pulled a sleepy orgasm from Shane with ease, playing on every string he knew drove Shane mad.
Mine, he thought when Shane fell to his knees next to the chair and pulled Ilya's cock from his sweatpants.
Mine, he thought when Shane's lips wrapped around the head of Ilya's cock, feeling warm and tingly and like home.
Mine, he thought when Shane dove right in, deep-throating Ilya like he didn't have the worst gag reflex in the world.
Mine, he thought as Shane's need for Ilya's cock conquered his exceedingly strong gag reflex.
Mine, he thought as Shane pulled off seconds before Ilya came.
Mine, he thought as his cum splattered over Shane's face and his beautiful perfect freckles.
"Mine," he growled as he grabbed Shane's chin and yanked him into a filthy kiss.
"Yours," Shane panted back, collapsing into Ilya's arms.
Ilya grabbed one of their still damp towels from their early afternoon swim and used it to wipe Shane's face clean with gentle, treasuring hands.
"For the record, I would be 100% down for you waking me up like that," Shane muttered into Ilya's neck, limbs tangling together.
Ilya smirked. "Fucking you while you sleep?"
"Mmm, that too."
"Blowing you to wake you up?" Ilya clarified.
"Yes. Both. All of the above. Blanket consent unless otherwise told," Shane answered.
Ilya laughed softly, pressing a crown of kisses into Shane's hair. "Ya tebya lyublyu, moy lyubimyy."
"Ya tibya loo-bl-ew," Shane repeated.
"Better," Ilya praised and Shane preened, nuzzling at the column of Ilya's neck.
"How would you feel about me telling Rose?" Shane asked after a few moments of silence.
"What?"
"How would you feel about me telling Rose about... Everything?" Shane asked.
"Everything?" Ilya repeated.
"Marriage, you, me, all of it."
"Why?" Ilya asked, frowning.
"Because she's my friend," Shane answered, sitting up enough to look at Ilya. "She's the only friend I have who might... Get it, I guess. Not everything but. Enough of it."
"And you want to tell her?"
"I want to have someone to talk to about you," Shane explained. "Someone who isn't my parents."
"Why?"
"So I can talk about you," Shane repeated. "Like how you talked about me to Scott."
"To process?" Ilya asked.
"No, well yes, maybe, more just... Talking about your spouse with your friends is a normal thing and we're not really going to get that without having to be super vague. And I just..." Shane shrugged a shoulder. "Never mind-"
"Hollander, do you want to- to gush?" Ilya asked with a grin.
"Fuck off," Shane groaned, shoving Ilya off the chair and onto the grass.
"No, no, no no no," Ilya said quickly, following Shane up into the house. "No no no," he pinned Shane up against the counter easily. "You want to gush about me to your movie star ex girlfriend?"
"When you put it like that, it's weird yeah. Okay never mind forget I asked-"
"Okay," Ilya interrupted.
"What?" Shane blinked.
"Okay. You can tell Rose Landry about us. The whole thing- Except maybe not WADA."
Shane nodded. "Of course not."
"Okay then." Ilya ducked his head and kissed the square of Shane's jaw. "Tell her how I am irreplaceable."
Shane sighed an annoyed, put-upon huff of a sigh and shoved Ilya's shoulder. "I'm going to make tea, do you want any?"
"Yes please," Ilya answered, pressing right up against Shane's spine as he clicked the kettle on and pressing a kiss to the nape of Shane's neck.
A knock sounded on the door and Ilya frowned, tapping his phone screen nearby. No texts from Yuna or David, he tapped Shane's and it was equally as empty.
"I'll get it," Shane said.
He went to the door opened it and his surprised voice came through the cottage as he said, "hi Scott, Kip."
Ilya poked his head around the corner and standing in the doorway looking exhausted was Kip and a slightly less facially exhausted but much slimmer Scott.
"Tea?" Ilya offered both of them.
"Tea would be great," Kip replied with a tired voice.
"Did you even bring anything?" Shane asked.
"Uh," Scott blinked. "No?"
"Where are you supposed to be right now?" Shane asked.
"Uh, Toronto, I think?" Scott shook his head. "No, that's next week."
"Come inside, sit down, drink tea, and give me your phones," Shane declared and Ilya grabbed his own phone. "Ilya can you call my mom?"
Ilya smiled and raised his phone to his ear. "Hello Yuna, Scott and Kip are here and they did not bring any changes of clothes or anything."
Yuna sighed softly on the other end. "Burning the candle at both ends," she muttered.
"Yes," Ilya agreed, setting four tea bags in the mugs and adding water.
"David! Can you head into town? Clothes that'd fit Shane and clothes that'd fit Ilya!" She called from the other end of the line. "Okay, he will be two hours. I'll make some dinner to bring over. We've got little travel toothpastes here, how're you guys doing on towels?"
Ilya got Scott and Kip sitting on the couch, blankets heaped on them by Shane and mugs of tea continuously topped up.
"I forgot what quiet sounds like," Kip muttered.
"It's been a lot," Scott said. "A lot of good, mostly but just..."
"Too much good is still too much," Shane picked up the end of Scott's sentence. "Being the first isn't easy."
"My manager's doing his best but he's a sports contract manager not a speaking manager. He barely does a handful of ads a year. And he has no idea what to do with Kip."
"It'll die down eventually," Shane promised, squeezing Kip's shoulder.
"I had to quit Straw+berry, it was getting to be too much and people were being weird and rude all the time," Kip explained. "And Maria's back in school so it's just me and a bunch of people who are all to happy to take pictures of me and sell them to anyone interested."
Shane sat on the couch next to Ilya. "I'm sorry, that sounds rough."
"It sucks." Kip sighed. "Kyle's working on getting me a job at the Kingfisher, it'd be a lot chiller, and in the community so it'd be more... I dunno."
"Hiding out for a bit is understandable," Shane offered.
"You have been everywhere in Canada," Ilya added. "You two have not stopped moving since June."
"Doesn't feel like we can," Kip admitted. "I'm a historian, I see what happens when momentum dies-"
"Kip this is relay, not marathon," Ilya interrupted. "We may not be able to be out but let us catch you. Let us help."
"Let my mom give you her pitch deck that she assembled in about 45 seconds as a contingency for if Ilya and/or I are outed," Shane half-joked.
"Wait, your mom made a pitch deck?" Scott asked.
"Mhm, we've already got working relationships with a lot of big brands, brands who'd love to have the poster boy for inclusion in sport." Shane shrugged. "She's also great at wading through bullshit."
"She'd help?" Scott asked.
"She would," Shane answered easily. "You're my friends, what you've done is... Hope. It gave us hope, personally. I doubt we're the only ones, either."
"Yuna Hollander is very protective of her son," Ilya added. "You are, partially, protecting him too. You are forcing hockey to talk about being gay, making it safer for all of us."
"And you're pretty much Ilya's only friends so-" Shane chirped.
Ilya glared at Shane as Scott laughed tiredly.
"Now, allergies?" Ilya asked both of them.
Yuna arrived with a steaming pot of chili and three whole rotisserie chickens she peeled apart to add on top. She also arrived while Scott and Kip were showering and changing into the clothes David had procured for them from a thrift store.
"Okay, Scott, this is my mom, Yuna," Ilya heard Shane introduce the two as he helped David dish up heaping bowls of chili topped with chicken, and dropped the stripped carcasses into a pot of water with onions, celery, and carrots to turn into stock. "And you remember Kip."
"Hi, Mrs. Hollander," Kip greeted, sounding already much more human.
"Yuna, please," she corrected. "You boys look like you need about a century of rest."
"A couple days'll do just fine," Scott said, walking into the kitchen and taking a bowl from Ilya. "What?" He asked when Ilya squinted at him.
"We will popcorn ceiling later," Ilya stated.
Scott simply smiled slightly and nodded, taking his bowl to sit down.
Eating with Scott, Kip, and the Hollanders felt very similar to the family dinner he'd been dragged to at the Grady's, just... Easier. Freer. Everything was out in the open, cards on the table. Ilya squeezed Shane's hand on the top of the table as Shane beamed proudly and the rest of the table laughed at the joke he'd made. Yuna gave the bare bones of the pitch-deck she had to Scott, and admonished him for overdoing it. David left an 8000 piece puzzle for them.
"They do this," Shane said to his parents when Ilya and Scott started chirping back and forth.
"It's their love language," Kip confirmed.
When Yuna and David did leave Ilya dragged Scott to the master bedroom and they both lay on their backs staring up at the plain white ceiling.
"Do you regret it?" Ilya asked.
"No," Scott's answer was immediate. "I just... Wish I was more prepared, somehow. It feels like everything I do is under a microscope, now."
"It is," Ilya stated. "Everything you do now is not you, Scott Hunter, hockey player, singular person. Everything you do now is Scott Hunter, Gay Icon, LGBTQ Rights Activist, Voice of the Community."
"I haven't even done much activism," Scott stated. "Just like, bland statements-"
"You being a gay guy in the white cisgender heterosexual sport is activism, Scotland."
"Oh."
"Look, this is not easy, it will not probably ever be easy. But someday, it will probably seem like a whole lot of trouble for nothing. Like drafting Harv." Ilya nudged Scott with his shoulder. "You have the guys who have your back. You have me and Shane who you know understand more than they do. You have Maria and Elena and Kyle and the Gradys. Do not separate yourself from us. We are here to support you not just publicly. We are here to make you tea and hide you from the world when you need a minute. That is okay. Is allowed. You are human, Scott. You will never be anything but human, even when they want you to be a perfect picture who never says or does anything wrong ever."
"Did this come with the Russian Secret Gaydar?" Scott chirped.
"It came with proving I belong in MLH," Ilya answered honestly. "I am not a first, but I am still not common. Me, Bogrov in Colorado, Lundin in LA, Matti, Tommy, Nilsson in Toronto, every Russian player, every non-American and non-Canadian player had to prove that. Boodram in Ottawa and Boiziau in Montreal too, because of their parents. We are rare breed, and we are all different, but we all have to prove we are worth keeping around." He waved a hand. "Is obviously harder for Boiziau and Boodram than for the Europeans but still. Like I said, if I go to wavers, any of the Europeans go to wavers, and we do not get grabbed or signed to other teams, we have to go back."
"You don't though," Scott pointed out.
"No, I would just have to explain why I, a player who has never played for Canadian teams, has Canadian citizenship," Ilya deadpanned.
"Oh. Right."
"Oh right," Ilya mocked.
"Asshole."
"Dinosaur."
Scott sighed. "Thank you, for reaching out."
"I am sorry I could not stay," Ilya said honestly. "Was... Hard. Harder than I thought. Being surrounded by queer joy and having to keep it arm length. Fear of being seen, being known."
"I get it." Scott lightly elbowed Ilya. "I don't blame you, I'm glad you have Shane to escape to."
Ilya smiled. "Me too."
Scott scoffed. "Gay," he chirped.
"Says the gay icon."
Yuna drove Scott and Kip to the airport, relaxed and refreshed and much less stressed with the clear plan and Yuna unofficially acting as Kip and Scott's joint sponsorship agent.
"Seems like you're giving up a couple of very good friends to move to Ottawa," David mused, helping Ilya with the puzzle on the cottage's dining table.
"Will be hard, but is my choice this time." Ilya clicked a large section of the puzzle into place. "And Scott is hard to get rid of. He grows like moss. Giving up geography closeness, yes, giving up the two of them as friends? No."