My brain and my heart are still VERY FIRMLY in a hotel in Gatwick airport, basking in the most insane and most wonderful memories ever made!
As always, there will be a write-up, this one will be MADNESS (because this time around I have VIDEO from all the panels (THANK YOU @siren-events-uk for that wonderful option!)) and the THINGS that happened away from the panels are so crazy, they'll be stuck with me forever!
As of now: pics! Enjoy!
(and yes, that DJ hug pic IS indeed signed as well but it feels too freaking personal to share right now *shrugs* it's weird, it's probably not even that deep or anything but to me it's special so I'll keep it to myself for a while!)
Im still flying so fucking high, you won't believe it!
These people and this fandom are fucking outstanding - there's nothing else in the world that comes even CLOSE to what just happened this weekend!!!
I am so full of love for every single person at this con, and I would do it all again in a fucking heartbeat!
Last November was already great but this?
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Every time Ilya could find out about Shallergies is fascinating to me, so I'd like to add for science:
The CCM photoshoot. After Shane gets added, CCM inform Ilya that he cannot eat peanuts for at least 24 hours prior to the shoot (since they'll be in each other's faces and they don't want to risk killing the #2 overall pick).
Maybe the stylists gossip or smth, but it all amounts to Ilya knowing about the allergy from the jump and being one of the very few who don't treat him like he's fragile or deserves pity.
oh MAN okay okay: so i feel like they wouldn't be telling someone else's medical information, BUT i 100% feel like yuna puts things like an allergy-free set in shane's rider from the very start, and yeah she has to bring down the hammer sometimes especially when shane is new in his career so people are a little eyeroll about new kid on the scene being picky (it's one of the reasons she's ALWAYS on these sets with shane), but it's just a default of, "hey, craft services cannot have X, X, or X, and approved styling products are X, X, and X. all substitutions must be cleared by his management at least 48 hours in advance."
so ilya gets told as part of this shoot, "hey, we don't allow blah, blah, blah on set for allergy reasons" without saying there's actively a person who is being considered here. and ilya is new! he doesn't really know how all of this works yet no matter how confident he has to act about it, so as far as he knows, this is just how ad sets work. i also cannot remember of it was an ask or a question i got, but i THINK someone also told me that stuff like peanut allergy warnings are not super common in russia but relatively VERY more present in north america, so i also 100% buy ilya being like, "cultural thing, maybe? normal for over here?"
and he and shane are making smalltalk at the side of the rink, and ilya brings up that he organized the shoot, and he's still looking for more stuff to say to keep them talking (because tbh? just a lil nervous about talking to his crush especially after admitting he arranged this and still not sure if shane is vibing back or not and also still working on getting fully comfortable with english), so he brings up, "crazy we cannot even have peanut butter here, yes?" because again: DOESN'T KNOW THIS IS A SPECIFIC REQUEST. STILL THINKING THIS IS PROBABLY JUST A LIABILITY THING FOR AD SETS IN GENERAL OR SOMETHING.
and shane immediately is wondering if he's being made fun of or something?? did someone tell??? is rozanov being shitty about this?? is this a dig? but no. he said "we". he's not assuming it's shane's fault (wouldn't be his fault anyway, but it's how shane thinks about it). and he doesn't know rozanov yet, so he's not going to bust out his medical history when he doesn't have to, especially if he thinks rozanov MIGHT be shitty about it if he's going to bring up the set rules. so he just "yeah, they're pretty strict about it." so now ilya is just internally like 'yeah, so okay. this is how things go. his mom is his manager so she probably knows all the rules and told him. noted.' which tbh? kind of a relief. now he knows something important for this career (ooooh ilya).
so they agree to meet up, but ilya has now been thinking about the forbidden allergies purely the way you will when someone brings something up to you and tells you not to eat it (not even spitefully against the rules, just "man, someone mentioned peanut butter and said not to eat it, and now i REALLY want some peanut butter"), so he does something like get thai food with peanut sauce for dinner, and then obvi he has a mint right before meeting up with shane, but he's trying to act SO cool guy and going through the whole bother of brushing his teeth and using mouthwash would feel like Doing Too Much (jesus christ, teenaged boy with a crush). so his breath doesn't SMELL like peanuts, but he hasn't scrubbed any potential traces clear.
and the hookup with them happens pretty quick from first kiss to finishing, so shane at the end is catching his breath...and catching his breath...a-and catching...his breath. and then realizes that his throat and chest going so tight is a reaction and not just being fresh out of orgasm (and really FUCK his life. he gets the first sexual experience he has ever wanted and now THIS? FUCK his fucking EVERYTHING).
and ilya hasn't seen someone have a reaction before, so he doesn't actually know what's happening at first. is this? a freakout? "hollander, are you ok-" but then shane is scrambling up and tearing through his bag and ilya is just ?? what??? is goign on right now?? and then shane finds his epipen and doesn't want to sit on hotel floor because Gross but manages to wobble back to the bed and use it, and ilya STILL doesn't know?? what the fuck is happening?? but hollander couldn't really breathe right and now he stabbed?? himself?? with something?? and ilya can read context clues enough to understand that this is a medical thing, which is alarming, but also shane in the aftermath of using the epipen is shaking violently because that's just a side effect of it, and he's still catching his breath, but ilya bunches up the comforter to put around him because he thinks maybe he's just shivering??
and shane manages to get his breath back enough to say, "hey, ca-can you ca-call an ambulance?" and ilya is ?! yes but ?! and then shane realizes he's still naked so need to fix THAT first (fuck his FUCKING life), so he starts to get up and ilya (who is tbh a little freaked out right now because still doesn't know what's happening but shane looks Not Okay) just gently pushes him back down and grabs his (ever so helpfully neatly folded) clothes for him and puts them beside him on the bed and also puts his own clothes back on SO fast because obviously that needs to happen Now, and when he gets done, shane still hasn't gotten his shoes on or something because shaking still and also still has fucky blood pressure so getting a head rush leaning over, so ilya ends up helping.
and then ilya calls for him and also just. doesn't feel okay leaving him. their rivalry hasn't set in yet and this is the first time they've done anything so what even is there to hide (nothing obvious is on the bed, and beside a crumpled tissue in the bin, there's no other evidence), and also people already saw them talking during the shoot today so not beyond the realm of possibility that they'd just be doing more of that since they're already in the same hotel. and yuna was leaving the hotel earlier to get a drink with a friend or something who happens to be in town, so shane doesn't want to ruin that for her over a stupid reaction (and also wants to feel like an adult and not have to have his mom come running when she already stayed with him all day because of his allergies when he KNOWS it's noteworthy for someone's mom to be doing this), so when the paramedics ask about if anyone needs to be contacted or if anyone's coming along, he very honestly is like, "no, my mom's busy."
and ilya fully on impulse tells shane, "i can come. if you want." because like. he's already here. he still doesn't FULLY understand what happened here. but shane looks really sick rn and he knows from meeting her in the elevator that yuna was leaving the hotel, and he doesn't know why shane wouldn't just call (maybe she doesn't take her phone when she goes out?), but HE wouldn't want to take an ambulance ride by himself if he felt as bad as hollander looks right now (he almost certainly would end up doing it because who else would there be to come with him, but he wouldn't WANT to). and shane is a little thrown, but yeah, he doesn't know him well but it's not like he has a secret to keep from him at this point and maybe not a bad idea to have someone who can call his mom on his phone if he needs them to because of a secondary response or something.
so ilya ends up going to the hospital with him, and they end up talking because what else is there to do in this four hour observation window. and shane confesses to his allergies and being the reason the set couldn't have allergens on it. and ilya can read people. he can see that shane is bracing himself here. but ilya doesn't actually care. he'll chirp hollander and have fun with him, but he's not actually going to make fun of someone's medical condition, especially when they've ended up in the hospital because of it.
(and because. of him then eating something. that triggered that medical condition. oops.)
and they actually end up getting along during this time they've got 1:1, and of COURSE yuna finds out shane's not in his room because she went by to say goodnight and also hand over a new sponsorship deal someone sent over while she was out and got printed in the business center at the hotel to let shane look at it (prefers papers he can touch instead of reading on a phone), but shane?? didn't answer?? honey, you feeling okay?
and now yuna does end up at the hospital and is surprised at finding rozanov there, but as shane is scrambling, rozanov hops in with an excuse of saying he went up to see if shane wanted to work out together (a wink wink that only shane will understand lmao), but then shane started having a reaction. so now what yuna knows about ilya rozanov is that he was actively trying to hang out with her son and be friendly AND he then helped her child during an allergic reaction and even went with him to the hospital after.
and through the power of yuna, ilya and shane end up exchanging numbers because yuna won't say it but she's always excited when shane ends up making a new friend, so she drops a, "why don't you boys trade numbers? then you can hang out the next time you're in the same place for something."
so now they've started texting WAY earlier than in canon, and to shane's mom at least it's understood they're not really enemies right from the start (with the context of ilya is actually nice to shane in person, she understands that the rivalry is just an nhl narrative, and she understands marketing and spin), so she encourages shane in texting him, and even when they're in the same place (like at all stars), she encourages them meeting up and getting dinner together.
and for shane's part, ilya teases him about it later, but it's not mean or exclusionary. they plan on getting dinner with shane's parents for the first time or something and rozanov hits him with a, "i should order peanuts again and try to kill you, do you think? or is twice just bad manners?" and it's such a relief to have someone who thinks it's something that can just be joked about. rozanov doesn't treat him differently now except for asking shane now and then about stuff just because he's not wanting to kill shane the next time they meet up lol.
so even if it's not public, shane and ilya end up being friends (lol) WAY earlier and also have the space at least in private to be like, "i like you and you like me and there's an understanding between us that lets us hang out together and have it be not a big deal."
GOD this also meaning that rozanov is ilya to yuna and david at a much younger age. and yeah he acts cocky and chirps on the ice, but he's also just a teenager, AND he's a teenager set up to be rivals with their son, but they know from the start in this that that's not actually true. they've had dinner with him before. they check in and ask and get told yeah, shane spoke to him just last week and said yeah he's talked to ilya recently. he was over here...playing video games (lmao).
and they've seen things like them at the edge of an event being dumb teenagers but in a way that's really sweet with ilya trying something and going, "mmm no, they are liars, i think. tastes like poison for hollanders." so they also?? just assume?? that ilya's family also knows they're friends?? and yuna atp has answered questions for ilya before on contracts or brand deals because he doesn't always get translations of things but won't ask because doesn't want to get condescended to, so at a certain point she noticed him frowning at something and looking back and forth between a dictionary on his phone and the paper he was looking at and just pulled a "need some help?" and ilya resisted at first because Pride...but also yes, please.
but then they go up to ilya and his father at this event??? and the vibes are Off??? they know ilya by now so they know he's funny and sociable?? but he is now SILENT?? and glances at his father before he speaks? and uuuuuh that sure is some clues to follow.
and on TOTAL impulse one day, david at dinner or something just so casually observes that the flight back and forth to russia for holidays must be hard. and ilya (who was making fun of shane for not wearing his glasses but also helping him look at the tiny ass allergy warnings on this menu) looks up and SO neutrally goes, "yes, is very long. i don't usually go back. just for summer." because zero chance he's getting into the guilt of feeling relief at having an excuse he knows he shouldn't be using.
but then david AGAIN SO CASUAL is just, "well, if you want a shorter plane ride, you're always welcome to come stay with us."
which is how ilya starts spending holidays with the hollanders and also how ilya and shane face the sexual frustration of being under the same roof for multiple days at a time but also having to be SO sneaky getting in and out of each other's rooms during it lmao.
Hudson Williams and the accidental reinvention of the Asian male lead
I wasnβt watching the Golden Globes. I was doing what most people do now, catching up on fragments of it through Threads and Instagram, scrolling past the expected parade of polished acceptance speeches and carefully coordinated outfits. Then I stopped.
As you could see in the Youtube video, Hudson Williams and Connor Storrie had just walked onto the stage to Chappell Roanβs βPink Pony Club.β Connor feigned nerves. Hudson, deadpan, told him to picture everyone in the audience naked. Connor paused, then pointed out that probably wouldnβt work, given that everyone had already seen them naked. Hudson didnβt miss a beat: their trainers had seen the show. Their moms had. Their daughters had. βHi moms,β he said, with the ease of someone who had absolutely nothing to prove.
The room erupted.
And I found myself watching a young Asian man stand under the Golden Globes lights, completely unguarded, received by white-dominated Hollywood with genuine delight β and looking like nothing the industry had ever deliberately produced. He hadnβt been media-trained into blandness. He hadnβt distanced himself from the showβs fanbase to seem more serious, more Hollywood, more palatable. Heβd arrived exactly as he was, from exactly where he came from.
I started wondering: how did he get here? And what does it mean that he did?
Before the Golden Globes, there was The Old Spaghetti Factory in New Westminster, British Columbia. Tables to wait. Rent to cover. A city, as Hudson would later put it, more expensive than Los Angeles.
But hereβs what the origin story usually glosses over: he wasnβt waiting to be discovered. He was already making things. Writing, directing, acting in short films with friends from Langara College, scrappy productions with no budget and no audience, made purely because he couldnβt not make them. The creativity wasnβt something fame unlocked. It was already fully formed, running quietly in the background of a life that had no particular reason to go anywhere extraordinary.
Heated Rivalry didnβt create Hudson Williams. It just gave the rest of the world a reason to look.
And when it did β when HBO picked up a low-budget queer Canadian hockey drama that had no business travelling as far as it did β what the world found wasnβt a star being manufactured. It was someone who had already done the work, on his own terms, long before anyone was paying attention.
That distinction matters. Because it changes what his story is actually about.
Asian men have occasionally been permitted entry, but on much stricter terms. The opportunities given to Simu Liu and Henry Golding were real and hard-won, but they came with an unspoken condition: donβt fail. A white leading man can have three flops and still find himself back on a major studio slate. The failure gets absorbed by the system. For an Asian leading man, a misstep tends to be read differently β not as a bad film, but as evidence that audiences simply donβt connect with someone who looks like him. The margin for error is not the same.
Whatβs quietly remarkable about Hudson Williams is that he never had to negotiate those terms. The industry didnβt get to decide whether to bet on him. By the time Hollywood was paying attention, the audience had already decided β and the audience, it turned out, was enormous.
He arrived through a door nobody was guarding. A low-budget queer Canadian drama, a domestic streamer, a story about ice hockey. Nothing about that pipeline said future leading man. And yet, here is the thing about Hudson Williams that makes him genuinely difficult to categorise: he doesnβt look like what Hollywood expects an Asian male lead to look like, and he doesnβt behave like it either.
As someone who grew up inside Asian beauty standards, I find myself doing something strange when I look at him. His nose, the high bridge, the wide pupils β these donβt register as typically Asian to me. But his colouring does, his hair does. He doesnβt resolve neatly into any single template. And that visual illegibility, I suspect, is part of why the industry received him the way it did β with delight rather than the usual cautious calculation. They didnβt quite know what box to put him in. So they just let him exist.
Which, for an Asian man in Hollywood, is rarer than it sounds.
There is a particular kind of Asian male star that China has historically preferred: slight, fair, large-eyed, what is known as ε°ι²θ, or βlittle fresh meat.β Simu Liu, for all his undeniable magnetism and charm, never quite fit that template. His northern-eastern Chinese features β strong, broad, blunt in the best sense β read as handsome to Western eyes but didnβt quite translate easily across the Pacific. Two very different ideals of masculine beauty, and he satisfied one without satisfying the other.
Hudson sits, almost improbably, at the intersection of both.
He is tall enough, muscular enough, conventionally handsome enough for Western audiences raised on a particular idea of a leading man. But he also has the large eyes, the high-bridged nose, the clear skin, the quality of being simultaneously strong and pretty that East Asian beauty standards have always prized. He doesnβt maximise for either culture. He lands, almost accidentally, exactly in the middle β and both sides of the world seem to have found something familiar and relatable in him.
Part of this is his heritage. Born to a Korean mother, Hudson carries the K-waveβs cultural momentum without arriving as a K-wave product. Western audiences have spent a decade being quietly educated by BTS, by Parasite, by the global spread of Korean aesthetics. Their eyes have been trained, without their necessarily knowing it, to find a certain kind of Korean beauty legible and desirable. Hudson benefits from that expanded vocabulary without being reducible to it. He isnβt a K-drama star crossing over. Heβs something the industry doesnβt have a name for yet.
And then there is who he is off-screen, which, in East Asian cultures, is never truly separate from the public persona (see Jackie Chan and his reputation in Hong Kong). How a man treats the women around him is character evidence, not private information. Hudson brings his mum to important functions, apparently without being advised to. He has been with his girlfriend since before fame found him, whom he had publicly acknowledged and showed gratitude for. He shows the kind of loyalty that in Western celebrity culture reads as refreshingly grounded, and in East Asian culture reads as something deeper: a proof of who he actually is. He became a global heartthrob and didnβt reinvent himself to match the moment.
In a system that usually asks people to choose β be legible to us, or be legible to them β Hudson Williams appears to have simply declined the choice.
Where Hudson Williams goes from here is still being written. The scripts are piling up. The agency is CAA now, not The Old Spaghetti Factory. He has walked runways in Milan, attended the Met Gala, wielded the Olympic torch. The world that didnβt know his name two years ago canβt seem to stop saying it.
What he represents β a new kind of Asian male lead, unbeholden to any single cultural template, arrived without permissionβ is still unfolding. Hollywood has a habit of eventually finding a box for people it didnβt design. Whether it does that to Hudson Williams, or whether he continues to resist easy categorisation, remains to be seen.
But here is what I keep coming back to: none of this was planned. Not by a studio, not by a diversity initiative, not by any industry calculation about what audiences were ready for. A mixed-heritage kid from Kamloops was making short films on no budget in Vancouver because he couldnβt not make them. He took a leap of faith on a small queer hockey drama and quit his day job. The audience found him, the way audiences sometimes find exactly what they needed without knowing they were looking.
Thatβs not how the system is supposed to work. But sometimes, itβs exactly how it does.
"And I found myself watching a young Asian man stand under the Golden Globes lights, completely unguarded, received by white-dominated Hollywood with genuine delight β and looking like nothing the industry had ever deliberately produced. He hadnβt been media-trained into blandness. He hadnβt distanced himself from the showβs fanbase to seem more serious, more Hollywood, more palatable. Heβd arrived exactly as he was, from exactly where he came from."
From The Old Spaghetti Factory to the Met Gala - Hudson Williams and the accidental reinvention of the Asian male lead by Cerise
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"But hereβs what the origin story usually glosses over: he wasnβt waiting to be discovered. He was already making things. [...] The creativity wasnβt something fame unlocked. It was already fully formed, running quietly in the background of a life that had no particular reason to go anywhere extraordinary.
Heated RivalryΒ didnβt create Hudson Williams. It just gave the rest of the world a reason to look."
From The Old Spaghetti Factory to the Met Gala - Hudson Williams and the accidental reinvention of the Asian male lead by Cerise
"Whatβs quietly remarkable about Hudson Williams is that he never had to negotiate those terms. The industry didnβt get to decide whether to bet on him. By the time Hollywood was paying attention, the audience had already decided β and the audience, it turned out, was enormous.
He arrived through a door nobody was guarding.Β "
From The Old Spaghetti Factory to the Met Gala - Hudson Williams and the accidental reinvention of the Asian male lead by Cerise
I know the article talks about Heated Rivalry, but I think Hudson grabbed the attention of the audience when he revealed his unfiltered personality in a way nobody expected:
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incomplete list of things hollanov realize about each other after their first summer
- Ilya's hair gets impossibly blonder with all the sun
- Shane's freckles become darker and more defined
- ilya does NOT tan his Slavic ass is burning
- shane has a ridiculously specific brand of sunscreen and REFUSES to use anything else (this will be forced onto ilya IMMEDIATELY following the first burn of the season where shane realizes with horror ilya does not believe in sun screen)
- ilya behaves like a child at the pool the moment he gets anywhere near water (including the bartering begging and pleading to not have to leave)
- shane is a fiend for popsicles. low cal sweet treat without having to eat ice cream. perfect. they stain his (and later ilyas) mouth for an entire afternoon
- the only kitchen appliance ilya can operate with any kind of competence is a microwave
- there is exactly one kind of kitchen appliance shane does NOT own. hey. wanna guess what it is.
- when Ilya's actually got all his shit his curly hair routine is EXTENSIVE. they are equally high maintenance individuals. just in different ways.
- their first summer together where theyre allowed to touch each other how they want where they want is the beginning of the realization they're both insanely clingy individuals. they will never recover.
will always be a Domesticβ’ Hollanov enthusiast because those boys lived a decade+ hiding Everything from Everyone. after being outed they are clingy to the Max level like these are 2 of the most competitive people in hockey and those urges obviously seep into their private lives as well. plan a get together of all the couples and they are out-coupling everyone there. sharing straws, legs on the others' lap fixing collars, slapping each other's ass, ilya 'you like tuna melt' rozanov is NOT letting his husband touch a single utensil. everything is getting handfed to his man. they rented a villa and have their own room and amenities? no, theyre sharing toothbrushes and underwear and his friends are delighted but disturbed to see their captain be this relaxed and laid back w his man. HIS man. everyone knows that shane hollander and ilya rozanov are a couple. they're aware that its exists but never considered that they're a COUPLE. like theyre happy TOGETHER. shane is taking all the opportunities to talk about his husband and vice versa. going somewhere they arent recognized and theyre just drooling all over the other. did u know my husband is the best hockey player in the world? my husband, yes. he is best ever. he pay for this whole trip. i love my shane. have u heard of shane hollander? best player and lover. very weak backhand but we work on that. they're kissing and sharing bendy straws fromthe same drink. did i mention sharing straws. florals. and kissing.
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one year when boston is deep in a cup run but montreal was struggling with injuries and got knocked out first round or something i think shane should go to the iihf world championship wearing ilya's old neckguard
Boston wins their series with Toronto in five, and then they're sitting pretty waiting for the other side of the bracket. The Metros come back from a 2-game deficit to drag it out to seven, but Florida plays physical and the Metros' defense is already spread thin from injury; Shane puts up three points in the elimination game and it's not enough. 4-3 in overtime, and the Metros are out in round one.
"Sorry," Ilya says later, when they call. "It was close."
"Yeah," Shane says. There's not much to say. "Not our year." No more words, just short harsh breaths on the line, and then: "Fuck."
If Ilya were there he would put his teeth to the tender crook of Shane's throat, press Shane down into the bed and take him apart slow. But he's in Boston and Shane's in a nondescript hotel in Miami, so instead he says, "Get in the bathroom."
"What?"
"You need a shave, yes?" Shane's beard is still patchy this early in the playoffs. Ilya's felt it scrape along the inside of his thighs, leave the skin prickling and warm. "Go do it. I will watch."
Shane's jaw works. The camera doesn't capture the flint of his eyes, the line that must be creased between his brows. It doesn't matter. Ilya knows the ways Shane will bend. He stares at the screen, hungry, and a thousand miles away Shane gets off the bed.
The view dips, goes dark, then too bright. A clatter; an angle of a bathroom counter. Shane comes back into view, a razor in hand. Hesitates. "Should I--"
"Mm."
The water runs. First the soap, and then the clean stroke of the razor. Shane's hands are steady as he works. He'd had a goal second period: a slick dangle through the D-pair, then a wrister into the top corner. The Raiders in his living room had exploded in appreciative shouts. Ilya had watched, and wanted, his mouth gone wet.
"I should do this for you," Ilya murmurs.
"Yeah?"
"You would like it, I think." He imagines being there, taking Shane's jaw in his hand. "You'd have to be very good." Ilya would be so careful with him. All that tender skin, smooth and pink. Shane's shallow breathing; his glassy eyes.
Shane lowers the razor. There's water dripping onto the counter. "Ilya."
"Touch yourself." He waits for Shane to put the razor down, a quiet click. "No, other hand."
It'll be harder for Shane, and that's what Ilya wants. It takes a second before his hand disappears under the counter. Ilya watches Shane's eyes, the teeth sinking into his lip. The hiss of his exhale, just audible over the call.
"I want to hear you," Ilya says, and finally gets a hand on his own dick. A long lazy stroke, groaning with it. Shane's breath hitches at the sound; his forearm jerks, convulsive. "Make some noise for me, okay?"
Shane does. God, he does.
***
T-1 to puck drop there's a ping on Ilya's phone: Raymonds pulled out of Team Canada. For a moment Ilya just blinks at the text, no context for it, before he remembers the fucking World Championship. Conflicts with the playoffs every year. Shane would have declined the invitation before.
You have not had enough hockey?, Ilya sends, but he knows the answer to that. He looks up where Worlds are this year, mentally marks the time difference between Boston and Bratislava. Then he tucks his phone away and gets ready to destroy Florida.
The Raiders are playing hungry this year. Ilya tries not to dwell on it, but the thought lives in him, bright and sharp-edged. One last time before he leaves. He's been here eight years, called this place home, bled and cried with these men. It's the only way he knows how to say thank you.
***
The first game is a shutout for Boston. Ilya stretches into bed with a satisfying ache all through his muscles. Shane picks up on the second ring. "Hey," he says. "You looked good out there."
"I always look good," Ilya says, preening. "When are you flying out?"
"A few days. I've been trying to pack, but I can't find my neck guard."
"You have one?" Shane doesn't normally wear one. Ilya's thoughts snag on the image of something dark around Shane's throat.
"From the juniors." Shane sounds a little sheepish. "It's comfortable, you know? I might've left it at my parents' place, I'll go over tomorrow."
The words come out without thought. "Wear mine."
Somewhere deep in his closet Ilya has one, too: a strip of fabric and plastic, worn, faded. At some point Ilya had put his name on it, the inside edge where it would lie against the hollow of his throat. Silver against the black: ΠΠ»ΡΡ Π ΠΎΠ·Π°Π½ΠΎΠ².
Shane opens his mouth. Closes it. "I can't come to Boston," he says, which is not a no. His eyes are wide on the screen, and Ilya's teeth ache.
"I will send it to you." There's same-day delivery to Canada. The logistics aren't the problem.
"What if--" Shane swallows. "What if it's not comfortable?"
This is how Ilya knows he's won. He can be magnanimous in victory. "If you try and don't like it," he says. "Then fine, don't wear it. You can choose."
Shane's breathing hard; they both know what he'll choose. "Okay," he says. Touches his tongue to his teeth. "Okay."
***
Boston wins the next game at home, then lose one away. A grinding, dirty game, chippy from the start and stretching into 2OT. It's a lucky bounce that wins it for Florida, the kind that sticks in your teeth, and Ilya doesn't get back to the hotel until midnight.
He's exhausted when he crawls into bed. He means to go to sleep, but midnight in Florida is seven where Shane is, which means Canada is playing Norway in ten hours. Have fun, Ilya texts, absently taps open Twitter, and abruptly comes face to face with Shane.
There's a mic in his face. His hair is a sweaty fringe, probably just out from practice. Someone's asking him a question, who the fuck cares, and all Ilya sees is the dark layer of the neck guard under the collar of Shane's jersey.
Fuck. He goes hard in an instant, shocked wide awake. The way it shifts when Shane tilts his head. The bob of his throat. The interview ends, and Ilya hits replay, shoves a hand into his briefs. It's embarassingly fast: the orgasm hits like a train, hard and blinding, before the video finishes playing a second time.
He's still panting when Shane texts back. Next time, and then: Good night :) Love you.
An ocean away Shane is waking up. He'll put on his pads, his skates, his Team Canada jersey. He'll play the same beautiful hockey he's been playing since he was old enough to stand up, and it will be Ilya's name on his neck, pressing against skin. Keeping him safe.
This year, Ilya is going to win the Cup. He's going to win with the C on his chest, Raiders screaming in his ear, and that will be what he remembers when he asks for the trade. He'll walk away, even though it'll kill him, because the other side of this is Shane. Shane, and the slow yielding in him that has him thrusting his own head into a collar.
After the game, Ilya sends, call me. Shane, lit up with victory, is a beautiful thing. Ilya could spend a lifetime devouring him. Keep the neck guard on.