Chapter Text
“She’s so little,” Shane marvels as he lifts Irina’s hands with his and lightly traces the lines on her palm. She’s asleep on top of his chest as James is cuddled next to Ilya on the other side of the couch.
“Like her dad,” Ilya grins softly. Shane makes sure Irina is secure before he not so gently kicks his foot into Ilya’s ribs, the other man letting out a short groan. He looks down at his daughter’s face again and presses a light kiss into the top of her head.
“I missed so much,” He mourns. He had been so young when he had been forced to make all those decisions. He thought he had understood all the repercussions but he had never imagined the gravity of those choices. “You missed so much too,” he says a little quieter. He’s been sick for years thinking of what Ilya has lost because of him.
“Hey,” Ilya grabs his ankle firmly. “Not anymore though.” It sounds like a promise and Shane’s heart squeezes tighter.
“We should get them to bed,” Shane whispers, using an elbow to push himself off the couch. Irina doesn’t stir and he has to squeeze his eyes shut for a second. He can’t believe he’s holding her. He gets to tuck her into bed and tomorrow morning when he wakes up, hopefully none of this will have been a dream.
“I’ll show you upstairs,” Ilya also scoops James up too and Shane follows. Irina’s room is colorful but tidy as Shane sets her down. He takes James so Ilya can search for a nightgown to change their daughter into. James snuggles into Shane’s chest and he rubs his boy’s back. It’s been a long day for both of them.
“Night, princess,” Ilya kisses Irina’s cheek before pulling her covers over her. He turns back towards Shane and James and the light from Irina’s nightlight glows softly behind him.
“I didn’t get a hotel,” Shane suddenly worries, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. He really hadn’t been thinking much when he had decided to get on that plane.
Ilya frowns and reaches for James. Shane gives him easily and follows them into the room across the hall. His breath halts in his throat as Ilya tucks James into a small twin bed. There are hockey posters on the wall, books tucked neatly into the shelf in the corner, a toy chest bursting at the top. There’s a small puck shaped rug in the other corner with toy trucks and a hot wheels track set up. Shane walks in and opens the closet, choking back a sob when he realizes it’s fully stocked with jackets and hoodies and sweaters. There’s a little shelf lined with shoes and sneakers and even a pair of rain boots. He pulls open one of the drawers of the dresser by the side and wipes away at the warm tears running down his face. It’s stuffed full of neatly folded shirts. The other drawer has pants. Shane tries to hold back the mangled cry trying to force itself out of his throat.
“Hey,” Ilya’s arms wrap around his waist and pull Shane’s back close to his chest. He softly presses his nose into Shane’s cheek.
“When,” Shane chokes out, “when did you do all of this?”
“Just recently,” Ilya confesses. “I wanted him to have his own space when he came back. Irina had so much fun helping choose boy things.” Shane feels a little less wrecked knowing that Ilya did not have this room prepared for five years.
“How did you know he was going to come back?” He worries into his bottom lip again. Ilya’s hands turn him around so they’re facing each other. He gently tips Shane’s chin up so they’re eye to eye.
“I was going to make it happen even if it was the last thing I ever did in this life,” Ilya stares into his eyes. Shane blinks away another tear and looks away.
“I’ll go look for a hotel room,” he wipes his face again. He’s halfway out James’ door when Ilya’s arms close in around him again, holding him even tighter.
“Don’t,” Ilya breathes into his neck. “Stay here.”
“Can I?” Shane releases a shaky breath.
“You can,” Ilya walks him out into the hall and closes James’ door. “You will.” His eyebrows furrow in determination and Shane actually feels his heart flip.
“Do you have a guest room?” He asks.
“No,” Ilya says immediately. “It’s for the nanny. Her stuff is still in there.”
“The couch will be okay then,” Shane nods.
“No,” Ilya says again. “Not good for your collarbone.”
“I can squeeze in with James then,” Shane moves to open the door again. Ilya stops him with firm hands.
“If you want,” he says slowly, “you can squeeze in with me.”
“Me,” Shane points at himself, “in your bed?”
“It’s happened before,” Ilya smiles softly at him. He looks hopeful. Shane feels hopeful.
“Only if you’re okay with it,” he says.
“I’m more than okay,” Ilya crowds into him and starts ushering him down the hall.
They shower separately and Ilya is sitting in bed shirtless again when Shane comes out of the bathroom. He self consciously rubs at his abdomen. He’s been in off season mode for months now because of the injury. Ilya is still lean from the post season.
“Come here,” Ilya opens his arms.
Shane has never accepted an invitation quicker in his life. He molds himself against the other man’s sturdy body, his own lines and curves sliding into Ilya’s just like how it was six years ago. Ilya is warm and Shane feels flames simmer in his lower belly, his cheeks burning along with it. It’s quiet as Ilya maneuvers them until they’re lying down side by side, legs locked over hips and thighs pressed against each other.
“You’re really here,” Ilya whispers, his fingers carefully tracing over Shane’s freckles, afraid that if he presses just a bit too hard this will all disappear. He does have a guest room, one that’s down the hall and empty but it doesn’t belong to Shane. Shane should never have to sleep anywhere that’s not next to him.
Shane slides himself down just slightly, so he can tuck his head into the crook of Ilya’s neck. Ilya not so subtly digs his nose into Shane’s damp hair. Shane smells like his shampoo and he can’t help but let his lips also linger. As good as all of this feels though, Shane had come to him out of the blue, late in the night with tears in his eyes.
“We should talk,” he says carefully. He can feel Shane tense in his arms and gently rubs a thumb into the other man’s hip. He waits until Shane has relaxed again, dipping his head down to press his lips against Shane’s forehead.
“You never answered my calls,” he can’t help but swallow bitterly. They might as well start there. “I called you a lot at first and then only when I got drunk. You never picked up.”
“I-,” Shane bites down on his lip, ashamed. “I couldn’t pick up your calls.”
“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?” Ilya presses to know.
Shane doesn’t answer.
“The whole communicating through our agents and teams thing was bullshit,” he says. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“I’m sorry,” Shane says, voice small.
“I don’t want an apology,” Ilya feels himself get frustrated. “I just want to know why. I thought you hated me.”
“I don’t hate you,” Shane argues back.
“Then why didn’t you call me back?” Ilya demands. Why did they spend six years like this?
“Because I was nineteen,” Shane states angrily. He sits up and Ilya stares at the heaving rises and falls of his back. “I was nineteen and my body was not mine anymore and my career wasn’t mine anymore and everyone was telling me that it was my own fault. I fucked up my life and I fucked up the franchise. Then I fucked up the twins when I chose one of them and I fucked up your life too.”
“Shane, you didn’t-,” Ilya reaches out for him.
“I was nineteen and I hated myself,” Shane shakes himself away. “I didn’t hate you. I hated myself because I couldn’t stop wanting hockey more than anything and I made awful decisions to keep it in my life. I gave up my own daughter, Ilya. They said that I couldn’t keep her and I-,” he lets out a breath that breaks into a sob, “I didn’t even fight it. I just let them take her away. How the hell was I supposed to pick up your calls?”
“Shane-,” Ilya tries again.
“It hurt so much, Ilya,” Shane’s voice drops to a whisper. “I think if I had picked up your call and heard her in the background, I would have lost it. So I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t pick up your calls. I deluded myself into thinking everything was okay. I was playing hockey well. You were playing hockey well. James was healthy. Then you won the Cup and all your dreams came true and it was like they were right all along. She was better off with you then she and James would have ever been with me. So I told myself that this was the way it was supposed to be. Even when I wasn’t nineteen anymore I told myself that I had made all the right decisions and that I couldn’t fuck anything up again. Picking up your call would have fucked everything up. I couldn’t do that to her again. I couldn’t do that to myself again. I barely survived the first time.”
Ilya has a million thoughts but he doesn’t say anything, giving Shane some space to gather himself.
“You know what the most fucked up part about all of this is?” Shane chuckles in bitter disbelief. “After everything that has happened, I still want hockey.”
“What are you talking about?” Ilya asks. Shane turns to look at him, fresh tears welling into his eyes and Ilya feels his stomach sink.
“They want me to have another baby,” Shane squeezes his eyes shut, tears rolling down his reddened cheeks, “and I’m so scared that I’m going to say yes.”
Ilya moves to gather Shane in his arms again, holding him tightly. He’s furious. Shane has done so much for the league. How could they demand more from him? They had no right to.
“They can’t force you to have another baby,” Ilya tells him.
“But I think they can,” Shane shudders. “They won’t give me another contract. I don’t want to give hockey up. I worked so hard for this. I already gave up so much to be here. I can’t just let it end like this.”
“Then would it be so bad?” Ilya rests his forehead gently against Shane’s and stares into his big, sad, brown eyes. He links their fingers together and squeezes them tightly. “For us to have another one? I would be with you this time. I’m not nineteen anymore either. They can’t bully and threaten me into not seeing you. We could do this all over again if you wanted to.”
“But it wouldn’t be you,” Shane’s whisper breaks again, more tears streaming down his face. “Crowell said he didn’t think you were good for me.”
“Well here I am, bad influence holding his golden boy,” Ilya says. “Fuck him. We’ll figure something out. You don’t have to give them another baby, Shane.”
Okay,” Shane sniffles.
“You were wrong, you know,” Ilya says suddenly.
“About what?” Shane asks, fighting off a yawn. Ilya lays them both back down, tucking the blankets around them.
“All my dreams didn’t come true when I won the Cup,” he says. “They changed one day in a small rec locker room in Toronto.”
“What was your dream then?”
“To have a family with you,” Ilya kisses the space in between Shane’s eyebrows. “I thought about a little baby with you and me. I dreamed about being with you.”
“I took that away from you,” guilt seeps into Shane again.
“Dreams can take a lifetime to come true,” Ilya finds his hand. “We still have time, Shane.” Shane squeezes his hand and Ilya squeezes back. He was going to find them a lot of time.
Ilya wakes at sunrise to see Shane sitting up, their hands still intertwined. Shane’s eyebrows are furrowed up in deep concentration and Ilya tugs at his hand. Shane startles and looks down at him.
“I have an idea,” Shane announces.
“Did you really stay up all night thinking?” Ilya stretches.
“They can’t make me have a baby if I’m already carrying a baby,” Shane says. “He won’t be the league’s baby. He’ll just be our baby.”
“Our baby,” Ilya repeats.
“Just me and you. No Voyageurs. No Bears. No agents. Just us. You’re right, it wouldn’t be so bad if it were you.”
“Shane,” Ilya sighs. “Honest to god, do you want to have a baby right now? Nine months right now?”
“No,” Shane admits, shaking his head.
“Then you are not having a baby,” Ilya says firmly. There would be nothing he would enjoy more than knocking Shane up right at this very moment but only if Shane truly wanted it too.
“I don’t know what to do,” Shane looks defeated.
“You could marry me,” Ilya says. Shane wasn’t the only one doing some thinking.
“Marry you?” Shane repeats.
“They can’t force my husband to carry another man’s baby,” Ilya swallows. “No loophole in any law would allow it. I would fight it. I would fight for you.”
Shane is quiet and Ilya feels his stomach churn. Maybe he’s made a mistake. Maybe this was moving too fast. Maybe this isn’t what Shane wanted.
Then Shane’s face lights up and his eyes grow wide with hope and Ilya leans up into him.
“Marry me then,” Shane whispers into his lips and for the first time in six years, Ilya kisses him.