Athlete-in-Residence by tunamelts on ao3 | WIP | Chapters 2/? | 6k | Rated E
Shane Hollander was doing fine. He was about to start his fourth year at Concordia University in Montreal, where he was now Captain of the Stingers, he had a solid group of friends who actually knew he was gay and were cool about it, and this time next year he would be playing for the Metros.
He was doing great, really.
Or he had been, until none other than Ilya Rozanov, the 28 year old KHL player who had recently disapeared from the world of hockey, became his professor and mentor.
or: Coach Theriault inadvertently sets up professor-Ilya and student/hockey captain-Shane.
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I think Shane and Ilya are the type of couple that gives you whiplash. They’re touchy feely lovey dovey staring into each other’s eyes with their ring finger hooked because they’re married and so enamoured with each other’s one second and the next Shane is wrestling Ilya to ground while Ilya is trying to bite him and kicking him in the ribs for freedom. And you can’t separate them because they’ll be very upset.
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if we don’t get a wide shot of shane tonguing ilya’s hole and fingering him until he comes while shane whispers encouraging shit like “yeah, let it happen” then what was it all for?
They’re going through Yuna and David’s movie collection when Ilya comes across a VHS with ‘Shane - Bell Center 1994’ written on the sleeve and insists they watch it.
Shane, on the other hand, is not super into the idea.
“My parents don’t have a VHS player.”
“Is literally right beside your knee, Hollander.”
“Well, it’s boring! Why do you want to see a dumb recording of me as a kid anyway?”
“Because it’s adorable?” Ilya says incredulously. “And you are adorable?”
“Oh, I forgot we had that!” Yuna exclaims, coming to sit on the couch with her glass of wine. “God, I miss those days. Shane was the cutest timbit.”
Timbit, Ilya mouths to himself, his fingers curling around the tape. This is Shane as a timbit? In all his tiny little hockey gear at the Bell Center? Ilya needs to see it. “Shane.”
Shane looks at him and sighs.
They put the tape in.
Ilya almost dies as the grainy screen resolves itself into an MC and a tiny Shane, dressed in his hockey gear. His helmet is crooked on his head, his stick tap tap tapping against it as he stares at the interviewer, determined. His cheeks are big and round and pink from the cold of the ice, and though Ilya cannot make out his freckles, he knows from pictures that they’re there. The MC crouches down and a packed Bell Center is visible behind them.
“And here we have number 24, Shane Hollander!” The MC says in heavily accented English. “Let’s give him a round of applause. Shane, how are you feeling tonight, are you excited to be here?”
“Um. Yes.”
“And how old are you, Shane?”
Little Shane closes his eyes for a moment, taking a big, deep breath before reciting: “My name is Shane Hollander and I’m a hockey player. I am three years old and I go to Glebe Co-operative Nursery School in Ottawa and my mommy and daddy are Yuna and David. And I’m three.”
The MC laughs a little. “That’s a great introduction, Shane, thank you. Do you have anyone here with you tonight, cheering you on in the audience?”
Shane’s eyes open, but he doesn’t break out into a toothy grin. No, instead, Shane—serious, no-nonsense Shane—nods and leans in to the microphone like he’s giving a post-game interview. “Yes, my mommy and my daddy.”
“And are they big Metros fans?”
“Yes.”
“What about you?”
“Yes, too. They’re gonna go all the way this year. They have all the pieces for a winning team.”
“That’s what we love to hear, Shane, we agree and we love the confidence. Can we expect to see you on the ice someday? Do you want to be a hockey player when you grow up?”
“Yes, I’m a hockey player.”
“Do you want to play for Montreal?”
“Yes.”
“Can we get some encouragement for the team from you, Shane? Maybe a Go Metros Go?”
This, Shane takes extremely seriously. Ilya watches him nod with all the solemnity of a general going to war, and then releases his own tiny, passionate battle cry: “Go Metros Go!”
“Shane Hollander, everyone, let’s give him another round of applause!”
Ilya watches Shane stick out his little hand and the MC laugh a little as he shakes it, before tint Shane toddles back to his parents on his skates. The mic picks up, Mommy can I skate again nowww? before the tape stops.
Ilya is going to fucking die. He already feels as if his heart is too big for his body, his fingers pressing into his knees to keep from grabbing Shane and doing—something to him. Kissing him or hugging him or fucking. Eating him. Consuming him. Crawling inside of him.
Shane is curled up beside the couch with his hands covering his face in embarrassment and Ilya is sitting less than a meter from him, dying of retroactive cuteness.
“You were so pissed when we told you that your turn to skate was done,” Yuna murmurs fondly. “Full meltdown.”
“Yeah, I remember,” Shane mutters, shaking his head in his hands. “JP made fun of me.”
Yuna scoffs. “JP was copying his parents, because they were pissed that you were better than him. And that we were out of towners but got the interview.” She raises a brow. “And now look: you’re a professional hockey player and JP is probably working at some office back in Trois Rivières and hates his life.”
“Mom, seriously?”
“What?” Yuna asks, getting up and heading towards the kitchen. “His parents were assholes. They made an asshole. I won’t apologize for that.”
Ilya takes the opportunity to crawl closer, slinging an arm around Shane’s back. He presses one kiss, then two, then three to Shane’s cheek. “Shane,” he breathes.
“Mm?”
“You were cutest fucking tiny hockey player in the entire world.”
Ilya feels Shane’s blush against his mouth. He kisses it again. “Fuck off,” Shane mutters, cuddling into him. He turns to press a soft, barely there kind of kiss to the corner of Ilya’s lips, burying his pink, hot face into his neck. “I was too serious. They called me a robot and did that stupid dance at me.”
“Well, they’re idiots. Hockey is serious, so you are serious, and they were probably ugly.”
“Ilya,” Shane laughs. Ilya feels his huffed breath in the juncture of his own neck and grins, thumb moving up to caress the small hairs at his nape.
They’re still too far away.
Ilya shifts, immediately attacking Shane’s face with kisses the minute he becomes visible. Shane laughs, shrieks, says stop even as he pulls Ilya closer, until they’ve toppled over onto the carpet.
Shane pulls back to look him in the eye, chewing his lip. “I think my parents still have some camcorder home videos of me.”
CLEARING THE AIR that My Cliff Marly would never be shitty to Shane he LOVES him….. cliff/ilya/shane all share locations on the Find My App and cliff will send memes to shane constantly and Shane doesn’t think they are funny but he doesn’t want to be rude so he thumbs up reacts the messages and ilya is like. Myshane :) i love that you love my brother :) and shane is like He has me as his emergency contact ilya… I’m scared to NOT answer the phone… ilya is like wow. My man!!!! 😍 anyways My Cliff sends them an obscene amount of flowers every year for their anniversary with a hand written note thats like “Real love to some Real lovers. Big up big dogs xoxo cliffy”
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One time when the Cens are on a string of away games Ilya looks out the plane window and, out of nowhere asks, “what do you think clouds taste like?” Shane had been deep in strategy mode so he hmms a little before answering, “I mean they’re just water, except it’s like condensed and they would be way too cold to consume.” Ilya nods sagely before saying, “so, like slushy.”
Ilya comes into the locker room with a black eye he didn’t have the night before. Everyone’s oohing and aahing and shane is. Very quiet. A little perturbed. People are making jokes about their sex life and shane is seething into his locker. The team finally fully gangs up on shane like hollander what kind of freak shit are you doing, huh? Sex swing gone wrong?? Knee to the face? And shane turns, crosses his arms and stares at the floor and states, very solemnly, “ilya got a yo-yo”
