Chapter Text
Ilya’s toes sank into the wet, spongy earth as he ran across the yard, tall blades of grass tickling and scratching his shins. A breathy, gasping laugh burst through his chest and he ran harder, looking over his shoulder to see a hand, fingers outstretched and reaching inches away from him. The fingertips brushed the rough fabric of his t-shirt over his scapula but he pushed harder, adding more distance between them.
“Ilya stop! I caught you!” Alexei shouted behind him, his voice high pitched and bright.
Ilya slowed to a stop and collapsed on the ground, rolling onto his back as the soil squished beneath him. His small chest heaved with thick pants and he wiped his forehead with a muddy hand before propping himself up on his elbows, squinting against the sun as he looked up at him. “That doesn’t count! You barely touched me,” he protested.
Alexei stared down at him and crossed his arms, his lanky, awkward frame a silhouette against the bright rays. “It counts. You do this every time.”
“It’s not fair,” Ilya whined, letting himself fall back against the grass in a dramatic thud. “You’re bigger.”
Alexei huffed. “That won’t work. You’re faster than me and you know it.”
Ilya couldn’t help the smug grin that grew across his face, he tried to cover it with his hands and pretended to cry.
“I saw that!” Alexei laughed, pointing at him. “I’m not falling for it. It’s your turn to be the traffic light.”
Ilya let his hands fall to his sides and looked up at the trees, their full green leaves rustling in the breeze. “Fine,” he groaned, pushing himself up.
His eyes trailed up and down Alexei to catalog the colors in his clothing. He was wearing a brown t-shirt with red trimming around the collar and sleeves, tan cargo shorts, and no socks or shoes. He ran to the edge of the yard where they’d drawn a line with loose chalk and faced the trees, closing his eyes. His heart beat kicked up in anticipation, energy zipping through his bones as he counted to ten in his head.
“Blue!” he yelled when he’d finished, his voice ringing in his own ears. He counted five more seconds before turning around to see Alexei booking it down the yard towards the other chalked line. “Freeze!” he called out next, watching him skid to a stop and go rigid.
The muscles in Ilya’s legs twitched like a dog on a leash watching a squirrel and his fingers tapped together as he tried to wait long enough for Alexei to relax a little and let his guard down. Ten seconds, twenty, thirty. He heard an electronic ringing echo across the space between them but ignored it. “Okay go!” he shouted brightly.
Alexei kept still, reaching into his shorts pocket.
“Alexei! Go!” Ilya repeated, his rib cage expanding and contracting quickly in excitement.
Alexei pulled a small Nokia cell phone out of his pocket and brought it to his ear, which technically counted as breaking the freeze. Ilya started running towards him, ready to knock the phone out of his hand to get back to the game, but scrambled to a halt, gasping for breath, when Alexei held a palm straight up at him. Ilya rested his hands on his knees, catching his breath and watching him with his eyebrows furled.
“Mama, we didn’t leave, we’re just playing outside,” Alexei said into the phone, his face going stiff and serious.
“What?” Ilya asked, his thin voice suddenly rough and choked. A wave of static rushed through his body and he felt his head spin with confusion. “Who is that? Why do you have a cell phone?” he asked frantically, stepping closer.
Alexei stepped back, keeping the phone pressed tight to his ear. “Yes mama he’s with me. I’m looking at him.” His eyes were locked on Ilya, narrowed in concern.
A faint, muffled voice danced out of the phone, and recognition landed in Ilya’s chest like hearing his own name. His breath punched out of him and he stepped closer again, his hand reaching out. “Let me talk to her,” he croaked, his eyes starting to burn.
Alexei swatted his hand away and stepped back again, listening intently. He nodded and looked at Ilya again. “She says loves you and she’s sorry for what she said,” he said coolly, as if he was a carrier pigeon dropping off a message.
Hot, angry tears streaked down Ilya’s face in a rage and he swallowed against a burning tightness in his throat. Alexei was getting to hear her words and the sweet melody of her voice and wasn’t sharing. He stepped forward again and reached his small hand out to grab at the phone, his other in a tight fist by his side. “She can tell me herself,” he argued, his voice a gravelly, high-pitched rasp.
Alexei’s palm connected with Ilya’s chest and shoved with ease, making him stumble back in surprise.
“She’s not allowed to. It’s not safe for you yet,” he said sternly, his narrow eyes trained on Ilya in a warning.
Ilya shook his head. “What does that mean?” he asked through a short, catching breath.
Alexei just watched him and started stepping backwards, keeping the phone to his ear and listening as he walked away. Ilya followed after him and started picking up the pace, the soft, muddy ground suddenly feeling like suction on his bare feet trying to slow him down. Alexei turned his back to him and began running, faster and faster.
“Stop!” Ilya sobbed as he chased after him. “Let me talk to her!”
The tall frame of Alexei’s body disappeared into the woods and Ilya went in behind him, his feet slipping over wet leaves as he pushed off the rough bark of trees to steady himself.
“Please!” he screamed, his voice broken.
A sharp pain cracked on the front of his foot as it connected with a large tree root and the ground rose quickly to his face, his forearms lifting to brace for impact.
He shot up, gasping and pressing one hand to his chest and the other to his foot, rubbing against the phantom pain throbbing there. His heart hammered against his rib cage and he looked around the dark room, faint blue light streaming in past the blinds. His mind settled back into reality and a convulsive breath pushed into his lungs as he dropped his head into his hands, squeezing his eyes shut.
A warm hand slipped around the inside of his arm and he craned his neck to the left, seeing Shane laying against his pillow and looking at him, eyelids heavy and hair mussed, his arm outstretched to touch him.
“Another one?” Shane asked, his voice soft and cracking with sleep.
Ilya nodded, taking a hard, dry swallow around the lump in his throat and rubbing his eyes. “Mhm,” he managed out, even the grunt coming out shaky and weak. A tear escaped the corner of his eye and rolled down his cheek, he wiped it with the heel of his palm.
Shane pulled on his arm to drag him back down against the pillows and sidled up behind him in a spoon, wrapping his arm tightly around his chest and pressing his legs up behind the backs of Ilya’s so they were one long line of contact. His other arm slid under Ilya’s neck so they were fitted together like puzzle pieces and kissed the nape of his neck.
“The one with Alexei again?” he asked quietly against his skin, caressing his thumb over the back of Ilya’s hand.
Ilya pulled in another uneven breath and gripped Shane’s hand tighter, pulling it to his chest and pressing their bodies even closer. He just nodded again, his throat too constricted to speak.
Shane’s chest expanded against his back and he sighed out a breath. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, pressing soft lips against him again and again. “We’re okay here. Try to go back to sleep.”
Ilya swallowed and closed his eyes, focusing on the warmth of Shane’s body and the calming pressure of his arms around him. He made himself think about the two of them swimming at the lake together as exhaustion dragged him back to sleep, hoping he could force the next dream into something more peaceful.
…
Anya rested her head over Ilya’s knee as he sat on the couch sipping his coffee, he let his hand fall over the small curve of her skull and scratched behind her ears. Dishes from breakfast clattered in the sink and Shane walked softly out of the kitchen to join him, his own mug in his hand. Ilya moved his other arm across the couch cushion and Shane found his space in the nook, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.
“Coffee good?” Shane asked.
“Da.” Ilya took another sip. “Perfect.”
“Good.” Shane smiled, resting his head back against Ilya’s shoulder. “You tired?”
“A little.”
Shane’s hand fell to Ilya’s thigh and he dragged his thumb across the bare skin below the hem of his sweat shorts. “That’s the fourth time this week you’ve woken up from that dream. Is that normal?”
“Yes, it can be,” Ilya said. “She said will get worse for first few weeks and maybe get back to normal again. We will just need to wait and see.”
“Why that same dream over and over again, though? I don’t get it.” Shane shook his head.
Ilyra shrugged. “I don’t know. Galina thinks is my brain trying to tie ends of string.”
Shane squinted. “Tie up loose ends?”
“Da, thank you. That it is trying to find closure but cannot so it keeps repeating.” Ilya took another sip of coffee. “I think is just random bullshit that I don’t want to analyze.”
“Okay.” Shane took another sip and chewed his lip, looking down at the cup. “If it doesn’t get better… do you think you’ll want to try a different medication? You need to be able to sleep or you’re just going to be perpetually exhausted.”
Ilya moved his hand from the couch cushion to run his fingers through Shane’s hair and pressed his cheek to his temple. “I don’t think waking up for five minutes in middle of the night is making me tired, I think is just the pills, but that should pass too,” he said, turning to place a kiss into his hair and breathing him in.
Shane closed his eyes at the press of Ilya’s lips. “But what if-
“Let’s give it a month before we worry, yes?”
“Okay, okay. I’m stopping.” Shane reached his hand across Ilya’s lap to drag a gentle hand over Anya’s fur and scratch her ears. “It was nice seeing that good luck sign in Kate’s yard.”
“Very nice,” Ilya agreed. “Last year I started pre-game ritual of bringing the kids a treat and talking with them on the way to the rink. We can stop by when I drive you today?”
“When you drive me?” Shane asked, furling his eyebrows at him. “I have to be there two hours early and you’re not allowed near the locker room.”
Ilya shrugged. “Da, but we always drive together, do not want to mess with your routine before first game. You are already nervous. I will just drop you off and come back.”
“I’m not nervous,” Shane huffed, giving him a side eye. He took another sip of coffee, lowering the cup down slowly. “Why? Do I seem nervous?”
“You already worked out once this morning and it took you thirty minutes to eat two eggs. Yes, you seem nervous.”
Shane’s eyes widened. “How did you know I worked out? You were dead asleep when I got up and when I came back!”
“Because your gym clothes reek like stress sweat in hamper and I heard you take a shower.”
Shane grimaced. “Gross. Don’t smell my clothes.”
Ilya smiled at him. “Was not trying to, it punched me in the nostrils when I walked by.”
“Shut up!” Shane whacked his side.
“Ow!” Ilya cried dramatically, his hand flying to his ribs. Anya jumped up and started licking him. He pulled out his phone and waved it around while trying to wrap his arm around her. “I am calling police to file new victim report!”
“You’re a baby,” Shane laughed, reaching out to pet Anya and calm her down. She licked his hand and settled, resting her head back down on Ilya’s lap.
Ilya dropped the phone to the couch, smiling, and leaned in to kiss him. “And you are nervous,” he said against his lips as he pulled away.
Shane dropped his head back against Ilya’s arm, groaning. “It’s just… Montreal, you know?”
“I know,” Ilya said sympathetically. “Have you talked to Pike since last week?”
“Yeah actually,” Shane answered, turning his body to face Ilya. “He called me this morning.”
Ilya looked him up and down, noting the change in posture. “Okay…”
“He asked if we’d want to get dinner with him after the game.”
Ilya raised both of his eyebrows. “He asked if we wanted to get dinner? He wants me there?”
Shane’s eyes drifted away. “Yeah, for sure.”
Ilya tilted his head at him. “You asked him if I could come, didn’t you?”
“Maybe,” Shane admitted, smiling sheepishly.
Ilya groaned and threw his head back. “Shane. Are you not supposed to be having these things for yourself? Why do I need to be there?”
“I know, but I need you guys to like each other. I need to be able to talk to him about stuff and I can’t do that if he hates you.”
“Stuff? Like about us?”
Shane dragged his thumb up and down his mug again. “Yeah. Obviously nothing bad, but like, you talk to Troy and Sveta about us sometimes, right?”
Ilya thought back to earlier in the week, how Troy had wanted to help and knew what to say because he knew them, knew Shane and their relationship, and knew that Ilya loved Shane enough to keep trying for him. He leaned over and placed his coffee onto the table, sitting back up to face him, dragging his thumb over Shane’s cheek. “You want him to know me and like me, so you can be honest without it being problem.”
Shane let out a relieved sigh and pressed his cheek into Ilya’s hand, raising his own to cradle it against him. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” Ilya said softly. “I will try.”
“Don’t try. Do.”
“I cannot help it if he is difficult.”
“Yes, you can. I said the same thing to him. He’s going to be nice, so don’t ruin it by making fun of him or something.”
“I make fun of everyone!” Ilya protested, his palms up in defense.
Shane laughed and shook his head. “Yeah but you make fun of him in an accurate way, and you don’t smile. He thinks you’re being serious.”
“I am being serious.”
“So you’re not making fun of him, you’re just being mean?”
Ilya bit his lip to hold back a shit eating grin. “Okay, fine. What if I make fun of him in normal, nice way like I do with everyone else?”
“What if you are just nice at dinner and build up some good karma? Then you can do that the next time you see him.”
Ilya blew out a raspberry and flopped back against the cushions.
Shane smiled and leaned over him, placing a quick kiss on his lips. “Thank you.”
“Mm,” Ilya grunted. He pulled Shane closer by his waist until his head was resting against his chest and wrapped his arms around him.
“Didn’t you say you wanted to do legs this morning?” Shane mumbled into his chest.
“Shh,” Ilya shushed into his hair. “Can go in thirty minutes. Just sit here with me.”
Shane’s body relaxed into him. “Okay.” He turned and placed a kiss against his peck, resting his cheek back against him and letting out a sigh.
…
Ilya’s slow footsteps came down the stairs. He padded stiffly into the kitchen to wrap his arms around Shane, who was chopping up a cucumber on the cutting board for his salad. His damp curls brushed against Shane’s ear, smelling like lavender from the shower and sending a pleasant shiver down his neck.
“Good workout?” Shane asked, keeping his eyes on the task at hand.
“Yes.” Ilya kissed his neck. “Good yoga?”
“Yep.” Shane gestured to the window with his knife. “The weather's nice so I was out on the deck.”
“I know. I saw you from the window, was nice view.” He grinned and slid his hands down Shane’s waist to his hips and squeezed.
“Creep.” Shane suppressed a smile.
“You like it.” Ilya slapped his ass lightly before limping over to the refrigerator, pulling out the Brita for a glass of water.
Shane looked over at him and frowned. “You know if you actually did yoga with me you wouldn’t be so stiff when you hit legs.”
“I would be stiff in other ways if I did yoga with you,” he said with a smirk.
Shane’s face went flush and he turned back to his work on the cucumber. “Stop flirting with me! I need to make lunch and watch game tape before we leave.”
Ilya took a sip and placed the glass down on the counter, raising his hands in defense and taking a few steps closer. “Is not my fault you are so beautiful.”
Shane placed the knife down and turned around, his back to the counter and his palms bracing on the edge. “Ilya.”
Ilya sauntered over to him, his hands reaching the counter on either side of Shane’s hips, and leaned in to press his lips to his neck slowly. He licked and sucked gently at the skin underneath his jaw and Shane pulled in a breath between his teeth.
“You always play better when I get you off,” Ilya mumbled against his skin between kisses, his hands sliding to Shane’s hips.
“That’s not true.” Shane’s eyes fluttered closed and his hands were on Ilya’s hip and in his damp hair despite the protests weakly falling out from his mouth. The blood rushed from his head and pooled behind his balls, making his head fuzzy. “We really - ah - don’t have time for this.”
Ilya’s palm moved to press against Shane’s erection, his fingers squeezing around the length as it pulsed harder in his hand and he grinned, lifting his face from his neck to look at him. “I don’t think is what you want.”
He dragged his other hand up Shane’s chest and around the back of his neck, pressing his thumb into his jaw and kissing him deeply. He slid his tongue into his mouth as he tilted his head to make it filthier and a weak moan escaped Shane’s throat. Ilya pulled back and dragged his lips over his ear. “I think you want me to suck your dick.”
“Fuck,” Shane rasped as the sensation of Ilya’s hot breath tickling his neck sent another shiver down his spine. His hands dragged over the tight muscles of Ilya’s back, down to his hips and strong thighs. “I want you to bend me over the fucking counter.”
He felt Ilya tense just barely under his hands, pulling back to face him. Something flashed through his eyes that Shane couldn’t place, some mixture of want and regret before he quickly schooled his expression back to a confident, seductive smirk.
“You were right, lyubimyy, that would take too long,” he said smoothly with his eyes on Shane’s lips and then paused, adding, “right now.”
Shane suddenly felt stupid and he closed his eyes briefly in a wince. “Shit. Right. I’m sorry, I know it’s been- hard with the-
Ilya cut him off by kissing him again, filthy and hard, and slipping his hand under Shane’s waistband to wrap his fingers around his dick. Shane gasped in surprise and then groaned into his mouth as his hand worked him in slow strokes.
The corner of Ilya’s mouth pulled up into a grin when he reared back slightly. “Will be much quicker if I make you come down my throat,” he said in a low voice before kissing him again on the lips and then down his neck and stomach, sinking to the kitchen floor.
“Fuck Ilya,” Shane whimpered as his hands went to his hair, threading through his curls.
Ilya hooked his fingers into the waistband of Shane’s sweatpants and briefs and pulled down, freeing his throbbing cock. He dragged his hands up his legs and hips, his eyes following the same path to take him in. “Krasivyy,” he breathed.
Shane preened at the praise and then moaned as the wet heat of Ilya’s mouth wrapped around the head of his dick. He tightened his grip in Ilya’s curls as he watched his length disappear under the cupid bow of his lips, his deep blue eyes locked on him.
“God, you’re perfect,” Shane whispered, watching with a laser intensity as Ilya’s mouth moved up and down his dick, the shaft turning wet and shiny with spit.
The sight of him on his knees in their obscenely bright kitchen coiled a sharp, indecent thought in Shane’s mind of fucking into his perfect, pink lips until he came down his throat, but something told him Ilya needed gentle today. He took a deep breath to quiet the feral part of his brain and loosened his grip on his hair, working his fingers through his damp curls softly as Ilya took him deeper. He whimpered, letting his head fall back.
Ilya’s hands went to his ass and pulled him closer, taking him all the way into his throat. Shane’s head snapped back up so he could watch as Ilya pressed his nose into his pelvis, feeling his throat muscles contract as he swallowed around him.
“Oh my god,” he groaned. He pulled his hands from his curls and gripped the counter, fighting back the thought of fucking his face again, of pulling him down onto the floor and fucking him. “Fuck, I love you. You’re so fucking good at this.”
Ilya’s eyes fluttered in response and he moaned around Shane’s cock, sending vibrations up his spine. He started moving faster, bobbing his head in a steady rhythm, hollowing his cheeks as he pulled back and took him deeper again, swallowing around him every time he took him in the back of his throat.
The pleasure grew tighter in Shane’s spine and his abs clenched around the pressure. He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again, not wanting to miss a second of the arousingly lewd scene happening below him.
Ilya reached up and grabbed Shane’s wrists, pulling his hands from the counter and back to his hair. He started moving faster, sucking him harder and gripping his hips so hard he couldn’t move.
Shane’s fingers tightened in his curls as irrepressible shaky moans started falling from his lips, his vision blurring. “Ilya, oh m- I’m going to-”
Ilya pulled him in by his hips and pressed his face against Shane’s pelvis, taking him all the way into his throat and swallowing.
“Oh fuuck,” Shane whined as he came hard, his vision whiting out as sizzling heat rippled through him. His hips twitched in Ilya’s grip as he pulsed his release down his throat, feeling him swallow it.
Ilya pulled off, hollowing his cheeks and let his dick drop out of his mouth with a pop, and leaned back on his heels, panting with a satisfied smile on his face.
Shane leaned back against the counter, bracing himself with his hands as his body went limp and panting. “Holy shit,” he breathed. He took a second and then pulled his sweatpants back up over his hips, letting out a breathy laugh and looking at Ilya. “That was fucking hot.”
Ilya stood and stepped closer, tilting Shane’s chin up with his hand and kissing him quickly. “I bet you will score hat trick tonight for that.”
Shane panted out a weak laugh. “If that happens, I’ll blow you a kiss in the stands as a thank you.”
“I will hold you to that.” Ilya smiled, stepping back to drink the rest of his water on the counter.
Shane shook his head to clear it. “What was I doing before you came in here?”
Ilya pointed to the cutting board, swallowing a gulp of water and letting out a breath. “Making lunch. Which was going to be what by the way?”
Shane nodded, looking back to the task he’d abandoned. “Right,” he laughed. “I was doing greek salads with chicken.”
Ilya made an exaggerated grimace. He turned on the faucet and started washing his hands as he shook his head. “Shane, no. Noo. Is game day. You know you need more than that. I am making you pasta for the chicken.”
“Ilya-
Ilya turned to face Shane from the sink. “No arguing. That is dumb. You will hurt yourself if you play three hours without any carbs.”
Shane stood and stared at him for a second. Ilya turned off the faucet and leaned his hip against the sink, crossing his arms and staring back, narrowing his eyes at him.
Shane’s shoulders dropped after a minute. “Fine,” he sighed. “Let me help at least.”
“Ah ah.” Ilya wagged a finger. “You will sabotage. Go start watching game tape, I will bring it out.”
Shane opened his mouth to argue but Ilya cut him off with a sweeping gesture of his arm towards the living room.
“Go.”
“You’re a steam roller, you know that?”
Ilya just raised his eyebrows at him. Shane rolled his eyes and lifted his hands in a gesture of defeat, walking over to give him a quick kiss before leaving the kitchen.
They ate their pasta on the couch while the game tapes from Shane’s last season with Montreal played on the tv. Shane was sitting up in one corner with his ipad out, taking notes and drawing out plays, and Ilya was sprawled out on the other end, his head resting against a pillow and his empty bowl on the coffee table. His eyes kept fluttering closed before he’d nod off and open them again, blinking and shaking his head to wake up.
Shane looked over at him with a sympathetic smile. “You can take a nap.”
“Mm-mm.” Ilya shook his head no and pointed at the screen. “You need help to watch for gaps in power play.”
“They were my team,” Shane said, his voice a bit sad. “I think I can handle it.” He leaned over and pulled Ilya’s feet onto his lap so he was fully stretched out across the couch. “I can see how tired you are. Just sleep.”
Ilya pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “Okay. Just for a little.” He swallowed, a bit harder than before. “I’m sorry.”
“Nope,” Shane said sternly. “We’re not doing sorry, remember? You’re not doing anything wrong.”
“Right.” Ilya took a deep breath and dropped the hand from his face, giving Shane a weak smile. “Thank you, moya lyubov.”
“Always.” Shane lifted Ilya’s leg up by the ankle and kissed his shin, placing it back down on his lap to rub it gently. “Just close your eyes. I’m good here.”
He turned his attention back to the game tapes while Ilya’s eyes fluttered closed again and his breathing went slow and even.
…
The strap of Shane’s gear bag dug into his shoulder as he slipped on his shoes, trying to grab the car keys quietly from the dish by the front door. They clinked in his hand and he winced, peering over to the couch where he could see the top of Ilya’s head resting on the pillows, still unmoving. He blew out a breath and relaxed, turning the handle to the front door and pulling.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh my god!” Shane jumped and whipped around, gripping his chest.
Ilya was standing by the couch looking at him, his hair a mess and eyes squinted.
Shane dropped his hand from his chest and lifted the keys up. “I’m going to the arena, go back to sleep.”
“Ah no.” Ilya rubbed his face and shook his head.
“Ilya, it’s okay. You’re exhausted.”
Ilya walked over to Shane and wrestled the keys out of his hand, dangling them in the air between them. “You try to lull me to sleep with boring game tape so you can drive yourself? Nice try. I am taking you. Give me two minutes.” He walked into the first floor bathroom and Shane heard the water running, then he came back out, walked into the kitchen and grabbed something from the cupboard, then slipped on his shoes and went to open the front door. “Let’s go.”
Shane tilted his head at him. “What did you take from the kitchen?”
Ilya smiled and pulled two Purdy’s chocolate bars out of his pocket. “For the kids.”
Shane’s chest felt light and airy like a balloon. His gaze trailed around Ilya’s face, taking in his tousled curls, the crinkles in the corners of his sleepy eyes that were scrunched up from the warm smile on his lips, the indents on his face from the couch pillow. He swallowed.
“What?” Ilya asked, putting the candy back in his pocket.
“Nothing,” Shane said quietly. He shifted the gear bag so it swung behind his back and stepped closer to press a soft kiss to Ilya’s lips, his fingers brushing his cheek. “Just love you,” he said into the space between them.
Ilya’s lips curled into a small smile. “I love you too,” he whispered and kissed him again, patting his cheek with his hand. He nodded to the door. “Let’s go. You will be late.”
They got in Ilya’s G wagon and pulled out of the driveway and down the street, slowing to a stop in front of Kate’s yard. Ilya put it into park, honked, and rolled down the window.
“Ilya, that’s rude.”
Ilya held up a finger between them. “Shh. Is tradition. Just wait.”
The navy blue painted front door of the house swung open seconds later and the two kids came spilling out, sprinting down the driveway towards the car. Kate and her husband, Nathan, came out behind them more leisurely, stopping a few feet back while the kids pulled themselves up on the running board by the driver's side and hooked their arms over Ilya’s open window.
“Did you see the sign?” Willa’s eyes were big and brown and she was looking at Ilya like he was a superhero.
“Yes!” Ilya beamed. “We took picture on our walk with Anya this morning, right Shane?”
“Right.” Shane cleared his throat and smiled. He pulled his phone out and opened the selfie they’d taken with the sign in the background and held it up to show them. “Anya loved it too. She told me.”
“She told you?” Willa asked sarcastically.
“Da.” Ilya piled on. “They have special connection. Read each other’s minds.”
“Woah,” Willa said, her eyes wide.
Ilya widened his eyes back. “Yeah. Woah.”
“It was my idea to write Hockey Husbands on the sign!” Andrew piped up.
“Was very cute!” Ilya said brightly. “I think we will get a Hockey Husbands plaque for our front door now.”
Andrew giggled and then both the kids started looking around inside the car, their eyes darting around the cup holders.
Ilya let out a dramatic sigh. “I know what you are really here for.” He pulled the chocolate bars out of his pocket and held them out. Their hands reached out and he pulled back, holding the candy just out of reach from their little fingers. “Ah ah, wish Shane good luck or no candy for you.”
“Good luck Shane!” They both yelled quickly, their voices high-pitched and excited, and then reached out again.
“Thank you,” Shane laughed, feeling warm.
Ilya handed them the bars and they hopped off the car. “Thank youuuu!” They sang in unison.
“You are welcome.” Ilya looked up and waved a hand at Kate and Nathan. “Sorry for the sugar.”
Kate shrugged. “They’re gonna stay up late to watch the game anyways.” She ducked her head to peer into the car. “Hi Shane, good luck tonight!” She smiled.
Shane’s cheeks were hurting and he realized he hadn’t stopped smiling. “Hey Kate! Thanks. You guys are still coming by for dinner next week right?”
“Yes, barring the kids don’t bring any mysterious illnesses back from school, we’ll be there,” Nathan replied with a chuckle.
Shane laughed. “Fingers crossed. We’ll see you then.”
“Yes, see you then!” Ilya waved out the window. They waved back and he started driving again, rolling the window back up.
They were both grinning quietly as they pulled out of the neighborhood.
“They’re really sweet,” Shane said after a minute.
“Da, right? Willa is the cutest.”
Shane laughed. “I don’t think you’re supposed to pick favorites.”
Ilya shrugged. “Her eyes remind me of yours,” he said softly, reaching his hand over to thread their fingers together.
Shane’s eyes prickled. “Oh.” He looked down at their fingers and then back to Ilya. “Okay. You can pick favorites.”
Ilya smiled and lifted their joined hands to kiss Shane’s knuckles, keeping his eyes on the road.
Twenty minutes later, he pulled into the back entrance of the arena and shifted the car into park, relaxing back into his seat and looking over at Shane. “Feel good?”
Shane was looking out his window at the facility. “Feels wrong,” he said in a low voice. He turned his head to meet Ilya’s eyes. “You should be coming in with me. It’s fucked up.”
Ilya reached his hand over to rub the back of Shane’s neck. “I know, but there is nothing we can do. Grievances take too much time.”
“It just looks bad. What if there are more shitty ass fans out tonight because you’re suspended and they’re like- happy about it?”
Ilya shrugged. “Then there are more ‘shitty ass fans’ out.”
“Really? That’s it?” Shane tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at him.
Ilya raised his eyebrows. “Do you want me to fight each one? Might make suspension longer.”
Shane groaned and tilted his head back against the headrest. “Obviously not.”
He rubbed into the tight muscles of Shane’s neck. “Just focus on game.”
Shane swallowed and nodded, taking a deep breath. “I still wish you could be here.”
“I will be in our box with Yuna and David, just look up.”
Shane nodded again. “Okay,” he breathed.
Ilya leaned over and kissed him, reaching across his lap and popping the door open at the same time. “Will be fine, kotenok. Don’t be late, you are acting captain.”
Shane kissed him back. “Thanks for driving me.” He hopped out of the car and grabbed his gear bag from the floor, swinging the door closed.
Ilya watched until he made his way inside and the back door of the building shut behind him, then pulled out his phone to re-read the email detailing the new metal detectors that were installed at the arena entrances and the new security measures being taken. He blew out a breath and rubbed a hand over his face, his fingers dragging down over his cheeks.
“Will be fine,” he said under his breath again, this time to convince himself, and pulled out of the lot.