shane coming home after hanging out with rose's gay friends, looking like a sad puppy: ilya...i don't think they liked me...they called me a cunt all evening
ilya, well versed in queer culture: sweetheart they said you were cunty which is very different i promise they loved you
Yuna realizes that Shane and Ilya are in LOVE love when she hears singing coming from the kitchen.
“Chopping carrots with Ilya,” Shane sings under his breath. “Making salad with Ilya.”
Yuna smiles softly from the dining room. This is one of her favorite things about her son. From the time he could (barely) talk, he made up little songs about anything and everything. The first time he’d done it, he’d been strapped into his car seat and watching cars go by. When he’d caught Yuna’s eye in the rear view mirror, he’d smiled with all 8 of his little teeth and waved.
“Dwiving,” he’d sung, all of 18 months old and barely able to say the word properly. “Dwivin’ wi’ Mama. Wuv Mama.”
Yuna’s not sure if it’s Shane’s way of processing the world around him, just A Thing some people do, or something special about her baby boy. All she knows is that from the first time he’d made up a little tune about Driving With Mama, everything turned into a song. When he’s comfortable and feeling at ease, Shane turns little things around him into music.
Learning to tie his shoes? “Daddy’s teaching me to tie my shoes. One lace over the other. Make the bunny ears!”
Gearing up for practice when he was 8? “Going to practice. Gonna be great. Gonna score a goal!”
Studying for a science test? “Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. Everyone says it because it’s true. Moving on—organelles and cell walls.”
Gearing up for his first Metros game as captain? “Taping my hockey stick. Going out on the ice. Gonna kick some ass.”
It’s something so uniquely, adorably, perfectly Shane.
Today, though? As Shane’s in the kitchen preparing a salad for lunch? For the first time, someone else sings along. For the first time in Shane’s life, someone hears the tune and lyrics that only exist in his head and joins in.
“Making salad with Shane,” Ilya croons along, hooking his chin over his boyfriend’s shoulder and wrapping strong arms around his waist. “Preparing lunch with my love.”
Shane smiles and sings back as Ilya nuzzles his neck. “Being domestic with my boyfriend. Thinking of boring things we can do together.”
Ilya laughs and kisses his ear before finishing the song. “I love to be boring with yooouuuu.”
…okay, that’s a lie. It’s a tie for the best song Yuna’s ever heard. Maybe. It’s definitely at the top of the list.
Shane pauses on the other line, breath catching as he holds back overwhelming emotion.
“Mom,” he croaks. “I…fuck.”
Yuna stays calm. She mentally takes stock of the situation. Ilya’s fine—he just texted her, a few seconds before Shane called, to warn her of the incoming storm. David’s fine—he’s sitting right next to her, confused and alarmed as their son has some manner of episode on the phone. She’s fine. So what’s—
“—wi’ Dada!”
…oh. Oh.
It’s soft at first, but picking up in volume. Tiny pit-pats in the background accompany the most beautiful little voice Yuna’s heard since Shane made up his first song, Driving With Mama, from his car seat all those years ago.
“Eating,” the little voice sings in the background. It’s garbled by what Yuna assumes are half-chewed remnants of an afternoon snack; probably organic peanut butter on apple slices. “Eating wi’ Dada. Eating wi’ Papa. Dada on phone! Who on phone, Dada?”
There’s wet laughter in the background, further from the phone. “Oh God, Shane. It’s genetic. She’s a little you!”
More tearful laughter, this time from Shane. “That’s not—she’s adopted, Ilya.”
“I don’t care what the papers say. She is you. Listen to her, she is perfect. She must be part you, sweetheart.”
Driving With Mama. Making Salad With Ilya. Top three songs for sure, as far as Yuna’s concerned. But this one? Eating With Dada and Papa, written and performed by her granddaughter for a live audience? A platinum hit. Give this baby a Grammy.
yeah i made jane and lilya ballet dancers sorry i couldn't help myself i know it's cliche but unfortunately i watched black swan at an impressionable age
for @hollanovaweek!!!!! thanks y'all for hosting!!!!!!
1k, T, hollanova ballet!AU
--
Jane bursts into the locker room, panting uncontrollably, and as if her day can't get any worse Lilya Rozanov is leaning up against the wall with a fat smile on her face.
"You're late, soloist," she says.
Lilya isn't wrong. Jane is very, very late. She already missed opening remarks, which is probably where they announced her promotion. The entire locker room has already cleared out, everyone's street clothes thrown haphazardly in every which corner, which only makes Lilya's continued presence even weirder.
She's fully dressed in leotard, tights and all, so Jane shudders in horror at the realization that Lilya had probably sat there, doing something as stupid as missing the first five minutes of class, just so she can confront Jane.
"Jesus Christ," Jane says, deadpan. "You actually have no life."
Jane throws her backpack into her locker and starts stripping post-haste. As she does, Lilya hops off her perch against the wall, slowly closing in Jane.
"I had to see it for myself," she drawls. Jane tries not to feel too exposed as she attempts to undo her cargoes in the least suggestive way possible. "I thought I was the only corp the company was promoting, so you can imagine my surprise when I hear the good news," she sighs. "Sweet little Jane, chasing after me again. I am so surprised. Look, this is my surprised face."
"You got me," Jane says, kicking her sneakers off, successfully avoiding eye contact with Lilya as she got ready. "Everything I do is about you."
Out of her street clothes, she yanks her hair back into a severe bun, and attempts to head out the door.
Except--
"You're blocking my way," Jane says, resigned.
Lilya pulls herself to her full height. Jane would never admit this out loud, but Lilya has a very nice body. Elegant, muscular, strong, all exuding an easy sexuality. Jane on the other hand had bent and shaped and molded her body to ensure her lethality as a ballet dancer, and anything that took away from her form, her athleticism, had been scraped off her silhouette with years of toning and practice.
What that means is that her body lacks any distinctive personality, whereas Lilya's begs you to look at it.
"And you," Lilya says, gleefully. "Are looking at my chest again."
Jane snaps her eyes up. Shit. She tries to play it cool, even as she feels blood rush to her cheeks. "Oh please, you wish." Nailed it.
Jane tries to maintain indisputable eye contact when she speaks with Lilya next. "If you do not get out of my way right now, our teacher is going to have a Category 5 meltdown," she lifts her chin up, defiant. "And if he does, I am taking you down with me."
Lilya stares her down for three more seconds, before she sighs and steps out of Jane's way.
All at once, Lilya's interest in Jane ends.
And when Lilya gets bored of someone, they feel it right away.
Without even a glance in Jane's direction, Lilya pushes the locker room door open, and heads to company class.
****
Jane doesn't catch Lilya after class ends, a flash of unruly blonde hair spilling over her back as she yanks it impatiently out of its bun. So, she thinks that Lilya is done with her for today, and that they can go back to ignoring each other.
Except when Jane is eating lunch, stabbing mindlessly at he salad, Lilya slides next to her at her table.
"Do you know this means the two of us are the youngest soloists in Metro City Ballet history?" she says, apropos of nothing.
"Wow," Jane says, not even looking up from her chickpea salad. "That's crazy."
Lilya blows a fat raspberry, bored, before she starts again. "So were you late to class?"
"The train."
"You ride the train everyday," Lilya says, "and you are on time. I ask you why you are late this morning."
"You are interrupting the flow state of my chickpea salad."
"Oh come on," Lilya easily closes the distance Jane forces between them. With a firm shove, she moves Jane's salad bowl out of the way. "Fuck your chickpea salad. I want to know what made the perfect Jane Hollander not only miss her own soloist announcement, but blow the first five minutes of class."
Jane throws her hands up in the air. "Oh my god," she snaps. "Why do you care so much?"
Jane's rising annoyance seems to only encourage her further. "It's just not like you."
You know nothing about me. Jane wants to throw in her face. Instead, Jane proceeds to have an out of body experience where she sees herself, eating, sitting, and conversing with Lilya Rozanova over lunch. She frowns. "Hey, what's going on with you?"
Lilya blinks, feigning innocence, "I don't know what you are talking about."
"What's your angle?" Jane hisses. "Are you really this upset you aren't the only soloist that got promoted? Are you trying to like, screw with me?"
Lilya hums. "You sound... what is the word... paranoid, Jane."
"Don't bullshit me," Jane throws back. "You know and I know you aren't just doing this out of the goodness of your heart."
"As the two of the youngest soloists in company history," she says, saccharine. "We should stick together."
Jane hates it when people waste her time. She especially hates it when someone who made her as miserable as Lilya did her first year at the company wastes her time. There's a cruelty that only Lilya brings out of her, and it spews out of Jane, uncontrolled.
"You know what I think?" Jane says, low. "I think it's eating you up inside that once again, you weren't the only one," she smiles. "Even worse, out of everyone they could've picked, they picked me."
Lilya's attitude falters, and Jane can't help but feel a sick swoop of joy at the sight. But quickly, Lilya ignites.
The way she always does when Jane bests her.
"I"m not worried about you," Lilya says. "Is one thing to be good enough to impress whatever director you batted your eyes at. Is another thing entirely to be the only dancer no one can look away from," she smiles then. "You of all people should know. I see how you can't tear your eyes away from me."
With that, she swings up, and she looms over Jane. Jane glares at her, having no real comeback, because what she said was true.
"They may have promoted you," Lilya continues. "But i am going to make sure you never get a lead role or solo as long as we are in the same company," Lilya's smile grows colder. "But hey, nothing you shouldn't be already used to, right?"
Jane matches Lilya's shark-like smile with her own. "You can certainly try your best."
Lilya stalks off. Jane glares at her back, visible through her low slung top.
Hollanov lie detector interview where Ilya begs beforehand to be allowed to ask every Rose Landry comparison he’s ever been insecure about, and he totally plays it out like he’s joking (he’s not).
Shane is like no! It’s embarrassing! And this is public! And you wouldn’t make me actually do that to Rose would you? You know the answer, I’m gay!
Only Rose thinks the whole thing is hilarious and gives Shane the go ahead so there’s no real reason to resist Ilya’s begging anymore, still he holds out to the day before the interview.
“Fine! Fine! You can ask about Rose, but I get to ask about anything I want too!” And Ilya’s like yes yes of course my love. His boring Shane would hardly ask anything damning.
Fast forward to the day of the interview Shane is fondly exasperated with Ilya’s Rose questions, and Ilya is being a cocky bastard so happy with how it played out.
Until they switch sides and Shane breaks out his first question:
“Is it or is it not true that despite famously calling Scott Hunter ‘a nearly extinct fossil’ you think he’s hot?” The blood drains from Ilya’s face pretty quickly after that.
“Do you think Hayden Pike is a good hockey player?”
“Do you consider Hayden Pike a close friend?”
“Who do you love more: me or Anya?”
“Besides me who is your favorite teammate?”
He gets so nervous all of his lies get caught, and by the end his asshole reputation is in shambles. Kip takes a video of Scott watching the interview and he laughs so hard he can’t even comment. It goes viral.
Laughing my ass off thinking about the cottage bedroom sex scene because Ilya is lying there completely lost in the fucking sauce no thoughts head empty mouth open eyes half closed on another plane of existence while Shane mid-sex is like Okay it's time for an existential conversation about how we ended up together. And expects Ilya to seriously engage him. Meanwhile Ilya is like woaw I think I hauve covid
au where Ilya is a contestant on Love Island or some raunchy dating show where Shane is a producer. Gorgeous sun-god hockey-star Ilya is quite popular (duh) and loves to go all-out on every challenge, like fully committing to diving into foam pits and getting slimed and making out with everyone, meanwhile Shane is planning all these events with the goal of just seeing Ilya take off his shirt again. It obviously gets super competitive between them, Shane concocting more audience-approved twists and Ilya taking it like a champ while becoming increasingly obsessed with Shane, despite also being a favorite to win the show with a (very lovely) woman. They’re also definitely almost-fucking off-set during breaks, and predictably feel guilty about it but not enough to stop. Big dramatic finish to the show when Ilya very publicly goes after Shane, maybe taking second place just to declare his love
Thinking about a scenario where Marleau goes to all stars instead of Ilya because Ilya is injured and he ends up hanging out with Shane all weekend and they actually hit it off? Shane is nervous because he knows Marly is Ilya's bro and he doesn't want to embarrass himself in front of him. Marleau is sticking with Shane because he's a bit in awe of playing on the same team as The Shane Hollander. Eventually Shane starts letting out his bitchy one liners under his breath and Marleau is eating it up. By the end of the weekend they are a chirping machine. Marleau is teeing Shane up and Shane is landing the most devastating insults.
Marleau comes back to Boston and is like man Roz you would love Hollander if you could get past the rivalry and Ilya is just staring wide eyed at him. Marly is going off about how funny Shane is and talking up his hockey iq. Ilya is just like ha ha. Yes. If only I didn't hate his guts... meanwhile he's furiously texting "Jane" "Marleau is my friend. You can't have him"
Someone asking Luca after Shane's first season as AC on the Centaurs: "So, is it difficult with basically three captains, especially if two of them are married that must be hard to get used to.
And Luca and the other rookies being like, oh you mean the Dad-Trifecta? it's the best thing that has ever happened to us.
You loose your skates or you need help with paperwork or you're just feeling kinda sad and need a dad hug - you go Bood. he will grill you some chicken and go speak to Coach for you. You call him or Cassie if you're sick and they will pick you up and deposit you on the floor with Milo and you are their baby now. I'm 23 years old but that's my dad tho
If you're having trouble with other players, or if you're in like, a crisis? Mama Bear Ilya, will 100% get arrested for any of us and/or pick you up from the middle of nowhere any time of night. You wanna ragebait other players? He has the perception of a God and can tell from one look when a players second wife will leave him. He can also tell when you're feeling like shit mentally and he will pick you up take you to Harris farm and make you dog walk with him while throwing sweets at you. Holmberg got high sticked the other week Ilya spent like, 2 hours going through the guys Instagram with us while wine drunk and ripping his entire life to pieces with us.
and Shane? He will come early to practice for you, he will tell me things wrong with my playing I didn't know EXISTED. Boyle was in a slump Hollander turned up at our house with a fucking smoothie get your ass out of bed we're going to the rink and he will completely pull apart your playing style with such precision that's it's beautiful to watch and I'm not even mad about it. Roz will be giving a fucking captains speech about how we can do better next week and he'll fucking pipe up in the corner going, well we will if Lapointe improves his footwork Coach, we're gonna be staying late on Saturday and Wiebe is like, sounds good Hollander like COACH you can't Agree For Me and he'll just go, Shane Hollander is giving you a private lesson I don't care what you're doing cancel it
A ‘Bears walk in to Ilya’s house and see him napping with Shane AU’ where Ilya somehow manages to still keep Shane’s identity a secret.
Ilya always had been a light sleeper, so no matter how lightly they stepped he was awake moments after the first shocked gasp.
Ilya knows it’s over for him. There’s no mistaking that there’s a man asleep on his chest in a clearly non-platonic cuddle. Usually Ilya would be punching the intruder, threatening violence to try and ensure they kept their mouth shut but he has quickly realised something far more important. With the way they are sleeping, Ilya on his underneath on his back and Shane on his stomach on top with his face pressed into the gap between Ilya’s neck and the couch, they can’t see his face.
He quickly pulls Shane’s hood up over his head to hide hair and rests a hand over it to gently discourage Shane from moving it should he start to wake up.
So Ilya just stares down his team and goes “you can be upset, but are going to be fucking quiet about it because if you wake my guest I’m sending all my blackmail on you to your wives, and then start fucking them to help them get over the divorce.”
So the whole “You’re fucking gay!” “No, I’m a fucking bi who is fucking a gay” conversation happens at a furious whisper, with Shane blissfully sleeping on Ilya’s chest as life implodes around him.
Shane may be a deep sleeper - and the argument in whispers - but even he starts to stir at the noise.
Ilya can’t have him moving his face into visibility now, so he just scruffs the back of his neck harshly and pressed him deeper into his shoulder.
Shane lets out a pleased (and not at all quiet) moan, and - worried that he is going to start talking - Ilya realises he needs to shut him up.
So he glares at the Bears to be quiet, while suddenly putting on the softest voice they have ever heard him use as he goes, “shhh quiet time now mоя любовь. Back to sleep.” And then shoves his fingers into Shane’s mouth.
When the Bears leave soon after, some of them have LEARNT some things about themselves. But crucially, none of them have learnt who their captain is fucking.
Shane is spoiled. He knows that, his parents know that, his teachers, teammates, coaches, etc. He’s not blind to it. He would try in highschool but he couldn’t bring himself to care about algebra when his backhand needed work and he was preparing for international championships. Since he was first scouted for top youth teams at 10 and he started his first development camp, he knew he was headed to the NHL. His teachers had no problem passing papers that shouldn’t have passed, or folding to the weight of his mother’s emails when she demanded his homework be excused. Ms. Hammerson used to say, just remember little old us when you’re famous, dear and stamp an A on his lackluster book report. He’s an only child, an athletic prodigy, and the only grandchild on both sides of his family. Since he was 18, he’s been rich. Even before that, his family was comfortably middle class. He’s had twice weekly house cleaners, private nutritionists, prep chefs, personal trainors, agents, personal shoppers, stylists, wealth managers, accountants, his mother acting as conductor to everything, and so many more advantages. He’s used to hearing whatever you need, Shane. Don’t worry about it, Shane. Focus on the game, Shane, don’t worry about this. So yes, Shane is very spoiled. No is not a word he hears very often.
“No.”
They were sitting on his parent’s couch towards the end of their first summer in the cottage. Yuna and David were cooking and Shane was in the middle of watching a hockey game before Ilya, after a sideways glance, plucked up the remote and switched channels.
Shane blinks. “Give me the remote, Ilya.”
“Hm,” Ilya said, who is just as spoiled, but did grow up with an older brother. “Nope.”
“I was watching that game.”
“Is old recording,” Ilya said, flipping through channels without looking over. “It is my turn now.”
“Your turn?” Shane said. “This is my parent’s house. Give it.”
“Your parents house, my turn.”
Shane made to grab the remote and then Ilya did the unthinkable.
He yanked his hand up, away from Shane. “Go away, Hollander, I’m watching Ancient Aliens."
“Ilya.”
“Shane.”
That’s when Shane reached again and Ilya - Ilya flicked him.
“You - you!” And Shane pounced.
“Give me the remote!”
“Nyet!”
“You’re being a child!”
“You are not respecting turns!”
“Turn it back!”
The wrestled - Ilya only had one hand to fight with since the other was holding the remote far away from Shane’s grabby hands. Of course, neither one was using their full strength and Shane’s playful smile betrayed his actions. At one point, he tucked the remote under his chest and curled around it, but that led to Shane rolling them both off the couch. Now on the rug, Shane had just put hands on the edge of the remote when they heard a sharp -
“Boys!”
They both whipped their heads around to see a wide-eyed Yuna taking in the messed up couch, blankets strewn around, cushions everywhere, her son and his boyfriend tangled together on the rug, Shane's fingers brushing the remote Ilya was holding away from him.
Ilya, having more experience, immediately took the opportunity. “Yuna! Shane is not letting me have turn.”
“Shane,” her eyes zeroed in on Shane and narrowed. “Ilya is our guest.”
“But! Ilya isn’t a guest, he’s my boyfriend.”
“And he’s my guest. Honestly, you two.”
“I will clean pillows, Yuna,” Illya suggested sweetly.
“Thank you, honey.”
“But!”
“It would be nice for you to offer to clean sometimes, Shane,” Yuna uncrossed her arms.
“Yeah, Shane,” Illya smirked and it filled Shane with an unreasonable amount of rage.
“Dinner is almost ready,” Yuna said. “Shane, come help me.”
“But mom!”
Yuna turned to go back into the kitchen, catching her husband’s amused glance.
As Shane trudged into the kitchen, David told Yuna, “we always wondered what two would be like.”
“Mh,” Yuna said quietly as David wrapped an arm around her. “I haven’t seen Shane play like that for a long time.”
Ok but Cliff Marlow somehow managing to get into Ilya's phone after the Tunameltdown in the middle of the Hollandry crashout, and getting Montreal Jane's number.
The entire Boston roster piling behind Marly as he types, trying to decide what to say that could save them because their captain has been possessed by the spirit or a soviet military trainer with knife shoes and if they are forced to make double bagskates again they will either puke or die or both.
So Shane Hollander wakes up one day to a message from an unknown number like "Hello Miss Jane ma'am this is Clifford Marlow I don't know if you have heard of me I am sorry to be a bother I'm just wondering if you could give my good friend Ilya another chance, I promise that whatever he did he won't do again, we will help we will teach him to cook and clean and do laundry and he will cook you the best sandwiches ever if you only give him a chance only if you want of course if it's not too much of a bother Miss Jane please and thank you" and he goes through the seven stages of grief in like 4 seconds before it's even 7am. They manage to add the link to a very big spa gift card that they all chipped in to buy because at that point they're desperate.
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