Work Text:
Yuna’s first instinct is to make a plan.
She has eyes and ears and she’s not an idiot, so she knows what the hockey world says about her. There’s the usual (sexist, racist) bullshit, and the unspoken jealousy and resentment about Shane. She’s heard herself be called a momager more times that she can count because they’ve been spitting that label at her since Shane was in U7s and it became clear just how good he was.
Why the hell does hockey think the two worst things to be are a mother and a manager? (Because loving your kid and caring about your client are bad when it gets in the way of hockey squeezing every drop out of him.)
They talk at Yuna with backhand compliments and polite phrases wrapped around insults - honestly, she’d prefer a rude chirp because at least it’d be forthright. It’s usually accompanied by a condescending little smile, like she’s a dog who learned a cute trick and thinks it’s an achievement. And even when they’re playing nice with her, there’s always an undercurrent of judgement and they’re doing her a favour by humouring her but, really, shouldn’t she stick to fading into the background and cheering Shane on from the stands at a distance? Shouldn’t she know her place by now?
It’s like hockey doesn’t think Yuna’s heard the cautionary tales - and there are too many of those horror stories, not just in hockey but in pro sports in general. They’re ugly little anecdotes that are whispered behind cupped hands. Everyone knows about gifted, hardworking players who just want to play the games they love but whose parents aren’t wary enough of the sharks circling with hungry gleaming smiles. Between the league, GMs, coaches, agents, financial advisors - it’s a long fucking list - there are so many ways for a hockey player to have nothing to show for their years of dedication and sacrifice to hockey. Too many players have a legacy of broken bodies and bad debts.
The very worst stories are about the parents who are just as eager as the other predators to take a bite out of their own sons, like a pig they’ve raised to slaughter and now they’re ready to feast.
So, yes, Yuna hates all the crap she puts up with from hockey. But Shane needs her to do it - good defence is just as important as good offence - so she does it.
(It pisses her off even more that if David was Shane’s manager, hockey would welcome him with a firm handshake and a fraternal clap on the shoulder. They’d say he was a good father and a decent man, who’s looking out for his son. They’d say it to his face and behind his back.)
When Shane was younger, he needed Yuna to teach him to tie the laces on his skates. She drove him back and forth from endless practices and games. She fed his team and hosted sleepovers with teammates because hockey loves to remind everyone that it’s a team sport. He doesn’t need the same things from her anymore. That doesn’t matter.
Yuna’s still on Team Shane - and that means she’s also on Team Shane-and-Rozanov now.
Her first impulse is to charge in with an hour long Powerpoint presentation and a detailed written report with correctly formatted annotations. She doesn’t though because she remembers that all her cajoling and convincing, no matter how well-intentioned, made Shane feel that he couldn’t tell her he’d fallen in love.
So Yuna doesn’t push and pitch. She just enjoys the summer break with David and Shane and Rozanov - no, that’s wrong. With David and Shane and Ilya. (She refuses to be like her own damn mother-in-law - David’s mother means well but she kept forgetting Yuna’s name, clucking her tongue at ‘complicated foreign names’. It took her an entire year after the wedding to stop misremembering Yuna’s name. She’d been calling her ‘Luna’ instead.)
Because Yuna knows it’s a gift that Shane and Ilya have chosen to be here at the Hollander’s summer cottage. The hockey season is attritional and summer is precious, time to nurture all the things hockey strips away during the rest of the year. In the past, that meant watching Shane heal from injuries, build back the muscle the season whittled away, refine his skills to gleaming sharpness for next season. This summer, it also means time for Shane and Ilya to be together in all the ways they can’t be during the season - and yet they’re sharing some of that precious, scarce time with Yuna and David.
Summer at the Hollanders’ isn’t terribly exciting. It’s leisurely weekend lunches where David’s cooking, the boys are helping with chopping and grating and stirring, and Yuna’s keeping everyone’s glasses topped up. After lunch, the boys pack up the leftovers they want to take home with them and Yuna loads the dishwasher. The next few hours of the afternoon are lazy. David will usually keep working on his latest puzzle. Shane reads a hockey book and Ilya helps with the puzzle but even busy with other things, their bodies are in contact the whole time.
One Sunday, Shane brings his laptop instead of a book. He and Ilya start the conversation about the Irina Foundation. They have a vision for their charity and ideas of their own - yes, they want Yuna’s help but it’s their project. So she listens, provides input when it’s needed and invited. She doesn’t direct or steer - either the discussion or the ideas - in the direction she wants them to go.
In the end, she just asks. “Do you want help with the rest of your plan too?”
Shane and Ilya exchange a quick wordless glance and, oh God, they really have been together for years - even if, for most of those years, they thought they were only lovers. (Yuna smiles every time she hears or even thinks of that word now.) Because that’s the same look that Yuna shares with David, when familiarity and comfort and love can speak clearer than words.
Yuna braces for outright refusal (and tells herself sternly that she’ll accept it graciously) or at least a reminder from Shane that he and Ilya aren’t planning to come out and she shouldn’t get ahead of herself.
But Shane only gives her an easy nod, used to Yuna’s help. “Thanks, Mom, that’d be great.”
Yuna tenses at the frown on Ilya’s face though. He’s a grown man with his own management team - it makes sense that he doesn’t want his boyfriend’s overbearing mother sticking her nose into his business.
“Is not too much?” Ilya asks, clearly concerned. “You already help us with the Irina Foundation.”
Yuna reaches out and squeezes both their hands. “Nothing is too much for my boys.”
Most of Yuna’s time is taken up with working on the Irina Foundation. She’s never set up a charity before and it’s a complex project with legal and tax issues. It’s challenging but intellectually stimulating. She likes that Shane and Ilya chose to create a charity to let them spend more time with each other. They could’ve done plenty of other projects - some league initiative that would earn brownie points for schmoozing with execs, a business venture that would make them a few more million dollars for themselves. But the Irina Foundation isn’t just about Shane and Ilya - it’s going to help other people too. Yuna feels so proud of them, it’s like champagne bubbles are bursting in her heart.
She hasn’t forgotten the greater purpose though, the boys’ long term plan for themselves. It’s always in the back of her mind. That’s how Yuna’s best ideas come about, when she gives herself time and space to contemplate things, and for inspiration to spark.
The patience pays off one afternoon when she’s weeding the garden - it’s mindless busywork, perfect for freeing up her thoughts to wander, turning over ideas. And the idea that appears in her head is so perfect that Yuna punches the air and laughs aloud.
Yuna doesn’t bring the boys an hour-long presentation or an annotated report. She just tells them her idea simply as they’re having a leisurely family brunch on the deck.
“Joint brand sponsorships,” Yuna says as she drizzles maple syrup on her pancakes. Shane and Ilya are both looking at her with interest so she keeps going. “The Irina Foundation is wonderful but charity events tend to only come around a few times in a year - hockey camps in the off-season, an annual gala, a major fundraising campaign maybe once or twice a year. But ad campaigns keep you in the public eye, get people used to you being together - every time they drive past a billboard of the two of you, every magazine spread, every TV commercial.”
“Brands will like that,” Ilya says thoughtfully. “Rozanov and Hollander.”
“They’ll love it,” Yuna replies, and her conviction is absolute. “Any campaign featuring both of you will be incredible, everything any brand could ever dream of - excellence, power, speed, teamwork, beauty.”
Ilya grins at Shane with triumph. “They will pay us so much money.”
Yuna feels a twinge of unease. There’s always been plenty of gossip about Ilya, right from his first day as a rookie, but she’s never heard that Ilya is greedy. He’s not one of these players that signs any brand deal put in front of him as long as they pay him enough - and for a player of his calibre, he actually has fewer endorsements than she expected. But he has to pay for those designer clothes and those sleek cars somehow. It makes sense that he wants money - it doesn’t make him venal.
Ilya is still talking. “We can give the money to the Foundation,” he says to Shane. “Maybe the brands will like that too? Helping a charity makes them look good?”
The tightness in Yuna’s chest eases and is instead replaced by a steady warmth. Of course Ilya isn’t money-hungry - he just wants to build this life with Shane, honour his mother with their Foundation. “The brands will like that a lot. We can use it to negotiate a higher fee too - if they’re getting a tax break for charity, they can pay it forward to you and Shane.”
Ilya’s grin turns impish then and it’s as bright as the summer sun as he leans closer to Shane. “More chances for us to spend time together too. Lots of photo shoots.”
For some reason, Shane blushes as red as a tomato. “Shut up,” he mumbles, even as he smiles back at Ilya, helplessly fond. “You just want to fu- uh, flirt on company time.”
“I can outline a preliminary strategy, look at some brand possibilities,” Yuna offers.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“Yes, please. Thank you, Yuna.”
“Ilya, I can liaise with your management team,” Yuna continues. “I got the impression exclusivity is a big part of the personal brand strategy? Your management team will want to make sure anything we come up with synergises with your existing plan.”
But Ilya only gives an easy, one-shouldered shrug. “No management,” he replies. “No personal brand strategy.”
“What?” For a moment Yuna thinks that Ilya is refusing to let her liaise with his management team.
Ilya repeats himself. “No management. No personal brand strategy.” Ilya’s English may be accented but it’s excellent after so many years in the US. Yet he says ‘personal brand strategy’ like the phrase is foreign to him, like he’s never heard the syllables put together in that order before. “My old manager - and my old agent - are in Russia. Friends of my father. I didn’t want them anymore, after he died.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Is okay.”
There are undercurrents here Yuna doesn’t understand. Ilya speaks lightly and looks almost disinterested, seemingly more interested in his pancakes than his career, but his shoulders are tight - nothing like his usual loose, relaxed posture when he’s around the Hollanders. Shane looks even worse, like he’s playing a game against a tough team and the Metros are one goal down.
Yuna is tempted to press - how can she give them good advice if she doesn’t have all the information? - but it’s not the time for her to indulge her curiosity. “It’s fine. There’s no rush. We can put this part of the plan on hold, focus on the Irina Foundation for now, and then revisit when you sign a new management team.”
Ilya’s shaking his head before Yuna even gets half the words out. “No, is okay. You can make the plan about brands for us. Everyone knows Yuna Hollander is the best manager in the league - is why Shane has so many good brands.”
Part of Yuna is warmed by the praise - she gets called a momager plenty but it’s rare that people actually acknowledge that she’s actually a damn fine manager and that Shane has an impressive portfolio of sponsorships and endorsements on and off the ice because of her expertise and hard work.
“You should always get independent advice before signing a contract,” Shane advises solemnly.
Ilya’s response is a dramatically scandalised gasp as he clutches at his chest. “Shane! You’re insulting your mama. You’re saying she will cheat your boyfriend.”
Shane rolls his eyes but he’s smiling as he does. “No, I’m not. Mom’s a great manager-”
“Best manager in the league. She got you Rolex.”
“Ugh, fine, yes, Mom is the best manager in the league. But she’s still my manager and my mom. You should get independent advice to check that the plans and contracts are fair. That way you’ll know you can trust her, not just feel you can. Besides, sometimes there’s just a mistake in a contract so it’s good to check.”
Ilya’s gaze flicks between Shane and Yuna, looking vaguely baffled. “Okay. You recommend anyone?”
Shane pulls a face. “You really shouldn’t take recommendations from us. That’s not really independent advice.”
“Oh my God, Shane. Are all your people gangsters who want to cheat your boyfriend? Are you secretly bratva?”
“I’m trying to help you, asshole,” Shane laughs. He digs his elbow into Ilya’s ribs and Ilya retaliates by tickling him. The boys tussle, laughing and swearing, until they almost knock over a glass and so eventually call a truce. Their faces are still flushed and they let out little bursts of giggles as they nudge each other playfully.
“Think about it, Ilya,” Yuna suggests. “You could get recommendations from other players, maybe the Raiders front office. Then shortlist the managers you’re interested in meeting and decide from there who you’d like on your team.”
“My management team are Canadian,” Shane says. “But you might want Americans since you’re in Boston. Maybe you can talk to Scott Hunter.”
“Nooooo, he’s so old,” Ilya groans. “His managers will only know how to find old man sponsors, not ones for hot sexy hockey star. And I don’t need Americans for my team - I’m moving to Ottawa.”
Yuna knows better than anyone that making assumptions about a player from their public persona is stupid. The brands like Shane because, to them, he’s handsome, talented, polite, hard-working. He’s Japanese-Canadian. Using him for their brands lets them sell their products to appealing demographics. They flatten him until he has as much depth and interest as a page in the glossy magazines running one of their ads. The Shane in their ads is a mute doll, dressed up and puppeted.
She never paid much attention to Ilya’s sponsorship deals before - only enough to notice that Shane’s were better, more prestigious, probably more highly paid. She was smug and satisfied in finding another area where Shane bested his rival but she didn’t think of it beyond that.
Yuna’s paying attention now. She admits now what she couldn’t before when she thought Shane and Ilya were real rivals who hated each other. Ilya is just as marketable as Shane - maybe moreso. He’s as talented a player as Shane, even if Shane has more Cups. He works as hard, is as compelling to watch. He’s just as handsome as Shane, although differently. He’s been more than polite too with the Hollanders.
So Ilya’s lack of sponsorships makes no damn sense. Yuna can think of half a dozen top tier, international brands across different product categories that would be thrilled to have him in their advertising - they would literally be flinging mountains of money at Ilya. Brands would beg.
Instead, Ilya has only a fraction of the sponsorships he should have. He does ads for the league’s official sponsors, the same way all the players are contracted to do. The media work he does promoting the Raiders is also probably written into his contract. But Ilya doesn’t seem to have any other major sponsorships signed independently, at least not in the US and Canada. Yuna widens her search and finally discovers that Ilya does have some big sponsorships in Russia (nothing in the wider European market though) - a bank, a phone company, a premium vodka brand. But Ilya wasn’t wrong when he said his previous management team never developed a personal brand strategy because the brands they’ve picked to sponsor him are all wrong. Not bad, but uninspired - they’re sponsors Yuna would expect for a generic player without much of a profile. Maybe someone like Hayden. They’re not the right fit for Ilya at all.
What the fuck were they thinking?
So Yuna keeps digging. Incompetence pisses her off. The league’s condescension about her being a momager put a chip on her shoulder - she hates that she attracts criticism for caring when there are managers who do the bare minimum, if that, for the players they’re meant to represent.
It doesn’t take long to see the pattern. Ilya’s old management team didn’t just cut corners on finding him the right sponsorships - they don’t seem to have done anything that they should’ve. As far as Yuna can piece together from videos and articles (she doesn’t ask Ilya for contracts or other paperwork, suspects he’d hand them over without question), Ilya was dropped into the MLH with no support and the weight of expectation that he was a generational talent. How much English did he even speak? Yuna remembers seeing one of Ilya’s early interviews when it was obvious he barely understood the convoluted question some pretentious journalist asked him. The thought of Ilya signing complicated contracts as a rookie, in a language he barely grasped, makes Yuna want to cross-check his old manager in the fucking face. She also has no doubt that Ilya’s old management team continued to charge him a full commission for all the work they weren’t doing for him. (She wonders cynically if they skimmed extra off the top.)
Yuna refuses to be embarrassed about her excitement to finally have a Powerpoint presentation for the boys. She mirrors the screen on her laptop to the big TV in the living room so they’ll see the full visual impact of the images.
“CCM would be a good start,” Yuna announces. At a click of a key, the TV fills with a photo from the campaign Shane and Ilya shot before their rookie season.
Ilya grins with delight at the sight of the photo of them in profile, crouched in a faceoff. “Good memories.”
“CCM is already established as part of both your personal brands,” Yuna agrees. “You’ve done ads with them before. Even a joint ad. A new campaign with the two of you calls back to that one. It reminds everyone that you’ve always been linked as a pair - just not in the way everyone thought. It’s an organic development.”
“Will CCM go for it?” Shane asks. “We kept laughing last time. I think it messed up the shoot.”
“They’ll definitely go for it,” Yuma replies. “It gives them an edge over the newer brands challenging them in the hockey equipment space - the message is that other brands are upstarts but CCM recognised and nurtured Hollander and Rozanov. It wouldn’t surprise me if they even leaned into the nostalgia for the new campaign, mirror the old one more overtly.”
Shane’s face turns red again - honestly, what had the boys done at that CCM shoot?
“I think it is good idea,” Ilya says.
“It makes sense,” Shane agrees.
“It’s a good foundation to build on,” Yuna continues. “The next joint campaign would be with a different brand, one that expands the narrative. I’m thinking Rolex.”
Ilya’s eyes widen in surprise. “Rolex? For me?”
Shane nudges him companionably. “You like Rolex. You liked that one of mine that you wore.”
Ilya is serious as he glances at Yuna. “I just borrowed. To try it before I buy for myself.”
Shane rolls his eyes, exasperated but affectionate. “Ugh, I told you - just take one of mine. They’ve given me so many watches.”
“They really have,” Yuna says, trying to reassure Ilya. “It’s like they think Shane changes watches five times a day. Isn’t it better that you have the watch, and wear it and enjoy it, instead of it sitting in a drawer somewhere?”
Ilya still looks doubtful and Yuna’s heart gives a little squeeze. She’s depressingly certain that people try to take advantage of Ilya’s wealth, the same way they try to do to Shane - even if it’s just friends or family assuming he’ll always pay for drinks or pick up the cheque for dinner or gift them seats at hockey games. It’s sweet that Ilya wants to reassure her that he isn’t using Shane for money when the entire world knows that his contract is just as large, has just as many zeroes.
“Okay. But Rolex might not want me for their ads,” Ilya points out. “Is watch for serious people. Businessmen. Not drunk boys dancing in clubs.”
Shane is nothing if not loyal to the people he loves. “You’re serious!” he insists.
“Maybe. About hockey.” Ilya’s shrug is self-deprecating.
“Certainly about hockey,” Yuna says firmly. “No one wins the Cup by being cavalier and not putting in the hard work. You might not have been quite what Rolex were looking for when you were a rookie but you’re a Captain now, a Cup winner. A star and statesman of the sport.”
“Really?” Ilya asks uncertainly. “You think so?”
“Yes. And it fits well with the narrative you and Shane are building. Neither of you are green rookies forced into some fake rivalry for the benefit of the league’s profits anymore. You’re mature and confident young men with a genuine friendship.” And more, Yuna thinks to herself.
Ilya nods slowly, as if he’s adjusting to the idea of being more than someone who just wins hockey games, and drinks and dances in trendy clubs. “And it won’t hurt Shane with Rolex? They won’t give him less money or ads? It was his sponsor first.”
“Rolex will love us - right, Mom?”
“They will,” Yuna confirms. “And it fits perfectly with this strategy that Rolex is Shane’s sponsor first. We’re not trying to merge your brands but we do want to link them. You’ll still each have your individual sponsorships - they’ll just be supplemented with special joint campaigns from time to time. Like a famous guest star on a TV show. It’ll keep things exciting too, something to look forward to because everyone will want to see the next Hollander-Rozanov campaign.”
“I like that,” Ilya says, with a little smile. “But I think my sponsors are bad for Shane - even Russian phone company is too boring for him.”
“Hey! I could be more boring for a Russian phone company,” Shane squawks.
“Yes,” Ilya agrees. He reaches out to tug Shane closer into a cuddle and ruffles his hair. “You are the best at boring.”
Yuna hesitates, trying to decide if she should speak, wonders if she would be overstepping again. “We can always find you different sponsors if you don’t like the ones you have now - much better sponsors too.” She’s tempted to share with Ilya exactly how bad his current selection of sponsor is, completely not worthy of him, and how his previous management were some combination of lazy, incompetent or fraudulent. But she decides that talking shit about his deceased father’s friends isn’t what a good mother-in-law does.
Ilya looks interested though and Yuna breathes easier knowing that she hasn’t offended him by intruding into areas that aren’t technically her business. “More, better sponsorships means more money for the Irina Foundation - and to buy Shane presents as my boyfriend. New car, I think.”
“What?!”
Ilya flashes Shane an unrepentant grin. “Yes. Something pretty. Lamborghini? Aston Martin? Ferrari? All classic and beautiful, like you.”
“I already have a car.”
“Pfft. Boring car.”
“It’s safe for winter.”
“But boring for summer. I like a convertible for you in summer - you will have more freckles,” Ilya sighs happily.
“Oh, that’s perfect,” Yuna says, with an excited nod as she jots it down in her notes app. “And it fits so well with your established personal brand. Any other sponsorships you’re interested in?”
“What do you think?”
Yuna looks at Ilya a beat longer to make sure he’s not just being polite and humouring her as his future mother-in-law. She only speaks when she’s certain he’s actually interested.
“We can adapt our general strategy for Shane for you too. One major sponsor, the very best possible, for different product categories - quality over quantity. CCM covers hockey equipment but a general sportswear brand would be good sponsorship. Shane’s with Reebok but I’ve seen you wear Adidas a lot?”
That observation seems to stun Ilya, like he never expected his future mother-in-law to notice what clothes he likes to wear. “Yes. Is my favourite since I was young.”
“Adidas is a fantastic option then. Drinks are also big sponsorships opportunities for athletes - sports drinks, pop.”
“I have vodka sponsorship in Russia - I like it. But I also like Coke.”
“You can do both - different markets, different sub-categories.” Yuna pauses, weighs up whether she should keep going, then lets it all out in a rush. “There’s so much more unexplored potential - we should seriously consider high fashion, jewellery. There are very few athletes that can be positioned convincingly in both worlds.”
“You’d be great at fashion stuff,” Shane says earnestly. “You love it - like that shirt with the tiger pattern and those funny sweatpants.”
“The sweatpants aren’t funny,” Ilya protests. “They’re fashion.”
“They’re pretty funny - they drop so low. How do you walk in them?” Shane isn’t teasing, he looks genuinely curious.
“I walk sexy,” Ilya insists. “So sexy my boyfriend looked at me and not my house. What do you like then, if you think sweatpants are funny?”
“Your Hawaiian shirt,” Shane replies immediately.
Watching them now, Yuna thinks she must’ve been blind to believe that Shane and Ilya were rivals who hated each other.
Yuna’s only half-listening, her mind jumping excitedly from one idea to the next and fingers flying over the keyboard as she types them down on her notes app, so Ilya’s comment hits like being checked hard into the boards unexpectedly.
“How should I send you money? Cheque? Wire transfer?”
In business, worth is ascribed by a dollar value so Yuna always makes sure she’s paid, and as high as the market will bear. But she makes sure to sound casual as she replies now.
“Oh, I don’t charge Shane for my help,” she says, striving for airy and blithe, no big deal.
Ilya looks surprised for a split second. “Of course, you are his mama.” He still looks to Shane though, as if wanting confirmation and reassurance.
“It’s true,” Shane says. “Mom doesn’t ask for money. She’s . . . Mom.”
He says it like he’s saying that ice is cold and Yuna feels a burst of pride at that. Shane might not have felt able to tell her he was gay or that he was in love with Ilya Rozanov but he still trusts her with this - not just for himself but for Ilya too.
Ilya nods at Shane’s words but Yuna can still see uncertainty lingering on his face. She suspects that family means something different to him than it does to Shane. (What the fuck did Ilya’s family do to him?)
“You’re an honourary Hollander now,” Yuna agrees. “It comes with a lifetime supply of brand management and excellent pasta.”