Chapter Text
Ilya had warned him about this tradition before he left Ottawa. He had insisted. But at that moment, with his husband buried deep inside him, Shane was a little too busy trying to enjoy their last time having sex for a few weeks to actually pay attention to Ilya's warning.
And Ilya should have known this.
So ultimately, it's all Ilya's fault.
In hindsight, Shane should have known something was up as he made his way to the locker room of the training center and realized it was quiet.
Too quiet.
If he had to describe the Raiders with one word, it would be loud.
They always have music playing whether in the locker room or at the gym so for them to be completely silent? Shane definitely should have figured out something was happening.
But he didn't so he just walks into the room, actually excited to see his teammates again after an incredible summer with Ilya and then-
“Surprise!” is all he hears before something cold and wet gets slammed into his face.
The guys burst into laughter and cheers while Shane blinks several times, his vision obstructed by whatever it is they hit him with and that's when he remembers Ilya's warning.
“They're going to slam a cream pie into your face. That's how they welcome you in when you're officially no longer a rookie.”
So he brings a hand up, wiping some cream off his eyes so he can look around and just like he expected, he finds his entire team standing there, grinning and laughing. Beaulieu is the one holding the remains of the pie while Cliff is holding his phone, undoubtedly filming the entire thing.
And if in another lifetime he would have been pissed by such a prank, in this one, he just laughs along and licks one of his fingers to give the pie a taste.
“Not very sweet,” he sighs dramatically, shaking his head. “I'll give it a three out of ten.”
This only makes the guys laugh even harder, except for St-Simon who looks almost offended.
“Not sweet enough?” he repeats after him. “What the fuck do you mean? I followed my mom's recipe for it.”
But before Shane can even begin to feel guilty for insulting his mother's cooking, Carmichael cackles like a hyena and slaps St-Simon over the back of the head.
“Fuck you, you lying piece of shit! I saw the box you brought it in, motherfucker! You got it from the bakery at the corner of the street!”
He then walks over to Shane, throws an arm around his shoulder and wipes some of the cream off his cheek with the tip of his finger before giving it a taste.
“Hollywood's right!” he says, making a face and spitting what's in his mouth by his feet. “Not sweet enough.”
Johansson then hands Shane a towel which he quickly uses to wash most of the remaining cream off his face and as soon as he's done doing so, Carmichael presses a big, wet kiss to his cheek.
“Congratulations, Hollywood!” he says, patting his back. “You're no longer our baby rookie!”
“How does it feel to officially be a fully fledged Raider now?” Cliff asks, smirking as he keeps filming and Shane just smirks back at him.
“Like I just lost half of my IQ,” he teases, immediately getting booed while Carmichael pushes him away and dramatically gasps at his chest.
“They grow up so quickly,” he cries as he fakes wiping a tear. “One day they come in all cute and shit, you blink and then before you know it, they're going around insulting you.”
This gets the whole locker room to burst into laughter again and one by one, every guy comes up to Shane to congratulate him and hug him, mindful of the remaining cream on his face and clothes.
“I expect details of your summer when you come over tonight,” Cliff whispers and Shane snorts.
“Obviously!”
Eventually, all of his teammates get back to their own business except for Gallagher who just stares at him with an unreadable expression on his face, his arms crossed over his chest.
And for a moment, Shane wonders if he did something wrong and accidentally pissed off his captain.
But then, Gallagher smiles and motions for him to come with him so Shane sets down his duffel bag in his stall before following his captain out of the locker room and down the hallway.
For a few minutes, neither of them say anything and Shane just follows Gallagher as they wander around the training center aimlessly until they find themselves in the empty stands around the ice. His captain then sits down, resting his feet on top of the seat in front of him so Shane sits down as well and together, they watch as the zamboni gets the ice ready for their upcoming practice.
Eventually, Gallagher lets out a laugh and sinks back into his seat, looking up at the ceiling over their heads.
“I knew the guys could be dumb sometimes but I didn't think they were blind as well.”
And Shane really has no idea as to what his captain is talking about.
“What?” he asks him, completely bewildered which only makes Gallagher laugh again.
He then motions to the ring on Shane's finger.
“I don't know how the fuck we're supposed to win a cup if they can't even fucking notice this fucking bling.”
Shane expects for panic to wash over him; he's just been caught by his captain, he needs to find an excuse, to apologize or something.
But instead, he remains calm, smiling as he looks down at his wedding ring.
“Don't get me wrong,” Gallagher continues, smiling as well. “The plastic one was cute and all, I guess it had a sentimental value or something? But this one? That's a fucking nice ring!”
His features soften as he playfully nudges Shane's shoulder.
“I hope someday you'll introduce me to the lucky one who gave it to you.”
The thing is, every time he has come out so far in this life was planned in advance, it was never a spur out of the moment. His father did catch him and Ilya but he had been planning to tell them soon anyway. Svetlana and Cliff, he thought about those conversations multiple times before they actually took place.
So he's not an impulsive person at all and yet, as he stares back at his captain, realizing how he has just used a gender neutral name, remembering how proud he had been earlier this year when his teenage daughter came out to him, he decides he might as well go for it.
“I'll introduce you to him someday, I promise,” he assures Gallagher, whose smile suddenly widens.
“You better!” he teases, cackling as he reaches over to pat his back. “I wanna make sure that guy is treating our baby rookie well.”
This time, it's Shane who lets out a laugh.
“I thought I wasn't the baby rookie anymore,” he points out to which Gallagher nonchalantly shrugs.
“You're always going to be baby rookie to me.”
His features then soften.
“Thank you for trusting me, Hollywood.”
“Thank you for making it easy to trust you.”
They share a smile and stay there in the stands for a few more minutes before making their way back to the locker room.
Thankfully, the guys are oblivious and none of them seem to have noticed that the two of them went missing for a while.
None except Cliff of course.
“Everything's alright?” he worries quietly enough so no one else hears.
And Shane nods, something right settling into his chest.
He feels like coming out to his team will be a lot easier than it was the first time around…
●○●○●
Shane: How was Gallagher during your rookie year?
Ilya: No hello? No how are you?
Ilya: 😭
Ilya: Over sixty years together and that's what it comes down to?
Shane: 🙄
Shane: Hi, love of my life! How are you? How was Gallagher during your rookie year?
Ilya: 🥰
Shane: Ilya
Ilya: He was good, really tried his best to lead us to a cup for his last year. He happily retired at the end of the season. Bad knee
Ilya; He's not as old as Hunter but he's still old
Ilya: Why?
Shane: I came out to him today
Shane: But I feel like he had his suspicions
Ilya: That's great ❤️
Ilya: How are you feeling about this?
Shane: Good actually
Shane: I feel like it's getting easier
Shane: And I want to come out to my whole team
Shane: Not today
Shane: But soon
Shane: Cup or no cup
Shane: I want people to know I'm in love with the most incredible man ever
Ilya: I love you so fucking much
Shane: I love you more ❤️
Shane: I'll call you tonight
Shane: I'm headed to Cliff's
Ilya: Have fun 😘
Ilya: Don't drink too much
Ilya: I want you in good shape tonight
●○●○●
Some of the guys are already there by the time Shane gets to Cliff's house.
“Hollywood!” Carmichael greets him with, as usual, a big wet kiss on the cheek which Shane has learned to expect.
He's, however, taken back by the strong smell of weed coming from his overly affectionate teammate.
“How much did you smoke already?” he teases and Carmichael just gives him a big, loopy grin.
“Not that much,” he replies, shaking his head. “But it's Johansson's so, you know.”
He gives him a wink.
“You want to try?”
“Maybe later,” Shane lies, smiling.
If he ever did want to try weed, he knows thanks to Cliff's advice to never, under any circumstances, take some from Johansson.
That seems to satisfy Carmichael though who grins back at him and goes back to whatever he was doing in the living room.
However, Shane barely gets to take another step into the house before a big, fat ball of fur throws itself at him.
“Hey, you!” he greets Caelum, reaching down to scratch the cat behind his ears as he rubs himself all over Shane's leg.
However, some scratching doesn't seem to satisfy the feline as he begins wailing quite loudly, making Shane chuckle.
“Alright!” he says as he bends over to pick him up, groaning at his weight. “What is your dad feeding you? You've gotten bigger.”
“Are you really calling your own nephew fat?” Cliff jokes as he walks up to him.
“I'm not going to be able to lift him anymore if he keeps gaining weight.”
His teammate sighs.
“The vet put him on a diet and I cut down on the treats,” he explains, patting Caelum's side. “I don't know what else to do. It's not like I can bring him to run with me like a dog.”
However, Shane doesn't get to reply as Carmichael makes a deeply offended noise, gathering everyone's attention as he dramatically clutches at his chest.
“How come you can pick him up? He doesn't let anyone but Marly pet him, let alone pick him up! I even tried bribing with treats but he doesn't give a fuck about anyone!”
“Anyone but Hollywood,” Beaulieu snorts before taking a sip of his beer.
A smirk stretches onto Shane's lips, proud he gets to be Caelum's apparent favorite but then he sees the frown on Cliff's face.
“What do you mean you bribed him with treats?”
A guilty look suddenly flashes across Carmichael's face but he doesn't get to defend himself before St-Simon clears his throat.
“Is it a bad time to admit I tried too?”
“You too?” Kane gasps before quickly slapping a hand over his mouth as he realizes what he just admitted to.
And if looks could kill, his, Carmichael and St-Simon's death would be incredibly painful considering the look in Cliff's eyes.
“Who else has been feeding him behind my back?”
He points to Johansson who tries his best to avoid his eyes and then to Gallagher who chuckles a bit nervously, scratching the back of his neck.
“Guilty,” he admits, causing Cliff to throw his hands up.
“New rule, motherfuckers!” he loudly announces, glaring at everyone. “No one feeds my baby but Shane!”
“The favorite of the father and the son!” Beaulieu teases, playfully tossing a cushion at Shane who just flips him off, causing him to burst into laughter and fall off the couch.
With everything relatively under control in the living room, Cliff heads back to the kitchen and Shane follows him, Caelum comfortably nestled into his arms.
“So?” his teammate wonders as soon as they're alone, grinning wickedly. “So how was the summer?”
“Took us a while but we eventually got the house to be liveable,” Shane admits, smiling at the memories it brings back from those past couple of weeks. “Painting the bedroom definitely was an experience.”
“Ah!” Cliffs huffs victoriously. “At least one of us is getting some action!”
A faint blush spreads across Shane's face.
“We're going to be apart for weeks,” he points out, defending himself. “We had to enjoy it while we could.”
Cliff seems to consider it for a moment before nodding in agreement.
“Fair,” he concedes as he begins rummaging around, pulling out bags of chips and other snacks to pour them into bowls.
After a moment though, he looks back at Shane and this time, there's something cautious in his eyes.
“What did Gally want earlier?” he wonders but right as Shane opens his mouth to reply, someone throws an arm around his shoulder and leans against him.
“I heard my name,” their captain says, using his free hand to grab a handful of popcorn from one of the bowls and shove it into his mouth.
Shane snorts.
“Cliff asked about earlier and I was just about to tell him that you know too now,” he explains, causing Gallagher to smirk through a mouthful
“Should I be offended you didn't come out to me, your captain, first?” he teases once he has swallowed.
“Fuck you!” Cliff replies, chuckling. “Get yourself your own best friend!”
“I already got one,” Gallagher reminds him, grinning in a way that shows all of his teeth. “I married her and now she's waiting for me at home.”
Cliff tosses a chip at his head and Shane bursts into laughter, Caelum mewling happily in his arms.
●○●○●
By the time training camp is over and the season officially begins, Svetlana moves to Boston so, of course, Shane invites her to hang out.
That's how they end up at some coffee shop near her new apartment.
It's a fancy place, the kind with so many plants it feels like being in a greenhouse while there's some abstract paintings on the walls.
Definitely not the kind of place Shane would pick but it was Svetlana who chose. However, if the way she's frowning as she looks around is anything to go by, she's definitely regretting her choice.
“We don't have to stay,” he offers her in Russian but she shakes her head.
“We're already here but next time you're picking since you know Boston.”
He nods, sealing the deal, before offering her his arm. She smiles and links her own arm through his before they make their way over to the counter together.
They order their drinks as well as some pastries before heading towards the back of the place, settling down into a quiet booth.
“So?” he wonders in Russian, wanting her to feel as comfortable as possible. “How is it to move here?”
But she just gives him an amused smile, tearing her pastry into two.
“You know I speak English too, right?” she asks him, her accent softer than it was back in Vancouver.
They have been texting in a mix of both languages since the Olympics, about hockey, about Boston.
About Ilya.
“I know,” he replies, slightly embarrassed, “but I can only imagine how overwhelming it must be to move into a country with a totally different language so I just want you to feel at ease and all.”
For a second, she doesn't reply and just stares at him, still smiling.
“You are so cute, you know that?”
She shakes her head.
“Just don't speak Russian in front of anyone else than me or Ilya,” she warns him with a giggle, taking a sip of her drink. “It's too good for you to have only been learning it for a year and a half.”
He chuckles, a memory from their first lives flashing through his mind, and she gives him a questioning look.
“There was this time,” he recalls, leaning forward into his seat, “I told him I wished I spoke Russian and he told me I'd probably learn in a week.”
She perks up, her eyes lightening up and he has an idea as to why.
They have given her a quick resume of their first life, avoiding any details involving her and her life which she understood but she clearly wanted to know more than what they told her about the rest..
So he decides he might as well give her what she wants.
It's not like her knowing will affect anything considering how completely different things already are.
“Alright,” he concedes, crossing his arms over the table, “ask me what you want to know.”
She suddenly looks like a child waking up on Christmas morning.
“Tell me about your relationship!” she immediately says with no hesitation, switching back to Russian. “When did it start then?”
He chuckles and begins telling her his and Ilya's story.
“We met at the Prospect Cup, that didn't change, but we didn't interact a lot. The next time we saw each other was at the draft. Boston picked him and I went to Montreal.”
“I still have trouble picturing you as a Metro,” she points out, shaking her head. “Or Ilya as a Raider.”
He snorts.
“It took us a while to get used to the opposite this time but now? I feel like our teams are a better fit for us.”
She nods in agreement and motions for him to continue, grinning around her straw.
“We had a bit of a moment the night of the draft,” he confesses, a squeal escaping Svetlana’s lips so he quickly corrects himself. “Not that way! We didn't do anything!”
“But you both wanted to,” she guesses, looking quite smug.
Shane remembers how Ilya looked covered in sweat, panting on the floor after their impromptu bike race…
“Yeah,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck. “We did.”
“What happened next?” she urges him.
“We went a couple more months without seeing each other,” he remembers, sighing. “Then at the Prospect Cup-”
“Wait!” she cuts him off, frowning. “So neither of you played right after being drafted?”
He shakes his head.
“We started only the season after,” he explains to her and she swears loudly.
“What a bunch of idiots!” she groans. “Both teams! Wasting your skills for a full season? That's absolute bullshit!”
She sighs and takes a deep breath, calming herself down.
“Go on!”
“So we faced each other again at the Prospect Cup but we didn't interact much either. Then, the summer right before we started to play in the league, Ilya suggested to CCM to make us do a photoshoot together and, well, I'll skip the details but that's when everything truly started.”
She's grinning so widely now Shane is starting to fear her face might permanently be stuck this way.
“No details though?” she asks and he shakes his head, causing her to pout.
“I'll just say that it involves the showers after the photoshoot and my hotel room.”
Her grin is immediately back onto her face.
“We pretended it was just casual though,” he clarifies and she huffs with laughter.
“Casual?” she repeats after him in disbelief. “You two?”
He laughs as well and shrugs before continuing his and Ilya's story.
He tells her about their first All Stars, about the snowstorm that fucked up their plan to see each other in Montreal.
He tells her about kissing Ilya on that rooftop in Vegas and the two years that followed.
“He never gave up,” he recalls in between two bites of his chocolate eclair. “Even when I was ignoring him, he kept going on, sending more texts.”
“What made you give in?” Svetlana wonders, absently playing with her straw.
He shrugs again.
“Nothing specific,” he admits with a snort. “I missed him and it was getting harder and harder to say no to him when all I had wanted from the start was him.”
He tells her about their first time having sex in his Montreal apartment, not giving her any details no matter how much she begs him for them.
And then-
“Sochi,” he sighs heavily, sinking back into the booth.
“I guess neither of you have good memories of those Olympics,” she understands, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand reassuringly.
He tells her about how fucking miserable they both were, about Ilya's renewed fervor which lead him to winning the Cup. He tells her about Vegas, about the two years of secret hook ups.
He tells her about that day that made him run away in Boston.
He avoids mentioning Rose altogether as he doesn't want to risk fucking up their future relationship.
He simply says he got himself a girlfriend who later helped him come to terms with being gay.
He doesn't know how long he speaks for, just recalling all those events that eventually lead him and Ilya to their wedding and he decides that's a good place to stop his story at.
“No fair,” she protests, shaking her head. “You stopped at the best part.”
“Why are you even upset?” he chuckles, avoiding the napkin she tosses at him. “Nothing is going to happen this way anyway. We changed everything.”
“Obviously,” she replies, smirking. “You were both as slow as snails! At this point you would have only hooked up once. Instead look at you now.”
Her eyes dart to the ring on his finger and she grins.
“My best friend has good tastes,” she praises him, looking genuinely happy and proud of them.
Eventually, they finish their drinks and their pastries so they walk out of the coffee shop, her arm intertwined with his, their friendship stronger than before.
●○●○●
Ilya: Good morning ❤️
Shane: Good morning ❤️
Ilya: I figure you haven't seen the news yet
Shane: Oh fuck
Shane: Who was it this time? If it's Hayden who accidentally outed us again, I'm not responsible for him in this lifetime
Ilya: 😂
Ilya: No one outed us, don't worry
Ilya: Quite the opposite actually
Shane: What are you talking about?
Ilya: https://people.com/shane-hollander-spotted-arm-in-arm-with-russian-beauty
Shane: Are you serious?
Shane: Me and Svetlana?
Ilya: How dare you cheat on me with my own best friend? 😂
Shane: It's not funny
Ilya: It is
Ilya: I can't believe you're the one catching dating allegations in this life 😂
Ilya: Also I asked her and Sveta thinks it's hilarious
Shane: At least someone is having fun 🙄
Ilya: 😂
●○●○●
Of course, the People article comes back to bite him in the ass during the Raiders' next practice.
“Hollywood!” Carmichael greets him with a knowing look in his eyes.
Just like the rest of his teammates…
Only Cliff and Gallagher don't look like kids who have just been told a secret despite them being the ones to actually fucking know it.
“I take it you've all seen the People's article,” he guesses and Beaulieu nods, grinning.
“Stef keeps asking me when are you going to introduce your mysterious Russian beauty to the other WAGs,” he replies and Shane sighs heavily.
There's no getting out of this one…
“I guess Marly was right when he described your tastes,” St-Simon cackles like a maniac. “Curly hair, sexy accent.”
“She doesn't seem that tall though,” Johansson points out, shaking his head, Kane humming in agreement.
Shane then looks at Cliff and Gallagher for support but he knows there's not much they can do when the guys are like this, like dogs on a bone.
And just like that, he comes up with an idea.
It's risky and everything could go wrong because of it but he doesn't care.
If it cost him his career then so be it!
So he whistles, effectively silencing his teammates’ teasing, and takes a deep breath, clearing his throat.
“Alright! So there's something I need to tell you guys!”
Cliff and Gallagher's eyes go wide as they realize what he's doing.
This is it.
Here goes nothing.
“I'm gay,” he announces, keeping his head high and meeting everyone's eyes. “And before anyone asks, no, I'm not checking you guys out in the shower because-”
He lifts his hand, proudly showing off his ring.
“-I'm also married. So if you guys have a problem with that, then fucking say it right now rather than talking behind my back later.”
When he came out to the Metros, a long and painfully awkward silence followed but even though no words were spoken, the disgusted looks in their eyes said everything.
This time though, his teammates’ eyes tell a different story.
They look surprised, shocked even, confused even but he doesn't see an ounce of disgust on their faces. As for the silence, it only lasts for a few seconds before Carmichael bursts into his signature cackle.
“You better choose your next words really carefully, Carmy!” Cliff warns him with a scowl, crossing his arms over his chest.
But Carmichael is quick to shake his head and raise his hands in surrender.
“Fuck you, Marly!” he replies, his words lacking heat behind them. “You know I'm not a homophobe.”
He then looks back at Shane, barely containing his laughter as he explains his reaction.
“Does that mean Caelum is the only pussy you like?”
And it's so not what Shane was expecting that he cannot help but burst into laughter, the whole team soon joining him.
“Dude!” Beaulieu shrieks, tears running down his face from how much he's laughing. “This is like both the best and the worst thing you could have said!”
“I think it's the best reaction I got so far,” Shane admits, also wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “Ten out of ten, Carmy!”
His teammate gives him an exaggerated wink and blows him a kiss but that's just how Carmichael has always been.
It takes a while but eventually the laughter dies down and Gallagher steps forward, his eyes darting across the entire locker room.
“Anyone else has something to say?” he wonders, almost as a dare.
St-Simon raises a hand but Shane is not worried about him and expects another joke or something along those lines.
“Yes, Vicky?”
“Does that mean that what Marly said about your tastes was absolute bullshit or was he actually just describing your husband?”
This makes the guys perk up again.
“Yeah, Hollywood!” Kane urges him. “We want to know about that guy!”
“We need to make sure he's treating our baby rookie properly!” Johansson adds with a nod.
Shane rolls his eyes fondly at the nickname.
“I thought the pie I got in the face meant I was no longer a rookie,” he points out, shaking his head.
Beaulieu snorts and walks up to him, throwing an arm around his shoulders.
“Except all the rookies suck this year and none of them made the team so until we get one, you remain baby rookie to us.”
Shane groans, which makes only his teammates laugh again.
“Stop changing the subject!” St-Simon protests, grinning. “I want to hear about Mister Hollander!”
“Please don't ever call him like that again,” Shane replies, dragging a hand down his face. “That's my dad.”
“Then what should we call him then?” Gallagher asks in a teasing tone.
He could make up a name and a whole guy.
Later on, when he would eventually tell the truth, he would use the excuse of Russia and tell them that Ilya wasn't out to his own team yet so it wasn't up to him to out him this way.
But the thing is, he doesn't want to lie.
He wants everyone to know about the amazing man he's in love with.
Besides, him and Ilya have given each other permission to tell people so…
“Call him Ilya,” he simply replies, smiling.
The guys freeze.
“Ilya? Carmichael repeats after him in disbelief. “As in Ilya Rozanov?”
“From Montreal?” Beaulieu adds.
“Your best friend?”Johansson recalls.
Shane nods.
“Yes. To all three.”
St-Simon snorts.
“So Marly's description was accurate,” he concludes, smirking. “Tall and ripped. Curly hair, blue eyes and with a sexy accent.”
“What can I say?” Shane shrugs, still smiling. “I love him.”
The guys’ features soften, except for Beaulieu whose eyes grow wide.
“Dude!” he says, shaking him. “You have to renew your vows! I want to be your best man.”
“Hey!” Cliff protests quite loudly with a frown. “I'm his best friend!”
“We're planning to,” Shane explains before the two can argue any further. “We're just waiting a little. Ilya is not out to his team yet and we made a deal that we had to win a Cup before coming out to everyone else.”
“You heard Hollywood, guys!” Gallagher concludes with a mischievous grin. “So if you want to go to a wedding sometime soon, let's go get that fucking Cup!”
This makes the whole locker room explode in cheering, clapping and whistling, everyone fully motivated for-
“I have another question!” Carmichael says because of course he does. “What the fuck did you mean when you said you weren't checking us out in the shower? I get that you're married and all but aren't we attractive to gay guys?”
Everyone bursts into laughter and Shane feels a heavy weight being lifted off his shoulders.
He guesses a small, tiny part of him will always regret the way his coming out went with the Metros but a bigger, larger part of him is happy and grateful he got to have this in this life at least.
●○●○●
The first few weeks of the season pass by in the blink of an eye and just like the year before, the Raiders find themselves fighting for the top spot in the league's rankings with none other than the Metros which deeply amuse Shane's teammates.
“Makes sense that you and Rozanov ended up together,” Kane tells him one day. “You're the only ones who can keep up with each other.”
Then, before Shane knows it, they're halfway through November and they're finally facing Montreal for the first time of the season.
“Big plans with the husband tonight?” Beaulieu teases him as they're getting ready in the Bell Centre's guest locker room.
Shane smirks but before he can reply, Cliff laughs beside him and adds.
“And the plane to Toronto is only tomorrow evening so I guess we won't see him until then!”
It's only when he's almost done getting ready and is about to put on his jersey that Gallagher interrupts him.
“Wait, Hollywood!” he says loudly enough for everyone else to hear and to stop gearing up.
The captain then pulls out of a gift bag from his stall and walks over to Shane, handing it to him.
“Consider this a late wedding gift,” he tells him with a wink.
Curious, Shane smiles back at him and begins pulling out the silk paper until he sees it.
“A jersey?” he wonders, confused as he takes it out of the bag.
But then he sees the big A on the chest and he understands.
“I only had one alternate,” Gallagher points out, motioning to Cliff. “I figured it was time I had a second one.”
Shane grins as he hurriedly puts it on, taken back by how right it feels.
Carmichael whistles.
“Looking good there, Hollywood!”
The guys follow and begin clapping and whistling as well.
“Give me your phone,” St-Simon tells him as he stands up. “I'll take a picture so you can send it to your boy!”
Shane doesn't hesitate and hands his phone to his teammate before posing in between Gallagher and Cliff, the three of them grinning for the camera.
He then sends the picture to Ilya and awaits his answer.
“He's going to be happy for you?” Beaulieu wonders and Shane can't help but snort.
“More like horny.”
As he says so though, he receives a text from Ilya and opens it against his better judgment.
“I can't wait to take it off you with my teeth and-” Gallagher reads out loud before stopping abruptly and chuckling “Yup, we're not seeing him until the airport tomorrow!”
The locker room bursts into laughter and Shane grins as he types out a message to his husband.
Shane: Can't wait either! See you in a few on the ice
Ilya: 😉