Even after they come out, Shane is a private person. So is Ilya. And, look, Shane is very happy that the centaurs are so accepting. He really, really has to remind himself how relieved and happy he is about it. He also remembers that this is how locker rooms are. As captain of the metros, the amount of times he had to tell off a player for showing pictures of their girlfriend's breasts or ass to other players was uncomfortably high.
So he really should have expected the question, "so who is, you know, the man?"
"Dude, you can't ask that," a very progressive Young advised. "You gotta ask who's the top. Not the man."
Shane exhaled slowly. He loves his team he loves his team he loves his team.
"That is private," Shane said firmly. "And inappropriate in the workplace."
He was, of course, largely ignored. And while neither him nor Ilya really enjoyed their team, their friends, the internet, and homophobic players guessing their bedroom arraignments, Shane was surprised that nearly everyone got it wrong.
The general consensus what that Shane was the man. His going out outfit was usually jeans and a t-shirt, Ilya's was tight leather pants and a leopard print with four buttons undone. When they drank, Shane got a beer and Ilya either got shots or the sweetest cocktail they had. Ilya was more flamboyant, Shane was more reserved. Ilya liked to bake, Shane liked to grill.
And yes, Shane was aware why all these seemingly innocuous personality traits accumulated to make Shane the man and Ilya the girl. Still, it didn't stop it being generally annoying, offensive, and uncomfortable. Nonetheless, Shane liked finding the silver lining in that this was something just for them to know.
Ilya finds it more amusing then Shane. And, like most things, tries to use it to his advantage.
"Shaaaane, carry my bag," Ilya held out his hockey bag.
"I can't believe you treat your girlfriend like this."
"Is it a happy bouquet or an 'i'm sorry' one?" Holmsberg asked as he and the rookies peered over Young's phone. "Get the all roses one."
"That's the most expensive one!"
"Shane," Ilya whined, calling their attention to him. "Why don't you ever buy me flowers?"
"That's messed up, dude," LaPointe shook his head.
"I'll buy you roses, Roz." Wyatt grinned.
"You will not," Shane grumbled.
"Ah," Ilya winced as he lowered himself on the bench.
"You okay?" Shane asked him. He had taken a hard check into the boards early in the game and, despite reassuring Shane he was fine, he knew his hip was killing him.
"Fine," Ilya said predictability. "Just sore. Will be fine in a minute."
"Hey," Zane nudged Shane's shoulder. "Go easy on him on game days, okay? We need him."
"Go easy?" Shane's eyebrows drew together. "What do you - Oh! No, that isn't - he - I didn't -"
"It's fine, man. Whatever you two-"
"No!" Shane interrupted. "He's still sore off of Richard's check - Not - Ilya, stop laughing!"
"Doesn't it bother you?" Shane asks Ilya one day.
"That everyone assumes you're, you know," Shane gestured, a cute little blush on his cheeks. "The girl."
"There is no girl," Ilya raises his eyebrows and palms Shane through his pants. "I would know."
"Asshole," Shane scoffs. "You know what I mean."
"I know," Ilya smiled. "But no. It does not bother me."
"Because it's hot," Ilya lifted his hands, over Shane's chest and up to his face. "That people can't even imagine you like this."
Ilya dips to kiss his neck and Shane's eyes flutter shut.
"Makes no sense," Ilya continued, hands roaming down to Shane's ass. "To me, I know this immediately."
"F-fuck off, you did not."
"Oh, I did," Ilya gripped his chin, forcing Shane to look at him. "I see you... those beautiful freckles and I know how desperate you are for it. So obvious. Thought everyone was looking at this boy thinking how good he would look getting fucked. How well he would take it."
"Shh," Ilya patted his face. "But I think is better this way. That only I get to even imagine you like this. Only I get to have it."
"Only you," Shane agreed readily, hands flying to the zipper on Ilya's jeans.
"Only for me," Ilya agreed, letting Shane take down his pants and boxers. He pressed down on Shane's shoulders, the slightest pressure getting him to sink down, eyes already heavy. Ilya ran his hand through Shane's soft hair, watching the gold of his wedding ring catch the room's low light. "Only for me. Forever."
