Chapter Text
The knee-jerk response, obviously, is a big, fat no fucking way.
“Dude, c’mon,” Hayden says, slapping his arm. “It’s a rite of passage. You can’t break tradition or you’ll risk a bloodline curse.”
Shane goggles at his best friend. “You think that I, as a gay, Asian, autistic man, have concerns about following antiquated rites of passage? Or bloodline curses?”
“I think that you, as someone who has had the same warm-up routine and pregame rituals since they could sing their ABCs, would understand the value in following the rules.”
“There are no rules about this. I think the only rule is to show up the day of and say the words. The rest of it is American romcom bullshit.”
“There are rules!” Hayden insists. “That must be followed! They’re more important than the Commandments, however many there are of them.”
Shane finds Barrett in the locker room. “Troy, help me out here.”
“I’m definitely not putting myself in the line of fire,” he replies, making an X with his arms. “Plus, I already told Harris I would participate, and I’m man enough to admit that his puppy dog eyes work on me every time.”
Shane tries Haas. “Luca, I know you respect me as both a person and a captain. Please back me up and tell Hayden that this is absolutely ridiculous and unnecessary.”
Luca glances between them. Out of the corner of his eye, Shane sees Hayden drag a thumb across his throat. Luca says, “Captain, I do respect you very much, but I’m staying neutral. It’s my birthright.”
Bood, who has been teeheeing with Hazy, Dykstra, and Chouinard about the affair for the past ten minutes, says: “Admit defeat, Hollander. We’re throwing you a bachelor party, and that’s final.”
“What if I flee to a different part of the country until the morning of my wedding?”
“I will tweet that the first person who turns your exact location over to me gets a kiss on the lips, and it’ll be solved by midday.”
Shane says, “I’m telling your wife that you would kiss a stranger in exchange for torturing me.”
Bood says, “Good, she’ll kiss me too.”
It’s not that Shane doesn’t love his friends or want to celebrate his upcoming ceremony with them. He would have been perfectly fine with a semi-fancy dinner or cookout at Bood’s, but a party means planning, and if Shane has to plan one more function in the next decade that’s as elaborate as a wedding, he’s going to stroke out.
He says as much. “I cannot stand the thought of having to plan one more thing right now. I will have to be institutionalized.”
Hayden slaps him again. “That’s part of the tradition, idiot. We plan it. You just have to show up.”
This doesn’t make Shane feel better. “That doesn’t make me feel better. You know how I feel about not being in control of situations directly involving me and my free time.”
Hazy joins the two of them and puts his arm around Shane. “Cap, you gotta trust us. Most of us have been playing with you for close to a decade. We know you and what you like and what you don’t like. We respect you and understand what types of situations make you uncomfortable. We’re not going to force you to go to a strip club or a theme park or anything. It will be fun and tasteful.”
Shane eyeballs Dykstra and his camo hat and cheesy grin. “I don’t know that ‘tasteful’ is an adjective that can be used to describe this team in any capacity.”
“Shhaaaanneeee,” Hayden groans.
“Shaaaannnneeeeeee,” the others groan.
He’s spent his entire life thus far knowing what tactics to use to score a goal and win a game for his team. He’s spent his entire professional career with this team and, as much as they know him, he knows them. Shane knows what he has to do to win.
Shane knows that he is going to lose this argument.
“If I suspect even a single trace of stripping,” he says firmly, “I’m leaving. No exceptions. Also no go karts—I don’t want to get arrested or have to drive anyone to the ER. Wiebe will force me to turn in my skates if I let you dumbasses end up on the news.”
The team erupts into cheers. Hazy and Hayden hug him from each side, and Bood takes Shane by the head to kiss him directly between his eyebrows.
“We’ll start planning right away!” Bood says. “Keep that Thursday night wide open, because it belongs to us now. You won’t regret this!”
Shane is almost positive he will regret it. He’s kind of looking forward to it, anyway, for some dumb fucking reason. It must be the Centaurs Effect.
~.~
Ilya, obviously, says yes. He only lets the WAGs ask first because it’s proper etiquette and he would never do anything to disrespect his posse.
They’re at their bimonthly dinner when the topic is approached. While sipping their drinks, passing appetizers, and chatting about this or that, Caitlin coyly says, “So, Ilya.”
He turns to her, curious. “So, Caitlin.”
“You’re getting married soon.”
The reminder puts an immediate, sunny grin on his face. The group coos at him.
“Yes,” Ilya agrees, thinking of his beloved fiancé and his romantic, heartfelt proposal. “I am indeed getting married soon.”
“We’re just as excited as you are,” Lisa says, wiggling in her seat.
Cassie says, “Well, maybe not as excited, but pretty fucking close.”
Jackie, who is sitting to Ilya’s right, squeezes his arm and says, “I think I’m just as excited.”
Ilya believes her. After surviving a plane crash together, he has no doubts that Jackie is relieved beyond language that they’re still here and she gets to witness Ilya marry the love of his life. He puts his hand over hers and holds it tight, wordlessly relaying this acknowledgement.
“Well,” Caitlin continues, “there’s a traditional event that us WAGs would love to partake in with you before your actual wedding date.”
It’s his turn to be coy. “Oh, is there?”
Harris, who is sitting to his left, taps an excited rhythm onto Ilya’s arm. “He already knows where this is going. I’m going to cry.”
“We want to throw you a bachelorette party!” Caitlin exclaims. She makes jazzy ta-da!! hands, and the other WAGs join a beat later.
“If you’re okay with that!” Selena adds. “And are okay with us calling it a bachelorette party! It’s just, well—”
“I am one of the girls,” Ilya confirms, squeezing Jackie’s hand and putting his arm around Harris’ shoulders. “Soon to be one of the wives! It will be a bachelorette party and I won’t accept anything less.”
The WAGs cheer and hold up their drinks to initiate a toast. Ilya clinks glasses with everyone and lets warmth wash over him when Lisa says, “Congratulations on your graduation, Ilya! We’re honored to be here for the journey!”
“We mostly have it planned out already,” Jackie tells him. “It’ll be Thursday night before your wedding. That’s when the boys are taking Shane out.”
Ilya, who is mid-drink when Jackie explains this, spits it back into his glass. “Holy shit. They got him to agree?”
“I think my husband threatened him with bodily harm if he didn’t submit to their plans. And Luca.”
Cassie says, “Mine, too. But just Shane, not our sweet baby angel Luca.”
“He tried to get mine to agree that bachelor parties are stupid, but he knows better,” Harris says, looking extremely pleased by the thought of Troy Barrett telling his captain no on Hayden Pike and Zane Boodram’s behalf.
“Tell your HABs to film the entire outing and I will buy you all the luxury clothing or jewelry item of your choice.” Ilya makes eye contact with everyone individually. “I mean it. I want video proof of Shane being paraded around by his team.”
“He already told them no strippers, clubs that involve strippers, or go-karts, with or without stripping by association,” Selena says.
“Where will they go then? The library?”
“I can’t tell you under direct orders from my HAB,” Caitlin says. “But they’ll be gentle with him, and I bet Shane will have lots of fun once he stops stressing out.”
“Do I get any clues about my party?”
“Absolutely not,” the WAGs respond immediately.
“Worth a shot.” Ilya crushes Jackie and Harris into his sides and smiles at the others, heart full to bursting with love and adoration for his friends. “I can’t wait. Ottawa is going to have Wanted posters up for us by the end of the night.”
“A-fucking-men,” Cassie agrees, raising her glass and taking another drink. “We’re going to reinvent the bachelorette party.”
“You can still get married on Saturday morning if you get arrested Thursday night, right?” Lisa asks.
“Of course,” Harris says. “Shane makes more than enough to cover bail. We have nothing to worry about.”
~.~
Shane barely lets Ilya close the front door after returning from his dinner with the WAGs before blurting out: “They’re forcing me to have a bachelor party.”
Ilya pauses in toeing his shoes off to blink at Shane, who has been pouting on the couch for the better part of two hours. His fiancé tilts his head, smiles, and says, “Yes, I know. The girls told me about it tonight.”
“I don’t want to, but I wasn’t given much of a choice.”
“You raised a team of soldiers after being raised by a general, moy lyubimyy. They were never going to let you talk yourself out of a party.”
Shane sighs, sinking further into the couch. He’s curled in a tight ball under his favorite throw blanket, but uncurls easily when Ilya comes to him, immediately going for his preferred couch position after kissing Shane hello: tucked under Shane’s chin with their arms and legs completely tangled together. Ilya sighs, too, but his is pleased in all the ways Shane’s is agitated.
“Don’t be grumpy,” Ilya says, kissing his neck. “Your men love you. They only want a chance to celebrate how much they love you. And me, because I’m the best thing that ever happened to you.”
Shane laughs, somehow still shocked by Ilya’s ability to dissolve his bad moods with a well-timed chirp. “No one can say I’m marrying you for your modesty.”
“Modesty is boring. I love being a… what did Pike call me last week?”
“A menace to society.”
“Yes, that. Much more fun that way.” Ilya sighs again, the kind of noise he makes when he’s completely, entirely content, typically only made when holding or being held by Shane. Shane wishes their wedding was tomorrow, because he’s ready to start calling this beautiful man in his arms his husband already. “The WAGs told me you said no to strippers and/or a strip club. Where is the fun in that?”
“You want me to pay someone else to show me their cock and balls, Ilya?”
“Does not have to be a male strip club.”
“What would be the point, then?”
“Story to tell our children. Their gay dad went to a women’s strip club for his bachelor party before his gay wedding. They will laugh themselves silly and write a book about it, probably. Make millions off of it.”
“Yeah, because their inheritance from both of us combined will be peanuts.”
“Exactly. I am thinking ahead, as you should be.”
Shane pushes his hands under Ilya’s shirt, wanting to touch his skin; Ilya, impossibly, snuggles closer and re-wraps the blanket around their bodies.
“The week is already going to be chaotic,” Shane explains, after chewing his thoughts some more. “I was hoping for a relaxing night with you before the real chaos descends.”
“We will have our whole lives to relax. You only get to experience marriage rituals once.”
Shane says, “Well, maybe,” to be a dick, and Ilya, without lifting his head, jabs his finger in Shane’s face and says, “Once, Hollander.” Then he says, “I’m going to have a blast at my bachelorette party. I’m going into the night positively. You should do the same.”
“I’ll switch with you. I’d much rather trust the WAGs to plan a party for me than the team.”
“We’re going to a strip club.”
Shane laughs again, winding his legs around Ilya’s hips. “Shut the fuck up, you are not.”
“Okay, we’re not,” Ilya concedes, also laughing. “But they’re my WAGs, so they get to throw my party. Your team will throw yours, and you will go to it, and you will have a good time. The WAGs already promised me that the HABs will take good care of you.”
That’s about as much reassurance as Shane figures he’ll get. “If they try to make me play laser tag or mini golf, we’re moving back to Boston.”
“If I were your team, I would take you waterboarding for your bachelor party. You are a huge crabass.”
This comment earns Ilya a pinch on the asscheek, which then earns Shane a playful bite to his clothed nipple. The conversation gets dropped in favor of wrestling each other on the couch until they go tumbling off the side. Ilya gets Shane’s wrists pinned to the floor, triumphant, and then he takes his reward in the form of fishing their emergency lube out of the coffee table and jerking them off together in one of his enormous hands while keeping Shane pinned with the other.
The conversation is not resumed throughout the rest of the night; Ilya scrambles Shane’s thoughts so effectively that he barely remembers his name by the time they crash into bed.
~.~
On the Thursday night before his wedding, Shane is collected from his home via the Pikes’ humongous, family-of-six SUV. Hayden is driving and Bood is riding shotgun, until he steps out of the car and says, “Get in, Captain.”
When Shane, with utmost reluctance, gets inside Hayden’s car, he sees that Dykstra, Hazy, and Chouinard are also present. He squints at them, squints at Bood when he climbs in next to Dykstra in the middle row, and then squints at Hayden.
“Where are we going?”
Hayden scoffs. “Nice try.”
“It’s a fun surprise, Hollander!” Chouinard calls from the back row. “You could look a little excited!”
“Buckle up, bitch,” Hayden says, poking his leg. “We don’t want to be late for our reservation.”
“Oh.” Shane buckles up and manages to stay put while Hayden backs out of the driveway. “A dinner reservation isn’t so bad. Unless it’s at, like, Applebee’s.”
“We didn’t say it was for dinner,” Dykstra says.
“...Cocktails?” he tries again, weakly.
Bood leans forward to hug Shane from behind, seat and all. “Shhhh, everything is going to be okay. We’re going to have an awesome night. We’ll consider including refreshments if you behave yourself.”
“This is my bachelor party!”
“Which has been planned entirely from start to finish by us,” Hazy says. “And we worked very hard on it, so we’ve earned the right to your person for the night.”
“I can tell whoever runs the place we’re heading to that I’ve been kidnapped for ransom and be returned to my family within the hour.”
“Who said we were going to a public location?” Hayden asks, completely serious. He locks the doors before Shane can jump out into the road. “Child safety locks, Hollander. C’mon. I have multiple toddlers with way more creative escape plans than you.”
They distract him with questions about the wedding and their intended honeymoon in Ibiza. Shane allows it to happen, knowing that there is truly no other option, and spends the ride to their mystery destination praising his mother for having Excel skills that would make even Harvard professors weep with envy and gushing about their dinner reservations on the island.
“Since that’s what reservations are usually for,” Shane says, staring at Hayden. He flips Shane off without looking away from the road.
“What are you going to do with yourself when the whole thing is over?” Dykstra asks. “I never knew I had so much free time until I had to plan a wedding, and when it was done, I was almost bored. I considered learning how to crochet with Caitlin.”
“The first thing I’m going to do,” Shane declares, “is hide every single three ring binder I own in a box in the basement and try to forget that I now know the difference between pearl white and powder white.”
The entire car cracks up over this. His anxiety eases to a low thrum.
They do, in fact, stay within the city limits of human civilization, and on the side of Ottawa that has several great restaurants, theaters, and other sources of entertainment. Shane watches them go by, secretly hoping that food will be included in the festivities, and is pleasantly surprised when Hayden eventually pulls into the parking lot of—
“An escape room?” Shane asks, sounding relieved even to his own ears. “Dude.”
“Dude,” Hayden repeats, grinning.
Bood grabs his shoulders from behind. “See, we know you, Holzy. Let’s get this party started!”
They roll out of the Pikemobile and head to the entrance of Jigsaw, one of the more popular escape room businesses in Ottawa. A few feet from the front door, Shane spots Barrett, Luca, and Dillon waiting to join their group.
“How many escape attempts were there?” Barrett asks.
“Maybe two,” Chouinard says.
“Well, Captain, you can try and escape here all you’d like,” Dillon says, holding the door open. “Let’s go, skanks! If we break the record, we get free t-shirts!”
Hazy laughs. “That’s a nice thought. We’ll be lucky if we make it out with five seconds to spare.”
Bood boos and says, “Bad spirit! Goalies are supposed to be superstitious! We’ll never win with that kind of attitude. Besides, we have a good luck charm that will ensure we finish before the timer runs out.”
“What?” Hazy asks. “Tanner’s high school GPA of 3.2?”
“Fuck you, dude.”
“Nope.” Bood ruffles Shane’s neat hair. “We got a Hollander Brain on board. Those things are rock solid.”
“Let’s just get this over with,” Shane sighs, but he’s smiling, and genuinely looking forward to seeing how well his team fares against a challenge of wits.
They approach the check-in desk as one loud, squabbling mass. Between arguing who’s going to perform the best and who will find the first important clue, Tanner says, “Seriously. Everyone needs to lock the fuck in. I want a t-shirt.”
~.~
Technically, there are no strippers at the establishment that the WAGs take Ilya to, so he didn’t lie to his partner about that. But there is lots of skin, glitter, and the occasional buttcrack, which are out of his control and add to the charm of Glamour.
He gets picked up before Shane does, and gives him a thorough kiss before being escorted to Lisa Hayes’ Nissan by her and Jackie, and being greeted by Cassie, who is riding in the backseat. She’s put in charge of outfitting Ilya’s all-black ensemble with a silver and pink BRIDE sash, a silver tiara, and pink, dainty, dangly penis earrings.
“I know you’re attached to the nice, expensive hoops that your beau bought you,” Cassie says, “but these fit the vibe. Are you willing to sacrifice aesthetics for tonight?”
Ilya takes his Shane-gifted hoops off and pretends to throw them out of the window. “Give me the cocks right now.”
They blare early 2000s club/dance hits during the entire ride to their destination, and Ilya takes several selfies with Cassie and has her take a few of just him to send to Shane. When Shane opens them, still at home, he replies: Cute 😘 Have fun with the girls tonight, stay safe ♥️
“Am I allowed to know where my fiancé is being kidnapped to yet?”
Lisa snorts. “They’re taking him to an escape room. Nothing crazy, no strippers, no loud music—just Shane being the brains of the operation as usual. He’ll like it.”
This admission is a relief, knowing that Shane will have a good time tonight with his brothers, and allows Ilya to relax into his own night fully. “That is a great choice. Whose idea was it?”
“Hayden’s,” Jackie says with pride.
“Hmmm. I suppose he is not completely useless. You may pass my approval along to him.”
“Pass it along yourself, twat.”
“Hey! This is my special night! No bullying or mean names allowed!”
Cassie throws her arms around Ilya and hugs him tightly. “Ohhh, I hope you like what we have planned! It’s been so hard keeping it a secret.”
“I will love it,” he states, hugging her back. “Any time spent with my WAGs is always the best time. We could go to Wal-Mart tonight and I would enjoy myself because I’m with you.”
Lisa puts her hand over her heart. “Oh, Ilya. We love you so much. We’re so happy that you’re our WAG and we get to keep you forever.”
“No matter what,” Jackie says, twisting in her seat to make eye contact. “No matter what, you’re our WAG forever. You hear me?”
“Do not worry—I did not come all this way and pine for Shane for all these years to let anything short of alien invasion separate us. We will be together forever, and I will be your WAG forever.”
Cassie links their arms and holds him until they pull into the parking lot of their destination. When Ilya sees the sign for Glamour, lit up neon rainbow in the Ottawa night, he throws his head back and laughs.
“You brought me to a gay club?”
“It’s a drag bar,” Lisa corrects, turning the car off. “We’re going to eat, drink, dance, and throw bills at whoever performs to Cher first.”
Cassie keeps hold of his arm, and Jackie links up with his other, allowing Lisa to escort them to the front door. There’s no line, but there is a bouncer, and after scanning their IDs and giving Ilya an amused, “Have fun tonight, bride,” they’re allowed to step into wonderland.
It’s colorful and loud inside of Glamour. The DJ is playing “Make Me Feel” by Janelle Monáe with a swath of patrons crammed onto the dancefloor going wild for the song. The bar runs the length of the western wall, and whatever space not dedicated to the dancefloor is filled with tables and booths. The rest of his WAGs are commandeering a large table against the eastern wall, and hoot and holler when they see the last four members of their cohort walk through the door.
“There’s our man!” Harris yells, as Caitlin yells, “Shane Hollander’s husband is finally here, y’all!”
Ilya gets passed around for hugs and kisses, each one propelling his joy higher and higher until he’s near to bursting with it. The last one to give him a hug and a kiss is Selena, who takes an extra moment to admire Ilya’s outfit.
“You look fabulous,” she says, touching one of the penis earrings. “The best dressed in this building by far!”
Ilya beams at her. “That’s not true—you’re here, after all! I don’t hold a candle!” He goes to sit down in one of the empty chairs, and realizes that there are two too many stationed next to their table after Lisa and Jackie get settled. “Oh, I think we have extra chairs here. Should we see if anyone else needs them?”
“Those are for us, cutie,” Jackie says. “It’s part of the surprise.”
As if waiting for this cue, a new pair of arms wrap around Ilya from behind and squeeze tight. He smells her perfume first, the same one she’s worn since they were teenagers, and then he hears her voice, the warm, familiar curl of Russian consonants, a coveted slice of home. It’s nearly enough to send him directly to his knees.
“You thought I would miss out on your party, Ilyushka? You should know better than that.”
When Ilya turns, Svetlana is waiting with a beautiful grin on her face. And a few paces behind her, there’s Rose, who is filming the entire interaction with an equally beautiful grin on her face.
“Sveta,” Ilya gasps out. He wraps her up in his arms and tries not to crush her, but he’s not sure he succeeds even a little bit. “When—how—?”
In English, she says, “Your darling WAGs and my darling wife helped me to plan it. I would never miss an opportunity to see you wear a tiara.”
He holds her tight for a whole minute, and then extends one arm toward Rose, choking down a sob. “You come here, too. Damn you both for making me cry on my special night. I was only mentally prepared to see you tomorrow night.”
Rose joins the hug and kisses Ilya’s damp cheek. “We’re so happy for you, sweetpea! And so happy we could make it for your party—we’re gonna have a fucking blast!”
Ilya believes it tenfold now. He kisses them both on the forehead, then turns to the WAGs; they’re beaming, and Caitlin is covertly wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.
“Thank you,” he says, wiping his own tears. “I love you very, very much.”
“And we love you,” Lisa replies, blowing Ilya a kiss. “We wanted all of your favorite people here tonight to celebrate you. It’s what you deserve!”
Cassie claps her hands. “And we’re going to start the celebration out right with drinks and apps! I’ll buy the first round, so everyone get to ordering. We have a long night ahead of us!”
~.~
“I don’t think that’s right.”
“Dykstra, I don’t think you think at all.”
Dykstra glares at Chouinard. “I know the man with five concussions in his medical chart ain’t telling me that my head is deficient.”
Shane ignores their spat and stares harder at the ‘ancient slabs’ in front of the group. Jigsaw’s latest escape room theme is time travel, and it’s their job to voyage through the ‘timeline’ and correct various mistakes/puzzles to put the space-time continuum back in order. They’ve made it through the 1920s via an underground prohibition speakeasy, 2000 years into the future via an alien rocketship, and are now back in ancient, ancient history, when cavepeople were freshly evolved and bipedal.
“This is where Tanner grew up, right?” Hazy asks when they walk through the threshold. “Nice digs, dude.”
“Fuck off, Hayes, or I’ll send your ass back to the Jurassic period.”
Barrett finds their first clue inside of the ‘firepit’ after Hayden rattles off the provided clue posted on one of the rock walls. From there, they pilfer through the props, until Luca uncovers a leather bag containing stone slabs with various symbols on them.
“A map?” Bood suggests.
“To where? It’s one room,” Hazy argues.
“To the exit, genius.”
“It’s a cipher,” Shane decides, laying the slabs flat on the boulder in the middle of the room. “Probably a pattern we’ll have to enter to get to the last room, or a symbol that’s broken up that we need to reassemble.”
“How the hell are we going to be able to figure out what this means?” Dillon asks. “It’s just a bunch of shapes.”
“It might make a bigger shape,” Barrett says.
“Or could stand for letters in an alphabet,” Chouinard adds.
And then Dykstra says, “I don’t think that’s right,” and the bickering continues while Shane stares and stares at the symbols. He sees Hayden poking through the props again, and pushing at the walls of the ‘cave’ experimentally, until he stops in front of the posted clue he read off to the team. He pushes on that next, and whoops when it moves to the side to reveal—
“It’s an alphabet,” Hayden announces, presenting the array of symbols and letters like a showgirl. “Inspired by the hieroglyphics, no doubt.”
Chouinard sends Dykstra a smug look. Dykstra flicks his chin and says, “Don’t tempt me with a sixth concussion.”
Luca says, “None of the symbols on the wall look like these ones, though.”
Shane has to agree, but— “I think there are multiple letters per slab. The individual symbols are connected into a more elaborate symbol on our props, so we need to break them up and decide which letters go with each set of symbols.”
The bickering (mostly) ceases in favor of putting their heads together to figure out the cipher. While the Centaurs thrive on chirping the absolute hell out of each other on a daily basis, they are still incredibly smart and know how to work to reach a common goal. Hayden records the letters on their lone piece of scratch paper as the group decides which corresponding symbols are combined per slab.
“This is what I have,” he says, bringing the paper to the boulder. “N-E-D-D-T-E-R-U-E-B-N-O.”
Dillon’s eye twitches. “Maybe I should go back to school.”
They trial several words that the letters could spell. Bood says, “True bonered.” Dykstra says, “No bueno tredd.” Hazy says, “Neutered bro.”
“The word has to relate to ancient history,” Shane says, exasperated; he hasn’t stopped smiling since they started the game.
Dykstra says, “I’m sure ancient history was no bueno a majority of the time.”
Bood says, “Lots of boners, too.”
Hazy says, “Probably not a lot of neutering. That’s why there’s eight billion of us.”
Barrett is whispering the letters to himself and tracing his finger over the paper to visually rearrange them. Luca suggests, “Tender udon? Maybe they had noodles back then!”
Shane stares even harder at the letters and the slabs, trying to find words that relate to the cavetimes. He mentally puts them into alphabetical order and thinks, Rocks? Clubs? Animals? Boners?????
He turns suddenly to where Barrett found their first clue. “What were the Neanderthals known for?”
Dillon says, “Being scary.”
Hazy says, “Giving birth to Dillon.”
Barrett, over Dillon and Hazy’s flailing hands, meets Shane’s eyes and grins. “Fire!”
Hayden taps the paper. “I see the word ‘burn’ in here!”
Shane covers those letters with his fingers, leaving behind N-E-D-D-T-E-E-O. Chouinard leans over his shoulder and, after another moment of puzzling through it, recites: “Needed to burn!”
Luca goes to the firepit and tries to pick it up, then starts pushing on the fake logs of wood used for the base. Shane hears one of the logs give with a clicking noise, and Luca triumphantly produces their third keycard, which will allow them to advance to the last room.
“Good going, Cap,” Chouinard says. “That Hollander Brain is a thing of wonder.”
“You’re the one who mentioned it was probably an alphabet, Nick.”
Chouinard looks at Dykstra again. “Yeah, I was, wasn’t I?”
“C’mon, Einsteins,” Dykstra says, herding Shane and Chouinard to the doorway Luca has opened for their group. “We only have seventeen minutes left to finish the last room.”
“Nine if we want the t-shirt!” Dillon calls.
“Not with your GPA, Dilly!”
~.~
Ilya doesn’t think his night could possibly get better after an hour spent drinking, laughing, and sandwiched between Svetlana and Jackie. The WAGs keep the cocktails and communal snacks coming, and Svetlana refuses to let go of his hand the entire time, and he is surrounded by people who love him fully and without reservation, so he believes his night is at its peak. Then the DJ asks the dance floor to clear out so that the drag show can begin, and his night goes from great to absolutely fucking fantastic.
His BRIDE sash and tall stature make Ilya an obvious beacon for the queens as they take to the dancefloor and wander throughout the bar. The first performer, Ariana Mirage, twirls around in a ruby red gown and holds Ilya’s hand while singing along to an appropriate choice of “Bleeding Love” by Leona Lewis. Lacey Thrust climbs into his lap during the: “There's only two types of guys out there/Ones that can hang with me and ones that are scared/So, baby, I hope that you came prepared/I run a tight ship, so beware,” portion of “Circus” by Britney Spears. Mizz Ophelia Balz gets the majority of Lisa’s money, since she dazzles the crowd with a heartfelt rendition of “Strong Enough” by Cher while dripping jewels and sweeping her thigh-length hair around. Ilya tips her $5 when she, too, climbs in his lap and prompts him to hold her steady during the height of the song’s final chorus, giving the performance her all.
“Your spouse-to-be is one lucky motherfucker,” she says once the song is over, holding Ilya’s face. “God, just look at you! Are you sure you’re set on marrying someone else, honey? I would treat you like a king—as long as you treat me like your queen, of course!”
“I am sure,” Ilya replies, laughing deeply. “I’ve been waiting to marry him for many years now.”
“It was worth a shot, handsome. Congratulations to you and your hubby! I know he has to be a very happy man with you.”
“Not as happy as I am with him!”
She gives Ilya an air kiss and then steps away to mingle while the DJ gets the next performer queued up.
“I hope you know that Shane is the happiest he’s ever been with you,” Jackie says quietly, but with great emotion. “He’s always been happy in Ottawa and with his life, but with you, he’s… incandescent. He’s always been awake, but he’s never fully been alive like he is now. There’s no word I can use to describe how happy you make him.”
Tears sting Ilya’s eyes. There’s so much love for and from all of these people in their lives that it often overwhelms him, especially when they say words full of love like they cost nothing.
Svetlana hears what Jackie says and adds, “It’s the same for Ilyushka. You are radiant with Shane in your life. It makes me so, so happy to see. You deserve to feel this type of happiness always.”
Ilya pulls them both closer, sniffling loudly. “Why must you continue to make me cry on my special night? It’s probably against the homosexual friend guidelines somewhere.”
“I am also bisexual,” Svetlana argues.
“Yes, but I don’t make you cry during gay events. You make me cry almost every single time. That is, like, homophobia-adjacent.”
“Who taught you that word?” Ilya begins to answer, and Svetlana interrupts him. “Never mind. I forgot you’re engaged to the most polite man on planet Earth who uses words like that all the time. Was a foolish question.”
The drag show runs for an hour in total, the performances ranging from heartfelt to energetic to outrageously funny, until the DJ announces that the dancefloor is open for business again.
“Shall we dance?” Ilya asks the group. “I would like to ‘get silly with it.’”
Harris raises his hand and tells Svetlana, “That phrase came from me, sorry.”
“Actually,” Selena says, “we have another surprise for you! But we can dance afterward if you’d like!”
“Another surprise? You have already done too much!”
“This shouldn’t be an emotional surprise,” Jackie promises him. “C’mon, it’s at the back of the house!”
After being reassured that they have a reservation on their table for the whole night, Ilya allows the WAGs to lead him through the bar to the private party rooms. He’s shuffled into a room with cozy rainbow lighting, a disco ball, three wall-length benches, and a short platform in the center of the floor. It takes him until he’s on a bench between Svetlana and Caitlin to realize what the set-up is for.
“Beautiful WAGs, I promised my beautiful fiancé that there would be no strippers at my party,” he says nervously. “I don’t know that I should participate in any stripping-adjacent activities."
“We didn’t hire a stripper!” Harris rushes to say. “We just thought it would be fun to have a private dance with one of the drag queens!”
Ilya hesitates. “She will not take her clothes off?”
“Maybe just the outer layer!”
His face must portray his panic, because Cassie reaches across Caitlin to touch his knee. “We promise we didn’t hire a stripper or ask someone to strip for you. It’s just a fun, private performance. She won’t try to grind on you or kiss you.”
“Okay,” he says, relaxing again. “Okay, that is fine.”
Jackie slips out of the room to inform the performer that they’re ready. Ilya looks to Svetlana for strength, and finds a telling smile on her face.
“You knew about this?”
Svetlana raises an eyebrow. “I planned it.”
When Jackie comes back, there’s an extremely tall queen right behind her. She curtsies to the group as a whole, and then to Ilya specifically, face hidden behind a masquerade mask and an elaborate feather fan. Her long, dark hair is adorned with a silver tiara, similar to Ilya’s, and her arms are adorned with silk gloves. The rainbow lights and disco ball turn her simple but stunning silver dress into a gleaming crystal chandelier.
“This is Madame Margo,” Jackie says. “She’ll be dancing to a current favorite drag show song, and she dedicates it to our bride-to-be.”
Madame Margo giggles behind her fan, and Ilya can’t help but laugh in return, charmed by his friends and all of these charismatic queens.
“Thank you for being here with us, Madame Margo,” Ilya says, bowing to her from his seat. “I can’t wait to see your performance.”
She steps onto the platform in the middle of the room and poses, waiting for the music to begin. When the opening notes of “Pink Pony Club” by Chappell Roan play through the private room, Madame Margo twirls in a graceful circle, silver dress fanning out around her boots. Ilya is instantly dazzled by the rainbow crystals the dress throws against the wall and over their bodies. She uses the feather fan as a prop to both express her emotions and conceal her identity from everyone, and Ilya starts to really get into the performance, starts to see the fan and her disguise as a metaphor for what all queer people go through at some point in their life, having to hide their true selves from society, and then—
And then the first chorus hits, and Madame Margo lets the fan fall away from her face, exposing her nose, mouth, chin, and neck. Ilya doesn’t notice at first, too caught up in the performance, that he recognizes this person, until they catch his eye and laugh over the sound of the music.
“Oh, fuck!” Ilya yells, getting out of his seat. “Marly?”
The entire group bursts into loud, delighted laughter. Marlow shucks his masquerade mask and long wig, revealing his normal short, dark hair and the deep crinkles around his brown eyes. Ilya yanks him off of the platform and into a bear hug, careful not to ruin his dress or props.
“Took you long enough!” Marlow says, hugging Ilya back. “Oh man, your fucking face—whoever took a video of that, send it to me ASAP!”
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I’m here for the same reason as everyone else! I couldn’t watch you get married without coming to your party first, dude! Svetlana knew I would be inconsolable for the rest of my life if I missed this shit.”
Ilya turns to point at Svetlana, says, “You are a sneaky sneak,” then points at the others and asks, “Are there any other people I have not seen in several months hiding in this bar that I need to know about?”
Selena, giggling profusely, says, “He’s the last one, Ilya, we swear.”
Belatedly, Lisa says: “Surprise!”
Ilya hugs Marlow again; there’s so much love present for him that he hardly knows what else to do but hold his loved ones close and love them back. “Thank you for coming, Marly. I’m very happy to see you, especially when you look like one of Cinderella’s sisters!”
“I think the dress suits me,” Marly says. When Ilya lets go of him, he turns in another circle, throwing more crystal shards against the walls. “What do you think? Should I make my debut on the runway?”
“They are done with the show for tonight, but you should try it out in Boston. I think you would make more money doing drag than what your Bears contract pays you. It’s the hips. They do not lie.”
“We can go dance now, though!” Rose suggests, levering Svetlana off the bench.
Ilya grins at Marly. “Want to?”
Marly grins back. “Should I keep the dress on?”
“It would offend me if you took it off. Put the tiara on, too, so we’ll match.”
“Anything for your special night, Rozanov.”
Ilya’s grin widens. “Savor that name while you can, Marlow—it’ll be Hollander-Rozanov in less than forty eight hours.”
~.~
They don’t win free t-shirts, but they do make it out of the escape room with two minutes and twenty three seconds to spare, so Shane counts the entire ordeal as a victory. As far as reluctant bachelor parties go, his undoubtedly falls into the upper echelon.
Especially when, at the check-out counter, it’s revealed that the team had special t-shirts designed in commemoration of their ‘party’ in the escape room. The shirts are navy blue, made of his preferred texture, and simply read: TIMELINE UPGRADE - JIGSAW ESCAPE ROOM in white with a picture of a sci-fi type blaster and an old clock set to the date of his wedding. It looks like a shirt that Jigsaw might sell to the general public, but Shane knows it’s for him, for them, and his eyes burn with grateful tears.
“This is great,” he says, unable to find a better word. “Thank you for a fun night, guys. I’m glad I let you talk me into it.”
“We really do know you well, Cap,” Chouinard says, bumping elbows with him. “We wanted to make sure you know how much we love and appreciate you.”
“And how happy we are that you’ve met someone who loves you as much as Rozy does,” Bood says. “You two are genuinely soulmates. Anyone can see how much you love and complete each other.”
Shane laughs wetly. “I love you guys, too. So much. And so does Ilya.”
“Maybe not me,” Hayden teases, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “I know it’s hard for him to admit that he’ll always be #2, but hopefully time will heal those wounds.”
“Okay, Pike,” Barrett says.
“Don’t let Ilya hear that, or he’ll challenge you to a duel at dawn,” Dykstra says.
Hazy pushes himself under Hayden’s other arm, like a cat seeking attention, and gestures at the parking lot. “What do you say we get out of here and find some grub? All of that math and thinking for two made me hungry.”
“For two?” Luca asks, glancing at Hazy’s stomach.
“Yeah, two,” Hazy repeats, now gesturing at Dillon.
“Hayes, I’m gonna—”
Shane cuts them off with another, fond laugh. “Yeah, let’s go get something to eat. The party’s not over yet.”
“It will be if the manager calls the cops on us.” Bood grabs Hazy and Dillon by the scruff of their necks and starts walking outside. “C’mon, kids, Dadio wants a burger.”
~.~
Ilya dances with the WAGs and his oldest friends until he’s covered in sweat, five drinks to the wind, and buzzing with elation. He does a tequila shot with Svetlana and Marlow for old time’s sake, assists Harris in teaching Lisa the correct ass-shaking format, and dedicates a full song to each of his girls, laughing with them over the music and following their dancing leads.
When he dances with Rose, they settle into a semi-slow dance, content to sway in each other’s arms and soak in the energy around them.
“Thank you for helping Sveta to plan this surprise,” he says into her ear. “It means more than you will ever know to have her with me today.”
“Of course, babe,” Rose replies, hugging him closer. “I know how much you love each other. We would both move mountains to make sure you have her on one of the most important days of your life.”
“I’m glad you are here, too,” Ilya makes sure to say. “You are also important to me. You take care of Svetlana, and love her fiercely, and protect her from the world, even though she always says she’s too strong to need protecting. I’m thankful every day that she has you, and you have her. You were made for each other.”
Rose lets out an emotional aww! against his shoulder. “Thank you, Ilya. I love you very much. I’m glad you found your person, and that Shane is there to protect you from the world. You and Svetlana deserve only kindness and love.”
“Believe me, angel—we have found it.”
By the time Ilya makes it home, he’s gloriously exhausted. Wrung dry from an entire night of experiencing the emotions that accompany celebrating life events with the people who have supported him unconditionally through each new stage. Sad to have to say goodbye to everyone until the wedding, but more than ready to crawl into bed with Shane and hold him while falling asleep.
“Malysh?” he calls out softly, padding into the bedroom.
Shane’s staggering beauty still shocks him when they’ve been apart for more than ten minutes. And no instance more than this: Shane dressed in comfy clothes, glasses on, and hair ruffled from laying back against his pillows to read. When Ilya finds him, his eyes are closed, and his current book is face-down on his chest; he obviously tried his best to stay awake until Ilya got home, but probably failed sometime around 10:30 P.M.
Ilya tiptoes to his side and admires him for a few moments, his gorgeous, sweet husband-to-be. The man who Ilya has found immeasurable happiness with, the man who proves every single day how much he loves Ilya and would do anything to make him happy. The man who tried in vain to stay awake to welcome him home and dozed off because he’s had the same bedtime since high school.
He carefully removes Shane’s glasses and sets them on the side table, then moves onto carefully removing the book from his slack grip. Ilya thinks he’s in the clear until a corner of the hardcover pokes Shane’s stomach, and he winces when his eyes flutter open.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Ilya murmurs. “I did not mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”
Shane tries to keep his eyes open, but it’s about as successful as his previous staying awake attempt. “Times’it?”
“Late. Go back to sleep—I will come to bed after I shower.”
“‘Kay,” Shane whispers, closing his eyes. “Love you.”
Ilya’s heart beats out of rhythm. He resists the urge to pinch himself and ask, Is this really, truly my life? Is this man I always dreamed of meeting here in my bed, in my home, in my soul? Instead, he pulls the covers fully over Shane’s body, brushes the hair off of his forehead, and presses an adoring kiss there.
“I love you too, Shane,” he whispers in return. “So, so much, moy lyubimyy.”
Ilya showers perfunctorily, just enough to get the sweat and glitter off his skin. When he slips into bed next to his fiancé, he curls up against him, slides his arms around his waist, and falls asleep almost immediately with his ear pressed to Shane’s back to feel and listen to him breathe. His last thought is: I couldn’t have dreamed of a life this beautiful.