Ottawa wins the Cup, wins it in LA, and due to the proximity to stardom and the several actual celebrities who make a point to come out and celebrate with the Centaurs, there are approximately seven hundred angles of the festivities on every social media by the following morning.
One of these is your classic TMZ highly invasive round-the-corner spy shot of Shane and Ilya--like, waiting for an Uber, is what it looks like, and the bass from inside the club is pounding and you can barely hear what they're saying except that the guy standing next to them is also TMZ and he's got a directional mic sticking out of his pocket pointed at them and when he gets into position you can hear Shane Hollander, like, fucking giggle.
"I'm sorry," Shane says, and his arms are around Ilya's neck. "I got--I'm a little drunk."
"It's okay," Ilya says, and he brushes a hand through Shane's hair. "Did you have fun?"
"Ye-s-s-s," Shane says, nodding his head decisively. "We won the Cu-p."
"Yes we did. I am proud of you."
"I'm proud of you!" Shane cups a hand around the back of Ilya's neck and giggles again into his shoulder. "Why aren't you drunk? I drank the same things as you--"
"I'm drunk," Ilya chuckles. "But I have twenty pounds on you and I am Russian, so."
"That's not a thing. That's not really a thing." Shane sighs and goes a bit boneless against Ilya's body and says, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have, uh--"
"Shh. You said you had fun, and this is all that matters. My beautiful winner." He kisses the side of Shane's face, loudly and repeatedly.
Shane makes a sound that Twitter, TikTok and Instagram comment sections will all agree is a purr.
There are also, by the following morning, about a hundred discrete comments on various platforms that all say some version of Oh I just know he talks him through it.
kianamaiart
dededos
areudirty
annaxmalina
ellievsbear
discoholicmusic
