Chapter Text
Harris was a little petty. Just a little. Just a tad. Just enough to take to centaurs socials with permitted chaotic intent.
A week ago, the Centaurs’ captain, Ilya Rozanov, had shown up in the background of Hayden Pike’s fanmail video. Now, on its own that would have been only a little surprising, but he had been captured passionately kissing his arch rival, so…
It had been a rough week since. Harris had been spending nearly all of his hours on the clock with Centaurs management trying to minimize fallout on their platforms. Roz and Hollander did seem to have a lot of supporters behind them, but the hatred was loud from the group that was not on board with two rival captains being in a secret relationship with each other.
Was Harris biased? He didn’t think a relationship between two people who clearly meant the world to each other was a bad thing, but seeing the hockey world up in arms over these two felt a little dramatic.
Roz had been benched for the remainder of the week while the commissioner’s office ran their own interference, supposedly entering investigations to find out if the two best players in the whole damn league had been throwing games for each other for years. By the time Ilya had been returned to the Cens locker room, the playoffs were looming right over their heads for the first time in years, with the first matchup being a dreaded Montreal game.
Frankly, most of the administration was worried about the game becoming a turning point for all the wrong reasons. Fans were chomping at the bit to get their first live look at Hollander and Rozanov after the video. They wanted to see if the two could still hold up, could still play Hockey, knowing that everyone knew just who #81 and #24 would be going home to after.
To Harris, this was ridiculous. He’d seen Roz play Hockey for Ottawa for three years now, and every time he was blown away by the speed and precision the captain demonstrated on the ice. But even more than that, he’d seen how much Ilya had grown in his time with the Cens. He’d watched a man who was generally very closed off, who never came to team events, slowly begin opening up with his teammates. The joy Ilya seemed to have endlessly around Chiron slowly seeped its way into the way he skated with the team, the way he hung back with the rookies to help with skills, and the way he now animatedly answered questions the locker room had about his relationship.
Honestly, who could see this man and think he was trying to start some game-rigging scheme with Shane Hollander, a man known for never getting into fights or causing issues outside the rink, relationship be damned?
The engagement announcement seemed inevitable after all the time Hollander had been with their captain, and it had been Bood who joked that all the guys who were engaged or married should get a photo together. Watching Ilya’s face light up at the suggestion made Harris feel a little sad. How long had their captain been syphoning away parts of himself for this secret?
Watching Troy line up and smile along with the rest of the guys reminded Harris, though, heavy as the ring on his finger, that Ilya was in good hands with the Cens. They had been nothing short of overwhelmingly accepting and happy when Troy and Harris had gotten engaged, and the same would go for Roz.
Grinning at his Fiance, Harris adjusted his phone camera’s angle to get all the guys in the frame.
“Smile!” the phone snapped a few quick photos of the players, arms slung over the shoulders of the guys next to them. Harris managed to get a couple different angles before the men began dissolving in fits of laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Harris continues snapping photos, catching the joy in the room as Wyatt just about keeled over after Dykstra whispered something in his ear.
"We were talking about how crazy this photo would go over on the internet,” Dykstra provided between giggles. “The conspiracies would be taking off within the hour!”
Ilya’s eyes widened at the suggestion, before he joined the crowd of giggling hockey players. “I think they’re mad enough at me for the moment,” he spoke roughly, “but maybe?”
“Roz, man, we were mostly kidding,” Troy put an arm around his friend. “Harris won’t post anything without your permission.”
Nodding, Harris snapped a couple more photos, where the guys were now fully surrounding their captain. “Nope! Nothing goes onto socials without running it past you. All for fun, Ilya”.
“Ah, of course, but I don’t think it would be so bad."
“Dude,” Dykstra laughed, “you trying to stress out your fiance this close to your wedding?”
Ilya shrugged. “He would know, I’d check first, but I’d love to share my love for him without… making a big deal. You know?”
Troy exchanged a look with Harris, who just shrugged back. To answer the earlier question – Yes, Harris was probably biased. If their captain wanted to use Cens socials to share such an important part of his life, in his opinion, the internet could lose their minds for a little bit trying to figure it out.
“Whatever you need, Ilya, seriously,” Harris assured him. It felt like the least the team could do to support their captain. Plus, a little good old fashioned fun never hurts before going into a stressful playoff match. Harris loved his team, but he was also acutely aware of just how good the Voyageurs have been this season. They won the cup last year, after all. Maybe getting a laugh out of the hockey internet collectively losing their shit would be helpful for team stress levels.
“Go talk to your Fiance,” Hayes thumped Ilya on the back. “Seriously, it’d be funny, but not at your expense, man.”
Smiling, Ilya took out his phone as he started towards the locker room door. “I expect to see you all here early for lift tomorrow, yes?”
“Yes, Cap!” They chorused back. With a wave, Ilya exited the room, leaving the remainder of the team to finish packing up.
Troy approached Harris first. “Level with me here, babe”, he started carefully, “How badly will that photo go down on the internet if you actually do post it?”
“It shouldn’t go too badly,” Harris reassured him. “No matter where the environment is, hate is going to exist, but Ilya has a good amount of people on his side. Also, the socials would just tease the engagement, not name it outright. I’m sure Hollander would never accept a direct announcement of their engagement through Ottawa’s hockey platform.”
Grabbing his own Hockey bag and Harris’ filming equipment from the day, Troy started towards the door, seemingly satisfied with that answer. Harris caught up with him quickly, grabbing the hand that wasn’t balancing two bags and pressing a quick kiss to Troy’s cheek.
“I know you’re worried after everything that happened with them, Troy. But really, they’ll be alright.”
Troy sighed, resting his head on top of Harris’ as they kept walking. “I know, it’s just… Roz is living out my actual nightmare for years and he seems to be handling it so calmly. I just want to be sure he’s okay.”
Harris laughed. “I guarantee he’s going through it a lot more than he lets the team see. But he has a good support system, right?” Troy nodded, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “He’s got his own Fiance, his Fiance’s family, and the entire team, and his friends from other places, too. I’m sure he’s struggling, but he’s not going to be alone. Besides,” Harris unlocked the door to the car as he kept speaking, “Hollander’s been with your captain for a pretty long time. Maybe, for Ilya, this really has felt like a long time coming.”
“Maybe” Troy conceded. He piled all the gear from the day in the backseat of Harris’ truck and slid into the passenger seat.
Harris turned the key in the hole, lighting the ignition as he pulled out of the Tire Centre’s parking lot. Some song from Noah Kahan’s “The Great Divide” immediately came through the speakers as his phone connected to the speakers.
“Let’s go home, we’ll worry about the supposed ‘biggest scandal in the league’ later, okay?”
“Feels like I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Well,” Harris flashed a smile as he turned onto a side road that would eventually lead down to Troy’s home. “I could probably help with that…”
Troy groaned as Harris continued “When we get home, I can make you forget all about Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander until morning.”
“Fuck,” Troy shifted in his seat. “Do we have to wait until we get home?”
“Yes!” Harris’ laughter rang out in the night as he turned another road into the neighborhood. “You are not mauling me in the middle of a public road, Troy!”
Sulking, Troy turned away, trying for a petulant pout. A well-built (albeit short) professional hockey player, pouting over not being charged with public indecency.
Harris continued on the road, the song switching from “Delicate” by Taylor Swift to “Found Heaven” by Conan Gray as he skillfully looked anywhere but Troy’s direction. Sue him, his Fiance was hot, and public indecency might occur regardless if Harris did not focus right now.
Five minutes to home. He could do that.
Totally.
The moment he pulled into the driveway and killed the engine, Troy was on him, kissing at his face and neck as Harris playfully tried to push him off long enough to get in the door.
Growling slightly into his Fiance’s neck, Troy easily scooped Harris clean off his feet, carrying him bridal-style into the house and shutting the door behind them with his foot.
True to his word, neither Troy nor Harris thought about Ilya and Shane until morning.
___________________________________
Shane’s face lit up the screen as Ilya connected the facetime call on his drive back to his house.
“Hi, Ilya,” Shane's smile stretched tired as he took in his Fiance after the long day. The Voyageurs had been less than pleasant to him today. It was good Ilya had a late practice and game tape to review so he didn’t have to watch this particular game just yet.
The last regular season game for Montreal had been nothing short of nightmare fuel. Shane had played well – he scored two goals and had another assist – but the rest of the team’s cohesion seemed to be missing. Shane’s first goal had been entirely unassisted, the second goal’s assist coming from Hayden. Beyond that, the Voyageurs had been hesitant to send the puck his way at all.
At first, it had seemed accidental, a misjudgement or poor execution of a play. But the more Shane had tapped his stick on the ice in search of a pass and received nothing, despite being wide open at times from defenders, the more he realized his teammates were weaning away from him.
This didn’t end well, with the final score being 5-3 in favor of Washington, the Capitals leaving their home arena in victory while Montreal fell into their playoff seed. The earlier gameplay had ensured the Voyageurs’ playoff position, but the way they played tonight worried Shane.
“Something wrong?” Ilya’s voice cut through Shane’s thoughts like a sun ray.
Shane shook his head. “Bad game today, probably just some playoff nerves,” he lied through his teeth.
Ilya frowned. “I saw some highlights after practice. You got two goals and an assist, yes?”
“Yeah,” Shane agreed, “Team chemistry was just off, that’s all.”
“Ah, is good for my team, then,” Ilya joked. “Take advantage of Voyageur confusion and sweep playoffs in four.”
“You fucking wish. We’re gonna cream you guys.”
Ilya waggled his eyebrows as he turned into his driveway. “Cream us, huh? As I remember, the one creaming first is usually-”
“Ilya,” Shane groaned, eliciting a laugh from the other end of the line. “Quit that.”
“Anything for you, Solnyshko”, Ilya promised. He blew out a breath as he parked his car and opened the door from the garage into the kitchen. It was around seven p.m., and he hadn’t eaten much other than lunch and a granola bar before practice.
He turned to the phone, where Shane seemed to be reading something on the screen while on the call with Ilya.
“Cook with me?”
Shane immediately swiped his phone, closing the tab. He smiled. “Of course.”
Ilya switched on the oven, then crossed over to place his phone propped on the vase in the center of his kitchen island. He opened his fridge, taking out some chicken he marinated earlier and placing it on a cutting board.
“What’re you making?” Shane had his head resting on his arms now, eyes trained on the food shown on the camera with unbearable fondness.
“Goat cheese stuffed chicken,” the answer came from somewhere on the left of the camera, where the audio crackled as Ilya took out a block of goat cheese and some herbs from his refrigerator. Rosemary, Thyme, and some Chives appeared on the screen with the cheese as bouncing golden curls re-entered the frame.
Mixing together the goat cheese with herbs and some basic seasoning, Ilya asked about menial things from Shane’s day. Nothing big, nothing hockey related, just anything. How were Yuna and David? Did they schedule their trip in the summer for their wedding anniversary? Did that trip not interfere with the Hollander-Rozanov wedding in July?
The more Ilya talked and asked these questions, the more Shane seemed to relax into himself. The stiff set of his shoulders seemed to melt as he talked animatedly about the trip to Ibiza Yuna and David were planning on taking in early August, when the weather could calm down ever-so-slightly in reprieve from the endless heat of summer.
God, he loved this man.
By the time the chicken was speared through with toothpicks to hold the goat cheese and placed on the pan to cook, Shane had exhausted the Ibiza trip and was just smiling at the camera as he watched Ilya work.
“Baby?”
A zing of joy shot through Ilya at the use of the pet name. “Yes, Solnyshko?”
“How is everything in Ottawa right now?”
“Good, why?” Ilya’s brow furrowed at the question.
“You’ve got that look on your face when you have something you want to say,” Shane smiled softly through the phone screen.
“Is lie!” Ilya exclaimed suddenly into the silence of his house. “Russians do not do this!”
“Mhm,” Shane nodded along, “But really, what is it?”
Sighing, Ilya moved himself away from the pan to center himself on the phone screen. He stared back at Shane, who seemed to have endless patience as he searched for the words to explain what he wanted.
“I told my team I’m engaged.” He began.
“Oh!” Shane couldn’t hide the bit of shock. The Centaurs had been great towards Ilya when the fanmail video had been leaked, but to tell them about his engagement right before the playoffs? That would take a lot of trust that Ilya would still hold the room even after the announcement. “That’s great, I think? Did they react well?”
“Yes,” Ilya’s mouth quirked up thinking about it. “They were amazing. Bood has insisted you come by for a team barbeque when the playoffs end. Hayes wants to know when you’ll be retiring so he can stop living in fear whenever you come in his crease.”
Shane laughed. “Tell Wyatt I’ve still got a decade or so of good hockey left in me. He’ll have to suffer a little longer”, he softened. “That’s great, Ilya. I’m happy you get to have that.”
The Voyageurs hadn’t been as receptive to Shane’s relationship as the Cens had been, he knew this, but seeing his Fiance so happy with this group of guys sent a pang of jealousy through Shane. Why couldn’t he have that, too? Why did his team have to be so hateful towards a man who openly had moved countries just to be within driving distance of Montreal?
The train of thought was shoved out of the way as Ilya continued.
“We took a photo with all of the guys on the team that are engaged or married,” he whispered. Shane’s eyes widened, his head coming up from where it rested on his arms. “The guys think it’d be funny to post it. I told them I would need to check with you first.”
“Ilya…”
“I know, we agreed to wait before announcing anything. It wouldn’t outright state the, ah, connections in the photo?” Ilya defended. “I would like to post, I think. But I won’t do it if you don’t want me to.”
“Ilya, hang on a minute-”
“I would like to have this, no? To just… have my love for you without making big deal of it.”
“Baby-”
“But if you don’t want that, I understand. I can just-”
“ILYA!” Shane shouted, his exasperated voice carrying through the phone’s tinny speakers. “I know what we talked about, really, I do. But if this would make you happy and there’s no official announcement… I think I’d like that, too.”
Ilya nearly dropped his ring, which he was fiddling with absent-mindedly on its chain while speaking.
“Shane, you are sure? The guys were mostly joking about posting the photo.”
“No, I’m not sure,” Shane said, “but honestly? You’ve spent so long hiding. Secret’s out, right? So why shouldn’t you get to have this?”
Ilya paused. “You are kidnapped, yes? You are fake Shane Hollander?”
“Baby,” Shane looked fondly at the image of his Fiance on the screen. Soon to be his husband. Why would he ever think he wouldn’t be allowed to share that? ”Of course. If it makes you happy, please.”
Because you forced him to hide, the voice in his head supplied. He’s scared to do this, and it’s your fault. You kept him from this happiness for years.
But Ilya didn’t look like someone barely surviving being hidden. Hell, he lit up like a fucking Christmas tree at Shane’s words.
“I love you,” Ilya grinned through the phone. God, his joy at such a small thing. Fuck.
“Ya tebya lyublyu” Shane replied earnestly.
“Better…” Ilya mused, “but you still have a bit of accent. Emphasis goes on first word, less on the rest.”
“Asshole.” Shane sighed. “I’ll try and remember that.”
“No, see, is usually your asshole that-”
“The chicken is burning, Ilya.”
“Fuck!”
___________________________________
Ottawa Centaurs @ottawacentaursofficial
Images attached:
1. Photo of Centaurs players Zane Boodram, Evan Dykstra, Nick Chouinard, Josh Boyle, Troy Barrett, Wyatt Hayes, and, most notably in the center, Ilya Rozanov, all with their arms slung around each other and smiling.
2.The same players keeled over laughing at something Dykstra had just said.
3.The same players surrounding Ilya, all still laughing and talking
🎶The Louvre by Lorde 🎶
Welcome to the club, Cap! Good to have you 😉 #gocentaursgo #censhockey #ilyarozanov #stanleycupplayoffs