ShadeGarden

They were starting to get concerned about how he’d do when he started kindergarten in the fall, there had been a few late night conversations about if they should find a speech therapist if he was still non-speaking by the time he started school, but one day after they’re driving home from a Centaurs game, Shane suddenly pipes up from his carseat in the back,

“Mama, I wanna be a hockey player when I grow up.”

It’s so unexpected that David slams on the brakes and Yuna spills the remains of her ginger ale on her lap. They both whip their heads around to look at the small boy happily kicking his feet in the backseat wearing the jersey that looks more like a tent on him (he’ll go through a growth spurt in a month or two and it’ll fit just fine) who has no idea he just did anything special.

anyway, that’s how the internet spends a year speculating that ilya rozanov and cliff marleau have explored each others bodies. they are so all over each other and constantly tweeting gay shit about each other that ilya’s time with shane barely even gets a second glance. the first time ilya drags shane out to meet cliff, a photo gets posted on twitter and everyone is like “poor shane having to third wheel these two #ally”.

UPDATE: Fic Added ⬇️

Eyes On Me

@OttawaOfficialPoliceDepartment: Recent Missing Persons Report filed for Shane William Hollander at 9:25 pm

Here is what I could find.

We've Got Our Obsessions 

🔒 In the first year on the Centaurs, marriage is hard, and only made harder by the spotlight, as well as a new coach that seems fixated on Shane, or at the very least driving a wedge between him and Ilya.

I'm Powerless, Don't Remind Me 

🔒 It should have been a quiet morning alone. Pulled violently from his home Shane realizes he must try and fight his way out, and hopes Ilya realizes what happened before it is too late.

It’s… fine, overall. But he knows that sleep doesn’t come as easily to him as it does to the average person. It takes time for him to get his brain to turn off all the way, it takes a few tosses and turns to get comfortable. It can even be hard to stay asleep sometimes, the smallest of sounds or movements from a teammate in a hotel room can jostle him right awake at random hours of the night.

Unless he sleeps on Shane. Not even next to Shane. But on top of Shane.

The first time it happened was at the cottage. It was their first night together and Ilya had found himself curled up on Shane’s lap in front of the fire, Shane’s fingers soothingly scrunched in his hair, scratching at his scalp in just the best way. And Ilya was tired. Exhausted from the flight, from the anxiety of facing this large expanse of time he was to spend with the man he loved but had not expressed it, and opening up about his mother was the final blow, leaving him so emotionally drained that the flames licking in front of him just turned into an orange blur.

He wanted to stay there forever, with Shane’s thighs pillowing him, a hand rubbing up and down his body with another in his hair. So he closed his eyes. 

Ilya had no idea he had fallen asleep until he later felt rubbing at the space behind his ear on the edge of his jaw, Shane’s voice guiding him back to consciousness. “It’s late, Ilya,” Shane murmured. “Why don’t you start heading to bed while I put out the fire? I’ll be right behind you.”

Ilya made sure to stay awake until Shane clambered into the bed ten minutes later.

The next time was only days later. Shane was sitting across from him on the couch, their feet pressed together, his eyes shining, voice wobbling as he said “Don’t marry Svetlana." Ilya couldn’t stop himself from standing up, gathering the blanket that had been draped over him, and flopping into Shane’s side.

“I’m fine,” Shane had begun to protest as Ilya pulled the blanket over them both.

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” Ilya replied simply, squirming up against Shane until he could tuck his head on Shane’s shoulder, forehead pressed to his neck. “Maybe I’m just cold.”

Shane scoffed and looked back down at his phone, Ilya quickly scanning the screen. “Are you really reading hockey shit right now?” 

He felt Shane shrug against his head. “I know, I know. Call me boring, I accept it.”

Ilya grinned and snuggled closer. “Is fine. You’re good pillow either way.”

Shane rested his head on Ilya’s and began to scroll, and Ilya could do nothing but close his eyes, and let sleep take him in seconds. He was woken up again later, Shane gently whispering in his ear to coax him to bed.

…Only to wake him later in the middle of the night, promptly kicking Ilya’s ass with a detailed plan about how they could spend the rest of their lives together. Ilya passed out on Shane like a human sized weighted blanket, tears still wet on his face.

The sweetest time Ilya did it at the cottage was in front of Shane’s parents. The day after Shane came out to them, Yuna and David stopped by for dinner. Eventually the group sat by the fire, stars twinkling in the sky, and Ilya could feel himself crashing. Between the sex and the emotional conversations, the amount of sleep he was having was not enough, and he could feel it. Shane and his parents were chatting around him and Ilya lost focus, leaning over his knees and staring into the fire, trying to focus on the shapes of the flames to keep his eyes open.

He eventually felt a gentle pull at his shoulder. It was Shane guiding him to lean back against the back of the couch with him, tucking Ilya into his neck and shoulder once again. Ilya wanted to object, but found himself curling into Shane’s warmth, and closed his eyes. 

Shane didn’t wake him this time, instead the continued voices pulled him back to awareness. He kept his eyes closed and listened to the conversation, not wanting to lose the way Shane held him. Ilya began to realize that they were talking about him.

“-been really tired these past few days. It’s been a lot for both of us.”

“I can imagine,” Yuna replied softly. “He seems quite comfortable with you.”

“He’s been doing this a couple of times,” Shane’s grip on Ilya’s shoulder tightened in a squeeze. “Knocks right out on me.”

“Because he knows you’re safe.” Yuna said. Then, after a stretch of silence, “He seems like a really sweet boy.”

“Yeah,” Shane said after a beat. “He is.”

It took everything in Ilya not to smile.

And it became a regular occurrence after that. Shane would joke that Ilya was just using him as a cheat code, since being on top of him seemed to magically make Ilya pass out in seconds, but Yuna’s words stuck with him. The safety that Shane gave him was unlike anything he ever had, and he took advantage of that whenever he could. Over the following years, Ilya would always find himself flopping on top of Shane whenever possible. Shane would be reading his book in bed in his adorable glasses and Ilya would press into his neck, read a few words of his boring hockey book, and sleep. He would drape himself over Shane on the couch, press his face into Shane’s chest, and sleep. Once they’re on the Centaurs together, he would sleep on Shane during flights because planes made him more nervous after the emergency landing and would rather not be conscious. 

And as for Shane? Shane loved it. He loved every part of it. He loved the moment he could feel Ilya’s body slacken, he loved the soft snoring noises he would make. And he especially loved when he would wake Ilya up. He would blink up at Shane so softly and scrub at his eyes, smiling dreamily as Shane rubbed whatever part of his body that he had access to. And Ilya would always tilt his head up for a kiss, which Shane would of course oblige. And Ilya would make the cutest noise on the planet, only reserved for these moments, where Shane wakes him up to herd Ilya to wherever he needs to be next. It’s just the softest noise of contentment and peace, sometimes Shane would kiss him a second time just to hear it again. 

via chart data

They're always in and out of the water – lake swims, pool swims, hot tub, showers – so doing his curl routine each time would be crazy when he could be spending that precious time sucking his boyfriend's dick.

Shane's not the biggest fan of how Ilya's styling products feel. He'll tolerate it, but Ilya can tell by his face that the texture isn't his favourite. Less product = more hair touching.

Shane's hands are always in his hair. When they're kissing. When they're watching a movie. When they fuck. When Ilya sits with his head in Shane's lap. When they're napping on the couch together. Shane's hands are usually full of a handful of Ilya's curls.

Shane seems to really like it. One time Shane said Ilya's fluffy hair made him look like a duckling and he's been chasing that high ever since.

“Chopping carrots with Ilya,” Shane sings under his breath. “Making salad with Ilya.”

Yuna smiles softly from the dining room. This is one of her favorite things about her son. From the time he could (barely) talk, he made up little songs about anything and everything. The first time he’d done it, he’d been strapped into his car seat and watching cars go by. When he’d caught Yuna’s eye in the rear view mirror, he’d smiled with all 8 of his little teeth and waved.

“Dwiving,” he’d sung, all of 18 months old and barely able to say the word properly. “Dwivin’ wi’ Mama. Wuv Mama.”

Yuna’s not sure if it’s Shane’s way of processing the world around him, just A Thing some people do, or something special about her baby boy. All she knows is that from the first time he’d made up a little tune about Driving With Mama, everything turned into a song. When he’s comfortable and feeling at ease, Shane turns little things around him into music.

Learning to tie his shoes? “Daddy’s teaching me to tie my shoes. One lace over the other. Make the bunny ears!”

Gearing up for practice when he was 8? “Going to practice. Gonna be great. Gonna score a goal!”

Studying for a science test? “Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. Everyone says it because it’s true. Moving on—organelles and cell walls.”

Gearing up for his first Metros game as captain? “Taping my hockey stick. Going out on the ice. Gonna kick some ass.”

It’s something so uniquely, adorably, perfectly Shane.

Today, though? As Shane’s in the kitchen preparing a salad for lunch? For the first time, someone else sings along. For the first time in Shane’s life, someone hears the tune and lyrics that only exist in his head and joins in.

“Making salad with Shane,” Ilya croons along, hooking his chin over his boyfriend’s shoulder and wrapping strong arms around his waist. “Preparing lunch with my love.”

Shane smiles and sings back as Ilya nuzzles his neck. “Being domestic with my boyfriend. Thinking of boring things we can do together.”

Ilya laughs and kisses his ear before finishing the song. “I love to be boring with yooouuuu.”

Shane pauses on the other line, breath catching as he holds back overwhelming emotion.

“Mom,” he croaks. “I…fuck.”

Yuna stays calm. She mentally takes stock of the situation. Ilya’s fine—he just texted her, a few seconds before Shane called, to warn her of the incoming storm. David’s fine—he’s sitting right next to her, confused and alarmed as their son has some manner of episode on the phone. She’s fine. So what’s—

“—wi’ Dada!”

…oh. Oh.

It’s soft at first, but picking up in volume. Tiny pit-pats in the background accompany the most beautiful little voice Yuna’s heard since Shane made up his first song, Driving With Mama, from his car seat all those years ago.

“Eating,” the little voice sings in the background. It’s garbled by what Yuna assumes are half-chewed remnants of an afternoon snack; probably organic peanut butter on apple slices. “Eating wi’ Dada. Eating wi’ Papa. Dada on phone! Who on phone, Dada?”

There’s wet laughter in the background, further from the phone. “Oh God, Shane. It’s genetic. She’s a little you!”

More tearful laughter, this time from Shane. “That’s not—she’s adopted, Ilya.”

“I don’t care what the papers say. She is you. Listen to her, she is perfect. She must be part you, sweetheart.”

“Chopping carrots with Ilya,” Shane sings under his breath. “Making salad with Ilya.”

Yuna smiles softly from the dining room. This is one of her favorite things about her son. From the time he could (barely) talk, he made up little songs about anything and everything. The first time he’d done it, he’d been strapped into his car seat and watching cars go by. When he’d caught Yuna’s eye in the rear view mirror, he’d smiled with all 8 of his little teeth and waved.

“Dwiving,” he’d sung, all of 18 months old and barely able to say the word properly. “Dwivin’ wi’ Mama. Wuv Mama.”

Yuna’s not sure if it’s Shane’s way of processing the world around him, just A Thing some people do, or something special about her baby boy. All she knows is that from the first time he’d made up a little tune about Driving With Mama, everything turned into a song. When he’s comfortable and feeling at ease, Shane turns little things around him into music.

Learning to tie his shoes? “Daddy’s teaching me to tie my shoes. One lace over the other. Make the bunny ears!”

Gearing up for practice when he was 8? “Going to practice. Gonna be great. Gonna score a goal!”

Studying for a science test? “Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. Everyone says it because it’s true. Moving on—organelles and cell walls.”

Gearing up for his first Metros game as captain? “Taping my hockey stick. Going out on the ice. Gonna kick some ass.”

It’s something so uniquely, adorably, perfectly Shane.

Today, though? As Shane’s in the kitchen preparing a salad for lunch? For the first time, someone else sings along. For the first time in Shane’s life, someone hears the tune and lyrics that only exist in his head and joins in.

“Making salad with Shane,” Ilya croons along, hooking his chin over his boyfriend’s shoulder and wrapping strong arms around his waist. “Preparing lunch with my love.”

Shane smiles and sings back as Ilya nuzzles his neck. “Being domestic with my boyfriend. Thinking of boring things we can do together.”

Ilya laughs and kisses his ear before finishing the song. “I love to be boring with yooouuuu.”

It’s the best song Yuna’s ever heard.