there is no heart for me like yours, now complete
Ilya Rozanov has been drafted by Boston, the number one pick overall, but his father doesn't want him moving to America and so takes steps to block his visa. He's going to have to go back to Russia and stay there forever and that, thinks Shane Hollander, is wrong.
It's so wrong that Shane can't stop himself from doing something about it. Even though that something is the most reckless, the only reckless thing he's ever done in his life. He marries Rozanov in secret, to keep him out of Russia and put him on a path to Canadian citizenship.
Shane's got a five-year plan to get him there and when you have a plan nothing can go wrong. Right? Right. When you have a solid plan and a marriage that's on paper only there's no risk of feelings getting involved. Not on Rozanov's part and certainly not on Shane's.
(or, the story of how Shane Hollander fell in love with his own husband)
“Look at all of these fucking assholes playing on my team now,” Rozanov crowed as he surveyed the room. “Some of them I really fucking hate.”
“You’ll get over it,” Hollander said.
“Somebody will,” Rozanov agreed. “They will also get over hating each other, since they all wanted so fucking badly to be here. They will not hold grudges. There will be no grudge-holding on my team, Hollander.”
No one seemed quite certain how to respond to that, then a voice from the back of the room piped up. “Rozy, you prick, you plan to say that to our fucking faces or just whine to your husband behind our backs?”
Rozanov turned a terrifying, delighted grin on the man who’d spoken. Borgen, Jace thought. Defenseman from Vancouver who bore more than a passing resemblance to the Mountain from Game of Thrones.
“I would always rather speak to my husband than to your fucking face, Borgy,” Rozanov said. “But since you ask, yes.” He clapped his hands together. “Every asshole in this room listen up. And yes, that is all of you.” The grin was gone, in its place a look that every one of them had seen on Roz’s face before, on the ice right before he fucking demolished them. “This team you play for now will be unlike any you have ever been on, and not just because your captains sleep together.”
Hollander rolled his eyes but he said nothing. Neither did anyone else. Jace glanced around but none of the other players were reacting to Rozanov’s words in any way.
The scowl that formed on Rozanov's face encompassed them all. “That was a joke, dickheads,” he said sternly. “First rule of being on this team is you all fucking laugh at my jokes. Will not be hard, they are always very funny.”
“If it helps you can laugh at him not with him,” Hollander said, and that startled genuine laughs from Jace and most of the rest of the team. Rozanov sighed dramatically, but Jace’s keen eye spotted fond amusement in the glance he shot at Hollander.
“This team will be different,” Roz took up his speech again, “not because Hollander and I fuck but because we do not fuck around. We are the best and we expect you all to meet our very high standards. We have chosen you specifically for reasons that are very clever and calculated and if you want to know what they are please come to me so I can have the pleasure of explaining what goes on inside Hollander’s head. You will regret you ever asked.”
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