Archive of Our Own

Shane barely remembers Ilya's first meeting with his parents. Mainly because his brain was buzzing with panic and terror, then because the relief was overwhelming, and then because all he could think of was 'boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend'. And yet, there's one specific sentence he recalls perfectly, mostly because it was so shocking. Still is.

'Were there no nice men in Montreal?' his Dad asked, and Shane was so shocked he replied something stupid, before they all moved on.

He gets it still - it was a huge shock, even if his parents apparently suspected he's gay. It's one thing to be gay, and another to date Ilya fucking Rozanov. Apparently.

It's something Shane knows logically, even as it makes no sense deep inside. Because he and Ilya are inevitable. Perfect for each other. He looks at his boyfriend (boyfriend!) and everything goes soft and sweet, even as Ilya teases him, especially when he teases him. Shane loves him like that, loves all sides of him. It's still shocking to him that others don't.

Thankfully, it seems like his parents are coming around. Their new family chat now includes Ilya, and his boyfriend can spend hours just chatting to his parents. Shane also knows that Ilya has a separate private conversation with his Dad, which seems to be particularly active. It's cute, and also heartbreaking at the same time, seeing the look of shocked awe on Ilya's face whenever they congratulate or worry about him. Shane knows bits and pieces about Ilya's childhood and every part breaks his heart, so he's more than willing to share his own parents with him.

And then his Mom corners him in the kitchen while they're visiting.

Ilya's in the garden with his Dad, talking about psychology or listening to economy lectures (Shane doesn't really care, he's happy to sit there and bask in his Dad and boyfriend getting along), and Shane's just closing the fridge after getting his boyfriend a beer. It's so painfully domestic that he'll cry if he thinks about it too much, so he doesn't.

His Mom appears in the kitchen soon after, and Shane doesn't think much about it at first, up until she comes closer and gently lays a hand on Shane's forearm. His skin itches, and he holds himself still very carefully.

"Honey…" Shane is immediately on edge when he hears her tone. He's not the best at reading them, but he knows his Mom, and he knows this is her 'I'm concerned and about to say something unpleasant' voice. "You know we love Ilya, he's a wonderful man under all that bluster. And we're very happy he makes you happy, Shane, because it's clear that he does-"

"Stop," he interrupts immediately, taking a half-step back from under her touch. "Say what you want to say, Mom."

She sighs. "Just… Are you sure you want to do this, sweetie? Considering Ilya's reputation…"

The way she says 'reputation' makes his skin crawl even more and his breathing picks up for a second. Shane knows his mom - he knows it's coming from a place of love and care, the same love and care that made his brand, that assured his financial stability. He even knows that she does truly love Ilya. And yet.

Anger comes quickly. It's not a surprise - Shane knows he gets angry easily, even if he keeps that part of himself contained, but this is about Ilya. This is about his Mom and Ilya, his sweet, annoying boyfriend who is about to leave one of the best teams in the league just for Shane.

"Does Dad think it too?" Shane asks, voice cold. He doesn't wait for an answer. "Doesn't matter. Mom, I love you and Dad, and I know you want what's best for me. Ilya is what's best for me. I don't give a fuck about his reputation, about the rumors, about anything. He's it for me. You know this and you still doubt me. Us." He can't help the hurt bleeding into his tone, and she softens.

"Oh, Shane, no…" She breathes. "We just worry, sweetie. You've worked so hard to be who you are, to show the world who you are, and I just don't want you to ruin your life's work so easily."

Rage and agony burst to life in his chest, and he slams the beer bottle onto the counter, so loud it makes her jump. A part of Shane is ashamed of that, but another part, a larger part, wants to scream and grow. He doesn't, because he was raised better than that, but he needs his Mom to understand.

To never question them again.

"I don't care about that," he says simply. There are many things Shane could say to hurt her, take cheap shots (and make valid points too) that would sting and potentially ruin her, but he doesn't want it. He loves his Mom, and she loves him, so so much. She loves Ilya too. She just needs a reminder of the priorities. "This is my life, Mom, not just hockey or some stupid ads. I will marry this man one day, and you'll be so happy for us, I know it. But honestly, I don't give a shit about my image." Shane shrugs. "You're the one who built it, but I'm almost 30. And I love Ilya Rozanov, all of him. Including his reputation."

His Mom looks at him, wide-eyed and surprised, before it melts away into understanding and a hint of remorse. Shane manages a smile.

"His reputation, his image is just as fake as mine. Talk to anyone who really knows Ilya, and they'll tell him all about how they like him, how fun and sometimes kind he is, how they enjoy his company. I don't care about the public. You shouldn't either."

Shane knows it's harder for her - his Mom is his manager, she makes sure all his affairs are in order, she takes care of his public image. And, not for the first time, Shane thinks it should change soon.

"I need you to be my Mom. Ilya needs you to be my Mom. Not my manager, not a public figure. We need you."

She falls into his arms, trembling minutely, and Shane hugs her tightly, letting go of some of the rage, some of the anger. He knows she cares. He knows she loves them. He's still a bit angry.

"Okay, honey," she whispers against his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Shane smiles. "I forgive you." It's an echo of a previous conversation, and Shane hopes it's the last of its kind. He has a feeling it is. "Love you, Mom."

"I love you too. And I love Ilya."

He chuckles. "Maybe go and remind him?"

She cups his cheek before leaving the kitchen with Ilya's beer and his Dad's cider, and Shane exhales loudly, leaning back against the counter. It's not bad, he knows - introducing his boyfriend to his parents could've gone much worse, but he still hates those hurdles. Especially when the 'hurdles' are people doubting Ilya, doubting his love for Shane, Shane's love for him.

Hopefully, it's the last time he has to deal with it in this house.

        2. Hayden

The reveal is yet another nightmare, and Shane hates that he didn't come out on his own again, but he survives. Hayden is his best friend, and Shane knows he loves him, but he's still a straight, white hockey player, and it shows. He also, apparently, hates Ilya.

Shane knows that a lot of players despise Ilya on the ice. He's been voted as The Most Punchable in the League 4 years in a row for a reason, and he chirps anyone and everyone, gleefully dropping the gloves whenever he can. At the same time, Shane knows that a lot of players also like him off the ice. The Boston Bears worship the ground Ilya walks on, even after he left for Ottawa, and during All-Stars he's always very popular - with the players, the WAGs, and especially the kids.

All that being said, he understands why it's a shock. Their rivalry is the selling point of the entire league, though it's died down slightly, ever since the Irina Foundation and Ilya's move to Ottawa. The media still likes to try and feed it, and they're extremely competitive, so it's not like they're not helping either.

Hollander vs Rozanov, for every award, every record, every goal. That's how it's always been.

So when Hayden somehow figures them out, Shane does his best to remain understanding (as soon as the panic and terror abate slightly). His best friend's eyes are wide and he peppers Shane with questions, most of which boil down to 'Rozanov? Really?'. Shane, doing his best to remain patient, replies to every one with 'Yes, really.'.

"But Shane, he's an asshole," Hayden says for the hundredth time.

Shane tries not to roll his eyes. "Sometimes. Mostly on ice," he agrees.

"But not only! I've seen his interviews, he's fucking awful. You can do so much better."

He wants to snap back, ask if the Shane that does the interviews is the same Shane that Hayden knows, but the thing is, they're not that different. Because Shane hides himself behind his persona from everyone but Ilya, who always saw him for exactly who he is. So Hayden doesn't get it, not really. Can't get it.

He also can't stop being an asshole, apparently.

"He's not like that all the time, Hayd. He's good to me."

"I'm sure he is," Hayden mutters under his breath. Shane pretends he can't hear it. He knows they both need time, it is a big secret to keep.

Ilya seems unconcerned. "Моя любовь, why should I be concerned with what Montreal's 15th best player thinks? I only care what you think."

Shane chuckles. "Come on, he's better than that."

His boyfriend rolls his eyes. "None of them matter. You make Montreal, everyone knows."

"Oh, everyone?" he teases.

"Yes, is obvious." Then, Ilya softens, gets more serious. "Pike is your friend, yes? Best friend. He will, how you say, come over?"

"Oh, you mean come around? I hope so."

"I know. Or he is shit best friend."

"He's not," Shane protests.

"Okay. So he will come around. You have me always, Shane."

He tries to stop the tears and smiles at his boyfriend, aching with want. "You have me too, Ilya, no matter what he says. It's always you."

The conversation puts him at ease and, for a while, everything is okay. Jackie contacts him, because Hayden can't keep a secret from his wife, and they make plans for a dinner, to get to know each other. Shane is slightly apprehensive, but he knows it's needed - he's always been close with the Pikes, and his boyfriend deserves to be brought into the fold too. Besides, Ilya is great with kids and Shane can't wait to see him with the little Pikes.

As they drive over, he's cautiously optimistic, but also very aware of how badly it can go. Ilya has a very specific type of humour, one that many hockey player share but, for some reason, it drives Hayden absolutely insane. Shane doesn't really get it. Ilya is an annoying little shit, but it's endearing and always, always mostly harmless. He usually doesn't take cheap shots, and he never says anything even remotely homophobic, racist, or sexist.

The bar is in hell, but thus is hockey.

"It's going to be okay, дорогой," Ilya soothes, one hand on Shane's thigh, the other at the wheel.

Shane groans. "I don't know about that. Can you help?"

"Always," his boyfriend says without hesitation.

He takes a deep breath and curses that he didn't do it back at home, where he could've held Ilya and made absolutely sure he understands.

"Can you…hold back a bit? With Hayden?" Shane requests quietly and immediately rushes to explain himself. He never wants Ilya to be insecure about himself. "You know I love your chirps, even when you annoy me, but it's- I don't know, Hayden is like, fired up or something, and I really need this to go well, and I know it's shitty, but can you please-"

"Shane." He falls quiet immediately, his body used to obeying Ilya when he speaks in that particular tone. Arousal stirs in his gut and Shane grits his teeth, before taking a few deep breaths. "Good. Breathe. Is fine, we are okay. Yes?"

"Yes," he breathes out.

"I will behave. For you, and only for you," Ilya promises.

Shane grabs the hand resting on his thigh and tangles their fingers together. "Thank you. Sorry, I know it's unfair to ask you that, but just…"

"Ah, no sorries," Ilya interrupts. "Not your fault Pike has delicate sensibilities."

Shane raises an eyebrow at the careful way his boyfriend pronounces the words. "Did you learn it from that 'word of the day' dictionary?"

"Yes. Does it make you horny?"

He squirms, face hot. "Maybe."

Ilya's laughter makes him blush even harder, but the interaction does manage to distract him from the looming future. The dread comes back once they park, but Ilya grabs his hand and squeezes, pulling Shane close to his side. They share one last tender kiss before the door opens, and Jackie is beaming at them from the inside.

"Hi guys! It's so good to see you, thank you for coming!"

"Thank you for invite," Ilya says smoothly, turning up his charm. Shane can't help but smile. "You are beautiful. How did Pike land you?"

Jackie laughs, flushing slightly under the famous Ilya Rozanov beaming smile. Shane can relate. He doesn't even pinch his boyfriend for the little dig at Hayden, because his best friend isn't there yet, so Ilya's behaving as promised. He loves his menace of a boyfriend.

"I like to pick up strays," she jokes, and Ilya bursts out laughing.

"Oh, Jackie Pike, we are going to be best of friends," he announces, coming up to her to kiss her cheeks three times. Shane only saw him do it a few times, mostly when he feels comfortable with someone - it's only done between those who are particularly close.

"Rozanov, step away from my wife!" comes Hayden's yell, and even Shane can tell it's not really playful. Thankfully, Jackie just rolls her eyes and squeezes Shane's forearm in greeting. "Shane, good to see you, man."

Shane allows his best friend to hug him shortly, but he takes notice oh how Hayden is pretending Ilya isn't here. He raises an eyebrow at the other man and, finally, Hayden turns around and nods at his boyfriend. "Rozanov."

"Pike," Ilya replies. "You have beautiful wife."

For a moment, Hayden glows, smiling at Jackie. "I know. You better remember she's my wife, though."

Shane winces, Jackie's eyes narrowing, but Ilya just shakes his head. "She is beautiful, but my Shane is all I need. No offense," he adds in Jackie's direction.

She only laughs and leads all of them into the dining room, where a table is set for four. Shane knows the kids are with a babysitter for the evening, which is probably for the better. He has this ominous feeling that something will go wrong, no matter how much Ilya tries - and not at all because of Ilya.

Hayden can't stop throwing those dark looks in the direction of his boyfriend, even as Jackie tries to pretend everything is fine. Ilya follows her direction, engaging in the conversation and keeping it purposefully light, one hand resting on Shane's thigh. It's his favorite spot and, at this point, Shane is conditioned to calm down when Ilya's hand lies there.

It doesn't help as much as it usually does, but they get through most of dinner, before Shane can't take it anymore.

"Okay, enough," he snaps when Hayden rolls his eyes with a sigh at something Ilya says, for the thousandth time. And Shane knows Ilya is behaving, keeping parts of himself contained, not chirping Hayden, despite how much he wants to. It's a shame Hayden isn't trying even half as hard. "Don't let anyone stop you, Hayden, and say what you want."

Silence falls, and Hayden's eyes widen, probably unused to Shane actually speaking up. But those are his best friends and his boyfriend, the love of his life, and he's not letting any bad blood come between them.

"I just-"

"What, Hayden?" Shane asks flatly. "You had no issues letting everyone know how unhappy you are with Ilya being here. So speak."

Hayden looks at them for a while, before frowning. "I just don't understand it. You and him?"

"Well, it's a good thing it's not yours to understand." Shane feels a bit like talking to a toddler, but he's willing to give Hayden the benefit of the doubt. He's a good guy, overall. "Yes, Ilya and I. We're in love. We've always been in love, I think."

"Always," Ilya repeats, turning to look at Shane with those soft, blue-green eyes. Shane feels himself soften and they share a smile.

"See, I don't get it," Hayden's voice shatters the moment. Jackie hisses her husband's name, but Shane shakes his head, encouraging his best friend to continue. "Rozanov is a known whore and now he's just making eyes at you? Come on."

"Hayden Tristan Pike!" Jackie yells, silence falling over the table. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"Jackie! It's a valid question," Hayden tries to defend himself. "It's true, we've all seen it, and it's not a stretch to say he's fucking playing with Shane now, until he gets bored."

Shane doesn't even get a chance to say anything, because Jackie is on a roll. Her eyes darken, fingers digging into the table. "Oh?" she whispers, almost dangerous. "So just because I hooked up with a lot of people before we got together means I'm playing with you because I settled down with you, Hayden Pike?"

Hayden's eyes widen, and he scrambles to correct his error, assuring his wife that it's not the case at all, that he loves and trusts her, and he knows they're happy, that her past is her past and totally okay. Shane can't help but scoff.

"So it's only not okay when it's Ilya?" he asks, bringing the attention back to himself. Normally, the weight of all those eyes would make him shrink down, but Shane is brimming with rage and humiliation, and he needs to say his piece. Especially since he can see how Ilya shrank down a bit, as if ashamed, and no one is allowed to make Ilya feel small. "Explain."

"No, Shane, come on, don't put words in my mouth," the other man whines, throwing his hands up. "I didn't mean- Just, everyone knows Rozanov is a player. I'm worried for you, because I'm your best friend. You deserve better."

And that is the straw that breaks the camel's back. The ocean of rage boils over until a strange, cold peace settles over him. Shane sits there, holding Ilya's hand, squeezing it so hard it probably hurts, and he knows this is it.

No one is allowed to talk about Ilya this way.

"How dare you?" he asks slowly, feeling angry like never before. Angry and hurt, and a thousand other things that are all bursting to get out of him. "Who the fuck are you to question me, Hayden? I'm a grown man, I've been a grown adult ever since you first met me. You're barely a year older, what the fuck? Who gave you the right to question Ilya's worth as a person? You don't even know him! You don't know us. And you don't even want to, right? You just want to shit on the love of my life right in front of me. Who does that?!"

"Shane…" Hayden tries to soothe. "I'm just worried. He's a well-known asshole, and-"

"Hayden, do I have to be the person who explains to you, after more than a decade in the MLH, that people are not always who they are on the ice and on screen? Really?" Shane knows he sounds condescending, and that's on purpose. Ilya stifles a chuckle and Hayden flushes bright red, but Shane keeps going before he can say anything. "We came here to get to know each other, but you'd rather huff and shoot Ilya dirty looks like we're 15. If you can't respect me, my choices, and my relationship enough to be civil, then maybe we should call it quits now."

From Ilya's frown, Shane knows that some of the words escaped his understanding, but when Shane tugs him up, he goes without hesitation. Hayden scrambles up as well, now panicked, but Shane shakes his head.

"Ilya doesn't deserve to sit here being questioned and disrespected. I don't deserve to be treated like a child by someone who's supposed to be my best friend. Think about what's important to you, Hayden, and text me when you figure it out."

"Thank you for the lovely dinner, Jackie!" Ilya calls back, unflinchingly polite, almost giddy. "You're great!"

Her laughter follows them out, a bit brittle but true anyway, and silence reigns as they get into the car, Ilya behind the wheel as before. They sit there for a second, both shocked, before Shane speaks up.

"I can't believe I did that."

When Ilya doesn't reply with a chuckle and a chirp, he looks at his boyfriend, who's already staring at him, eyes soft and uncertain. "You didn't have to," he says quietly.

Shane is shaking his head before Ilya can keep going. "I did," he says firmly. "You don't deserve that. I don't deserve that. I love you."

"I love you too," Ilya replies immediately. "I'll hold you through the panic attack when we're home."

He laughs and leans over the console to kiss him gently, feeling the flames of panic lick at his bones from the inside. "Can't wait."

3. The Centaurs

The Centaurs are much different from The Metros. Better.

Shane knew that already, because Ilya spent hours talking about his teammates, and he trusts his husband (husband!) to never put him in danger. He knows that the Centaurs are nice people, welcoming and accepting, but it's still a shock to see their wide smiles at their disaster of a wedding.

They hoot and holler when Shane and Ilya finally kiss, some of them are even teary-eyed. Harris chooses a song that doesn't matter, and they dance together publicly for the first time in their lives. Shane can lean in and kiss Ilya every time he wants and it's not weird or strange, no one looks at them differently. Not even Hayden (who needed 4 whole days to come to his senses and text Shane an apology) and J.J (who is still grovelling but they're on the right track) wince or frown, instead smiling for Shane.

Shane doesn't care about weddings, not even his own, but it's bliss unlike any other to finally be Ilya Rozanov's husband. They made it.

Signing with the Centaurs should feel like defeat (and a part of him is so bitter and resentful that he feels like he's about to explode with it), but instead it feels like breathing right for the first time in a very long time. Shane is finally starting to believe that the way his former teammates behaved isn't a reflection of him as a Captain - bigots will be bigots, and it's not his responsibility to manage that.

It's far from an easy road, but it's theirs, and having jerseys in the same colors makes his heartbeat pick up.

The Centaurs are also good teammates. Shane is always in awe of the work Ilya put into the team, of the way they improved under his guidance and fire, and he locks into place almost seamlessly. It doesn't hurt that he and Ilya play like they're sharing a brain, like magic, like everything Shane never dared to want.

He slowly finds his place in the locker room and on the ice, and Ilya lets Shane set the pace, keeps his distance - Shane is beyond grateful for the space. He loves his husband, but finding new balance in a new team is exhausting, and he needs to focus on that, instead of Ilya. Because focusing on anything else but his husband while he's close is almost impossible.

But, with time, everything settles, and they allow themselves to get closer. The Centaurs don't seem to mind or care, but they do make a few comments here and there that confuse the fuck out of Shane.

"Nice shot, sweetheart!" Ilya calls across the ice during practice. "I'll also let you score tonight!"

Shane scoffs and is about to reply that Ilya has never not let him score (not that they call it that), but Coach Wiebe grabs his husband's attention. He turns around wordlessly, only to face Troy and Bood, both smirking and wagging their eyebrows.

"Roz got lucky, huh?" Bood drawls, not unkindly. "That would've been some scolding."

He furrows his brows, distinctly feeling like he's missing a crucial social cue. It's not an unfamiliar feeling, but before Shane can ask what Bood meant, Ilya calls for attention and the moment passes.

Only it happens again.

Usually, when Ilya chirps or flirts with him out loud, making outrageous comments that always make Shane blush and laugh, warmth spreading in his belly. They can finally be free, act how they wish, and it's a heady feeling to be so desired and adored by his husband.

Shane just doesn't understand what other people's issues are.

"Wow, you just let him say things like these?" Hazy asks after another one of Ilya's unhinged comments.

Shane frowns. "I don't let him do anything?" he half-states, half-asks. "Ilya is an adult. He makes choices himself."

This time it's LaPointe who speaks. "Yeah, but he's your husband, right? So he has to do what you say."

He carefully doesn't point out that Shane is usually the one doing what Ilya says, both on ice and in private. Instead, he shrugs. "I think you have some weird views on marriage, kid." Shane mutters. "Do some more research."

He leaves the weird conversation because someone else can say something strange, immediately finding his husband. Shane slots into Ilya's side like he was made for it, and the other man presses a kiss to his jaw the second he's there, interrupting himself in the middle of the sentence.

"Hi, дорогой," he coos.

"Hi, baby," Shane replies softly. "The Rookies don't know shit about marriage."

Ilya and Harris (who was talking with Ilya) both snort. "If we're lucky, they will wait until marriage. Unlike Hayden Pike."

Shane laughs, nuzzling deeper into his husband. "Hopefully."

After that, Shane starts noticing a pattern. He's not the best at social cues, but he's outstanding at pattern recognition, and people aren't subtle. It's not only the Centaurs, it's a lot of their friends and even strangers on the internet, but the consensus is clear, and Shane hates it.

They all seem to think he's controlling Ilya, that he needs to keep his husband on a 'short leash' to make sure he's behaving himself. That Ilya can't be trusted to do basic domestic chores without Shane's oversight or orders. That Shane decides what Ilya can or can't say, or can or can't do in public.

The idea makes Shane's skin crawl, shame and anger mixing until he's nauseous with it. Because Ilya is the most thoughtful, gentle, perceptive person Shane knows. His husband pushes and prods, but never too much, and he'd never do anything to make Shane truly uncomfortable or hurt. Their communication is better, but Ilya knows what Shane can or can't handle on his own.

He's also a grown adult who took care of himself and his family for most of his adult life. Shane finds those opinions demeaning.

He knows Ilya doesn't care - he never really cared what people think about it, and now that he has their (finally theirs!) parents, Sveta, Rose, and Cliff, close, he's even more confident. Those people know the true Ilya.

The Centaurs are learning, finally allowed closer to the real man. Learning can be long and sometimes painful, Shane knows that.

He is, simply, choosing to help them along.

An opportunity presents itself a few weeks later, and Shane knows Ilya knows something is up, but his husband is letting Shane have his fun. Shane is glad - he's always going to be here to protect his husband, even from their friends' mostly harmless but nonetheless wrong assumptions. Besides, Troy always makes Shane a bit trigger-happy, and his statement really is crossing a line.

They're all buzzing from a win against Metros, a solid 5-1 where Ilya scored a hat-trick, all from Shane's assists, and Shane himself got the other two goals. He can almost feel the heat of his husband's gaze on his skin as they both scramble to change, Ilya's hand already cleaned, a bruise blooming on his jaw. He looks so dangerous and hot Shane has to convince himself that it's not socially acceptable to drop to his knees in a full locker room for his husband.

"Damn, Rozy, you really went at them, huh?" Dykstra laughs, himself very bruised. "Apparently, Comeau was admitted to the hospital."

And normally, both Ilya and Shane would be worried and guilty. No good player wants to send other players to the hospital. But Comeau is a racist, homophobic, sexist piece of shit who targeted Shane the whole game. So Shane can't be upset that his husband hunted the man and put him down like a sick dog.

Troy whistles at that. "Fuck man, that's intense. You're gonna sleep in the doghouse for a few days at least for that, huh? Brave."

Both Shane and Ilya pause. Shane sees his husband frown, probably not understanding the exact idea behind the metaphor, but Shane himself is fuming. Doghouse?

"What do you mean?" he asks coldly, all the arousal and giddiness suddenly gone. The locker room goes silent, and Troy makes a confused face. "What doghouse."

"Oh, y'know, like the couch or the guest room. I know you're not really going to make him sleep on the porch, Hollander," Troy explains with a laugh. "I heard you calling your guard dog off."

It's not really offensive. Ilya frequently refers to himself as Shane's bodyguard, calling Shane his guard dog whenever he drops the gloves in Ilya's defence. It can be an affectionate joke, and it's certainly popular among the hockey world.

Yet.

No one made a joke like that when Shane broke two fingers punching a Tampa defenceman for calling his husband a slur. No one implied that Ilya should keep Shane on a leash, even though that stunt cost them a goal on power play from Tampa. No one said anything, because apparently, it's only Ilya that needs a firm hand to control him and punish him.

It makes Shane feel sick.

"Actually, Barret, I don't know," Shane replies, locking eyes with Troy. He knows the other man is a good guy, he knows he's changed and is doing his best to do better. Still, Troy Barret makes Shane angry like almost no-one else, and a comment about his husband is what does it. "I don't 'make' my husband sleep anywhere, much less somewhere that's not our bed. I don't punish him like he's a dog who peed on the rug because he fought a homophobic, racist piece of shit player who hunted me for sport on the rink. I don't know how your relationship works, but Ilya and I make our own choices and talk if we don't like something."

The silence that follows is so thick he's almost choking on it, and when a familiar hand lays on his hip, Shane leans against his husband's sweaty body, looking from Troy to every other teammate.

"Ilya isn't a dog. I'm not some nagging old hag who makes stupid rules and 'runs the house like the military' as if we don't live there together. I don't punish my husband or do whatever else you're apparently convinced I do. We're equals. We have a life together. And we deserve more respect than those shitty fucking comments you keep making. You have your own marriages, and we have ours. It's not whatever you're imagining."

Shane nods once and tugs his husband out of the locker room, rushing past Couch Wiebe without a word. They're still in their under armour, sweaty and, in Ilya's case, bloody, but for once, Shane doesn't care. He gets them in the car and groans once the doors close behind them once again.

"This feels familiar," Ilya says, because they're usually on the same track.

"I know. I'm sorry," Shane mumbles. "I didn't mean to snap at them."

"Sorry? Shane, I barely stopped myself from fucking you in that locker room. It was hot."

Shane laughs and glances at his husband. They're both flushed, breathless, and they burst out laughing once the situation dawns on them.

"I know it's jokes, but I don't like them," Shane says quietly once they've calmed down and started driving. "I'm not your nagging wife and you're not some unruly dog."

"Woof woof," Ilya says dryly. When Shane whacks his shoulder, he softens. "I know, моя любовь. I don't mind, but you do, and that's important. They can find other jokes."

"Yeah. Better ones, maybe."

"Doubtful. They have pucks for brains."

They laugh the rest of the way home, and Shane settles. Maybe he exploded a bit too violently but, honestly, he thinks it's pretty deserved. Besides, he knows they're going to be okay. The Centaurs are good like that.

         +1. The world

Shane barely has time to think before Ilya is on him, slamming him against the closed door, kissing him deeply, tongue already in his mouth. He moans and opens up as always, tangling his fingers in Ilya's hair, pulling him closer. When his husband grabs the back of his thighs, Shane jumps without question, wrapping his legs around his waist, moaning at the strength. They're the same statue, yet somehow Ilya is strong enough to throw him around as if he weighs nothing. Shane is always horny for his husband's personal record, knowing it's way above his weight.

"Shane."

"Ilya. More, please," he begs mindlessly, mind already going fuzzy. "Here?"

"No." He's hoisted from the wall and carried all the way up the stairs as if he weighs nothing, Ilya sucking his soul out with his tongue the whole time.

Shane melts against the sheets when he's gently deposited on the bed, legs locking around the back of Ilya's thighs, making sure he stays. They barely separate, ungracefully shedding clothes - by this point, they're masters at getting naked without moving too much, and Shane doesn't even care about the clothes on the floor. It's hard to care about anything when he has Ilya fucking Rozanov naked and hard, pressing him against the bed.

"Slut," his husband says fondly, fingers already finding where Shane is open and wet, ready to receive him. "Did you sneak out after the game?"

Shane laughs breathlessly. "I was alone during showers," he pants. "You were busy, Captain."

Russian curses follow, just before Ilya presses two fingers inside of him, thick and long and perfect, right where Shane needs him. He whines and arches his back, wordlessly begging throughout being prepped. Ilya doesn't go further than two fingers, more than aware of what Shane can take - and he's always a slut for the stretch.

They both keen when Ilya finally presses inside, sinking in inch by inch, not stopping until the sharp cut of his hipbones hits Shane's ass. They kiss, devour each other, slobbering and moaning.

"So angry," Ilya teases, finding his bearing and pressing Shane's shoulders to the bed. His eyes look green in the evening lighting, dark and hungry. Drunk. "You almost punched them, дорогой."

"I almost killed them," Shane manages breathlessly, arms around his husband's shoulders. "They don't deserve to talk about you. You're mine."

Ilya moans, leaning in to bite kisses all over Shane's neck. He just bares his neck further, desperate for the proof of ownership. Ilya is fucking him bare, about to pump him full of cum, yet Shane can't get enough of him. He needs to make sure everyone knows that the Great Russian Fuck Machine is his, that Ilya only fucks him, that he fucks Shane so good.

He needs to make people uncomfortable. They spent years suffocated and uncomfortable, overly aware of marks and truths, and Shane needs everyone to know it's over now. He has Ilya Rozanov for himself, no matter what people say, no matter what the public thinks. Because, at the end of the day, every day, Ilya's here, by Shane's feet, eyes dark, hands brutal, exactly what he needs.

"They're going to talk about it," Ilya whispers against his lips, dark and seductive.

Shane just smirks. "Then they should stop fucking talking about you," he growls. "Mine."

"Yours," Ilya replies, because he's nothing if not devoted. "Your Captain."

A shiver goes down Shane's spine, ownership and easy domination both. "Mine."

He gets fucked out of his mind, a handprint on his hip, Ilya's teeth clamping down on his shoulder, exactly what Shane needs. He comes untouched, yelling Ilya's name, revelling in his husband's cum being pumped inside of him.

People can dream and fantasize, but Shane is the only one who really has it, has Ilya. Just the two of them.

They end up tangled in a heap, exchanging sweet kisses and sweeter words, and Shane smirks when Ilya grabs his phone, pulling the interview. It doesn't really matter what people think, but Shane needs the world aware - they're in this together, and there's not a part of him that doesn't worship the ground Ilya walks on. Everyone should know.

Shane wiggles his hips, doing his best to keep Ilya in place, just enjoying the feeling of his husband's come deep inside of him. He smirks when he hears his own voice coming from a small speaker as Ilya pulls up the newest interview, just after the win against the New York Admirals.

"The stats speaks for themselves," Shane says, high on the win. "It's embarrassing that you're still trying to pit us against each other when Ilya Rozanov is the best Captain in the League, and we all know it. I'm honored to play with him. We win, because he knows us, he knows the team, he knows the players, and he knows the other team too. We win because we're good players and because Rozanov is the best Captain out here. Here's your quote."

"It's like you have a crush on me, Hollander," Ilya teases, thrusting minutely. They both moan into each other's mouths, getting lost in the feeling for a second. "Embarrassing."

Shane rolls his eyes and clenches around the thick cock inside of him, enjoying how it makes Ilya hiss and curse.

"You're mine, Rozanov," Shane says confidently. He's already anticipating another round. "Everyone knows I settle only for the best."

Ilya's hips twitch, his cock pressing against Shane's prostate, and they both moan, at the top of the world. Shane grabs the sheets, already anticipating the next move.

"Yes. I will prove to you."

Shane doesn't need any proof, but he'll gladly take every second of it anyway. No matter what people say, it's them against the world. Always.