Work Text:
Settled
Shane took a deep breath as the conversation continued around him. He fought the urge to scan the room for his husband, remembering one of Hayden’s recent playful jabs about co-dependency, like it was a bad thing to want to spend time with your spouse. Like Hayden himself had any room to talk. Shane had a slight suspicion that Jackie was pregnant again, judging by her mild nausea at their dinner last week. Ilya noticed it, of course, and he was already planning a campaign to be named godfather for the newest little Pike.
Shane mentally shook his head and attempted to pay attention to the voices around him. There were a bunch of hockey executives discussing stocks, of all things, and Shane floundered trying to come up with anything at all relevant to contribute. He saw a couple of the execs glance his way and felt a sudden urge to flee before any of them asked him about his stock portfolio. He was not the right Hollander for that line of questioning; he mostly just said yes to whatever his parents suggested he invest in. If it wasn’t about hockey, real estate or, unfortunately, Ilya, Shane would be screwed.
When one of the men started talking about cryptocurrency, Shane knew he had to get out of there. He waited for a natural pause in the conversation before he quietly excused himself, maintaining what he hoped was a normal stride as he made a beeline towards the hallway that led to the washrooms.
The room was blessedly empty, and the sounds from the ballroom were muted. He stood in front of the sink for a few moments, enjoying the silence and the dim lighting, resisting the urge to pull out his phone and send a message to Ilya asking to leave. Shane wasn’t having a horrible time, and he knew Ilya was happy to be socializing with Cliff and the other Boston players who showed up to lend their support, so he decided to give the gala another hour or so before coercing his husband back to the hotel.
They were attending a fundraiser for the St. Thomas scholarship program, raising money for young people who wanted to play hockey but couldn’t afford it, so it was a very worthy cause. Shane had been apprehensive about attending an event at a religious organization, but he knew it was important to Scott, who had become one of their good friends over the years and had benefited from these very scholarships himself as a teenager.
Shane was making a grocery list in his head for when they got back to Ottawa when he heard raised male voices and laughter from the hallway. He wasn’t ready to leave the quiet room yet and hated awkward small talk and eye contact in the washroom, so he slipped into one of the stalls and locked it as the door opened. There were three men chatting loudly as they availed themselves of the urinals. Shane did his best to ignore them until he heard a familiar name.
“Still can’t believe Rozanov. The same dude who was out almost every night with a different girl? Sometimes more than one.”
“Right? And of all the guys out there, he settled for Hollander? That guy looks like he would have fun watching paint dry.”
“You’re just jealous because Roz bagged that hot blonde chick you were after in LA…”
Shane felt a knot forming in his stomach as the words “settled for Hollander” ricocheted in his brain. Of course he knew Ilya had been with other people before. He had already made his peace with that. Hot people had been throwing themselves at Ilya for as long as Shane had known him. Hell, even Shane had thrown himself at Ilya. Multiple times. The man was too attractive for his own good.
But he hadn’t actually realized people were comparing him to Ilya’s previous hookups. He’d seen the tabloid photos and social media posts of Ilya with girls. Shane’s eyes had always locked in on Ilya in the photos, as the women did not interest him in the slightest, but even he knew they were all objectively attractive.
There were never any incriminating photos of Ilya with other guys, but Shane knew Ilya must have hooked up with other men besides himself and Sasha. And even if he hadn’t, some of their hockey peers were very attractive, and Ilya was around them all the time. Scott, Hayden, Cliff. Fucking Troy Barrett, who Ilya seemed to be best friends with now. If they weren’t all in committed relationships, Shane would be anxious about that. But there were dozens of others who Ilya could probably seduce if he set his mind to it.
Shane closed his eyes and started to take a deep breath, but then he remembered he was in a washroom. He blinked rapidly and fumbled with the lock to exit the stall. In a stroke of luck, his mini-spiral had lasted long enough for the guys to leave, so the room was empty again. Shane washed his hands at the sink and patted them dry with a paper towel. The bathroom light reflected off his wedding ring as he moved - the wedding ring Ilya picked out for him, because he loved him. Surely he would not have gone through all the trouble of marrying him if he wanted other people. Right?
Shane threw away the paper towel and stumbled out of the bathroom. He suddenly didn’t care about Hayden’s co-dependency bullshit. He needed his husband.
Luckily, the big Russian man was easy to spot. The warm lights in the ballroom glinted off his blond curls, and Shane used it as a beacon, ignoring all of the other people in the room as he made his way to him. He was in the middle of the room, holding court with at least a dozen other people.
“Ilya,” Shane said quietly, placing one hand on his shoulder. A few startled looks indicated he had interrupted their conversation, but at this point he didn’t care about being a polite Canadian boy.
“There you are, moya lyubov,” Ilya said, turning towards him with a big smile that eased some of Shane’s worries. His smile faltered when he saw Shane’s face, though, and Shane couldn’t imagine what his expression could be at that moment. “What’s wrong?” Ilya asked, taking both of Shane’s hands in his own and rubbing his thumbs over them soothingly.
Shane’s eyes flickered over to the group he had been talking to and he shook his head once, barely getting out the words “Not here,” before Ilya was extracting himself from the conversation and guiding Shane towards the entrance of the ballroom. Shane just held his hand and followed, trusting Ilya to take care of him. Ilya exchanged a few words with the woman at the front desk, and then they were in one of the empty conference rooms.
“What do you need, sweetheart?” Ilya asked, one hand cupping Shane’s face as his thumb grazed his freckled cheek reverently.
“Just you,” Shane whispered, pulling him close as he leaned back. Ilya seemed to understand, using his upper body to pin Shane against the wall. His familiar weight eased even more of Shane’s tension, and he slid his arms under Ilya’s suit jacket as he pressed his face against his neck, breathing him in. “I just needed to make sure this was real.”
“What is real?”
“You. Us.”
“What? Why would we not be real?” Ilya’s voice went higher.
Anxiety, Shane’s brain supplied. You are making him anxious. That thought alone made Shane feel more anxious, and he knew he had to get a handle on himself if he wanted to make it through this conversation.
Okay. List five things, Shane thought, closing his eyes and focusing on his husband. Ilya’s familiar shampoo and cologne. The warmth of his skin through the fabric of his dress shirt. His big hands grasping Shane’s waist. His lips pressing a kiss to the top of his head. His steady heartbeat.
Shane practically went boneless, and knowing that the press of Ilya’s strong body was the only thing keeping him upright was heady. He curled one arm around Ilya’s waist and moved his other arm so he could slide one hand into his blond curls, finally taking the deep, calming breath he needed.
“Talk to me. Please, Shane,” Ilya murmured after Shane relaxed against him.
Shane almost didn’t want to tell him, but he knew his husband would keep asking until he got some answers. He sighed softly, pulling back just enough so Ilya could see his face. “It’s nothing important,” he tried, but Ilya shook his head.
“Is important if it upset you or made you question us.” He brought one hand up and tapped Shane’s chin gently, the way he did when he wanted Shane’s attention, and Shane met his eyes for as long as he could before focusing his gaze somewhere around Ilya’s slightly crooked nose.
“I just… I overheard some guys in the washroom talking about… us.” Shane swallowed nervously, pausing when he felt Ilya’s body tense up against his.
“What about us?” Ilya asked, his voice low and slightly dangerous, eyes narrowing and eyebrows drawn together.
Shane attempted to soothe his husband first by rubbing his back in gentle circles, but then he ripped off the metaphorical band-aid. “They said they couldn’t believe you… settled for me.”
“No,” Ilya said before he even finished his sentence. “No, absolutely not.” His voice was rising with each word, and Shane resisted the urge to shush him. “Lzhets! What the fuck do they know?”
Shane shook his head, meeting Ilya’s eyes again briefly. “That’s why I said it was nothing,” he explained, scratching his fingers against Ilya’s scalp in a way that usually calmed him down. It did not do the trick this time.
Ilya pinned him with an angry glare that Shane knew wasn’t actually directed at him. “They don’t know shit about us, Shane. I did not ‘settle’ for you. I bend over backwards for years just to try to be good enough for you. If anyone settled is you.”
“No, Ilya,” Shane started to protest, but Ilya was still going.
“They don’t know what it's like being with you every day. How sweet you are when you’re fussing at me to take better care of myself. How incredible it feels to be inside you-”
“Ilya,” Shane hissed, feeling his face heat up as he glanced around the room to make sure they were still alone. Sometimes he got so lost in his husband that everyone else in the world ceased to exist when they were together.
“I love knowing I’m the only one who gets to have you. I fall asleep and wake up every day next to you so happy that you are my husband,” Ilya said, pressing sweet kisses to Shane’s forehead and cheeks.
Shane smiled in response to his affection before pursing his lips for a real kiss, and Ilya happily complied. “All of those things make me happy, too,” he said, just so there was no confusion. “You make me so happy, Ilya.”
“Moy lyubimyy muzh,” Ilya whispered against his lips.
“But you know you could literally have anyone-” Shane started to say, only to get interrupted once more by his stubborn husband.
“I want you, Shane,” Ilya insisted.
“And I want you, Ilya.”
Ilya’s expression shifted back into what Hayden described as heart eyes. “Okie. That’s settled then.”
“What’s settled?”
“We are each other’s trophy husband,” Ilya said smugly.
Shane rolled his eyes and nodded his agreement. He knew he was getting the better end of this deal, but as long as Ilya thought of him as a prize, he wasn’t going to argue with him. Shane leaned in for another soft kiss, enjoying the moment of quiet with his husband. Once they were both calm, they straightened up and left the conference room hand in hand.
“Tell me, who said this lie to you? I want names,” Ilya demanded after a moment.
“I don’t know. They weren't talking to me, and I didn’t recognize their voices. It doesn’t matter. Really,” Shane insisted, squeezing his hand for emphasis.
“All right,” Ilya grumbled, and Shane knew he was unhappy. “But you’re staying close to me for the rest of the night. That way I can punch the next person who upsets you right away.”
Shane huffed out a laugh. He knew Ilya was kidding… mostly. “It will upset me if you start a fight at a scholarship fundraiser.”
Ilya sighed. “You never let me have any fun, moya lyubov.”
Shane tugged him close and pressed a kiss to his pouty lips. “If you behave, we can have all the fun you want back at the hotel.”
Ilya grinned. “Deal.”
🔥🏒🔥🏒🔥🏒🔥
A few weeks later, Harris approached Shane after hockey practice, his phone open to Ilya’s Instagram page. “Hey, Shane! I know you’re not very interested in social media, but have you seen Ilya’s posts for the past few weeks?”
Shane shook his head as he fastened his belt and smoothed his shirt down. “What did he do now?” he asked warily, bracing himself for whatever caught Harris’ attention.
“Nothing bad, I promise! He’s just been posting a lot about you, and the fans and media outlets have been noticing it.”
Shane blinked, wondering what his husband had been up to. “What is he posting about me?”
Harris moved next to him and scrolled back to a few weeks ago, starting with the night of the St. Thomas gala.
There was a picture of the two of them snuggled up in the hotel bed afterwards, Shane fast asleep and Ilya’s heart eyes on full display as he gazed at the camera. The caption read, “my emotional support husband ❤️”. The fans under the post were all calling Ilya whipped or a loverboy, and his menace of a husband even liked a few of the comments.
A few posts later, there was one of Shane doing one of his yoga routines with the caption, “my favorite view 👀”.
Another one showed Shane curled up in one of their comfy armchairs, wearing his glasses while reading a hockey book Ilya had bought him. Caption: “he’s such a nerd i need him 😊”.
Another post showed them at their draft, Ilya grinning from ear to ear, proudly holding up his Boston jersey and his number 1 index finger, and Shane trying his best to look thrilled about being in second place. Caption: “#ThrowbackThursday he’s number one in my heart 💯”.
There were several others - Shane doing mundane things like cooking (“mister top chef 🧑🍳”) or playing with their dog Anya (“my two loves 🥰”) or grinning under a gaggle of Pike children (“me next please 🤗”). Shane also saw pictures he never even noticed Ilya taking, like a close up of Shane’s face (“you had me at big brown eyes and beautiful freckles 😍”) and a picture of their feet tangled together - Ilya’s bare as usual and Shane’s covered in socks (“i love his cold feet 🧦”).
There was another photo Shane did remember taking. Shane organized a surprise birthday party for Ilya at the cottage, and there were teammates and their partners and dogs and lots of children milling around. Shane asked Hayden to take a photo of him with Ilya and his parents. Ilya’s smile was nearly blinding, while the Hollanders all grinned at the camera. Ilya had simply captioned it with: “i love my family 🏠”.
Harris kept scrolling, but Shane couldn’t see the phone screen anymore because tears were welling up in his eyes. Ilya had spent so long posting about Shane covertly over the last few years, and Shane knew he was happy to not have to keep their love a secret anymore. These recent posts must have been in response to what those guys at the gala said, and Shane excused himself to go find his sweet husband again. Harris just gave him a knowing grin and waved him away.
-fin-
Translations:
moya lyubov - my love
Moy lyubimyy muzh - my beloved husband
Lzhets - liar