Tits up !

what if alex was a boston raiders fan and obsessively followed ilya, even when he switched teams (which he realised later was due to his bisexuality, not just an interest in a top (pun unintended) hockey player), and he took henry on a date to one of the ottawa centaurs game.

thank you for being so patient <3 thank you for the crossover prompt! :)

my prompts are now closed while I work thorough my backlog, but my ask box is always open for yapping <3

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"It's so... violent!" Henry said, watching two of the players punch each other in the face on the ice.

"Oh, are you not enjoying it?" Alex asked, raising his eyebrows with a smirk.

"I didn't say that," Henry replied primly.

A few minutes later, Rozanov scored a goal, and Alex jumped up from his seat, clapping and cheering.

"He's so incredible," he sighed dreamily after sitting back down, leaning back in his seat.

"I looked him up, he's the second best player in the league, right?" Henry asked inquisitively. Alex gave him a fond look, softened by Henry's habit to memorize facts like this.

"Yes, and his, apparently, boyfriend?" Alex gestured with his phone, "Is the best. So. Imagine that."

"I feel like you have been imagining it a lot," Henry smirked; Alex wiggled his eyebrows at him.

"Listen, your Majesty, we're here to see my favorite player and to support a fellow queer person who also got outed in a traumatizing way."

"Naturally." With an incline of his head, Henry nudged his foot against Alex's.

-

"Roz?" Harris poked his head in through the locker room door. He was oddly pale and wide-eyed.

"The. Uhm. The President's son and the Prince of England want to meet you."

All hell broke lose in the locker room.

Ilya just nodded, gesturing at his teammates. "They want to meet real royalty, ah?"

Harris' face turned from pale to red within two seconds. "Don't say that!" He gestured at Ilya's naked, still-sweaty torso, "And put a shirt on!"

Ilya looked down on himself. "Why not give them something to look at?"

"Rozanov." Harris' voice was dead serious.

"Harris," Ilya grinned.

Harris regarded him with one long, stern gaze. "...if you get arrested for treason or something, I'm telling Shane not to bail you out."

-

They were waiting in a side room with very limited press, when Rozanov sauntered in. He was fresh off the game, in sweatpants, hair still wet, shirtless safe for a towel slung over his shoulders.

His naked torso looked like a marble statue's.

Alex was maybe blushing slightly.

The moment they finished practice, Ilya hurried to his phone, a huge grin on his face. It seemed that now they were out to the world, he somehow missed Shane more than ever before, his heart aching every time he couldn't talk to his fiancee. It made it even worse that Shane was currently at Ilya's house, probably in his bed. What did it matter that he was part of a team practicing for playoffs when he had much more important things to worry about?

Of course, when he looked down at his messages, he couldn't help but laugh.

Shane <3: Ilya, WHAT THE FUCK? Shane <3: WHERE ARE MY CLOTHES? Shane <3: WHERE IS MY SUITCASE?

Smirking, he replied.

Ilya: Is okay, malysh, I took out your face slime and left in bathroom before taking clothes with me. Now you just have to wear my things. So sad. Shane <3: You fucking asshole. Shane <3: Are you serious? Shane <3: OH MY GOD. Shane <3: YOU LEFT YOUR FUCKING JERSEY? Shane <3: ROZANOV I SWEAR TO GOD.

Ilya was still grinning as Troy walked over, leaning to catch a peek at his screen. "Messaging Hollander?" he asked knowingly, but his expression turned to shock as he took in the fact that Shane's words were NOT pleased. "Damn, Roz. Trouble in paradise?"

But he just laughed, throwing an arm around Troy. "Ah, no, Barrett. I am very, very happy here. This is truest love, I think."

Troy snorted, rolling his eyes, while Ilya grinned at another incoming text.

One night Svetlana is caring for Ilya and she’s had enough. She takes Ilya’s phone while he’s sleeping and sends a text to Jane like ‘Hi this is Ilya’s friend, Svetlana. Look, I don’t know what happened between you and him but I’m begging you to take him back. He has really bad rejection sickness. The doctors are saying it’s the worst case they’ve ever seen. He may die. I don’t want my friend to die. Please.’

Hours later, the doorbell rings. Svetlana opens the door to see Shane Hollander standing there. Before Svetlana can ask any questions, Shane just says ‘I’m Jane’ and she quickly pulls him into the house and guides Shane to Ilya’s room. Ilya wakes up feeling better and he thinks maybe he’s starting to get over the rejection sickness when he realizes arms are wrapped around him. He knows it’s not Svetlana because the arms are too bulky. His eyes snap open and he sees Shane staring back at him. Shane apologizes for how he left, how he was just scared and how he wants Ilya if he’ll have him. Ilya raises up to kiss Shane.

Shane’s said four words since he woke up fifteen minutes ago. He’s sat at the counter, stool pulled up to it, hunched tiredly over a bowl of cereal. He’s in his scrub pants and no shirt, as usual for pre shift dinner to avoid any spills or smells on his top.

Ilya is leant in the doorway of Shane’s kitchen. He’d finished his short shift at three in the afternoon, been at Shane’s place by half past.

He’d let himself in quietly, (using the key Shane had given him two months ago now to come go and he pleased) very careful as he moved around the home, to stay quiet and not wake Shane from his pre night shift sleep as he changed into the sweats he bought with him.

Shane would be up at four thirty to stretch, shower, do his skincare change and then out in the kitchen by five. Ilya had folded and stacks Shane’s clothes from the dyer, and filled Shane’s waterbottle while he waited for his boy to wake up.

They’d have and hour and half before Shane would have to leave before shift, it wasn’t much, but Ilya hadn’t seen Shane outside of in passing at work in a few days and he’d missed him. The chance to kiss and cuddle and sit with his boy was worth it. Ilya was curled up on the couch when the door to Shane’s bedroom clicked open, and his Shane had shuffled out, in his scrub pants and socks, rubbing at his right eye with his fist.

Ilya had gotten so absorbed in real housewives that he’d not even realised the time, and his eyes darted to his phone. His stomach flipped a little at the 5:21 on the screen. Ilya’s eyes darted back to Shane, who had come to a stop at the end of the couch. He’d leant down and pressed his lips on Ilya’s head, mumbled “hi baby” and sniffled before shuffling onward to the kitchen before Ilya could reply.

Ilya watched the slump of his retreating boyfriends back. This was bad, late out of bed and no kiss on the lips. Ilya had managed to sit still for all of five minutes before he was climbing off the couch and following after Shane. He wanted to give him space, to wake up, to settle, to seek out Ilya when he was ready for him. But Ilya had missed him, and a Shane out of pattern was unpredictable.

It bought them to now, Ilya leant in the door with Shane bringing spoonfuls of cereal to his mouth, the soft clink of his spoon and the distant noise of the tv the only sound in the room.

“Sleep okay?” Ilya asked softly, and then went about making Shane’s pre shift coffee- half to do something with his hands and half because Shane was already late to get up, late to have his coffee in hand warm and fresh ti help wake him up.

“Mmhm” Shane hummed, nodded, muffled a yawn into his hand.

“Work ok?” Shane asked then, voice low and scratchy with sleep. Ilya turned to look at him as the coffee machine spluttered and spilled smooth coffee into Shane’s mug. Shane had a pillow crease down his cheek, his eyes were hazy with the edges of sleep, chest flushed with sleep warmth. Ilya wanted to bundled him up whole, maybe bite him a little. Maybe kiss and suck at the warm skin of his neck while he got him all cosy in his lap and touched him until that bunch of his shoulders dropped and the loosened into something softer, warmer, loose limbed.

Shane looked at him with expectant brows and Ilya bit down a smile as he turned the espresso shot into an iced long black. Of course Shane would check on him with the few words he managed to get out, those somehow worked past the tangle in his brain.

“Was good, not too busy” Ilya shrugged and crossed the kitchen to place the coffee in front of Shane, looked down at the grumbly shape of his boyfriend, he could feel his stewing radiating off him. Ilya placed a gentle hand on the back of Shane’s neck, rubbed the pads of his fingers up against Shane’s hairline. He dipped his head to kiss the top of Shane’s head.

“Thank you” Shane mumbles and its wobbly, and ha lingers, pets at Shane’s neck but Shane doesn’t lean back into him, doesn’t chat to him about last nights shift in slow hazy words, doesn’t catch Ilya’s hand to hold while he eats. Ilya hums, and pulls back.

Sometimes his Shane is quiet and sometimes his Shane needs space; especially on his last shift on a block of nights. Ilya is familiar with the way they untangle you, leave you spacey and backwards. Like you’re jet lagged or a toddler or a tiny bit drunk and hungover at the same time.

Ilya strolls out of the kitchen and goes to mute the tv, incase the sound is too much, and then goes to his bag for the three item he’d thrown in there for Shane this morning. He wordlessly makes his way back to the kitchen where Shane is rinsing his bowl, his backpack sitting unzipped on the bench, now containing his lunch bag.

Ilya places the small box of peppermint tea inside the bag (Shane said it helped with the bloating and nausea he sometimes got on nights and shane had texted Ilya with many sad faces that he was out of it last night) and well Ilya had stock for Shane at his place so it just made sense to bring some.

He lays the jumper he has in his arms over the top of the bag. It was Ilya’s, a sweatshirt he’d had for years, worn in thin and comfortable, soft in that way that only came with time. Shane’s favoured jumper to take of Ilya’s when they were at his place. Shane could decide if he wanted it for work- but at least the offer was there.

Ilya takes himself back to the couch, sits down and clicks the volume up to a soft murmur. Tells himself that he’s doing well not to hover, even though he kind of needs a smile and a kiss from Shane before he leaves to feel confident that is boy is alright. But then again, maybe he’s simply too tired for that- or overstimulated by Ilya’s presence. And yes Ilya’s missed his boy, but even if his time with Shane, being in Shane’s orbit consisted of only this, that was okay- they knew, time together between shifts like this, in overlap, they were just whatever they could find energy to be together.

Two weeks ago Ilya had come home with such a migraine post work that date night with Shane had been a cool shower and then laying in the dark of Ilya’s room in silence with the fan on, not touching because Ilya’s skin felt throbby.

A week before that, both post a 12hr day they had drunk wine directly from one shared bottle, and ate Thai food on the floor in front of the tv as they ranted about their equally fucking cursed days. It would change, what they needed but, what they needed would always be from each other, to exist together.

Ilya is halfway through a text to Sveta, when he suddenly blinks and oh, that’s a lap full of Shane. He’s warm and heavy and no longer shirtless, in his scrub top and Ilya’s jumper and he’s shoving his face into Ilya’s neck, tucking his arms in between their chests and his thigh pressing to either side of Ilya.

Ilya lets out a soft breathless laugh, knocked out of him the the weight of Shane, but then, then he feels the ripple of Shane’s shoulders, hears his big drawing breath in the way it’s coming faster than usual. Oh. Oh Shane.

Ilya, of course, ups the game. "Should we talk?" he yells in Shane's ear when they go clubbing. Shane grins and nods, and the two make their way to the back...

But Shane is not to be outdone. The next time the Centaurs win a game (which they do often) all the players are cheering and slapping each other on the back and butt in the locker room. Ilya gives a great, short speech as he gets undressed, a post-game sweaty mess that turns Shane all the way on. "Hey Cap!" Shane yells as his teammates clap up Ilya's rousing comments. "You wanna talk?" he asks in front of the whole locker room, and sees his words hit Ilya like a drug, his color rising, his eyes darkening.

“I’m so in love with you, I don’t know what to do about it.”🥰❤️🫶🏻 the Hollanovs at the Cottage 🥹🙌

Feel free to follow me on ig where I post more regularly 🥰

Because what do you mean they went to the batting cages for some silly fun to watch everyone flail at an unfamiliar sport, only for Shane to need three practice swings before figuring out the force and timing needed to start hitting every single pitch? What do you mean he sets the course record at the mini golf place they have the Pike twins birthday at? What do you mean he learned how to play cricket over a long weekend in the UK? What do you MEAN your Canadian ass that grew up on a calm, tiny lake went to visit Rose in LA and just learned to surf from “some guy” one of the days she was busy??

Shane doesn’t get why they all think it’s so crazy. He’s a professional athlete, he’s good at full body and mind control as well as adaptability and hand-eye coordination, and he’s so used to being the best in the world at hockey that he views being mundanely good at anything else as barely noticeable. He argues with Troy over whether he counts as being good at basketball just because he killed them all at the basketball shooting game at a Dave and Buster’s

They all start making bets to see who can find a sport Hollander isn’t good at. Harris is convinced he’ll win with figure skating because Shane’s muscle memory will want to work against him with a technique that’s so similar but also so different, only for Shane to come out of an afternoon learning from his old friend who was at the Olympics with the ability to do simple jumps and spins and is insisting the whole team learn so they can incorporate it into plays. Harris is not allowed to make suggestions after that