Chapter Text
In hindsight, Shane really should have considered this possibility before now. Long before now. Before he sat in a sticky plastic chair in his doctor's office, speechless and on the verge of a full blown panic attack.
If not in the heat of the moment (pun absolutely fucking not intended), Shane at least should have considered the possibility when he arrived home from Saskatchewan.
Or maybe when he had that almost two months long mysterious flu where he struggled to digest anything more substantial than plain crackers.
Or maybe the idea should have popped into his head when the third month after the tournament didn't bring his heat with it.
He really should have fucking considered it when the fourth month came and his once rock hard abs decided to vanish, replaced by a serious case of bloating that would not go away. That one really should have been a clue considering he was an elite athlete who hadn't been able to stomach protein in god knows how long.
But no. Shane had been oblivious. He'd honestly thought about possibly needing to have a fucking colonoscopy and stressed about how that might hinder his training.
Not once had he believed that his basic yearly medical would result in his entire life imploding with two little words.
“You're pregnant.”
In Shane's defense, his knowledge of omega anatomy was woefully limited. As evidenced by the patronizing “oh sweetie” look his doctor had given him when he'd somehow managed to make his mouth move enough to ask how that was even possible.
Because apparently being knotted dozens of times during your heat without a condom or any birth control and babies kind of go hand in hand.
Shane certainly hadn't planned that part. It's also the main reason why Shane knows nothing about being an omega, and hadn't exactly been excited to learn more when he came home from World Juniors with his new designation.
Most athletes are alphas and betas. It's just the way it is. The average age people present as either an alpha or omega is between twelve and fourteen. If you haven't presented as anything by the age of sixteen, your medical records are updated to list you as a beta.
Of course there are always exceptions to these basic rules, but they're so rare that it's literally mentioned as a throwaway comment in health class, never to be thought of again.
Nobody thinks they're going to be that one in a million. Simple statistics says it won't be you.
Shane especially felt that way. He'd already defied the odds with his once in a generation hockey talent. The chances of anything else extraordinary happening to him were moot.
Like most betas, Shane assumed he would one day partner with a fellow beta. Not that relationships outside of alpha/omega and beta/beta pairings were abnormal or taboo or anything. It just made life difficult if you couldn't meet the instinctive needs of your partner and vice versa.
Which is why Shane had stupidly never made an effort to learn about omegas. He wasn't one, none of his friends were, no one he played with was one and he didn't plan to date one. Learning how often omegas go into heat seemed about as useful to an eighteen year old Shane as learning how to swaddle a baby.
Which now he was also going to need to learn.
Fuck.
“Shane?”
The slightly impatient voice finally broke through his foggy haze of panic. Given the expectant raised eyebrow on the face of his normally kind doctor’s face suggested that she'd been trying to get his attention for a while now.
“Sorry, what was that?”
“I said, will you please follow me down the hall so that we can perform a dating scan for you.”
“A dating scan?” Shane was still trying to process the whole pregnant thing, like just that word, and he definitely wasn't ready to do anything other than freak out.
“Yes Shane. You listed your last heat as roughly eighteen weeks ago, and while it is possible for conception to have happened outside of your heat, we want to get your baby checked as soon as possible to ensure they're healthy. I don't want to scare you but a lack of proper prenatal care in the early months of pregnancy can be responsible for a number of health issues. We want to rule those out and also let you know your due date. So shall we?” She asked, gesturing for Shane to follow her.
Double fuck.
Shane knew exactly when this baby was conceived. He hadn't fucked anyone since that frantic week locked in a hotel with his fiercest competitor.
At the time, Shane had known that he would never forget the light brown curls tickling his face as the alpha covered Shane's body with his, or those kind hazel eyes that said so much more than his limited English and Shane's nonexistent Russian, conveying his concern for Shane's wellbeing during his first time being knotted (and honestly, every time after that). They barely spoke that entire week, other than the Russian's constant check-ins with Shane.
“Okay?” He would ask every time he entered Shane, or changed his speed, or afterwards when they were tied together waiting for the Russian's knot to go down.
And just when Shane thought the day couldn't possibly get any worse, a whole new realisation dawned on him.
Not only was Shane pregnant at eighteen, would have to delay his professional hockey career for who knows how long or maybe even have to give it up entirely, but he was going to be completely and utterly alone in this journey.
Not only had he been stupid enough to have unprotected sex with a virtual stranger during his heat, but he literally chose the most unavailable stranger imaginable.
Shane knew precisely three things about Ilya Rozanov, the man whose baby was currently growing inside of him.
One - he was the best hockey player Shane had ever played against. They were meant to be entering the draft together in a few months and every one was already placing bets on which of them would take first place and which would be chosen second respectively. There weren't even odds for any other prospects to be chosen before them because it wasn't even a conversation. Although I'm sure the one guy who did bet against Shane was going to come into a small fortune when it was announced Shane would no longer be entering the draft this year.
Two - Ilya Rozanov lives in motherfucking Russia. The absolute earliest he would be moving is a year after the draft, and even then it's just as likely he'll be on an American team as a Canadian one.
Three - Shane has zero way to contact Rozanov. He's going to be a father and Shane couldn't let him know even if he wanted to (which he hasn't begun to unpack if he wants to. He doesn't even have the illusion of being able to make a choice about that). Like an idiot, Shane hadn't asked for Rozanov's number when they parted, out of fear that he'd come across as one of those desperate omegas who falls in love the second they slept with an alpha. And Ilya clearly hadn't been looking for a repeat because he never offered a way for them to keep in touch. Rozanov doesn't have any social media either, something Shane discovered when he came home for Junior's and stayed awake all night trying to stalk Rozanov because he truly was that pathetic.
Shane tried to shove those thoughts back into the mental box they'd been tightly locked in since his failed attempts at making contact with Rozanov, with limited success.
He barely processed what was happening as his doctor led him to a dark room, asked him to hop up on the examination table and started smearing cold gel around on his abdomen with an ultrasound wand. Although his thoughts are briefly interrupted when the doctor mentions that depending on the gestation of the foetus she may need to perform an internal ultrasound. That certainly pulled his attention off pining for Rozanov when he laid eyes on the other vaguely phallic shaped wand covered with a condom. Shane shuddered and prayed she wouldn't need to use that.
Shane was too preoccupied with the idea of being probed by a medically approved dildo that he didn't notice that the scan had started until the loud pulsing sound of a heartbeat filled the room.
Instantly Shane turned his head to see a baby filling the screen. His baby. Looking like a perfect, fully formed little person already.
Tears started running down Shane's cheeks before he even realised what he was feeling.
Shane had expected to feel the anxiety and fear at seeing the proof of life growing within him. But he hadn't been prepared for the fierce intensity of love that washed over him right at that moment.
On the walk from his doctor's office to the ultrasound room, Shane had already mentally calculated that he was way past the point of being able to terminate this pregnancy. He'd accepted that he would have to see out this pregnancy regardless of whether he wanted to or not.
Shane hadn't expected to be angry with himself for even thinking about the possibility of getting rid of his baby. He instantly knew he was going to love that tiny form on the screen more than he would ever love anyone or anything.
He knew it would be difficult, giving up hockey and raising a child at such a young age all by himself, but Shane would do all of that and more for his baby.
He'd give this baby the same amount of love as two parents would.
The guilt and grief hit him hard, making it difficult to swallow around the lump that had formed in his throat.
Because even though Ilya Rozanov was mostly a stranger, Shane knew how unfair it was that he wasn't getting a say in whether or not he wanted to be a part of his child's life.
Right now he was somewhere in Russia, likely going about his day without a clue that his entire life had changed irrevocably and he wouldn't get to be part of it. And even though he knew nothing about Ilya’s desire to have a family one day, Shane felt like he knew enough to understand that the alpha would be devastated if he ever found out what he had lost out on being a part of.