Tits up !

“Hey Roz, will you spot me?”

Troy Barrett’s request was a welcome one, as Ilya definitely needed a break from his routine anyway. Turning toward his friend, he took his place behind him on the weight bench and made sure to keep his eyes on Troy’s movements as he lifted more than most of the guys on the team.

But just as the man finished one set and started another, the door to the gym opened, stealing Ilya’s attention for half a second.

And there he was: Shane. Clothed in new Centaurs athletic shorts and his chest completely bare, he walked in and stole Ilya’s breath completely away. 

Fuck, he looked dangerous. Muscles rippling, face serious, eyes faraway, Ilya felt his body react before he could think. He needed to devour him. He had no choice. Rational thought wasn’t an option, he was working purely on instinct. 

He began to walk towards his husband, a small smile on his face and his mouth watering. His hands tingled, already moving forward to touch that perfect, freckled skin. His brain only had one thought, everything else hazy and forgotten. Just ShaneShaneShane.

“Roz!”

“Wha-?”

He whipped around at the sound of his name, only to find Troy sitting up and frowning at him, face stormy, weight askew behind him. It was only then that Ilya remembered what he was meant to be doing.

“Ah,” he said eloquently. “Shit.”

Shortly after that, Harris created a new sign for the team gym:

Meanwhile, Ilya is immediately infatuated with Shane in Saskatchewan (the freckles, the handshakes, the compliments, etc) and goes on to push down his feelings and claim what they have is purely casual despite how much he quickly cares for Shane. He also knows their situation isn't normal, but he's able to rationalize it in a different way from Shane by claiming it's simple and nothing more than sex. Until he's miserable without Shane after the tuna meltdown, where even if he doesn't admit it's why it's in such a bad mood, he's immediately worried about what Shane's situation once they meet again in Tampa Bay. And once they do reunite, he is completely content in only having Shane back as a fuck buddy and then is jumpscared by Shane with a conversation about their feelings. Ilya goes on to realize just how deeply he cares for Shane, and goes the opposite way: he feels the need to end their relationship. I do think it's more out of self-preservation and believing he doesn't deserve Shane in many ways, but the point still stands that he is set on ending their situation until the Skip kiss makes him realize theirs a very slim chance he and Shane can work. The fact that these shifts happen because of the same events, namely the tuna meltdown and the Tampa Bay conversation, is honestly pretty insane.

There's not as much of a case for this happening in TLG, but I do think it's worth talking about that Ilya's depression is somewhat enhanced by having to hide his relationship with Shane and the plane crash makes him once again content with just having Shane at all, while Shane wants to keep their relationship hidden until the plane crash and shifts their plans of marriage and coming out much sooner to "prove" his love for Ilya (again in quotes because that's likely how he views it, he doesn't need to prove his love for Ilya at this point). The conversation with Crowell really exemplifies their stance changes, with Ilya knowing that Crowell is offering a pretty good out for them and being willing to deal with if Shane is. However, Shane immediately shuts down the out and chooses Ilya. Again, it's not as prominent of opposite arcs as in HR, but there are seeds for it that I thought were worth mentioning (and could be expanded on in Unrivaled, if I had to make any kind of predictions about that book).

Ilya notices it right away. Jackie is dropping Ruby off to spend an afternoon with her uncles like she's done countless times before. But something seems off with Ruby. She's not her usual chaotic self. 

"How are you, Sweetheart? Everything ok?" Ilya asks.  

She just nods and makes her way to the living room. Jackie gives him a look and as they hug goodbye, she whispers, "She's going through her first little heartbreak."  

"Ah." Ilya nods. He knows this is a very delicate matter.  

He planned a full mani-pedi day for them. So, they're sitting on the living room floor with an assortment of nail polishes and accessories on the coffee table while Shane is reading on the couch. It's hard to miss how Ruby is sighing the whole time and Ilya knows it's not about the bright teal color he's currently putting on her nails. 

"You know you can talk to me about anything, Sweetheart. I'm here if you need."  

She lets out her biggest sigh yet. "I'm sad.. about a boy." He's holding her hand while he expertly puts on another coat of polish on her nails.  

"Mm. Do you want to talk about it? I promise it will help." 

She nods determinedly. "There's this boy in class and.. he's really cute." 

"Oh, I bet." Ilya smiles as he's switching to her other hand. 

"I asked him to sit beside me at lunch one day." She continues. "And I gave him half my sandwich." 

Ilya raises his eyebrows, intrigued. He makes a sound urging her to continue.  

it's well made, well shot, well directed, the music is interesting, the costumes are both thoughtful and subtly period accurate, the sex scenes are intentional and, again, accurate to what hooking up when you're like 18 actually feels like...the actors are of course attractive but they look like real people. the characters are varied and well fleshed out, the acting is really, really strong

so many shows and films shoot and then slot in whatever music kind of fits or could be licenced in the budget after time, but you can tell that the scenes in hr were shot with that specific music in mind. and the same intentional approach runs through the whole thing

It’s not often that Ilya will pick a rainy day over one filled with sun. He loves days at the cottage that are spent outside—swimming in the lake, grilling dinner, lazily laying on the patio until the sun dips behind the clouds and they turn the fire pit on, moments where he can count and kiss Shane’s freckles before applying sunshine. It feels like something so warm and intimate that he can’t hold it between his hands, like it’s too fragile to pick up. 

But there’s also something about a rainy day that he’s come to love. 

Hours tend to drip by slower; there’s no haste to move or to get things done. Shane sleeps in, which is different all on its own—Ilya is so used to being the second person that wakes up. But now, in the warm silence of the morning, Ilya gets another cup of coffee and tucks himself into the corner of the couch to take in the rain coming down in sheets outside. It’s gray, the cottage a little darker, thunder booming in the distance and shaking the glass a bit. He watches as lightning streaks through the sky above the water of the lake, drawing a deep breath into his nose as he settles into the coziness of the cushions. 

He looks up as he sees Shane wander around the corner, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips, his boyfriend still half asleep. He’s got a navy blue hoodie on, hood tucked over his head, his cheeks warm and streaked with pillow marks. 

“Coffee?” Ilya asks and Shane just shakes his head. 

He brings up one of his hands that’s covered in his hoodie sleeve to rub at his eye, stepping down to where Ilya is and mapping himself on top of his body, mindful of the coffee in Ilya’s hands. A soft laugh rumbles in his chest as Shane’s lower half slips between his legs, his arms resting on either side of Ilya’s body. He presses his face into his shoulder with a small sniffle, his nose wriggling like some sort of bunny. 

It really has Ilya wanting to bite him. 

Ilya’s noticed that when it rains sometimes, Shane’s allergies get all kicked up, grass wet and pollen being shuffled around. He shifts on the couch, wanting to get him an allergy tablet and water but Shane is determined in not wanting to move. He seems okay for now, so Ilya will worry about it later. 

He holds his coffee in one hand, the other stroking up and down Shane’s spine, pausing to rest along the back of his neck. His hood has shifted lightly, his hair a mess of chaotic strands underneath. Ilya presses his nose and lips against his hairline, breathing him in, memorizing, as if this might be all a dream and slip right through his fingers. 

Thunder crackles again in the distance, the rain pattering softly against the windows, cocooning them in a muffled, cottony universe that’s all their own. Shane tips his head, his nose resting against his pulsepoint. Ilya slips his hands underneath the back of his hoodie to feel his skin, tracing his thumbs in circles, reveling in the way Shane shivers and inches closer. As if that’s at all possible. 

“What do you want to do today, sweetheart?” Ilya whispers, having one more sip of coffee before he puts the mug down on the coffee table. He squeezes Shane around his waist, shuffling further down on the couch, tucking himself underneath this boyfriend blanket. 

“Here,” Ilya says in a would-be casual tone, except Shane can detect his anxiety by the way his back is ramrod straight. “For you.”

And suddenly, a stack of index cards is shoved in Shane’s hands. 

Curious and a little confused, he begins to shuffle through the offending pieces of paper. After only a few, however, he catches on. On one side of each is a Russian word, written in both the Cyrillic and English alphabets, and on the other is a picture or English word. 

Shane can’t help but break into a giant grin. “You made me flashcards?” he asks, glancing over at his boyfriend, who is insisting on frowning and staring off into the distance like he hasn’t just done something absolutely adorable.

“You told me you like these better than language app, so I make,” Ilya says, shrugging and shaking his head a little. “Is no big deal.”

But it is. It’s a huge deal. Shane can tell from the way Ilya’s painstakingly chosen words and pictures that obviously mean something to him or Shane or both that Ilya’s thought about this, and that Shane learning Russian truly means something to him. 

“You do not have to use–” Ilya starts, but Shane interrupts.

“They’re great, Rozanov,” he says firmly, already shuffling through them. “I–” But he’s gotten to a card labelled ‘Kotik’ with a picture of himself on the back. “What’s this word? Boyfriend?”

And Ilya’s suddenly smirking. “Ah, no. See your face in this picture? You are angry. Like cute little kitten. Kotik is small cat.”

He becomes a consultant who shitty teams trying to not suck, good teams who want to last further into the playoffs, great teams who want to finally win the cup, call to Fix Them.

He is paid absolutely bonkers amounts of money to watch a team play for five minutes and immediately diagnose what’s wrong with them. He is always right.

Ok 5 minutes is probably an exaggeration. The coaches send him a bunch of tape to review in advance. They probably focus on their best players or the ones they think need the most improvement, but half the time Shane requests more, focusing on players they hadn’t paid much attention to before. Then one day at practice, the players look up into the stands and are filled with awe, terror, and wonder, because Shane Hollander is sitting there staring directly at them with a scarily thoughtful look on his face.

He meets with the coaches and gm and reports his conclusions. Who to trade and for who , how to get better results from certain players, how to run power plays and penalty kills, changes in line makeups.

Some lucky players get to meet with him. He takes about five minutes to list off or demonstrate everything they need to do to stop sucking. He has no time for chit chat or hero worship. Focus, listen, learn, and do exactly what he says and you will be good. Fail to do what he says and you will shame your entire bloodline.

He has no interest in teaching people what a fucking microaggression is, or why a question is homophobic or why a particular comment is racist. If he doesn't like it, he's done. And he is enough in demand (and not at all actually in need of money) to enforce this. The teams need him. He doesn't need them.

There are probably a few teams that have declined because of that, but most are gonna make sure everyone is on their Best Goddam Behavior. The locker room can, on a normal day, be the most vile cesspit of toxic masculinity, but the GM/whoever is in charge makes it Really Fucking Clear that while Shane Hollander is within a hundred miles of their rink they are the Most Enlightened Team On Planet Earth.