Chapter Text
AUGUST 2013
Ilya groans as he bends down to tie his shoe laces, his muscles still stiff from the long plane ride in a seat too small. He slips his headphones on and turns up the dulcet tones of Macklemore, grabs his keys and steps out of his room. Ilya’s favourite part of moving in early were the two weeks of silence spent setting up his floor before 40+ freshmen moved in.
Basking in his solitude (and Thrift Shop), Ilya rounds the corner to head to the stairwell when he is stopped in his tracks by an assortment of bags and boxes in the hallway leading to a slightly open door. Ilya takes a step back, not in the mood to break his English out yet. His eyes snag on the unmistakable forest green logo painted on the hockey bag perched on top of a moving cart. Ilya rolls his eyes, not looking forward to dealing with a douchey, forceful, borderline homophobic varsity hockey player living on his floor the entire year. Ilya’s shocked (and pissed) that they’re letting a resident move in this early and forgot to mention it when he arrived yesterday. Out of the corner of his eye, Ilya sees movement from inside the room. Pausing his Macklemore, he steps closer to the room and hears a hushed argument on the other side of the door which prompts him to turn and leave before his day can get any worse.
He plans to go for a run and a shower before helping Svetlana move in. Whatever keeps him off this fucking floor as long as possible.
Ilya grimaces at the garish yellow of his RA Training nametag. He pulls at it anxiously, feeling stupid for more than one reason. This is his second year on the job, he should feel like a pro, but he still feels out of his depth as one of the only returners on the Gleason Heights neighbourhood team. He thinks back to Svetlana’s stellar advice from the night before (after a glass or two of vodka each): “Everyone will be watching what you do. You can’t disappoint the team this time moy drug!” They had both laughed it off, but now, in the harsh light of day, Ilya felt weighed down by the words. He checks once more in the cramped mirror and runs a hand through his hair, then grabs his backpack and keys and heads out for team breakfast.
Ilya takes confident strides down the mustard-coloured hallway and stands, fidgeting with his nametag (again), waiting for the elevator. He hears the bell, and steps in, his hand immediately going to his phone to see if his father had left him a voicemail asking if he had made it to the school safely (as if that would ever happen). His attention is forced back up by a voice yelling to “Hold the door!”
A hand shoots through the closing doors, and Ilya is met with frantic (and beautiful) brown eyes and a shy smile (and those freckles!!!). Ilya smiles too, but it quickly drops at the sight of this stranger’s forest green backpack with the recognizable Loons mascot (fucking stupid Canadian wolf-bird mascot). He hunches his shoulders and backs slightly further into the corner. Of course it’s the only other person on his floor. The fucking hockey player who moved in yesterday. Ilya wants nothing more than to ignore him until his floor meeting on move-in day when he is forced to make awkward small talk. He’s already concocting a plan to force his floor partner (whenever he meets them) to take on this midterm check-in.
He hears the guy clear his throat, but keeps his gaze to the floor. A few seconds pass before the guy opens his mouth and gets one “Um” out into the space before the elevator doors ping open and Ilya sees the familiar face of Cliff Marleau stepping into the elevator.
“Roz! What the fuck are you doing on my team again, man!” He daps Ilya up.
“Marleau! I am surprised you are awake for team breakfast this year! Didn’t Scott Hunter chase you down last year?”
“Jeez Roz, you sleep through one breakfast and no one lets you forget it.” Marleau laughs, taking a glance at the other man in the elevator, who lifts one hand up awkwardly in greeting.
The elevator doors slide open, and all three file out into the bright white lobby of Gleason. Ilya and Marleau continue their conversation; Marleau explaining in graphic detail the girls he slept with over the summer, and Ilya feeling secret joy at being back in expressive Canada and out of cold Russia. They both stand at the entrance of the dining hall, exchanging short greetings and sizing up the newbies. A throat clears behind him, and Ilya turns to see the same freckled man from the elevator standing slightly on the outskirts of this gathering. With awkward, fumbling movements, he pulls out an identical yellow nametag to the one that Ilya has hanging obscenely around his neck. Ilya feels his stomach drop.
THIS is his fucking floor partner?
Shane is already regretting this stupid job. He had a feeling he wasn’t outgoing or social enough for it, but he interviewed well and got hired so he figured it would be fine. If the interactions (or lack thereof) he’s had with his floor partner so far are any indication, it’s going to be a tough year. Shane continues to adjust his nametag with sweaty hands when a man approaches him.
“Hey! I’m Scott, your Senior RA! Welcome to the Gleason neighbourhood,” the man, maybe slightly older than Shane, says with a warm smile and outstretched hand. Shane tries to covertly wipe the sweat off his hand before returning the handshake.
“Hi,” Shane says. “I’m Shane Hollander. I’m,” Shane stutters and clears his throat, “I’m really excited to be here.”
“I don’t know if you remember but I interviewed you and I was on the hockey team when you were scouted.” Scott pauses and chuckles lightly, “That sounds really creepy, like I was stalking you or something, but I swear I wasn’t. Just stoked to have you on the team, man.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Shane sees Roz (?) sidestep behind him, likely in hopes of avoiding a conversation with Scott, but the Senior RA is too wise to his tricks.
“Rozanov. I see you trying to hide from me.”
“Oh, you can see me from this distance, Hunter? Your eyes have not given out yet, I see. Must be first day of training miracle.” Rozanov snarks back, but shakes Scott’s hand all the same.
Scott rolls his eyes and glances between the two men. “I’m trusting you two have already been acquainted?”
Shane feels at a loss for words and opens his mouth to reply, before just shaking his head in response.
“We were hoping excellent Senior RA like yourself would help us with that, Scott Hunter! That is what you are here for, yes?” Rozanov loops his arm around Shane’s neck and jostles him closer to his broad chest.
Scott scoffs, “Well, Ilya Rozanov, get some breakfast and we can do full team introductions when everyone gets here.” Scott smiles again at Shane, then his eyes are pulled to another RA and he leaves the two floor partners.
Shane awkwardly disentangles himself from under Ilya’s arm, and puts on his bravest face with an outstretched hand. “Shane Hollander. I’m excited to be working with you this year, Ilya.”
The pause before Ilya shakes his hand is almost unbearably long, but eventually Shane feels his warm skin against his palm and a voice saying “Ok. See you at table.” Ilya turns and enters into the dining hall, leaving Shane with thousands of questions, butterflies in his stomach, and a hand burning from the feel of Ilya Rozanov touching him.
Shane takes his time getting his food, avoiding the greasy grill food at all costs, and, before sitting down, sees Ilya embracing a beautiful woman wearing a red nametag sitting at a different table. He walks closely enough to hear them speaking in rapid Russian, then sits down next to Scott Hunter at the Gleason table. The rest of the RAs discuss their summers, and ask basic questions, getting to know each other a bit more. Shane chimes in occasionally but mostly is happy to sit and observe. One girl with blonde hair asks what everyone thinks the uniform colour will be for the year, just as Ilya sets his tray (heaped high with food) down on the table as far away from Shane as possible.
“Colour of Shrek. Very beautiful shade.” Ilya shrugs and sits down. Laughter erupts at the table, but Shane can only feel annoyance at his flippancy. Even Scott chuckles lightly.
Shane feels a familiar competitive spirit rising up in him. He is still thinking about how rude Ilya was in the elevator, and Shane just knows that Ilya is going to blow off his work this year and leave all of his responsibilities to Shane. At least Scott seems to be busting Ilya’s balls a little, which brings Shane some comfort. Still, though, he can’t avoid a little poke at the bear.
“I think navy blue would be nice.” There are a few oohs of agreement, and one guy sitting across from Ilya (Shane read Wyatt on his nametag in the yogurt parfait line earlier) tells Shane he likes his guess.
Shane preens with pride and glances down the table at Ilya, only to find his gaze already fixed heatedly on Shane.
Breakfast ends shortly after, and all RAs pack up their things and walk together across the campus to the lecture hall for their main welcome. Shane folds into a group of other newbies, and tries valiantly to keep his attention off of what Ilya is doing at any given time. This gets easier when the new RAs and returners are separated for some activities, and by the time lunch rolls around, Shane is feeling more comfortable with his whole team (except for that one Russian asshole, of course). He texts his mom once after lunch and assures her he is making friends, and it’s not as scary as he thought it would be.
The rest of the afternoon is more introductions and something called “Team Time,” where everyone splits off into their neighbourhoods for group bonding activities. Shane prays he can find a way to avoid Ilya for the rest of the day and call his parents for guidance when he gets back to his dorm in the evening. But instead, Scott announces to the group that they will be starting with planning their floor themes and asks them all to get together with their floor partners. Shane and Ilya both reluctantly drag their chairs closer together. Their building theme is movies, and Shane suggests The Lord of The Rings first.
Ilya laughs loudly in Shane’s face. “You want floor full of fucking nerds Hollander?”
Shane’s face burns red and he huffs, turning his body away from Ilya. “Fine! You suggest something better, Rozanov.”
“Despicable Me. Is classic film.” Ilya shrugs, like it’s already a done deal. Shane can’t believe how much of an asshole he is.
“Absoutely not. Our residents want to be treated like adults, not toddlers.”
“Wrong. They are children. They like cartoon movies.”
“Well Despicable Me is stupid.”
“Oh, haha, good one. You really got me there, Hollander.”
Shane is about to raise his hand and ask for Scott to evict Ilya from the building, when Ilya speaks again.
“Or we could do rat movie. The little chef one.”
Shane pauses, and slowly turns to face Ilya. “You mean Ratatouille?”
“Yes, the little rat chef. Is good idea, no?”
Shane is pissed off that he did not have this idea first. Shane loves this movie. He remembers watching it for the first time with his parents, and his dad making ratatouille for dinner a few weeks later, but he messed up the recipe and it was barely edible. They had pizza instead (a rare treat for Shane) and it was still a family joke to this day. He still secretly watches the movie whenever he’s homesick. Ilya is still waiting for a response, so Shane drops his head into his hands and mutters his agreement.
Ilya rubs his hands together (like a freak) and obnoxiously raises his hand. Scott saunters over and Ilya claps Shane on the back and says, “I have had great idea for floor theme! Residents will love!”
When Ilya fails to continue, Scott puts his hands on his hips and frowns. “Ever gonna tell me? Or do I get to find out on move-in day?”
Ilya turns and stares at Shane. At first he doesn’t understand what Ilya wants, but after a second he understands. He decides to be a team player. He can still have a little fun with it though.
“Ratatouille. I appreciate having such an experienced returner as my floor partner. It’s almost like I get my own Scott Hunter as a floor partner.”
Scott laughs and says, “I like the sound of that!” He turns and leaves to attend a different group.
It is silent for many long moments. Shane tries to fight the grin on his face. Ilya slowly turns to Shane and is inches away from his face, when he says in a low, gravely voice: “If I ever become like Scott Hunter, please shoot me in communal bathroom.” Shane laughs despite himself and tries to ignore the heat unfurling in his stomach.
Scott calls everyone’s attention back to him and they all share their themes. There are murmurs of approval when Shane shares Ratatouille.
After the Team Time, all the RAs split off to go back to their dorms and freshen up before dinner and the “iconic” Scavenger Hunt.
Shane calls his parents to update them on his day and chooses to neglect mentioning his combative floor partner, instead focusing on the rest of the team and his fun Senior RA. He gets stir fry for dinner and eats in his room, trying not to think about the man with curly blonde hair and moles dotting his face who is sitting only a few dozen feet away at any given moment. Why was this guy bothering him so much? Shane had had rivals on the ice before, even a few in his classes for Kin, but none that irritated him like Ilya. After eating he watches the minutes on the clock tick down until 8pm. A part of him wants to bail on the Scavenger Hunt, but an even bigger part of him wants to see Ilya again. Maybe in a more relaxed setting with less stakes where they can get to know each other. He refuses to look at this too closely.
At a respectable time (7:55pm) he takes the stairs down and meets the rest of his team outside their building. Ilya is a no-show, which Shane pretends he doesn’t care about. The group begins walking to the residence wide meeting spot, and Scott and another Senior RA Elena step forward and are about to start explaining the rules, when Shane feels a hand slap his back, hard. He whips his head around and sees Ilya standing with his hair dripping wet and shirt clinging to his body, panting slightly. Shane feels his mouth go dry.
Ilya leans forward and mutters in Shane’s ear, “Sorry I’m late. I got distracted. What did I miss?”
Shane shakes his head and focuses his attention back on Scott and Elena, now explaining that the group who earns the most points in the hour allotted gets extra budget added to their end-of-training neighbourhood treat. As well, the individual person in the winning group who is voted Most Creative gets a secret prize. The groups ooh and aah at this and Shane feels his heart start to beat faster. He doesn’t dare to glance at Ilya, but he is sure he is thinking the same thing. Shane wants to win. And more importantly, he wants Rozanov to lose.
Scott and Elena start a countdown, and Shane feels Ilya lean forward to whisper in his ear: “Game on.”