Work Text:
Shane
The Hospital
Spring
Shane gets hurt in the game against Boston, and Ilya comes to see him. It scares Ilya how much they care for each other. How Shane was hurt because he was distracted by Ilya. It was Ilya’s fault he got hurt. He’d never forgive himself. He had to go see him in the hospital to check on him. And he was fine. So he did what he should’ve done a long time ago. He ended it. Then,
Ilya blocks Shane before he receives more important medical news upon further testing.
“I was gonna ask you-“
“Hollander-“
“Willyoucometomycottagethissummer? Don’t go to Russia. Come to my house. We can have a week or even two-“
“Hollander I can’t do that. I’m not good for you. You- you got hurt because of me. We can’t do this. Just for sex sometimes,” Ilya says.
Shane is hurt and confused and high as a fucking kite.
“Just for sex sometimes,” Shane repeats, processing the words.
He’d really fucked up, convinced himself Ilya felt it too. That it was more for him too. But of course not. Shane was convenient when they played against each other. That’s it.
“Yeah I guess you can get sex from anyone anytime huh?” Shane spits, his heart breaking.
“Hollander-“
“Go. Get out.” his voice breaking.
“Shane-“
“Get the fuck out, Rozanov!” Shane yells, his heart rate increasing, the beeping exposing him.
The tears fall, and Shane is helpless, lying vulnerable and broken in a hospital bed. He can’t stop sobbing, and soon, he starts hyperventilating. The nurses try to help, but he pushes the oxygen mask away. He rips the IV out of his arm and tries to stand up, getting dizzy and falling over, taking some of the medical equipment with him.
That night, when he was allowed to check his phone, he saw what he was dreading.
Lily
I am sorry for ending it while you were in hospital
Seemed like something to do in person
Get well soon
Blocked.
Shane has another panic attack when he sees he’s blocked.
The next morning, his mom comes to have breakfast with him, but Shane isn’t in the mood. Luckily, the doctor comes in, preventing Shane from having to tell his mom why he was so upset.
“Mr. Hollander. I’d like to speak with you privately for a minute?” she asks, glancing at his mom.
“Mom. Just a minute. Please?” Shane asks.
Usually, he’d let his mom sit in on these sorts of conversations, and she knows it. She hesitates, but she leaves the room.
“How are you feeling?” The doctor asks.
She has a kind face and big round eyes. Her hair is blonde, but not the right shade of blonde. And it’s straight, not curly. Wrong.
“Like shit honestly,” Shane says, and she smiles empathetically.
“I’m not surprised. You’ve really been through it the past couple of days,” she says, moving to sit in the uncomfortable plastic chair beside his bed.
Yeah you don’t know the half of it lady.
“I know you’ve had a couple of panic attacks over the past 24 hours or so. You don’t have to tell me anything, but I want to apologize. We can’t do as much as we normally could to help ease your anxiety…because of your condition.”
Condition? Like his autism? He knew he was on the spectrum, but what did that have to do with it?
Maybe she meant the concussion. That made more sense.
“Your emotions might also be heightened by your condition which only makes the anxiety worse-“
“Okay what condition exactly?” Shane asks, needing clarity.
She hesitates.
“Shane, are you aware of the term gesturum masculus?” she asks, and Shane’s eyebrows pinch together.
“No?”
“Are you aware that roughly 10% of the male population is capable of becoming pregnant?” She asks, and Shane’s heart sinks.
No, it stops. No, it tries to beat out of his chest and run away.
“Yes… am I?” Shane asks, unable to finish the question.
“Male pregnancy takes several tests to confirm and even more to deem if it’s safe or viable. I’m guessing it’s a possibility for you? You’ve engaged in sex that could lead to that?” She asks.
Shane snorts.
A doctor was asking if he’d had a dick up his ass.
He just nods. She stands.
“Do I have your permission to run the tests? We’ll do a urine sample, blood sample, and if those indicate positivity, we’ll need to do an ultrasound. Male pregnancies are high risk. I’m sorry you’re concussed, but I’m glad you’re not playing professional hockey anymore,” She frowns.
“Will I be able to? Ever again?” Shane asks, his voice breaking.
“I mean it depends on how your body heals, but yes. With your conditioning and how healthy you are, I don’t see why not,” she says, and a huge breath leaves Shane’s lungs.
“Yes, do the tests,” he says. “I wanna know before I tell my mom.”
Speaking of. He can see her pacing through the tiny window in the door to his room.
“I’ll have a nurse get started on it. We’ll have some answers for you soon,” she says.
She leaves, and Yuna knocks, coming into the room slowly.
“It’s okay, Mom,” Shane says, waving her into the room.
“What was that about? Are you okay?” Yuna asks.
Shane can’t help but tear up as he looks into her eyes.
“I’m okay. We just uh… I think we might need to make a plan,” Shane says, and she squeezes his hand.
A couple of hours later, the tests confirm what the doctor suspected. Suddenly, it makes sense. Shane had been on an emotional high since All Stars, but he hadn’t felt like himself physically. There’s a very good but tiny reason for that.
Shane beams as he looks at the little blob on the ultrasound screen. He should be sad- he won’t be able to play hockey next season, the father of his child doesn’t want him, and his parents are going to be so disappointed in him. But for this moment, seeing a clump of cells he and Ilya created, he’s going to let himself be happy.
When he gets wheeled back to his room, his parents are waiting. He’d had Yuna make David come down to the hospital after the blood and urine samples came back positive, but he wants to tell them after the ultrasound. The doctor says that despite living in a violent professional hockey player, the baby was developing fine for its gestation. Seven weeks. Shane has a lot to catch up on, but he can’t focus on that right now.
“Shane what’s going on. Your mother and I are so worried,” David says as soon as the nurse leaves them alone.
“Sorry. I didn’t want to worry you, but we had to do some tests first,” Shane says, fingering the ultrasound photo under the sheets.
“What about you being out longer than you thought? How can you know when you haven’t even started recovering yet? Is there something bigger?” Yuna starts, but Shane cuts her off.
“Did you know that seahorses can have up to 2,000 babies at a time?” Shane asks, grinning.
“What?” David asks.
“Shane I swear to god-“
“I’m gay. And pregnant.”
His parents stare at him. He can’t look at them.
He has to fill the silence, so he starts spewing facts.
“Only 10% of the male population can get pregnant. Only about 20% are gay or queer. Only 25% of male pregnancies make it to six weeks, and only 50% of those make it to the second trimester.”
Yuna rushes over to Shane’s side, tears in her eyes, and sits on the bed next to Shane. She brushes some stray hairs off his forehead and looks into his eyes.
“You’re happy about it? You seem to be.”
Shane hesitates because he has so many conflicting feelings on the situation.
“I want to keep it,” Shane says, thinking back to Ilya playing with the kids in the pool at the All Stars Game.
He’ll be a great dad whether he wants to be involved in Shane’s child’s life or not. Someday. With someone who he cares about.
“I don’t want to… no questions yet okay? I’m still trying to wrap my concussed head around it,” Shane says, and Yuna nods.
Shane pulls the photos out from under the sheets and hands them to his mother who puts her hand over her mouth and gasps.
“Well, honey, of course we support you,” Yuna says, glaring over at her husband.
“Of course, son, just in shock,” David says.
“I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t know either. Until today. I wouldn’t have played…” he trails off.
His mind starts to spiral, and Yuna notices. So, she distracts him with planning- pre-natal nutrition, workouts, vitamins and supplements- until his head hurts and he falls asleep.
Shane decides to keep it to himself for a few days until he gets home. He goes to his parents’ house in Ottawa to recover (and hide). He talks himself out of telling Ilya until his second trimester since male pregnancies are so risky. Should he even tell Ilya?
Shane
The Cottage
Spring
So he goes to the cottage alone, wishing Ilya was there. Back when he thought Ilya would take him up on his offer, he’d imagined them all over the cottage. Fucking, of course, but just existing. Sitting on the couch, watching the sunset on the dock, working out together, waking up together. Even though he’d never been here, the cottage is haunted by Ilya. So is Shane. He has Ilya’s ghost living inside him, and he is just as in love with the baby as he is with Ilya. His feelings for Ilya haven’t changed. He’s not sure if it’s the pregnancy hormones or the heartbreak, but he cries over Ilya all the time. It’s one reason he spends as much time as he can by himself.
As an only child, he’s used to being alone, but he’s not used to being abandoned, especially not by someone who he loves.
Once he’s in his second trimester, he allows himself to text Ilya. The text bounces back. Still blocked. It sends Shane into a rage so visceral, he goes downstairs and beats up his punching bag until he collapses in a heap of tears.
“I’m sorry,” he says to the baby, “I hope he’ll love you even if he doesn’t care about me.”
He’s happy, excited for the baby, but still heartbroken. His mom suggests he have the Pikes stay at the cottage for a few days. It would be nice to have more than just his parents know that he’s pregnant.
“We’d love to!” Jackie exclaims on the phone, accepting Shane’s invitation instantly.
So the Pikes and all four children come to the cottage for a weekend. The first day is chaotic with the older kids running around in the yard, jumping in the lake, and wrestling each other to the grass. After dinner, Yuna and David wrangle the older 3 into Adirondack chairs by the fire pit to make s’mores so Shane can talk to Hayden and Jackie alone inside.
They sit in the living room where they can see outside to the patio where the kids are burning marshmallows, and Shane feels a pang in his chest. His parents are going to be such good grandparents. The Pikes will be excellent aunt, uncle, and cousins. But he still mourns Ilya. He should be part of the family.
Then the voice in his head reminds him that he would be if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want you, Shane. Probably not the baby either.
“What’s new, buddy? We haven’t seen you at all this summer,” Hayden says, wrapping his arm around his wife’s shoulders.
They both know he has something to tell them, but he needs to get it all out before they ask questions.
“I promise I’ll answer your questions after, but I need you to just listen, okay?” Shane asks.
“Of course, Shane,” Jackie agrees.
So Shane takes a deep breath and starts talking.
“The team hasn’t announced it yet, but I’m not playing this season,” he says, and Hayden gasps dramatically.
Jackie is staring at him with steady eyes. How does she know? She’s a mom. Or a psychic.
“What? Why?” Hayden asks.
“Hayd, no questions yet,” Jackie reminds him, nodding for Shane to continue.
“I should’ve told you guys this sooner. Honestly I just told my parents. But, I’m gay. And I’m part of the 10% of males who can get pregnant, and I did. So I’ll be out this season.” He says, avoiding their eyes until he’s done speaking.
Jackie is beaming. Hayden looks confused.
“Congrats, Shanie!” Jackie says, getting up to hug him.
She sits in his lap and pinches his cheek.
“But I figured you out when I saw you earlier,” she says.
“I thought so,” Shane says, rolling his eyes but smiling at her fondly.
“Wait, who's the dad?” Hayden asks. “The other dad?”
“You mean it wasn’t you?” Jackie teases.
She loves the Shayden rumors and is even herself half convinced her husband is in love with Shane Hollander.
“That is confidential. For now. My parents don’t even know. He’s- we’re- ugh. We’re not on speaking terms, and he doesn’t know yet.” Shane says, avoiding their gazes.
He tells them the story about when he found out and about how far along he is. Jackie gives him a bunch of recommendations that make his head spin, but he can see Hayden watching him. When Jackie excuses herself with another ‘congratulations’ and hug to go check on the children, Shane waits.
“Go ahead,” Shane says.
“Boston Lily,” is all Hayden says.
“Yeah?” Shane gulps.
“I’m guessing his name isn’t Lily?” Hayden asks, and Shane shakes his head. “Is he the dad?” he asks, and Shane nods.
He knows Hayden has figured it out. It’s too obvious.
“Are you gonna tell him?” Hayden asks.
“Yeah when he unblocks me,” Shane scoffs.
“He blocked you?! What kind of a dick is this guy?” Hayden says, indicating to Shane he doesn’t actually know who it is. “Whatever. Whoever it is, Boston Lily is missing out. I’ll miss you on the ice, of course, but you’re going to be such a good dad,” Hayden says, wrapping Shane in a big hug.
Well that wasn’t the reaction Shane expected from Hayden if he’d suspected it was Ilya, so their secret was still safe for now.
After the Pikes leave, Shane realizes how lonely he’d been at the cottage by himself, but he didn’t want to tell anyone else. Except Rose. Maybe he’d call her. It wouldn’t matter if he invited all of Canada over to his house, he’d still think about Ilya the whole time. Shane tries not to think about it, hoping Ilya is as heartbroken as he is while expecting that Ilya is fucking all of Boston or Moscow. He moved on. He saw how broken Shane was in the hospital, how pathetic. He saw how Shane looked at him and realized Shane was more into him, and he fled. It was Shane’s fault for letting his feelings get carried away. Ilya had told him they couldn’t be together. That he wasn’t good for Shane.
Wait.
Ilya had said he wasn’t good for Shane. Not that he didn’t have feelings for him. No no. Shane couldn’t let himself think like that. He takes people at their word, usually unable to pick up subtle cues or subtext. But something was nagging him about his last conversation with Ilya.
Ilya
Moscow
June
Ilya’s summer so far has been full of vodka and drugs he hasn’t done since he was a teenager. He still trains every day and parties with Sveta and their friends, but he can’t fuck anyone else. After the first failed attempt that was as embarrassing as it was enlightening, Ilya gave up. He doesn’t want to fuck anyone else. Training is enough physical release for him. Even jacking himself off isn’t something he finds pleasure in much anymore. He does it when he needs to, but it’s more of a work out than sexual. He can feel the tension in his body needing release, so he gets himself off. The tension goes away temporarily, but he’s never satisfied.
Only Shane has ever truly satisfied him. Physically, mentally, emotionally, even romantically. Shane filled parts of him he didn’t know existed and the parts of him he never thought anyone could fill.
And Ilya had pushed him away. Broken up with him. Blocked him. He mainly blocked him to prevent himself from drunk texting him and begging him to come back.
He’d thought some time back in Russia would reset his mind, but it’s only worse. It’s like his body knows it’s on another continent than Shane and is protesting. He doesn’t find joy in things or people. Definitely not hockey. It reminds him too much of Shane. He does the bare minimum on the ice and gets the hell off of it, opting to do more dry land workouts to keep his conditioning up.
Russia hasn’t given him what he was hoping to find, and Sveta knows. She gets everything out of him after loosening his lips with vodka, and then she holds him as he sobs in her arms, crying himself to sleep.
“Shane, I need Shane,” Ilya sobs. “He won’t want me back,” he says.
“You need to be honest with him, Ilyusha. You can’t know the truth unless you tell him the truth,” she says.
Once he falls asleep, she packs their things and books them a flight back to Boston.
Ilya
Boston
Summer
Marleau is thrilled when he finds out Ilya is back in town for the Fourth of July. Ilya parties with him, but he still doesn’t hook up with anyone. Now that he’s back in Boston, knowing he’ll see Shane once the season starts, he can feel something inside him that isn’t hope but almost. If he can’t have Shane, he can at least play hockey against him. Watch all of his games. Stare at his pretty freckles in interviews. Listen to him speak perfect French when reporters ask him stupid questions.
Training camp is approaching. He just has to make it a little bit longer.
Ilya
Boston
August
The news breaks on a Thursday in August. Shane had informed the team that he would not be playing, and they came up with a statement to put out. It is plastered on the screen on every sports channel:
The Montreal Metros have announced today that Captain Shane Hollander will be out at least the first three months of the regular season due to complications from an injury last Spring. We are confident in our medical and training staffs as well as our team’s ability to compete for our captain while he is out. We wish him a speedy recovery and ask that everyone respects his privacy as he rehabilitates.
Ilya is at a bar downtown when he sees it. He spends the next half an hour scrolling on his phone to find out as much information as possible, hoping it’s a prank. When he sees it’s not, and no one has anymore information, he buys a bottle of vodka and drinks half of it by himself before smashing it into the floor. For his tantrum, he gets kicked out of the club, and it takes two security guards to wrangle him well enough to get him out the door.
“Go home, Roz,” one of them tells him.
He curses in Russian and then starts walking down the street without a destination in mind. Picking up his phone, he starts scrolling through it. He reads through texts with Shane, and then calls Marleau, pausing on a bridge in a park.
“Hey Roz! What bar are you at? We’re coming,” Cliff says. “Roz?” He asks when he hears a sob come from Ilya’s chest.
“What did you do to him, Marly? What the fuck did you do?” he asks, yelling the second question so loud he scares a few birds off a nearby tree.
“Are you okay? Where are you?” Cliff asks.
“I’m on a bridge,” Ilya slurs. “Wanna go swimming?”
It’s not a lie. The water is only a small creek about ten feet down and maybe two inches deep. But Cliff doesn’t know that.
“You’re what? Where?” he asks.
By the time Marleau finds Ilya, he’s passed out on the bridge, leaning against the brick. It’s one in the morning before Cliff gets Ilya home, but Ilya has begun to sober up by then. Now that he’s awake, he’s also crying. He doesn’t say anything, but he lets the tears fall as Cliff forces him into the shower. When had he gotten naked?
“Don’t make me get in there with you, Roz,” Cliff threatens.
Ilya washes himself, poorly, and dries himself off before collapsing naked in his bed. Cliff pulls the sheets over him, expecting him to go to sleep.
“Sveta airport 2pm,” Ilya says, and then he passes out.
Shane
Ottawa
August
After being on the phone with Ilya until 1am and trying to decipher what the fuck he was drunkenly slurring, Shane had caved when he heard him crying.
“I miss you. I’m sorry I hurt you. I love you,” Ilya had said.
Shane’s heart jumps in his chest. They need to talk. In person.
Doing something he hadn’t done all summer, he’d logged into his instagram and dmed Svetlana. She’d responded immediately, agreeing to check on Ilya and fly him up to Ottawa. Rose is here visiting Shane, so she helps talk him through his feelings and what he wants to say until he finally tires himself out at 4am. He sleeps most of the morning, and then he starts cleaning which helps clear his mind.
“Last night on the phone you said you miss me. Is it true? I miss you too. I love you too. I’m pregnant.” Shane says, rehearsing.
“You might have to start with the last part, babe, you’re showing,” Rose says, smiling.
She loves Shane’s belly. Shane hopes Ilya does too.
Ilya
Boston Logan to Ottawa International
August
Sveta is so mean. Cliff has Ilya packed and ready to go when she picks him up to go to the airport. She force feeds him Gatorade and Tylenol but doesn’t speak to him. She puts him in coach.
“I am 6’3 hockey player I do not fit in coach,” Ilya protests at the gate.
“It’s all they had last minute,” she shrugs, and then she takes her seat in business class.
But Ilya endures, fighting his hangover. He thinks about what he’d said to Shane on the phone.
“I miss you. I’m sorry I hurt you. I love you.”
It was all true. Maybe Sveta was right. He just needs to tell him. He probably won’t feel the same, but at least Ilya would know. At least Shane would know that Ilya did love him and that he hadn’t ended it because he didn’t care.
The cottage. THE cottage. The one Shane invited him to. The invitation to which he promptly turned down. Then he’d broken both of their hearts.
Ilya is fidgeting the whole drive there, thinking about how he should’ve taken Shane up on his offer and how he should’ve told Shane months ago- three, four? months ago- that he loves him. Now he knows there’s nothing left for him in Russia. He needs security, citizenship in the US or Canada. He could marry-
“Don’t say anything stupid,” Sveta finally says, breaking their silence.
Ilya doesn’t respond.
“Like that you don’t love him or that you don’t want to be with him,” she supplies helpfully.
“Believe it or not, I can learn from my mistakes,” Ilya says.
“I’ll be there in case you fuck it up,” she promises, squeezing his hand. “How do you feel?”
“Fine. Just a little headache now.”
Ten minutes later, they turn down a long winding road. A few minutes later, the cottage Ilya saw in that special years ago comes into view, shrouded in a canopy of trees. It makes Ilya tear up. He doesn’t think about why. Not yet. Not now.
Rose Landry opens the door, and Ilya feels the steam coming out of his ears like in the cartoons.
So Shane’s girlfriend is here? The one he said he wasn’t compatible with?
“Hi, I’m Rose,” she says, a soft smile on her lips.
“Svetlana,” Sveta purrs, and Ilya sees the look in her eye she gets when she sees something she wants.
“Come on in. Leave your bags. Shane’s in the living room. Do you guys want something to drink? Eat? How was your flight?” Rose asks, and it seems like she’s nervous.
They walk into the house, past the stairs, and into the kitchen.
“Hey guys,” Shane says from the couch, bundled up in a blanket and hoodie.
Ilya’s hoodie. It was too big on Shane, but Ilya had insisted he keep it to walk one cold Boston winter night back to his hotel room.
Ilya can’t say anything. Shane is beautiful. As beautiful as ever, but he seems to be… glowing. Okay Ilya needs to get it together. He’s obviously so disgustingly in love.
While he’s been staring at Shane, Rose gets them drinks, handing Ilya a coke.
“Svetlana, I can show you upstairs while they talk?” Rose asks.
Ilya doesn’t open his can. He sets it down on the counter and walks into the living room, rounding the corner where he can see Shane is curled up in the corner of the couch.
“Ilya I-“
Ilya sits on the floor at Shane’s feet, ready to beg on his knees for another chance with Shane.
“It is true. What I said on the phone. I miss you. I love you. I’m so so sorry I hurt you,” Ilya says, his voice cracking on the last word as tears fall down his cheeks. “I will do anything to get you back. One more chance, please, Shane.”
Shane’s eyes well up with tears but also hope.
“Why did you leave? Why did you end it?” Shane asks, playing with the ties on the hoodie.
“It scared me. How much I felt for you. How you could get distracted and get hurt because of me. As much as I love you, I’d sacrifice being with you if it meant you’d never get hurt,”
“Yeah but you hurt me. Ilya, we play professional hockey. Of course I’m going to get hurt sometimes. That was my bad, not yours. And it was not your call to make on your own unless you didn’t want to be with me. Tell me you don’t want to- you didn’t want to be with me, and I’ll let it go, but I-“
“No. Is last thing I want. I have been miserable. Please, give me a chance to be with you,” Ilya says, reaching his hands to place them on some part of Shane’s body under the mount of blankets.
Shane tenses, so Ilya pulls away, his heart sinking.
“Okay. Yes I want that too, but there’s something else,” Shane says, biting his lip.
Ilya waits, terrified but hopeful.
Shane grips the big fuzzy blanket covering his torso in one hand and tosses it onto the couch beside him. Ilya sees it as Shane says, “I’m pregnant,” and blue eyes snap up to meet brown ones.
Ilya gasps, staring in awe at Shane’s belly.
“You weren’t going to tell me?” he asks, a little mad but mostly sad.
“You fucking blocked me, Ilya, I couldn’t reach you,” Shane snaps.
“I had to so I wouldn’t drunk call you and ask for you back,” Ilya says. “But I wish I did.”
Ilya’s hand comes up and pauses, waiting for Shane’s permission. He nods. Ilya rests his palm on the curve of Shane’s belly. It’s soft and firm at the same time, and Shane lifts the hoodie up, so they can feel each other skin to skin.
Ilya leans forward, falling into Shane’s lap as he cries, placing kisses all over Shane’s belly. Shane lets him cry, lets him process his emotions. To comfort him, Shane runs his fingers through familiar golden curls. They sit like that for several minutes until the girls come down the stairs and stop in the kitchen.
“No yelling?” Svetlana asks.
“Sveta come here,” Ilya says, the tears evident in his voice.
“Why are you crying?” she asks, worriedly, making her way through the kitchen and into the living room quickly.
Then she gasps, looking from Shane to Ilya and back.
“Congratulations,” she says, tearing up herself.
“Sveta I’m having a baby!” Ilya says, rubbing Shane’s tummy.
“First of all, I’m having the baby. Second, it’s not a genie lamp, stop that,” Shane says, swatting Ilya’s hand.
“Is why you miss season?” Ilya asks, and Shane nods. “I yelled at Marly because he made you miss the season, but it is my fault,” Ilya notes, but he has a fond smile on his face.
They all settle on the couches, and Shane answers questions while Ilya holds him like he’s precious to him. Ilya cries when he sees the ultrasound photos and again when he feels the baby kick for the first time.
“They just started kicking last week,” Shane says.
“Hi, baby, I’m your Papa,” Ilya says to the baby. “I love you, and I will buy you the best clothes and shoes and toys. And you can do anything you want even if you want to be boring hockey player with weak backhand like your dad-“
“Hey!” Shane protests.
“You can do whatever you want because you have a family who loves you so much,” Ilya whispers, kissing Shane’s belly.
The other three in the room melt. For Shane and Ilya, things immediately feel like they're finally going to be okay.