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Scary Shane Hollander in between shifts on the Centaurs bench just staring into space thumping thumping thumping his stick on the ground to the beat of whatever industrial EDM track is going in his head because the team isn't playing well they aren't doing their job thump thump thump he can't be on every fucking shift he can't do it all for them thump thump thump "shane open your mouth and drink some fucking water" open mouth Ilya squirts water in swallow thump thump thump Haas misses another pass because Dillon ain't getting any better and should be sent down to Belleville to cook and pull up their winger who's showing some promise thump thump thump hockey is a team sport they gotta lock in they gotta put pucks in nets thump thump thump Shane has three cups and he wants four they need four the most important thing is getting another cup but at this rate they won't even make playoffs thump thump thump why is the centaur mascot a beaver thump thump thump
Look at his face! His eyes. He is trying so so so hard to be so chill. So nonchalant. "Don't look down. Turn the volume down. Don't look at him yet. He might disappear. Be cool. Don't spook him." And oh my god he is not chill in the slightest. He is so touched that Shane seems to care. He asked about the girls thing and it didn't go well so he's taking this as a sign that maybe Shane does care. It goes downhill in like 5 minutes but you know.
And then:
He settles in a bit and he looks almost almost relaxed. But he still can't look! And the barely-there jaw flex, shoving down the emotions. Looking makes it too real. Even though it's already very real for Ilya.
And then we get so brave because he wants to look! Memorize Shane laying on his chest. The weight of him. His smell. How his hair feels.
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Ok so a few times a year sevta demands a girls night with Ilya.
“Kak my privykli, Ilyushka, pozhaluysta” she will beg and really it’s just a show, Ilya trying to act like he can’t go (saying he’s too old, it’s too hard, he has to be at home with his husband ! Sveta hes a KEPT man now) because Ilya does love going out with his Sveta, his bright gorgeous girl, there for him for so much, for all of it.
And Shane, well Shane actually loves it, encourages it, knows that Ilya finds joy in being out, around others, in being a light in a busy room, dancing, being another body under lights and swelling music. He doesn’t covet it like he used to, when he was younger and lonely and looking for someone to fill something to deep and empty.
But Shane can see the light in his eyes after, when he’s a little hungover sat with Sveta at the bench in their kitchen eating greasy breakfast rolls and orange juice and talking over each other to tell Shane stories of their night- slipping in and out of Russian (and Shane sees something young in him, like that, in a hoodie with wet curls from an shower, brushing shoulders with Sveta who is in one of Ilya’s tshirt, hair up out of her bare face, giggling and poking fun at Ilya, tutting and wiping egg off his cheek and calling him ‘so messy. Rude little boy!’ And Ilya pouting and slapping at her hands. It breaks open something in Shane’s chest, to see his boy happy! Radiant in it and safe, with his family (his Sveta) it restores a part of him that knows Ilya lives for so long with so much misery pressing down down down on him).
However, it’s not just the hungover days- the house full with Ilya and Sveta and their loud happy chatters and usually quiet cosy mid afternoon naps, or the evening when Sveta will demand time with shane and shoo ilya away- cook with shane as they chat about hockey and their lives and their ilya- that are his favourite. It’s not even the quiet evenings after Ilya and Sveta have left in a hurry to their uber and Shane can take a long bath and watch whatever Ilya has deemed “too boring” to watch with him that week. He’ll eat a dinner Ilya would call ‘bland’ and be in bed before 10pm, his weighted blanket on, and his ocean noises on full blast.
No Shane’s most favourite part of Ilya having his girls nights is when his husband gets home. Shane doesn’t stay up, not when he knows Ilya won’t be able to help but wake him. Because when Ilya comes home from being out now, he comes home hungry for him. Starving. Ilya comes home like a puppy whose owner has been away for months and is now finally home. Shane is kind of obsessed with it.
His needy condition is a mix of many things, but mainly Between being tipsy (or very drunk, it’s a scale) or maybe high, as well as being around people who “aren’t Shane” all night (a direct Ilya quote) and remembering how it used to be, before Shane- Ilya had whispered this confession into the quiet dark of their bedroom, after the second ‘girls night’ ever- he had crawled on the soft carpet until he was knelt beside Shane’s side of the bed, jacket stripped off and in the hamper because he’s a good ! Husband thank you and dirty clothes go in the hamper. Especially club clothes.
He’d reached with cold hands to tug the covers down, and leant in to press his face toward the warm of Shane’s soft warm belly under the covers. Shane had woken up to Ilya’s cold nose at his bellybutton, startled with a small flinch and then his hand had found Ilya’s thick curls. “Ilya?” He’d slurred out soft and low and he could feel Ilya muttering against his stomach, kissing and nuzzling at the soft skin.
“You ok?” He’d asked and Ilya had nodded hard and fast and Shane had smiled but then he’d felt a shiver roll through Ilya, a muffled choked tiny sound and he’d pulled at Ilya, dragged his face up to him as quickly as his tired body could. “Whats wrong? Why aren’t you in bed?” Shane had whispered, trying to wake up- trying to understand.
“Outside clothes” Ilya had answered solemnly. Like quoting a law. “Okay. You ok? You have fun?” Shane asked voice scratchy, swallowing hard as he tried to orientate. He had finally got his tired eyes half squinting open and Ilya’s face had been right in front of him, heavy brow and serious wet eyes and Shane’s heart had tugged as if caught on a fishhook, reeling to chase after what had made his husband look so sad.
“Hey, hey, what happened? Are you? Is everyone ok? Is Sveta alright?” Shane’s questions has tumbled tumbled out as he touched his fingertips gently over Ilya’s cheeks, ache in his chest at his baby looking so horribly sad and mixed up.
“Shanya” Ilya had said seriously, and Shane shifted his hand to rub his thumb between Ilya’s eyebrows. “Yes baby?” He’d whispered low, other hand rubbing at the back of Ilya’s neck. He had looked like a little kid in trouble, knelt by the bed with wide sad eyes. “You are” he swallows hard, blinks and sniffles “my Shane” he exhaled and Shane answered soft “yes” automatic- Ilya nods “Ty — moya dusha” he rumbles. “Soul soul soul” Ilya had repeated. “Mine” he had said and pressed his lips to Shane’s forehead.
“My boy, moy malen'kiy fonarik, sent from Mama for my heart” Ilya’s voice had been so thick with emotion. It had made Shane’s stomach turn even if he’d only caught half the Russian words.
“Yours Ilya, always. Since I was a teenager since I first saw you hm?” Shane had reassured him, pulled Ilya’s face into his neck and stroked his hand over the back of his soft hair, over and over through his thick curls. “Yes” Ilya had muttered into Shane’s neck. “Since then. Forever for us. Always” his words thick and stumbly, more heavily accented than usual.
“Okay, okay baby” Shane had whispered, kept Ilya tucked close, his mouth against Shane’s pulse. After a moment Ilya had pulled back, put his mouth to Shane’s chin and whispered so that his mouth moved against the skin.
“I was so, lonely for very long yes? You filled those empty spots. I know, now I do not have these holes now in my heart. But tonight reminded me of when I did. I was very lonely without you. My Shane. My husband” Shane was sure his heart was going to push right out of his chest in his ache to comfort his Ilya. God. His sweetheart.
“Not anymore. Not anymore” Shane had replied and thought to himself I was so lonely too. So lonely in so many ways without you. He doesn’t say that, tells Ilya he loves him instead, in English in Russian, over and over and over. Finally Ilya had seemed to settle, something in his face soothing out. Shane had kept kissing at his face anyway. Shane had gotten then into the shower after then back to bed, curled around Ilya his chest to his boys back and breathed with him, hand rubbing over his heart until he’d gone back to sleep.
Ilya had been so shy in the morning, avoidant and quiet, embarrassed. It had been smoothed away in soft kisses eased into soft conversation Ilya with his back to Shane until the most uncomfortable parts had been peeled back. After they’d talked, whisky had been banned from girls night (and ever, Shane hadn’t seen Ilya that lost in a long time). But since the Whisky Incident™️ and Ilya realising how much he could drink on his meds before his happy buzz tilted the wrong way. Now, now Ilya was always a happy, buzzy or sleepy little puppy coming home to Shane, pawing at him, ready for attention. Shane loved it.
Even when Ilya woke him up from his sleep he couldn’t find it in him to be mad when Ilya would beam when Shane’s eyes met his, big toothy smile, his quiet sweet little “Helloooo Shanya” as he flopped himself onto Shane like a big dog that thought it could still be a lap puppy. He always showers first, because the rule is no outside clothes on the bed- strictly. And so he crawls over Shane smelling like soap and a beer still a bit and a bit damp and so overjoyed to be home. To be in their bed.
And anyway ! So, it’s one of these girls nights, and Shane is sound asleep when Ilya and Svetlana get home, he’s sound asleep on his stomach, Anya curled at the end of the bed. He stays asleep, up until Ilya closes the bathroom just a bit too hard and Shane wakes between one breath and the next, nuzzles his face into the pillow and listens to Ilya shower, the rush of the water and Ilya brushing his teeth, the sound of the ensuite door clicking back open, of Ilya’s soft, clumsy footsteps towards the bed.
Shane had missed him that night, sometimes the peaceful nights were nice but they’d both had a busy week and between social calendars and brand deals and charity work and a visit to Shane’s parents they hadn’t had much time just them that week. It feels silly now, all these years on when they get so much time together compared to the decade plus apart time they faced. Now they live and play and exist together but Shane still misses him. Sometimes he misses him just when he goes to the next room, it’s kinda embarrassing. But he knows Ilya misses him the same. He thinks it’s maybe just the horrible amount of love they are in. So Shane rolls over, shrugs away the covers to hold one arm out and mumbles a sleepy “c’mere”.
Shane smiles into his pillow when he hears the happy sound Ilya lets out. “Zaychik!” Ilya calls in delight, and then he’s crawling up on the bed, into the open covers and pressing his whole body to Shane’s. He presses his face into his neck and is kissing kissing kissing all over the warm skin, his hands up and down his sides, over his lower back and ass and hips. Finding the shape of him again like it had been days not hours.
“I did not mean to wake you I am very sorry” Ilya whispered voice slurry sweet and he pushes his nose against Shane’s ear, kisses at his earlobe.
“I tried to be very quiet. Promise” he whispers and Shane wraps his arms around Ilya, pulls him in tight to him, squeezes him.
“You need your beauty sleep I know” Ilya mumbles and bites at Shane’s jaw, chin, apple of his cheek.
“And yet you snack on me” Shane grumbles and it doesn’t deter Ilya, biting away on Shane.
“But m’starving. My husband says McDonald’s is bad for me so I do not get” Ilya says and drags his teeth over Shane’s Adam’s apple, makes him shiver.
“I was trying to be quiet” Ilya says then and kisses Shane’s nose. “For real” he says with a big eyed blink and then drags his nose over and against Shane’s in a few nuzzles.
“I know” Shane says then and shifts a little, so he can be on his back and Ilya can lay up over to of him, elbows on either side of Shane’s head, a nice weight on top of him.
“S’ok, missed you” Shane exhales as Ilya rubs his cheek over Shane’s, before turning his face to find his mouth. They kiss soft and small, drags of their lips until Ilya licks into his mouth to taste him.
“Missed you more. Horribly. Trapped at the bar when my beautiful wife is at home. Waiting for my return” Ilya whispers between their kisses and Shane snorts into his mouth, tugs at his curls.
“You have fun though?” Shane asks, checks, because he wants to know, what’s to know how their hours apart were, what made Ilya happy, what made him laugh, if he was good.
Ilya nods, “yes, good music, good dancing, good sevta” Ilya shrugs and shoves his face into Shane’s throat, collapses his whole weight down on Shane.
“But whole time I am thinking of my wife with her freckles and her pretty eyelashes and strong fucking legs and her in her panties in our bed, and how she is more beautiful than anyone in this bar” Ilya whines and Shane laughs, shoulders shaking and wraps his legs around Ilya’s hips.
“Panties huh?” Shane asks and Ilya nods, shoves his fingers under the waistband of Shane’s black boxers. “Yessss my favourite pair” Ilya confirms and Shane rolls his eyes, rubs his cheek over Ilya’s soft curls. There is a tired silence.
“Sleep?” Ilya asks then with a big heavy sigh and Shane nods, kisses Ilya’s forehead. “Sleep” Shane confirms, wraps his arms around his big heavy husband, flopped on his chest. The one that Ilya comes home to, everytime, the one he thinks of when he climbs into his uber to leave. His home.
“Wait” Ilya says suddenly, as if remembering something important and pulls back, holds Shane’s face in one hand and takes a minute to look at him, tipsy heavy blinks. His hand slides up and gently combs Shane’s hair back out of his face, the soft strands that fall to either side of his forehead. His thumb rubs over his temple and his eyes make maps all over his face.
“Ah. Just as I thought. You are. So crazy beautiful” he sighs.
“Just needed to make sure nothin’ changed while I was gone” Ilya smirks and leans in for one last kiss.
“Idiot” Shane mutters, and then sucks on Ilya’s bottom lip.
“Love you” Shane breaths and Ilya echos it back.
They fall asleep like that, Ilya’s fingers down Shane’s boxers smushed on top of his husband, where he can feel his heart beat steady under his.
in a reasonable canon, shane would simply have THEE most dependent and intimate relationship with the montreal team nutritionist. like, he has her on speed dial. they text multiple times per day. she spends 60% of her work hours adjusting meal plans for his texture issues and aversions. nobody else really sees how intense their connection is.
when he was crashing out about trading to ottawa, he said, "You know, it's just gonna be really hard to leave melissa," and hayden was sitting right there like. "melissa?? it's gonna be hard to leave MELISSA??"
but i think we can probably convince melissa to move to ottawa with him, don't worry.
#heated rivalry#cackling about shallergies verse#melissa getting a text that's just 'melissa they put fucking treenuts in my protein bar'#he does not need to specify which one#melissa sighs and puts on her glasses and gets to work#GOD melissa goes on vacation and hears the news that shane had an allergic reaction and is FURIOUS#WHO FUCKED WITH HER RECORD#NOT A SINGLE FUCKING TIME ON HER WATCH HAS SHANE HOLLANDER HAD A REACTION DURING THE SEASON#WHO WANTS TO DIE
melissa barging into ottawa's offices and just handing over a contract for her employment.
"um, excuse me, ma'am, who ar-"
"i have kept shane hollander alive and fed his for almost his entire nhl career, and i have invested too much time to stop now."
"but ma'am, we-"
"no more questions. sign."
obviously she's a dietician with a specialty in athletes which means the primary concerns of her patients are 1. need All The Fucking Calories and 2. need All The Fucking Protein, but in my heart, she is the flavor of dietician who focuses also on enjoyment and satiety (fun fact: you actually digest food better and get more nutrition out of food you like eating). like you're going to eventually get sick of how much you have to eat by the time you're 3/4 of the way through the season, but by GOD WILL SHE TRY TO MAKE THINGS ENJOYABLE AS LONG AS SHE CAN.
so she meets 20 year old shane who already comes into this meeting apologetic because he KNOWS this is all specific and it's a pain to have aversions when he already has allergies to work around, so he doesn't mind a lot of repetition when-
and melissa is just ✋ i did not put in the work to get this degree only to suck at this job. let's talk texture preferences.
(melissa does NOT know about mango time) (shane is kind of afraid of what she would do to him if she found out) (he cannot have melissa being mad at him it would actually send him into a nervous breakdown)
shane the day melissa finds out her dietetic magnum opus is out here RECREATIONALLY POISONING HIMSELF like she doesn't have a fucking DOSSIER on his ass crafted over YEARS of trial and error and research and innovation
SHE HAND-SELECTS MENUS BASED ON HOW STRESSED YOU ARE AT ANY GIVEN POINT IN THE SEASON AND BASED ON THE WIN/LOSS BALANCE OF THE TEAM BECAUSE ANXIETY MAKES YOU NAUSEOUS SO YOU NEED ADJUSTED FLAVOR PROFILES AND THE SECOND YOU'RE OUT OF HER DIRECT SUPERVISION, YOU FUCK AROUND????
my tags and then @meghan-maria's tags because i have received wisdom from the great beyond that shane was SO apologetic and so ready to just take whatever melissa picked for him that she actively has him report back on the meals with what he thinks about them and if he liked them or not and what he would want to change because she wants to encourage healthy ideas about food and being able to enjoy them and not having to apologize for "melissa, please don't make me eat quinoa the texture is Bad melissa i am so tired of quinoa", WHICH MEANS.
shane has a snapchat that is ONLY to send melissa his meals and thoughts. she is the only person he has on there. he sends them to her daily with his thoughts after he eats his mealpreps and snacks.
but this ALSO means that when he gets drunk, brain is still going "gotta tell melissa". and i am CACKLING at the idea of shane out with the team after the first cup win sending a fucking. BARELY in frame, very blurry because he can't hold the phone still, can barely hear him over the noise of the bar video on snapchat that's just, "mmmm so. oh, hi melissa! it's shane. ummmm so there's fries, which are potatoes, so one of the highest satiety factors but fried so ummm i don't know. also there's mushrooms" *the fastest and blurriest camera pan of all time that maybe showed fried mushrooms and maybe didn't because there is truly no way to tell* "but umm. gross. i had a sandwich. it was-hayden what was the sandwich?" *equally drunk hayden making this video even more motion sickness to watch as he grabs shane and shakes him a little bit* "it was FUCKING DELICIOUS, BUDDY. that's what it was!" "no, hayd! this is for melissa. i have to tell her." (he does not. shane, baby, the season is over and this is you eating bar food). "oh, it was chicken and something." "melissa, it was chicken and something. and it had avocado so bad, but i got cheese. fat with protein. okay bye. oh also salad. because fiber, and, um, micronutrients. okay bye."
melissa saves it and it is her favorite thing to watch on hard days when she needs to laugh.
and my god my HEART imagining shane his last year with the metros when people are turning against him and also food now feels more dangerous because he doesn't know if people are going to fuck with him or not and he just starts. inventing reasons to hang out in melissa's office when it's time to eat. because melissa makes food feel Safe, and rn a lot of things in his life feel so Not Safe. and listen...is it the healthiest coping mechanism? no. but melissa has also known shane long enough to understand that Something is amiss, so if he wants to hang out in her office to eat, she just gets a live update about what he liked and didn't like about the prep for today's lunch.
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completely obsessed with shane being like “this is so fucking nastyyyyyyyy 😍” meanwhile ilya is one declaration of love from commissioning a statue in his honor. and the same thing is happening in reverse when they do bdsm mind you
I love browsing cover-up tattoo stuff when every once in a while there's someone asking "how do I cover up this unspeakably idiotic thing" and people are like "please do not cover that up, that's fucking amazing." You just have "shrimps is bugs" written on your leg now. That's your legacy.
hate it when you see something in media that has great kink potential so you skedoodle post-haste to ao3 only to discover there's none fic left beef and then you have to sit there going oh I see I'M the pervert weirdo I'M the problem with society and everyone else in the world is going to heaven with a hundred innocence dollars preloaded onto their ole fashioned wholesome funtimes themepark fast pass card like fuckin oath man
if ilya ever found out that shane was ON HIS PHONE TEXTING HIM while actively being sprayed with champagne after a cup win, shane would never go a day in his life without hearing about it again
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ilya mic’d up talking with his teammates about recipes he’s been trying recently and tricks he’s been trying to teach anya. and shane mic’d up barely having something that producers can actually use because of the amount of swears
"You try the steak rub, Bood? Good, yes? Yuna is a queen, I know. Yes, next weekend is good for barbecue, if weather holds. Littlest Pikes might visit, we will see."
"She will jump through the hoop on ground, why not 4 inches up?? So frustrating. Shane says to use real bacon for treats, maybe then, but is so salty. Nitrites too, you know. Bad for her. No, have not baked her special treats, Troy! What?? Recipe, now!"
"Shanya has new glasses. Very sexy. Even without them he can see puck better than 47, though, on wing? This man is terrible, yes? Is not entirely his fault, probably, Columbus is mostly very bad. Look at stupid tape job, though. Ugh."
"I want syrniki after game. You want? I have made you syrniki, Luca. Little pancakes. Yes, very, very good. Okay, not tonight, but come over on Saturday, we will have syrniki and force Shane to eat it too. Yessssssss, okayokay, good plan."
Examples of Shane quotes from his mic'd up games:
"Jesus FUCKING Christ what the FUCK is wrong with the Dallas refs holy SHITTING ass. Can they not fucking see their own fucking asses? Do they need fucking Lasik?"
"I am going to goddamn disembowel the next person who chirps us about the FUCKING baby shower. That shit was cute and Cassie fucking loved it. Come the fuck on, it's what fucking year? Men can throw baby showers, shit. Get over yourselves, assholes."
"He thinks he's hot shit, yeah, with ugly fucking edges like that. Fuuuucking ridiculous, am I right? What a motherfucking joke. Let's run a train on his ass next shift, you fucking in?"
"Dyks, I fucking love you, man, that shit was insane, so fucking dope. Yeah, yeah, I know Hazy loved it too. Broke their shit right up, they thought they had a lane, hahaha! As fucking if with you on the ice, bro. Nice. Fucking nice."
Ilya: Suburban Dad who plays some rec league, maybe
Shane: Intensely professional jock insulted by your basic lack of talent and skill, might kill you
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