Just Call Me Shay

“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.”

for @hollanovaweek!!!!! thanks y'all for hosting!!!!!!

1k, T, hollanova ballet!AU

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Jane bursts into the locker room, panting uncontrollably, and as if her day can't get any worse Lilya Rozanov is leaning up against the wall with a fat smile on her face.

"You're late, soloist," she says.

Lilya isn't wrong. Jane is very, very late. She already missed opening remarks, which is probably where they announced her promotion. The entire locker room has already cleared out, everyone's street clothes thrown haphazardly in every which corner, which only makes Lilya's continued presence even weirder.

She's fully dressed in leotard, tights and all, so Jane shudders in horror at the realization that Lilya had probably sat there, doing something as stupid as missing the first five minutes of class, just so she can confront Jane.

"Jesus Christ," Jane says, deadpan. "You actually have no life."

Jane throws her backpack into her locker and starts stripping post-haste. As she does, Lilya hops off her perch against the wall, slowly closing in Jane.

"I had to see it for myself," she drawls. Jane tries not to feel too exposed as she attempts to undo her cargoes in the least suggestive way possible. "I thought I was the only corp the company was promoting, so you can imagine my surprise when I hear the good news," she sighs. "Sweet little Jane, chasing after me again. I am so surprised. Look, this is my surprised face."

Shane is like no! It’s embarrassing! And this is public! And you wouldn’t make me actually do that to Rose would you? You know the answer, I’m gay!

Only Rose thinks the whole thing is hilarious and gives Shane the go ahead so there’s no real reason to resist Ilya’s begging anymore, still he holds out to the day before the interview.

“Fine! Fine! You can ask about Rose, but I get to ask about anything I want too!” And Ilya’s like yes yes of course my love. His boring Shane would hardly ask anything damning.

Fast forward to the day of the interview Shane is fondly exasperated with Ilya’s Rose questions, and Ilya is being a cocky bastard so happy with how it played out.

Until they switch sides and Shane breaks out his first question:

“Is it or is it not true that despite famously calling Scott Hunter ‘a nearly extinct fossil’ you think he’s hot?” The blood drains from Ilya’s face pretty quickly after that.

“Do you think Hayden Pike is a good hockey player?”

“Do you consider Hayden Pike a close friend?”

“Who do you love more: me or Anya?”

“Besides me who is your favorite teammate?”

And Luca and the other rookies being like, oh you mean the Dad-Trifecta? it's the best thing that has ever happened to us.

You loose your skates or you need help with paperwork or you're just feeling kinda sad and need a dad hug - you go Bood. he will grill you some chicken and go speak to Coach for you. You call him or Cassie if you're sick and they will pick you up and deposit you on the floor with Milo and you are their baby now. I'm 23 years old but that's my dad tho

If you're having trouble with other players, or if you're in like, a crisis? Mama Bear Ilya, will 100% get arrested for any of us and/or pick you up from the middle of nowhere any time of night. You wanna ragebait other players? He has the perception of a God and can tell from one look when a players second wife will leave him. He can also tell when you're feeling like shit mentally and he will pick you up take you to Harris farm and make you dog walk with him while throwing sweets at you. Holmberg got high sticked the other week Ilya spent like, 2 hours going through the guys Instagram with us while wine drunk and ripping his entire life to pieces with us.

Ilya always had been a light sleeper, so no matter how lightly they stepped he was awake moments after the first shocked gasp.

Ilya knows it’s over for him. There’s no mistaking that there’s a man asleep on his chest in a clearly non-platonic cuddle. Usually Ilya would be punching the intruder, threatening violence to try and ensure they kept their mouth shut but he has quickly realised something far more important. With the way they are sleeping, Ilya on his underneath on his back and Shane on his stomach on top with his face pressed into the gap between Ilya’s neck and the couch, they can’t see his face.

He quickly pulls Shane’s hood up over his head to hide hair and rests a hand over it to gently discourage Shane from moving it should he start to wake up.

So Ilya just stares down his team and goes “you can be upset, but are going to be fucking quiet about it because if you wake my guest I’m sending all my blackmail on you to your wives, and then start fucking them to help them get over the divorce.”

So the whole “You’re fucking gay!” “No, I’m a fucking bi who is fucking a gay” conversation happens at a furious whisper, with Shane blissfully sleeping on Ilya’s chest as life implodes around him.

Shane may be a deep sleeper - and the argument in whispers - but even he starts to stir at the noise.

Ilya can’t have him moving his face into visibility now, so he just scruffs the back of his neck harshly and pressed him deeper into his shoulder.

Shane lets out a pleased (and not at all quiet) moan, and - worried that he is going to start talking - Ilya realises he needs to shut him up.

So he glares at the Bears to be quiet, while suddenly putting on the softest voice they have ever heard him use as he goes, “shhh quiet time now mоя любовь. Back to sleep.” And then shoves his fingers into Shane’s mouth.

“No.” 

They were sitting on his parent’s couch towards the end of their first summer in the cottage. Yuna and David were cooking and Shane was in the middle of watching a hockey game before Ilya, after a sideways glance, plucked up the remote and switched channels. 

Shane blinks. “Give me the remote, Ilya.” 

“Hm,” Ilya said, who is just as spoiled, but did grow up with an older brother. “Nope.” 

“I was watching that game.”

“Is old recording,” Ilya said, flipping through channels without looking over. “It is my turn now.”

“Your turn?” Shane said. “This is my parent’s house. Give it.”

“Your parents house, my turn.”

Shane made to grab the remote and then Ilya did the unthinkable. 

He yanked his hand up, away from Shane. “Go away, Hollander, I’m watching Ancient Aliens."

“Ilya.”

“Shane.” 

That’s when Shane reached again and Ilya - Ilya flicked him. 

“You - you!” And Shane pounced. 

“Give me the remote!” 

“Nyet!” 

“You’re being a child!”

“You are not respecting turns!” 

“Turn it back!” 

The wrestled - Ilya only had one hand to fight with since the other was holding the remote far away from Shane’s grabby hands. Of course, neither one was using their full strength and Shane’s playful smile betrayed his actions. At one point, he tucked the remote under his chest and curled around it, but that led to Shane rolling them both off the couch. Now on the rug, Shane had just put hands on the edge of the remote when they heard a sharp - 

“Boys!” 

They both whipped their heads around to see a wide-eyed Yuna taking in the messed up couch, blankets strewn around, cushions everywhere, her son and his boyfriend tangled together on the rug, Shane's fingers brushing the remote Ilya was holding away from him.

Ilya, having more experience, immediately took the opportunity. “Yuna! Shane is not letting me have turn.” 

“Shane,” her eyes zeroed in on Shane and narrowed. “Ilya is our guest.”

“But! Ilya isn’t a guest, he’s my boyfriend.”

“And he’s my guest. Honestly, you two.” 

“I will clean pillows, Yuna,” Illya suggested sweetly. 

“Thank you, honey.”

“But!”

“It would be nice for you to offer to clean sometimes, Shane,” Yuna uncrossed her arms. 

“Yeah, Shane,” Illya smirked and it filled Shane with an unreasonable amount of rage. 

“Dinner is almost ready,” Yuna said. “Shane, come help me.”

“But mom!” 

Yuna turned to go back into the kitchen, catching her husband’s amused glance. 

As Shane trudged into the kitchen, David told Yuna, “we always wondered what two would be like.”

The entire Boston roster piling behind Marly as he types, trying to decide what to say that could save them because their captain has been possessed by the spirit or a soviet military trainer with knife shoes and if they are forced to make double bagskates again they will either puke or die or both.

Arthur Pike, sitting in Hayden's lap at the next microphone, shouting: HELLO SHANE HOLLANDER

Shane: Ha, um--tonight's game was tough but we're hungry for it--

Arthur Pike, struggling out of his father's grasp: SHANE! SHANE! SHANE!

Shane, whispering: Okay, okay.