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It’s the second annual Christmas party at the Rozanov-Hollander (Hollander-Rozanov? They fought so much about it and hadn’t changed their names professionally so Luca wasn’t sure) home.
Luca finishes his second cup of mulled cider, feeling pleasantly buzzed. He finds Ilya, chatting with several of the rookies in the kitchen, gesturing wildly as he recounts a story from his own rookie season. For someone who supposedly didn’t celebrate Christmas, their captain was surprisingly into it. He wore a Santa hat and, when complimented on the decorations, Shane had let them know that Ilya had done most of the work.
“Washroom?” Luca asks.
“Down that hallway,” Rozanov says, pointing in a vague direction down a hallway to the left. “Can’t miss.”
Except Luca can miss it, apparently, because when he opens the door he’d thought it would be, he’s greeted with a sight that causes him to audibly gasp.
The concept of a trophy room had been something Luca had just started thinking about. With their first Cup win last year, Luca had a small collection including his miniature Cup, his championship ring, his first ever shot puck, which Rozanov had mounted for him after he let it sit in his stall in the locker room for a few weeks, unsure how to even go about doing it.
But that collection, which currently graced a small space on the shelf above his bed, paled in comparison to this. He shouldn’t step in, this definitely isn’t the washroom. But he can’t help himself.
There are more mounted pucks than Luca could even believe, fixed on one side of the room. They all have the same type of small plaque underneath them. Luca knows it should probably be embarrassing how proud he is that his looks like theirs — clearly they have a puck-mounting guy — but who’s going to be the wiser?
There’s jerseys on display — World Juniors, and Olympics. Metros and Raiders jerseys (that look like they might be their draft jerseys), the Cens jerseys from their Cup-winning game. One more Cens one, that makes Luca’s lips turn in a smile. It had been a wedding present from the team, “HOLLANOV” in big letters across the back with “84” on the back.
(“Is good you did not do the other way round,” Rozanov had said when they gave it to them. His eyes were a little misty.
“Rozander doesn’t sound right,” Hayes replied. Rozanov hummed in agreement.
“Yes, is true, but no, I meant the number,” he replied, tracing his thumb over the stitching on the 8. “If you had done 21, I would only be able to think of Hunter.”
The locker room, like it often did, had dissolved into laughter. Shane rolled his eyes but looked incredibly touched.)
There’s a glass case, all backlit, with several shelves, photos lining them. Shane with his Silver medal from the 2014 Olympics. Rozanov hoisting the Cup above his head, Shane doing the same, the one of them together from their most recent win. He walks around the room, standing in front of a smaller cabinet that holds trophies from All-Stars competitions, every year since 2010.
“Did you get lost?” Luca jumps at the sound behind him. It’s Shane, leaning against the doorframe and looking amused.
“Uh, sorry. Yes,” he says, clearing his throat. “I was… uh, looking for the washroom.”
“Across the hall,” Shane says. He doesn’t look mad. He almost has a fond smile on his face. “You’re fine, by the way. I’m surprised Ilya hasn’t shown this off to you yet.”
Luca shakes his head. “No, it’s— wow. Impressive.”
Shane hums. He’s never seen Shane be particularly proud, not in the same way Ilya is, but there’s a quiet confidence in the sound. “Yeah, it… well, it looks a lot better when we combined them.”
Luca had always thought he would want to find someone outside of hockey — he liked his teammates, sure, but the idea of dating another player had never really appealed to him. But this room very well could sway him. Shane’s walked closer, standing beside Luca in the room.
“Any questions?” Shane asks. They’re standing right now in front of gold and silver medals — two each from the 2008 and 2009 World Juniors, an Olympic silver. Luca shakes his head.
“It… uh… speaks for itself,” Luca says.
Shane chuckles. “I guess,” he says. Luca’s looking at his collection of All-Star memorabilia. Shane follows his line of sight. “You excited for your first one?” Shane asks. Luca shrugs, but inside he’s buzzing. He’d just gotten the invite and still couldn’t quite believe it. “You should be. It’ll be a lot of fun.”
Shane and Ilya had been invited, obviously. Luca was sure Troy would get an invite, but then he got the call. The entire locker room had celebrated.
“What’s your favorite memory from your All-Star Games?” Luca asks. Shane’s lips twist in a smile and he gives Luca an amused look.
“I assume you mean when it comes to the Games themselves,” Shane says. Luca’s cheeks turn pink, and he nods emphatically. Shane hums, then nods over to the wall of pucks. Luca follows and Shane taps one. “The shot accuracy competition, my rookie year.”
“You still hold the record,” Luca says.
There’s that quiet pride again on Shane’s face and he nods. “Yeah, beat Ilya. He held the record for one minute before I took it.”
“Sore subject between you two?” Luca says.
“If you ask him, yes.” They both laugh. “It was my rookie season,” Shane says. “I was so nervous, being around players I’d admired for my entire life. It was nervewracking, and I still beat the record.” Shane is smiling now in a way that seems to have nothing to do with nostalgia. “You should enter the competition,” Shane says.
“What?”
“Shot accuracy.” Luca raises his eyebrows, and Shane shrugs. “You’re very quick on the puck and make great shots. It’s probably the most fun competition, and you don’t want to be stuck with the obstacle course.”
“Weren’t you and Rozy going to do it this year?” Luca asks. He’d heard enough chirping between the two the last week about it.
“Yeah, but we could do something else,” Shane says with a shrug. “It’s a good competition to prove yourself in,” he adds, then his lips twist in another self-assured smirk. “You wouldn’t beat my time, of course, but I bet you could beat Ilya’s. Definitely Hunter’s.”
Luca laughs, feeling lighter about the whole thing. “I— yes, maybe I will sign up for that.”
Shane nods. “Good.” He claps Luca on the back. “C’mon, use the washroom. Ilya has some sort of Secret Santa thing planned that I know he wants to get to.”
Luca frowns. “I didn’t bring a gift.”
“No, it’s—” Shane chuckles and shakes his head. “It’s a secret, and he’s playing Santa. I told him people would be confused but he didn’t believe me.” Shane grins. “When he comes out, act surprised.”
Luca can only nod, following Shane out of the room. He turns and lets his gaze roam over the room one last time before closing the door behind him.
Luca is a nervous wreck at All Stars. He knows it doesn’t really matter, but still… Hollander and Rozanov are his idols. The thought of disappointing them (or worse, beating them) looms over him. They’re in LA this year at least, which is nice, because it’s warm compared to Ottawa in February.
“There’s a restaurant here my uncle said we should try,” Luca says to Shane as they stand in the lobby. His family had been thrilled when they’d found out he was playing and hadn’t been able to stop talking about it. “We could go there for dinner?” He sees Shane hesitate where he’s standing next to him. “Or not.”
“No, it’s just… Rose invited Ilya and I out to dinner,” Shane says.
Luca’s cheeks flush with embarrassment. “Oh! That’s great,” Luca says with a nod. “Yes, you should definitely do that instead.” The thought of navigating a collection of all star hockey players by himself makes Luca’s anxiety spike, but he can always order room service. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll find something to do.”
Ilya approaches from where he’d been checking them in, handing Luca his packet and Shane a room key. “Find something to do what?”
“Oh, while you and Shane go catch up with Rose.”
“You don’t want to come?” Ilya asks. Luca’s eyebrows raise. “We want Rose to meet our son.”
“Ilya…”
“Hockey son,” Ilya clarifies. When Luca furrows his brow, Ilya sighs dramatically. “Shane does not want you to feel like we are babying you. Even if you are baby hockey player.”
Luca’s cheeks flush. He doesn’t mind, really. To have Ilya Rozanov and Shane Hollander treating him like a son is more than he could ever really hope for. Ten year old Luca would fucking die. “I don’t want to intrude—”
“Who’s intruding? Rose will love you,” Ilya says. “Please come with. Shane will let her know.”
Luca looks to Shane, who nods. “Yeah, of course you should come. If you want to.”
Luca accepts, even if he nervously thinks he’ll probably blackout. How awkward would it be for it it be Ilya, Shane, Shane’s ex Rose Landry, and him?
He meets them in the lobby at half past seven. He decided to wear the pants of his game day suit, leaving the jacket behind and wearing a spare dress shirt he’d brought just in case there was anything fancy in LA. Shane had let him know it was a dressier place, and he wasn’t sure that anything else he had would be nice enough.
He meets them in the lobby. He feels stupidly underdressed compared to the two of them. Ilya is in a camel-colored suit with mustard yellow silk shirt and Shane is dressed in all black with silver accessories that comes off as very chic rather than somber.
“There you are,” Shane says. “Ready to go?”
Luca absolutely is not, but he gives his most polite nod and follows them out to the Uber. Ilya fills the silence with chatter that Luca finds oddly calming, having grown used to it as the season has gone on, almost like a fog had lifted off of Ilya.
Luca thinks Shane coming to play with them has something to do with it.
They pull up outside a fancy-looking restaurant, Ilya slipping out first and holding the door open for the both of them. Rose Landry is stunning, standing just inside in a sparkling dress. Even as a gay man, Luca recognizes that, aesthetically, Rose is a 10. And she’s incredibly nice and charming as well, which seems a little unfair. She’s chatty with Shane and, strangely, he’s talkative with her as well. Ilya gives Luca a wry look that says this happens every time.
She’s also interested in Ilya and what he’s doing. Luca doesn’t expect to be drawn into the conversation but then she turns to him.
“Shane tells me you’re an artist?”
Luca raises his eyebrows in surprise because 1) this means Shane has talked to her about him before and 2) he’s never been described as an artist.
“Oh, I— I draw, sometimes,” Luca says. “Just for fun. It’s just a hobby,” Luca continues. “You need something to keep busy on road games.”
“He’s being modest,” Shane says. He’s fishing for his phone in his pocket. “Let me show you what he made for my birthday.”
Luca’s cheeks turn pink as he watches Shane show Rose several pictures of the sketch he’d done Shane for his birthday. It was a recreation of one of the first photos from the ice last year, where Shane and Ilya won on the power play against Montreal. They’d been beaming at each other and Luca’s heart had done a funny flip at how nice it was to see two hockey players be able to express their affection openly.
(He gave it to Shane, in a little frame and placed in a gift bag, after practice when most others had cleared out.
“Um, it’s for your birthday,” Luca had said. “I know you said no gifts, and I— I mean, I made a donation to the Irina Foundation too, but just wanted to give you something little.”
He was about to tell Shane he didn’t need to open it here, but then he’s watching as Shane hands the bag to Ilya before reaching inside and carefully unwrapping the frame from the tissue paper. There was an audible gasp from Shane as he turned the frame over.
“I know it’s silly, you have the actual photo,” Luca had said. “But—“
“Luca, it’s perfect,” Shane had replied, voice thick with emotion.
Luca saw it in their house, mounted on the wall, at the Halloween party and felt warm all over.)
“Wow!” Rose replies, looking at his phone. “This is beautiful.”
“Most of us sleep,” Ilya says with a chuckle. “But our boy is committed.” Luca warms a bit, being called “our boy”.
“Are you excited for the game tomorrow?” Rose asks.
“Yes, very,” Luca says.
“Shane mentioned you were trying to beat Ilya’s record in shot accuracy,” Rose says. She has an amused look on her face that transforms into laughter when Ilya raises an eyebrow.
“Just mine, moy podsolnukh?” he asks. “But you are the current record holder.”
“Well… no one’s beaten it in a decade,” Shane says with a shrug.
“But it’s Luca!” Ilya says. “You know he can beat you.”
Luca meets Shane’s eyes. He’d been thinking about it a lot. Probably more than he should have, but his stupid brain wouldn’t shut up about it, how Shane would feel if for some reason he did beat the record. “I am not quite Shane Hollander, though,” Luca says.
Rose hums. “No, thank god,” she says. “I don’t know if the world could handle more than one Shane Hollander.”
“Hey!” Shane exclaims.
“No, no, Rose is right,” Ilya says, nodding. “World may be fine, but I would not be.” He grins at Luca. “Besides, Luca Haas is much more exciting than Shane Hollander.”
Shane gives Ilya a withering look but Ilya just takes his hand and pulls Shane’s knuckles to his lips, murmuring something Luca can’t make out.
“So do you boys have any other plans while you’re in LA?” Rose asks. Luca appreciates the ability she has to transition seamlessly, as Ilya starts talking about the boutique pet store he found on Instagram that he wants to check out and Luca can just focus on listening again, suppressing any lingering anxiety with another sip of his drink.
He meets Shane’s eye for a brief moment and he smiles at Luca. Luca admires Shane a lot and he doesn’t want him to feel like he’s trying to steal away his glory.
“I probably won’t break your record,” Luca says quietly.
“You’re going to do great,” Shane replies. “It will be fun.”
Ilya must catch that because he snorts. “Oh, is for fun? I wouldn’t know, with how competitive you are.”
Shane crinkles his nose. “Only for you, moy lyubov,” he says.
Dinner had ended and Rose had given them all, including Luca, a hug. She’d even wished him good luck. Luca is buzzing with anticipation and just the high of the evening by the time they get back to the hotel. Ilya dozes on Shane’s shoulder.
“Let’s get you to bed,” he tells Ilya and he helps him out of the car.
Luca follows behind, their rooms next to each other. It’s nice to see them just being together, after so long hiding.
It makes him hopeful for the future.
“Good night,” Shane says, fishing his keycard out of his pocket.
“Sleep tight,” Ilya mumbles, accent thicker than usual, as they stop at their respective doors. Luca watches as Shane taps the keycard and lets them into their room.
He’s not sure he’ll be able to at all.
Next up in the shot accuracy competition, Ottawa Centaurs right winger Luca Haas!
There are cheers from the crowd, more than Luca might have expected, and he gets a lot of loud stick taps from most of the players also seated on the bench.
“Go Haasy!” he can hear Ilya bellow. He turns and finds Ilya, seated in the first row next to Shane, who also looks excited. He turns towards the goal and takes a deep breath before skating up to where the pucks are on the ice.
7.02 seconds. That’s the record Shane had set back in 2011. The one that had been undisturbed for the last decade plus. Luca wasn’t arrogant enough to think he’d beat it (even if he had a few times when he’d practiced, late after everyone else had gone home), but he thinks he can get close.
Definitely beat Scott Hunter’s time.
The buzzer sounds, and Luca acts on instinct, shooting each puck in quick succession, hitting the targets on the first go. He takes a breath, then hears raucous applause.
6.95 seconds! Luca Haas has set a new record, beating the time set by Shane Hollander over a decade ago.
Luca’s mouth drops open as he looks at the screen. The crowd is going wild and one of the refs actually has to prompt him to return to the bench because he’s so shocked. He can hear Ilya as he skates back to the bench shouting support for him.
When he finally makes eye contact with Shane, Shane looks just as surprised as he is. Luca smiles a at him but Shane doesn’t meet his eye. Ilya says something to him and pats his shoulder like he’s reassuring him. Luca glances away swallows hard. It suddenly it feels like there’s a rock in his stomach. All the joy he felt is sucked out of him. Shane is upset about losing the record. Of course he is. It was the record he was most proud of and Luca just stole it. Luca feels a mix of embarrassment, anger, fear and regret. His anxiety seems to rise up his throat and he has to use all his effort to push it back down.
He goes to take a seat at the far end of the bench. Several of the other players are clapping him on the back, congratulating him. He puts on a smile and nods at them, muttering thanks. He was anxious at first that it was one of the last events of the day, but now he's grateful because all he wants to do is escape to the quiet of his room and freak out in private.
He showers fast and gets out of the locker room before Ilya can ask him about his plans for the night. He knows he can’t ignore them for long, but he needs an hour to ready himself to face Shane. He can’t get the way Shane looked at him out of his head.
It feels like he’s working on autopilot, as he makes his way quickly out of the stadium and into an Uber. Up the elevator and into his room, thanking whicever god would listen that Ilya had ‘bunked’ with him only to buy himself and Shane their own room. He’d winked at him, told him to have fun, but as Luca gets into his room and closes the door, resting his back against the door and closing his eyes, he’s just glad he has somewhere to panic in private.
His phone is buzzing in his pocket. He's sure it's all nice, but looking at it will cause him to feel even worse.
Deep breaths. He needs to take deep breaths.
His phone keeps buzzing. He wants to shut it off. He takes a breath on a four-count and exhales on a four count. He focuses on clearing his mind, centering himself. He wishes he was able to do yoga but he feels too jumbled. He can almost feel his heart rate getting more regular, and then the ringer goes off, making him jump.
He ignores it. It's probably his mother, and while he knows she'll be thrilled, he doesn't really want to maybe cry right now.
He moves from the door and strips off his jacket and shoes. He had showered at the arena but he feels like he could take another one, private and unhurried, just to relax. He starts undressing, laying his clothes out on the bed and moving to the bathroom. He tries to not think about Shane’s face and how shocked he was. He’s going to be angry. He’d held that record for over a decade. It was his favorite trophy.
What if he never speaks to Luca again?
He swallows hard around the lump in his throat. He should’ve picked anything else. He should’ve just been a little slower…
He steps under the hot spray of the shower, the heat almost biting at his skin. It feels like a punishment he kind of deserves. What if Shane stops wanting to hang out with him? Be his—
Luca can’t even think the next words, he feels so stupid. A sob bubbles over and he clasps over his mouth to keep the rest at bay.
He can’t cry about upsetting his hockey dad. That’s stupid.
He doesn’t hear the knocking, loud and incessant, until he’s shutting the water off. His skin is as red as his eyes and someone is banging on his door like there’s an emergency. He grabs a towel and heads to the door, wrapping the towel around his waist as he through the peephole. His stomach drops when he sees Ilya standing there, dressed in a nice shirt and a slight furrow in his brow.
“Haasy,” Ilya knocks on the door again and Luca jumps away from the door. Luca sighs, taking another deep breath, before opening the door just a crack. “What are you doing?” Ilya asks. “We’re going to dinner.”
“I was taking a shower,” Luca says. “I think I’m going to stay in tonight.”
Ilya’s eyes narrow and he frowns. “Are you not feeling well? You are sick?” He asks. “You look bad, I will get the doctor.”
“No!” Luca says quickly. The last thing he needs is more of a fuss. “No, I just want to stay in.”
Ilya’s frown deepens. “If you are not sick, what is wrong?” He pushes on the door, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “You had an amazing night, stole record from Shane, you should have seen his face!” Ilya exclaims. “Very impressive!”
Luca’s face falls and he can feel tears forming and oh God, he can’t cry in front of his captain.
“Shit! What happened? What are you crying?” He grasps his shoulders. “Who hurt my son?”
“You’re not my father,” Luca says weakly.
“Technically, no. Spiritually, yes.”
Luca shakes his head. “No one hurt me,” Luca says, but it sounds weak even to him. He can feel tears starting to spill over.
“Impossible, you had great day today! So good, you did amazing!” Ilya says. He maneuvers them until Luca is sitting on the bed and Ilya is kneeling in front of him. “I hold your hands now, okay?”
Luca doesn’t realize he’s asking for permission for a second, but when he does, he can only nod imperceptibly. The minute Ilya’s hands grasp his he lets out a sob. Maybe Shane just hadn’t told Ilya how upset he was yet.
“Lukashenka, you must tell me what is wrong, I will fix it,” Ilya says, squeezing his hands. Luca shakes his head. He can’t. “Okay, we try something different,” Ilya says. He takes a breath. “Did someone say something to you?”
He shakes his head again. No, no one said anything… except for Ilya saying something to Shane. “I… I didn’t mean to break Hollander’s record,” he settles on.
“But you did. Good job!”
“When it happened, he looked…” Luca doesn’t have a word for it.
“What?”
“Like he couldn’t believe it.”
“He could not believe it,” Ilya agrees. Luca’s brow furrows. “It is okay. He can be surprised.”
“He looked… upset,” Luca says. “He said he liked this puck the most, when he set the record, a— and I just went and ruined it.” The words come out in a whisper.
Ilya says something in Russian. “Hold on. I’m getting Shane over here.”
Luca’s eyes widen, and his hands tighten in his. “No, that’s— Ilya.”
Ilya pauses, looking at Luca with a little surprise, probably at Luca using his first name. “Luca,” he replies. “Is okay. I am just going to text him, clear everything up.”
Luca doesn’t want that, but there’s no use arguing with Ilya. Ilya sends a quick text on his phone and in a minute, there’s a knock at the door and Ilya stands to let Shane in. Luca has his head in his hands. He feels mortified now as he hears soft talking that he can’t make out. They must think he’s pathetic now, crying because he thought Shane might be upset with him.
“Luca?” Shane says. It’s so mortifying to be sitting in a towel while his teammates, his idols, one of whom being his captain, are dressed and looking at him with such pity. Luca can’t answer. He hears Shane kneel in front of him. “Luca, could you look at me please?”
“I’m sorry,” Luca blurts out. He finally raises his head enough to look at Shane. He isn’t sure what he expects to find — pity, probably, or annoyance — but instead he’s greeted by a deeply concerned look. “I’m sorry,” he repeats.
“Luca,” Shane says gently. “You don’t have to apologize.”
“I really tried not to beat it!” Luca insists, words spilling out. He had. “I’d practiced a few times, thought I could maybe get it up to like 7.05…”
“Woah, woah, hold on,” Shane says. Luca’s chest tightens. He shouldn’t have told them. “You’re saying you practiced, and we’re trying to do worse—“
“Not worse, just… not beat you,” Luca mumbles.
“Why would you not want to beat me?” Shane asks, seeming genuinely confused.
“Because you were so proud of that record,” Luca says. “I didn’t want to take it away.”
Shane puts a hand on top of Luca’s. “Records are meant to be broken. That’s the point,” Shane says. “And the reason I was most proud of that award was because that was the first time I beat his record.” He tips his head toward Ilya.
“Fuck you, Hollander,” he says, nudging Shane playfully in the ribs from where he’s kneeling beside him. “Next year, I will bet both you and Luca’s times.”
“Good luck with that,” Shane says flatly. He turns his attention back to Luca. “Luca, I am not upset. Not at all. I’m very proud of you actually.” Luca sniffs, looking up at him. Shane’s got a kind, patient smile on his face. “I’m sorry that I made you feel like I wouldn’t be.”
Luca shakes his head. “No, it’s okay, I’m just—”
“No, it’s not,” Shane interrupts, kindly but firmly. “It’s okay for it not to be okay.”
Luca looks to Ilya briefly, who is looking fondly at Shane, before meeting Shane’s eyes and nodding in agreement.
“Thank you,” Luca says. “It means a lot to me.”
Shane nods. He pats the back of Luca’s hand gently. “Get dressed, okay? We’re taking you to dinner to celebrate.”
“I’m not…” Luca starts, but Ilya is tutting under his breath.
“Shane is right. We need to celebrate,” Ilya says. He goes into Luca’s closet, rustling through the few clothes Luca had that were nice enough to hang up. He pulls out a polo shirt and pair of slacks. “We’ll give you ten minutes and meet you in the hallway, yes?”
Luca looks between them for a minute, and then nods. “Okay.”
Luca sighs and watches them walk out the door. He feels completely drained but he’s being enough of a bother right now and he can hear his sister’s voice in his head telling him that he needs to accept when someone extends an invitation
So he gets dressed.
As soon as they’re out in the hallway, Shane’s scrambling with his phone, searching for a restaurant that Luca would like. There’s a place in Silverlake that is promoted as authentic Swiss German. He shows the screen to Ilya, who’s already texting Scott to let them know that they won’t be making the team dinner.
Ilya looks at the listing and nods. “Is good, he will like that,” he says. He stashes his own phone in his pocket, before gesturing for Shane’s phone. Shane hands it over. “I’ll call for reservations?”
Shane nods. Ilya calls the restaurant, while Shane stares at the door, his own mind spiraling.
He made Luca so nervous he had a panic attack when he thought he’d disappointed him. It was the thought that was playing on repeat.
“I fucked up,” Shane says, when Ilya returns a minute later to see him still staring.
“No, no, you did not know he would take it so seriously,” Ilya says, taking him by the waist.
“I would’ve taken it seriously,” Shane says. “I should be more encouraging of the rookies, like Scott was to me.”
Ilya gives him a flat look. “Hunter congratulated you because you beat me,” he says. “He was being a petty bitch.”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t like him,” Shane counters.
Ilya shrugs. “He is fine,” he says. He hands Shane’s phone back to him. “They can take us in an hour.”
Shane lets out a shaky breath and nods. “Good, good,” he starts. He curses under his breath. “I was too cocky,” Shane says. Ilya snorts. “I was!”
“With good reason, moy lyubov.” Ilya leans over and kisses his cheek. “You are amazing. And you should be cocky. It is sexy when you are.”
Shane hums. “Thanks,” he says, fully distracted. “But I still sent Luca into a panic attack.”
“I think he has his own stuff he needs to work on, yes?” Ilya says, tapping his own temple.
“Maybe,” Shane says with a sigh. He looks at Ilya, brow creased in concern. “Am I going to be a good dad?” he asks.
“What?”
“I just… you always say he’s like our son and I know you’re joking but… fuck, what if it was my kid and I put too much pressure on them?”
“Well, you are your mother’s son,” Ilya teases. Shane’s face crumbles.
“That’s what I mean!” Shane says, a bit frantic. He lets a shaky breath out. “I’m scared I’m doomed to be the overbearing anxious parent.”
Ilya sighs and pulls Shane slightly closer by his hips. “We don’t have kids yet, so I think we don’t have to worry about it.” Shane narrows his eyes at him, clearly unconvinced. Ilya considers him for a moment before squeezing his hands at his hips. “Do you think your mom is a bad mother?”
Shane’s frown deepens. “Of course not,” Shane says. “She’s great. I wouldn’t be where I was without her,” he continues. “But…”
“But?” Ilya asks.
“But she’s a lot. And I know I’m a lot,” he says.
Ilya nods slowly. “Yes, but so much of you is great,” Ilya says. “Beyond great.” Shane sighs. “You were not being overbearing with Luca, but the fact that you are worried says that you won’t make that mistake again. You learn from mistakes. That is what is important.”
Shane’s still frowning. “Ilya…”
Ilya leans in and kisses him, chaste for them but it still takes Shane’s breath away when he finally pulls back. “You will be a great father,” Ilya says. “You did very good with helping Luca calm down.”
Shane huffs. “I have some experience.”
Ilya nods. “Yes, and you showed it when you helped,” Ilya says. “Come on. Take a breath.” Shane lets out a shuddering breath. “We will celebrate with our hockey son and show him how proud we are.”
Shane nods and slumps forward against Ilya.
“Thank you.”
Ilya’s lips curl in a smile, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Ya tebya lyublyu.”
Luca opens the door a few minutes later. He’s clearly gone and washed his face, styled his hair. He’s flushed but gives them both a small, embarrassed smile.
“I don’t know how good of company I will be tonight,” Luca admits.
Shane shakes his head. “That’s fine. It will be lowkey,” Shane assures. Ilya is calling a car as they head downstairs.
“Where is the team dinner?” Luca asks.
“The W Hotel,” Ilya says, not looking up even as Shane guides him by his elbow into the elevator. “But we’re not going there.”
Luca frowns. “We’re not?”
Shane pauses and looks at him. “If you really want to, we’ll go,” he says. He looks to Ilya for a moment, who nods, before looking back at Luca. “But we thought we might do something just us?”
Luca visibly relaxes. “Oh. What?”
Ilya looks up from his phone, grinning. “Would ruin the surprise.”
When they pull up outside the restaurant it takes a second for him to understand what it is. “Is this a Swiss restaurant?” he asks.
“It is,” Shane says with a nod. “There aren’t a lot in LA but we figured a bit of home might be nice.”
Luca’s eyes get all misty. “That’s— thank you.”
Ilya claps him on the back, squeezing his shoulder. “Come, you have to tell us what to order.”
The restaurant has actual raclette and Luca recommends dishes that would best fit with Shane’s meal plan. Shane gives him a smile. “It’s alright. One night isn’t gonna kill me, right? I want to try the raclette.” Luca’s eyes widen and Ilya looks at Shane so fondly.
It’s a wonderful meal. Luca hasn’t been so relaxed as a dinner with teammates in ages. Shane and Ilya let him order for them, and maybe he’s a little enthusiastic, but it’s the most authentic food he’s had outside of home or his own cooking and he misses it. Their table is full of dishes and German beer and he feels so wonderfully happy.
On the drive back, Luca’s heart feels very full.
“Thank you,” he tells them. “I appreciate all of this.”
“Anything for our son,” Ilya replies
“Ilya…” Shane starts, but Luca interrupts.
“No, it’s okay.” He swallows hard. He tries to pretend it isn’t hard, being so far away from home, but he sometimes still has problems with it. “It’s nice to have family here too.”