*insert reference here*

Shane does not blanch as Bood gives one -- exactly one -- patty to Ilya. But then Luca volunteers as to have one as well and the poor man almost cracks. Luca is so young, he still has all his teeth; it wouldn't be fair to let the kid lose one like this. But Shane's love for Ilya ecks out over Luca's beautiful, unbroken teeth and he says nothing. So Bood gives Ilya a second patty.

Someone starts timing the patties. Someone's wife groans and explains that "Food waste is horrible!" only to be reassured that Hollzy and Haasy would eat every single burnt bit of their burgers.

Shane's been keeping an eye on the time, and somewhere around the 15 minute mark, he starts trying to give Ilya hints that the burgers are cooked, thankyouverymuch. Ilya doesn't catch on, but whether that's because Shane's hint isn't as obvious as he believes or because Ilya has been blinded by the smoke, no one knows.

When Ilya proudly presents the two, charcoal-looking pucks to his husband and his favorite son, the entire cookout is in hysterics. Luca is muttering to himself something that sounds like a prayer and reaching for the condiments.

Wyatt slaps his hand away. "Hockey pucks don't have ketchup, rookie," he laughs.

Luca swears he can hear his taste buds shriveling up.

Shane doesn't flinch as he eats the burnt burger and the plain bun. Whether it's from the sheer dedication to his husband, or desire to prove that, once again, Shane Hollander is #1 at Hockey, no matter the measurement, no one knows. But Shane consumes the burger in several silent bites and then receives a kiss from Ilya for defending his honor.

hi, you’ve reached shane hollander. i’m sorry i can’t take your call right now. i’ll get back to you as soon as i can. thank you!

one night, with the bribe of a lot of soft kisses, shane finally finds out why he always has so many missed calls from ilya.

“your voice makes me relaxed, shane,” ilya tells him. “is like you’re talking to me. i—i miss you, a lot.”

so shane records a new voicemail greeting every week, referencing something he loves about ilya, or jokes that only ilya could understand.

it became their little secret.

Because during The Long Game, Ilya decides not to tell Shane because it’s not his secret to tell, and Shane has to find out eventually, right? Wiebe says something like “I’m sure Ilya has told you that I understand a little bit about your situation.” And Shane is thinking like, what, you definitely don’t, you were a mid player at your absolute best. But eventually Wiebe gets the point across and it goes, I think, one of a couple different ways:

One: Shane HATES this information and tries to memory hole it immediately. Shane has had a complicated psychosexual attachment to every hockey coach he’s ever had, which is fine because hockey coaches are straighter than God. Even though both Shane and Wiebe are in happily married monogamous relationships, finding out that it’s actually hypothetically possible for a coach to experience reciprocal attraction to him is the worst thing that’s ever happened.

Two: Finding out that Wiebe is bisexual pushes Shane over the edge into having a meta-textual breakdown. Shane: “It’s fucking ridiculous. It’s absurd! We’re already the gayest team in the league. The gay married team. And now we have a gay coach?” Ilya: “Lubimiy, he is bisexual, do not make me ask Harris to give another PowerPoint presentation on bisexual erasure.”

and so he gets himself into position near the visitor locker rooms and he gestures to ilya as he’s leaving said locker rooms (looking very shellshocked and quiet and scared mind you) and he takes him to the side and just says

“hey i was with hollander when they were taking him away and he kept trying to tell us to talk to you. tell you that he’s ok. man i don’t know why he was insisting but—”

and he just cuts himself off because rozanov’s face is doing something really weird?? Almost like affection?? Then it’s wiped clean and he’s rambling off this excuse of “oh we got friendly at all stars this year he must have seen me stay on the ice once he got hit okok thank you so much for message i have to go”

and the security guy watches ilya practically run to the team bus and just stands there and goes. huh. that’s weird.

Because I think that Scott thinks that this is all Ilya Rozanov's fault.

They're at The Kingfisher, Scott's got an ice pack on his knee under the table because it won't stop acting up and he's got more tricky joints than not by the point. His entire body is screaming retirement, and he's a little pissed about it.

The only thing that makes him feel better is that Hollander is walking with a little bit of a limp after today's game. So when Ilya chirps him about being ancient he chirps right back, telling him to look after his own husband's geriatric joints. And Ilya looks over his shoulder at where Shane is standing at the bar, leaning his weight a little tenderly against it.

But Ilya doesn't rise to the bait, or defend his loving husband. No, the fucker just does that little chuckle that means he's gonna stir the pot even more and says, "Ah, no no no. We played The Bellboy last night. The Bellboy always needs it rough." and then he just fellates his beer bottle and winks at Scott like he just won the Being Gay Married Olympics.

And it sticks with Scott, more than he wants to admit. Sure he's heard them going at it through the thin hotel walls at All Stars, he's seen the hickeys and the scratches, he's heard the whispers about the Hollanov Fuck Machine, but this pushes him over the limit.

"Played The Bellboy", like it's a song on their pregame playlist, or a TV series to comfort watch. "Played The Bellboy," like golden boy Hollander can just put on a hat and transform into someone that gets fucked so hard he's walking funny the next day and likes it. "Played the Bellboy" like they picked it out of a lineup, a menu of options they flip through to see what they're craving that evening.

It won't leave his brain, and so the next time the Admirals play the Centaurs (get trounced by them, 5-1, Jesus), Scott finds himself slamming his beer down on the bar top of Monks and blurting out, "What else do you play besides The fucking Bellboy?"

And Ilya Ra-ra-Rasputin Rozanov switches to vodka, leans both his elbows onto the countertop, and opens Pandora's box.

This makes it so much worse. Worse because now he knows things he can't unknow about his friend and favorite enemy, about Mister Landlord, about Free Use Fridays at the cottage and custom collars for Ilya so he can be the good boy, good Puppy, about edging and cnc and plugs and lube in every room, about...

It breaks him. Truly, that's the only word for it. Breaks his brain like hockey has broken his body, exhausted and ready to be put out to pasture. Breaks him worse to think that they've been at it for over a decade and still discovering ways to play and explore before they tuck the filthiest parts of themselves back into their toy chest, step into the light, and proceed to be the best players at a sport Scott has spent his entire life striving to be good at.

So Scott comes home to his objectively lovely and smart and sexy husband and all he can see is the things they're not. They're not breaking beds and using safewords and playing Serial Killer and Victim or Museum Curator and Thief or whatever the fuck. And the worst part is, Scott doesn't even want to. He wants to want to, but he's exhausted by the idea of putting in even more effort beyond the way they have to find positions that don't hurt his battered joints, find time in the calendar between Kip's classes and his game schedule, find desire for this beautiful man he shares a life with in ways that feel more like a roommate than a lover.

One random Tuesday morning he's reading the latest GQ and flips past a photo spread of Shane Hollander and that motherfucker Ilya Rozanov, shirt unbuttoned and pants half down, crawling over his husband like he's staking a claim, like he's showing off his prize, like he's once again won the Being Gay Married Olympics.

In the background Kip is setting up the blender, chatting about his schedule, updating Scott on the Kingfisher drama he's missed, but all Scott can do is trace his fingers over the glossy photos and think, yeah, okay, you fucker, you won.

But this post is beautiful.

2) Ilya does one of those "Clone a Willy" kits because it's the closest possible thing to him magically cloning himself so Shane can suck his cock while Ilya fucks him.

"How many hours do you think we have spent kissing?" he asks.

Shane scrunches his face. "Why?"

"A thousand?" Ilya suggests, ignoring the question.

"Maybe." Shane sets to actually calculating it. They're been married for three years, after three years of dating and about ten of... whatever they were doing before that. There are some days when they probably kiss for hours, slow makeouts that aren't even leading to sex. Other days, their sex is hungry and fast and they kiss through it, equaling at least thirty minutes of lip-to-lip contact. 3 years of living together is over a thousand days, so if you were to average it—

"Five thousand?" Ilya interrupts Shane's train of thought.

"Maybe. That sounds like a lot."

"Is not enough, though," Ilya shrugs. "We need ten thousand."

"Says who?" Shane laughs and moves his right foot to gently poke Ilya's stomach.

"Says me. And Malcolm Gladwell," he holds up his book and then reads directly from it. "In order to achieve true mastery in a field, you must dedicate ten thousand hours of practice to it."

Shane rolls his eyes. "You're an expert at kissing, I promise."

“Yes, that is my son on that billboard, he’s got a new sponsorship”

“Yes, my son has started a new charity and is running hockey camps”

I know at least one of them was hoping they get a terrible in-law, but no it’s Ilya Rozanov. So now its

“Yes, my son and his husband were over for dinner, they wanted to talk to my wife about expanding their charity. You know the one they founded together”

“Yes, I’m taking two weeks off in June. My son and his husband are in the Stanley cup finals. Yes, again.”

“Yes, we’re so happy that NHL players are going back to the Olympics. We’re hoping both of our boys get to go.”

Deborah's daughter finished her electrician apprenticeship? David bought a card and a gift card to a hardware store for her.

Doug's grandson took his first steps? David is cheering like it was Shane.

Daniel's ficus is thriving? David's taking photos and sending them to Yuna, Shane, and Ilya.

The intern finally learned how to fax something? David's there with a congratulatory high five.

the VANCOUVER CANADIANS?????

TEAMS.

DO.

NOT.

TAKE.

BUSES.

ON.

^ THAT'S IT!!! okay well it also gets mentioned a bit in ch4 because they bring the cup to the camp, but like STILL!!!! shane won a whole ass cup OFF OF THE PAGE?!?!?!