Archive of Our Own

Shane doesn't really use social media, so it's pure chance that he even sees it. He took a stupid hit and the team physio insisted he miss their roadie even though he definitely could have skated through. He wanted to at least travel with the team, but Ilya gave him a Look that said he knew if Shane was with them he'd try and convince the physio to put him back in early, so here he is scrolling instagram. And he goes down a rabbit hole.

The most embarrassing thing is that it starts because he was looking at pictures of Ilya. Sue him, he's got used to seeing his husband all day every day and now he's got seventy-two hours with only a few FaceTime calls to get him through.

He'd landed on a video he'd somehow not seen before, posted by the artist who did Ilya's loon tattoo. Despite how long it's been, just thinking about Ilya getting that done, the level of certainty in their relationship it represented, makes Shane feel a swell of emotion. Also, horniness, because if he ever let on he was feeling insecure Ilya would make sure to do his next post-game interview shirtless and tell Shane that it was so he could show everyone who he belonged to.

So he watches the video and while he's not sure what he thought a tattoo being done would be like, it wasn't this. Yes, there's a bit of blood the artist wipes away, but mostly it's almost... meditative. Ilya's body language is languid and relaxed, only tensing when the artist reaches the part closest to his shoulder, where it's closest to bone.

Shane watches the video a dozen times, barely even noticing the time pass. When he blinks and manages to pull himself away he's half-hard and also getting hungry. He sends Ilya a photo of the bulge in his pants and goes to make himself a protein smoothie while he waits for a response. Practice skate should be done by now and Ilya will be back in his hotel room but not quite started on his pre-game nap.

Shane drinks his smoothie and has some excellent phone sex. It's almost nostalgia-tinged, now that it's a rarity and not half their relationship, setting up his iPad on a tripod and baring himself to Ilya, watching Ilya bare himself in return. The iPad is a genius addition to the set up; Shane feels like an idiot for sticking to his phone when they had to make do with just this.

After, he does a physio-approved light workout. And then it's still ages until the game and he's thinking about the video again, but only a little bit in a horny way. He goes onto the artist's instagram and watches other videos, then lets the instagram algorithm take him on a journey. He sees a lot of tattoos, some he thinks are beautiful, some things he cannot comprehend someone wanting permanently inked onto their body, but it's all fascinating.

Shane's never really understood the ASMR videos JJ insists are necessary for him to sleep, or the gross mukbangs that Ilya views as relaxing background watching, but he thinks this is hitting him in kind of the same way. He gets so caught up in it he almost jumps when his phone buzzes with a notification.

It's a photo from Ilya. He's in the locker room, shirtless (because he's shameless) and staring into the camera with the most ridiculous pout. Behind him, Haas is grinning and waving at the camera.

Ilya: I do not like being in a locker room without you, feels wrong.

Shane's heart squeezes with love but he can't help but chirp.

Shane: Think you've forgotten how to play without me there to make you look good?

Ilya's winning the scoring race the season, but Shane's got more points, mostly due to how many of Ilya's goals he's assisted on. Ilya is adorably irritated by this, hates the idea of Shane being seen as the more supportive husband.

Wiebe has told him in no uncertain terms he's not to stop taking shots on goal just to get his number of assists for Shane higher. Ilya wouldn't really do that, because he takes their job more seriously than most people comprehend, but he had still pouted and whined about not being allowed to.

Ilya: I will be showing off for you, that lets me do anything.

The unexpected sentiment cuts right through Shane. God, he loves this man so fucking much.

Shane: You being in the locker room without me feels wrong to me, too.

It feels good to admit, even as it makes Shane squirm a little, even after all these years — even after marriage — to be this honest and open.

Ilya: ❤️

Something about that little emoji makes Shane's heart squeeze with a desire to hold Ilya close, to make him know and understand how much he is loved.

Things move on. The Centaurs win without Shane and he is amazed to find his pride outweighing the part of himself worried about not being necessary. They won, they played beautiful hockey, but he knows it would have been more beautiful with him there and that soothes him.

Shane doesn't think about the tattoo videos for a while, until another night where he is home alone and scrolling on his phone. Ilya is out dancing with Svetlana, who is visiting for a few days. Shane doesn't mind these quiet nights, knowing Ilya will come back sweaty and bright-eyed, touching Shane as much as possible as he talks about his night.

Shane's algorithm is still showing him tattoo videos and he's still watching them. That's when he comes across the account, someone whose simple blackwork florals call to him.

He's mostly just looking at their work, before his eye catches on the word "freehand". There's something about it that snags on his brain. The idea of going in to get something permanently on your body without knowing exactly what it will look like in advance. Sure, it's the stencil that is drawn freehand, so people can see what they are getting before they fully commit, but the level of surrender in it still feels like a lot.

Shane worries at the idea like a loose tooth. He's never seriously considered a tattoo before, genuinely hasn't even idly imagined getting one, but now the idea is firmly lodged in his mind. He avoids admitting to himself he's even contemplating what he would get, but in his heart he has known since he scrolled the account and saw a particular piece. A lily.

Shane knows he's stubborn. Once he has decided he's going to do something no amount of logic and counter arguments can really deter him. Trusting his gut is essential on the ice and it has brought him here, to this beautiful life he could never have achieved if any argument based on logic actually worked on him. So he knows he's going to do it long before he actually makes any moves to do so.

What he's really contemplating is how he'll tell Ilya. He's torn. Part of him loves the idea of somehow going and getting it in secret, not letting his husband know until this symbol of love and devotion is on his body. Another part, one he ultimately accepts is larger, wants to share the experience with the love of his love, wants to share any experience he can with him.

That doesn't mean it can't be a bit of a surprise. The tattoo artist is in Montreal and there's something that feels almost healing about returning to his former home for this. It's the first time he's been back to the city proper for something other than hockey in years and he can breathe a bit easier walking down these streets with his husband by his side.

Said husband is, of course, complaining about it. That helps, too.

"Why did you bring me to this terrible, boring city? You say it is a surprise, but there can be no good surprise in this ugly place."

It's beautiful. A stunning summer day in a city Shane has always loved aesthetically, even when he didn't like it in other ways. But it is tainted for Ilya now, because he is so desperately loyal, and Shane can't pretend that doesn't feel good.

"You'll see." Shane says, reaching out and taking Ilya's hand. They don't exactly do a lot of PDA, even now, and this is one of the places they are most recognisable, but it feels right. This is just a beautiful city he used to live in and he can hold his husband's hand here if he wants to.

Ilya grumbles at being kept in the dark, but he also cannot hide his shy surprise at the show of affection. His thumb strokes over Shane's before he speaks. "Okay, okay. I am very patient, I will wait."

Shane laughs at that, but he doesn't have a chance to chirp before they reach the small, unassuming shopfront, with a dark window covered in beautiful monochrome flowers. He stops, enjoying the way Ilya is thrown off-balance by the unexpected halt and the hold between their hands stretches like elastic before bouncing back.

Ilya's eyes light up. "Here? Have you chosen a new tattoo for me, will you be putting more of your marks on me?"

There is something unexpectedly sexy about this idea, of surprising Ilya with a permanent piece of art on his body and Ilya not even taking a second to ask what it is before agreeing. But there's also something a bit annoying, that Ilya doesn't seem to even consider it might be for Shane. This is, of course, hypocritical, as the decision had shocked Shane himself, but still.

"Nope." Is all Shane says as he presses the buzzer. It's a private studio and Shane has arranged for there to be no other clients all day.

The door is opened quickly, a curvy woman with numerous tattoos and short turquoise hair ushering them in. She is visibly queer in a way that used to make him nervous and now feels almost comforting.

"Shane, Ilya, come in. It's lovely to meet you!" Her voice is cheerful and calm, like they're just normal new clients and she works on famous athletes every day.

"Lovely to meet you, too," Shane says, and is surprised to find he means it. Communicating with her over email had been nerve wracking, but now he feels comfortable and relaxed. "Ilya, this is Hélène, she's going to be doing my tattoo today."

Ilya's hand, still holding Shane's, goes tight. "Moya lyubov, we are here for you? Oh. That is—" Ilya cuts himself off, free hand reaching out as if to grab Shane and then pulling back, eyes flicking to Hélène.

Hélène smiles. "Why don't I make some tea? I'll just be a few minutes."

She whirls out of the room and Ilya has pulled Shane close in less than a second. "Milyy, sweetheart, you are trying to kill me with surprise when we didn't even have sex this morning and I cannot fuck you in this lovely woman's very clean and sterile studio?"

The studio is, indeed, impeccably clean. It's a simple, bright space, with bouquets of flowers as the main decor. Very different from Shane's preconceived notions of what a tattoo parlour would look like.

"Your husband is a cruel man," Shane mutters, as Ilya pulls him into a lush kiss. "But I heard a rumour that you are very patient."

Ilya glares, but it is unconvincing even by his standards. He looks so delighted he might just float away. Shane is also really regretting not having sex this morning, but he'd thought the rounds they went last night would be enough to not risk delaying the two-hour drive to Montreal. He should know better by this point, but somehow it's still shocking sometimes, how much he wants Ilya and Ilya wants him.

Ilya pulls Shane tight one last time, giving him a head-spinning kiss, before taking a deep breath and stepping back. "Okay, okay, yes. I am the most patient man. Show me the design."

It would be helpful for so much of Shane's life if seeing Ilya snap into Captain Mode weren't so sexy for him, but it very much is and that's absolutely what is happening in that moment. He takes his own steeling breath before replying. "There is no design."

Ilya frowns. "What do you mean, you said you were getting a tattoo, yes? I remember you saying it."

Shane shrugs a shoulder. "Hélène specialises in freehand tattoos, still life. It's why there are so many flowers here."

Ilya blinks and the look of awe on his face may be a shade of it Shane is not sure he's ever seen before. Maybe when Shane proposed, or when Shane jumped backwards over another player and hit a puck in mid-air to score the overtime goal that won them their first joint Stanley cup? "You are the most incredible man."

It should be funny, considering Ilya was happy to get any tattoo Shane wanted, sight unseen, just a few minutes ago, but it just makes a warm feeling pulse in Shane's chest. "I don't know about that. She will draw it on, first, so if I don't like it we can stop there."

Ilya shakes his head. "Still incredible. If I were imagining you getting a tattoo, you would know exact design for months — years, maybe. You would print it out on that monstrosity you keep in the office and practice the exact placement every day for weeks. And that would all be very sexy of you! But this... this is very sexy, too."

Shane lifts Ilya's hand to kiss his fingers. "You just think everything I do is sexy." He resists teasing Ilya about his fear of their perfectly sensible printer.

"Only because it is." Ilya's eyes flash hot for a moment, before he pulls himself back under control. "Did you at least choose the flower? Or are you just Mr. Go-With-the-Flow now?"

Shane tries to hold back his grin as he points to one of the bouquets. He may have asked Hélène to make sure they were on display. "I was planning on a rose. You know, Rose Landry has been such a good friend to me over the years, this way I could really honour her, you know?"

Genuine shock passes over Ilya's face in the split second before he looks at Shane and sees his ridiculous grin. He scowls and pokes at Shane's chest. "You are a nasty man! I am calling ESPN, I am calling Rolex, I am telling them Shane Hollander is the rudest and meanest man who ever did live."

Shane's face feels like it will hurt from smiling. "That seems like a bit much, as a reaction to your husband getting a tattoo to honour a friend. You and Bood have matching tattoos!"

Ilya huffs. "We have team tattoos, is just everyone else on the team is wimps, not friend tattoos."

"You didn't tell anyone else on the team you were going to get them and they're fucking ugly."

Ilya rolls his eyes, "Some day you will understand art."

His and Bood's matching tattoos are crudely drawn centaurs on their ankles. Shane was sure it was going to get infected when he'd looked up the place who had done it, who definitely should not have inked anything on anyone so drunk. Annoyingly, Shane finds the tattoos somewhat charming. It means a lot for Ilya to have such a great team, one that has also embraced Shane. It also means a lot for Ilya to have true friends on that team, in a way he never quite had when he was holding them at arms distance to keep the secret of their relationship.

"Someday, maybe." Shane agrees, before grabbing Ilya's hand and pointing it to another bouquet. "I guess I'll go for my second choice, then."

The lilies are gorgeous, perfectly shaped and yet irregular at the peak of their life-cycle, bursting open. Shane had assumed Ilya had worked out that was what Shane was actually planning, but the way his eyes suddenly fill with tears at the sight says maybe he hadn't.

"Oh." Is all Ilya manages to say, but there are whole worlds of love within that syllable.

"Yes. And I am going to get it here," Shane says, pulling Ilya's hand back to rest on his left pec, near his heart.

Ilya pulls him in for a wet, snotty kisses as the tears spill over. "I love you so much, so much."

"I love you, too," Shane replies. "Ya tebya lyublyu."

Ilya just holds Shane and breathes for a moment, before pulling back and getting a tissue from the box. "How complicated is the tea this woman is making?" He asks, laughing a little as he realises how long it has been.

"I may have asked her in advance to give us a moment after I told you. I'll call her back in when we're ready."

Ilya shakes his head. "My husband, always making the strategic play, even in this."

Shane shrugs, unable to deny it.

They take a few more minutes collecting themselves and Ilya goes to the small washroom with an all-gender symbol on the door to wash his face before Shane opens the door Hélène had disappeared to and tells her they're ready for her return.

She walks in with a heavily-laden tray, not even a hint of wobble. It's reassuring, that she has such steady hands, considering what she's about to do.

After that, it all feels quite straightforward. They have some delicious tea and then Shane undoes his buttons and slides his sleeves down his arms. Shane is used to being shirtless in front of lots of people, and had just got his meagre amount of chest hair waxed, so there's no need for the patch of skin to be shaved. It's calm and not in the least awkward and so very special.

Ilya sits next to the bench Shane is laid across and watches intently as Hélène sets up her workstation, one hand touching Shane's skin at all times. Ilya's eyebrows go up when Hélène sets up a phone on a tripod to film everything, but Shane just smiles. Ilya's smirk in response is very distracting.

Finally, Hélène places a small bud vase in the right position for her to see while she works. "Right, now you just need to choose your flower," she says, and brings over the vase of lilies.

Shane immediately looks to Ilya, gesturing with his head for him to be the one to choose.

Ilya's eyes look a little watery again before he steels himself and looks over the flowers like he's watching tape before the playoff finals, taking in every single detail. Shane stays quiet, watching Ilya's face, not the bouquet. He trusts Ilya to make the right choice.

Eventually, Ilya oh-so-carefully pulls out a lily and carefully passes it to Hélène. She smiles as she places it in the bud vase.

The process of Hélène drawing the stencil, using a special surgical marker, is soothing, if occasionally slightly tickly. The bench is comfortable, Ilya's hand stays on Shane's right shoulder, and Hélène's movements are comfortably confident. She's got a mirror set up so he can watch as she works, but instead Shane just watches his husband watch her and lets himself drift.

It feels like almost no time has passed before she declares it done and asks Shane to have a look and say if he's happy with it. Shane surprises himself by not turning his head to the mirror and instead just asking Ilya, "What do you think?"

Ilya purses his lips, obviously trying hard to read Shane. "It is —" his voice cracks ever so slightly, "— it is so beautiful, dorogoy, but do you not want to look?"

Shane knows this is an odd choice, but he has looked at literally hundreds of Hélène's tattoos online, has read every review he could find on three different websites, he has told her several of his favourites of her work. He trusts her, he trusts Ilya, and giving up control this way just feels right.

"No, no, I'm good. If you are happy with it, I'm perfect." Much as Shane loves chirping his husband, sometimes being perfectly sincere disarms him so beautifully. He wouldn't normally do this in front of a stranger, but he feels comfortable here.

Also, Hélène had signed an NDA. It was overkill, absolutely, but Shane is his mother's son, through and through.

Shane had expected to tense up with the pain of the needle when it started. Yes, he is a hockey player, used to keeping his muscles loose through all sorts of hits, but even so. In reality, he finds he immediately enjoys the sensation. The sharp buzzing zips straight through him, so like how being spanked shuts off his brain.

It occurs to Shane this might be the most turned on he has ever been by a woman touching him. He's going to keep that one to himself. Besides, it's not really about her, considering Shane is still watching Ilya, following how his hungry gaze tracks every movement of the tattoo gun.

It's funny, this started with Shane becoming fascinated with watching tattoos being inked, but now he is perfectly happy to just let it happen to him. He doesn't need to observe it when Ilya is there for him, when there is a video being recorded so Shane so see it back later if he gets the urge.

Shane loses time, enjoying the buzz, even when the pain starts to build, enjoying his husband's rapt attention and gentle, grounding touch. He isn't quite sure how long it has been when Hélène moves backwards and sets the tattoo gun on its stand, before stretching out her back.

"Done. Now do you want to look?" The humour in her voice doesn't feel grating, but warm. The best kind of chirp. He wonders if she's spent much time around hockey players, or do tattoo artists chirp each other just as much?

Shane laughs a little and finally turns his head, as she cleans him up, finding his neck aches a little from so long in one position, but even that feels satisfying.

He gasps a little when he sees the tattoo in the mirror above him. "It's perfect," he says, barely even recognising he's saying it out loud.

Ilya squeezes his shoulder. "It is so pretty, so perfect for my pretty solnyshko."

Hélène smiles, with the quiet satisfaction of someone who knows they're damn good at their job. Shane didn't expect her to feel like such a kindred spirit, but in this moment she truly does. "I'm so glad," she says, sincerity shining through.

She walks Shane through aftercare instructions, although he's already read up on it extensively, both when Ilya got the loon tattoo and again leading up to this. It is reassuring to hear it all laid out, to see how Ilya pays close attention despite having done this for himself before.

Shane takes Ilya's hand as they walk back out the door and into the street. Someone looks at them and then double takes in a very familiar way. He's grateful when they just nod, rather than asking for a selfie, or cursing him for leaving Montreal, or sobbing and thanking him for winning them three cups and apologising for how badly the team treated him, or any of the other reactions he's grown used to. Either way, he didn't even twitch towards pulling his hand away from Ilya when they were spotted and that's something he's still been working on. The ache of his chest under his shirt (and thank god he'd read the advice to wear something with buttons, rather than something to pull over his head) grounds him in his pride in loving Ilya.

They take advantage of their wealth to get an extravagant hotel room to fuck in. Ilya keeps moving to grope Shane's left tit and then realising he shouldn't and spewing the most beautiful filth. After, Ilya carefully cleans Shane with a cloth so he can avoid showering just yet, and the hotel room has a bidet so he can get himself comfortable enough for the two hour journey home. Because sometimes he is happy to go hours knowing he's full of his husband's come, but today he's had enough complex sensory experiences, actually.

They pick up Anya from her day with her grandparents, who both gasp when Ilya gives away what they were up to. Shane shyly shows them the photo Ilya took of the freshly finished piece and he knows they're being sincere when they say how beautiful it is. Yuna immediately gets ideas for how it could be worked into future ad campaigns and Shane can't help but laugh and give her a careful side-hug. He's not sure, quite yet, about sharing it with other people, but he surprisingly doesn't hate the idea.

The healing is annoying and itchy, but the fun of seeing Ilya frustrated that he can't kiss and lick grope him there puts Shane's own irritation on the back burner. By the time it is fully healed enough Shane is happy to tell his husband to go to town he expects to be absolutely mauled. Instead, Ilya is so delicate and gentle, so cautious that it might be too soon, that it makes Shane's chest ache beneath his marked skin.

Ilya makes up for that gentleness a week later and it's just as good.

Shane doesn't watch the video until he's on a roadie and Ilya's stuck at home nursing an injury, an inverse of the night that started this. He finds it strangely moving, watching this talented woman etch this symbol of Shane's love into his skin. He emails her and approves her making a post about his tattoo and tagging him, tells her which part of the video he'd want her to clip. He even sends her some of the photos Ilya has taken, now that it is healed, for her to include.

Hélène insists he print and sign his agreement to this and also send a video to prove it's actually him making the approval. It makes him like her even more, even as he has to go and ask the hotel business centre to do the printing for him.

He knows that she's going to post just before the game starts. After they thrash Tampa, Shane takes the time to slip his wedding ring back on before doing press shirtless, the first time he's ever done so by choice.

When someone asks how it feels to play without his husband Shane can't help but lift his hand to his chest, letting the cool metal of his ring touch the flower inked there. "Obviously, I prefer to play with him, he's the second best player in the league." He smiles to let them know it's a chirp, lets the polite laughing in response die down. Finds the camera he's hoping will be the one currently live and stares right at it. "But honestly, even when he's hundreds of miles away, I know part of him is always with me."

He leaves quickly after, the press shocked by this from Shane who so often rolls his eyes at how many questions he gets that centre on his husband. It feels good, to surprise them, to know Ilya is watching and surprise him, too.

When Shane finally makes it back to the hotel Ilya is absolutely feral on their FaceTime call. Shane finishes first and rubs his own come into the tattoo, watching in satisfaction as it sends Ilya over the edge.

Maybe a night apart every so often isn't the worst thing. He still can't wait to get back home.