Chapter Text
Harris wasn't sure what exactly he had gotten himself into, but this is, reportedly, what the people wanted.
And what the people want, they shall receive.
Mostly.
When it's in Harris's control, anyway.
But now, sitting here at his computer, in his office, he was already having mild regrets. Not because he didn't think this series wasn't going to be a great addition to their youtube channel, but because he's not sure that starting with Ilya Rozanov for it was really in his best interests.
He knows that hockey hierarchy practically demands that the captain is the guinea pig, but he would've been much happier to stick a mic on Shane and call it a day. Shane barely talks in the locker room, surely, there's nothing too startling he could say on the ice.
Harris sighs as he pulls open the audio-visual file from the camera he had trained to Ilya the day before at practice. He'd made one of the interns line up the camera feed and mic feed, so now, his only job was to make sure that everything potentially incriminating, or worse, was cut and edited before uploading to the Centaurs Offical youtube channel. Maybe splice some tiktok length edits together.
The video begins with a view of Ilya and Shane standing on the side of the rink, in the hallway to the locker rooms.
“Harris has...mic'd me,” Ilya tells him, patting the microphone on his chest.
“He thought this was a good idea?” Shane responds, tone dry and wary.
Ilya shrugs, his pads and jersey making a loud rustling against the mic. “Not sure about 'good idea' more...fans want to hear everyone's thought and I am captain.”
Shane lets out such a loud sigh that the Ilya's mic picks up on it. “So you have to go first.”
Ilya's hemlet bobs as he nods.
“Best behavior, Ilya,” Shane says, before moving around his husband and heading for the ice, “I'm serious.”
Ilya turns to watch Shane glide out into the rink. “So, is maybe not the best time to mention how very fuckable you look in your new uniform?” he calls, yelling to make sure Shane can hear him even as he walks away.
Harris groans. He can't hear Shane's response, aside from some very muffled yelling, but Ilya lets out a gleeful laugh and that's really all he needs to hear before he pauses the video and makes a note to cut that last line out.
The video continues, a common routine of Ilya giving instructions, warming up, goading Shane (Harris will leave some of it in, but has determined to cut everything more graphic than one would hear on primetime television), and generally being a good captain.
Ilya's good at his role, encouraging and challenging in turns.
Not really much entertainment here, but Harris puts together a small compilation of the warm-ups before the scrimmage starts.
It had been Weibe's idea to mic up the fake games that the team plays every so often, to try to get it to be as close to realistic as possible without exposing any of their players (see Ilya Rozanov) for being a little too into chirping. At least for their trial run.
“Mama,” Ilya says suddenly.
It had been quiet for several minutes. Harris pauses and notes the time stamp to cut out the silence, and then hits play again, rewinding a couple seconds.
Ilya is sitting on the bench as Shane and Troy line up at center ice for their scrimmage face off. Troy is paired with Luca and LaPointe, Shane is paired with Bood and Chouinard. He's looking at Shane and Harris can't see his face behind the helmet really, but he's seen Ilya look at Shane enough in real life to know he's probably got puppy-dog eyes and a lovesick smile.
“Mama,” the audio begins again, “you see how he is on my team now? My Shenya?”
Harris freezes.
Is...Ilya talking...to his dead mother?
“That is the best feeling in the world,” Ilya continues, “I used to tell you it was playing against him but was wrong. Is playing with him.”
Harris melts.
Shane and Troy play through their face off, with Ilya just mostly watching quietly.
When Shane slams the puck into the goal around Wyatt, Ilya jumps up with a loud whoop.
“You see! My husband! He is best hockey player ever!” Ilya cheers, pointing a finger to the sky, “just like I tell you, Mama, no one can beat him! Not even me!”
Then it's Ilya's turn on the ice, lined up against Troy, with Luca on one side of him and LaPointe on the other. Troy has Bood and Chouinard on his line.
He leans down and waggles his eyesbrows at Troy.
“Maybe if you let me win, I give you captain's advantage,” Ilya tries, staring Troy down with too much fondness and pride to really look like he's chirping.
Troy snorts. “As if Shane doesn't get all of the captain's advantage just by existing.”
Ilya cackles. “Is true,” he says under his breath, “perhaps I am terrible captain, Mama, but how can I say no to those freckles? You see him, yes?”
Ilya wins the face-off, preening and deliberately showing off for Shane, as he does. Troy takes back the puck for a few minutes, and then Ilya has it. He passes to Haas, who takes the shot and is blocked by Boyle, their backup goalie.
“Is okay,” Ilya encourages Haas who grunts in frustration, “this just means we have best goalies in league. Is good for team!”
Haas shakes his head and races after the puck again.
Ilya moves slower, keeping an eye on his team even as he tries to rejoin the fray. “Haas is like a little Ilya, Mama,” he narrates, “so lost and confused, so homesick. Although, he is also like a little Shane with all his silly worries and insecurity. He will be very good one day, just like my Shenya.”
When LaPointe passes the puck to Ilya, he's wide open for a shot, but instead he passes it again to Luca, who gets it in this time.
Luca hollers in celebration, and Ilya pulls him by his helmet into a hug.
“What did I tell you?” Ilya cheers, “I say you are good! Am never wrong!”
“Shut up, Cap,” Luca responds, cheeks reddening as he his tucked against Ilya's chest and patted on the back several times.
“You take loss too personal and you will never remember what it feels like to win,” Ilya tells him, letting Luca pull himself back, “do not forget.”
Luca nods once, skating off to the bench as Shane takes the ice again. Bood and Chouinard move over behind Ilya, Dillon and Young take to the ice behind Shane.
Ilya leans down into face off against Shane.
Harris leans forward. He knows this is either about to get good, or he's going to have to scrub the whole thing. Probably both.
“Ugh, he is so perfect,” Ilya mutters, “I just cannot help myself, Mama, he is so cute when he is angry.” Then, he addresses Shane. “Let's say...if I win this round you finally let me fuck you in my favorite car.”
Shane chokes. “No, Ilya, jesus christ.”
The puck drops and they take off, battling for it as Ilya laughs.
“Come on, moy dorogoy,” Ilya calls as Shane wins and skates away from his as quickly as he can, “Is bigger than it looks, I promise!”
“Fuck off!” Shane calls back, passing to Dillon, who tries for a shot and gets blocked by Hayes.
“Is only if I win,” Ilya says as he collects the puck and skates toward the other goal.
Shane slams him up against the boards.
“If I win, you suck my dick and fuck me with that ridiculous vibrator you bought,” Shane breathes into Ilya's ear.
Harris nearly falls out of his chair.
Ilya slips on the ice.
Shane fucking Hollander, who knew Ilya was mic'd up god damn it, skates away before either of them have recovered.
He wins that round.
Harris does not want to think about it.
After Ilya and Shane are finished with their scrimmage, the team runs their power play.
Luca, Shane, Ilya, and Bood.
Shane is centering, lining up against Troy, who, at this point, looks like he'd kind of rather be anywhere else right now. Even with Dykstra and Dillon behind him.
Harris can't blame him. These four were only allowed on the ice together for special plays for a reason.
“Oh, this is best part, Mama,” Ilya informs his mother's ghost, “this play? My favorite. Just watch the two of them go. Like beautiful dance. Almost as good as your ice skating videos.”
Harris melts again.
Ilya hangs back, letting Luca and Shane take most of the lead, and he's right. The two of them weave and pass around each other with blinding accuracy, and almost impossible agility.
“This is best part about being Captain,” Ilya says, “seeing them come together.”
Bood is there in the blanks where Luca isn't but really, Harris wouldn't be surprised if Luca and Shane could've played this entire thing by themselves.
Something about his childhood hero being there must bring out the best in Luca, because it's an incredible thing to watch. Where Shane and Ilya are like most well-rehearsed push and pull in hockey history, coming together to score goal after brutal goal together, Luca and Shane have more technical precision than Harris has yet to witness as a hockey fan.
It makes him giddy.
“They are like poetry on the ice, no?” Ilya asks, joyful, as the play finally comes to an end, Shane scoring from behind the net as Luca does a toss-pass to him.
Hayes grumbles as his hulking goalie form skates over to the bench for water next to Ilya. “Thank god none of the other teams have either one of them. They're like...freaking samurai ninjas.”
Ilya laughs loudly. “This season is going to be so good,” he crows, “I cannot wait.”
Hayes shakes his head. “We're gonna kick some ass, that's for sure.”
Ilya grins at him. “We're going to take cup, Hazy, who can stop us?”
Wyatt looks at where Shane and Luca are still on the ice. Shane is teaching Luca a particular way of weaving his skates that make his turns more efficient and can help him change an almost 180 direction in seconds. Luca is picking it up fast.
“With you and Hollander and Haas?” Wyatt asks, “I'm not entirely sure.”
Wyatt skates away and Ilya tilts his face to look up at the top of the stadium as if he can see someone there, watching them all.
“This team is so much better than last one, right?” he says, “I told you, Mama, I am on top of the world.” Ilya's quiet for a moment before he takes a long breath. “I wish you were here.” He pats his chest three times, where everyone knows his crucifix rests even beneath all his gear. “You would love them all so much. You would love him.”
Then, he gets up and goes to join the rest of the team.
Harris's eyes are misted over and the video cuts as the mic's battery dies. That's probably more than enough content anyway, unhinged Hollanov interactions aside.
Before he begins editing, he records a small screen grab of Ilya addressing his mom for the first time in the video and texts it to Shane.
Did u know he did this?
It's a minute or two before Shane replies.
Huh, no, I didn't.
At their house, Shane is draped across Ilya on the couch and he turns to his husband.
“Hey, do you talk to your mother every hockey game?” Shane asks him.
Ilya looks at him surprised. “Uh...how did you...know this?”
Shane shows him the video.
Ilya groans. “I forget about the mic. My reputation is ruined.”
“I don't think he's posted anything, yet, we can tell him to take all of that out...Or maybe you can redo it?” Shane is already typing on his phone before Ilya answers.
Ilya puts his hand on Shane's, stopping him. He takes a deep breath. “No,” he says softly, “no, let him post.”
Shane looks up at Ilya, surprised. “Are you sure? It's...pretty personal.”
Ilya nods. “I want...the whole world to know her. She deserved that.”
Shane reaches up and tangles a hand in Ilya's curls as Ilya blinks away a sudden arrival of tears.
“That's very brave of you, baby,” Shane murmurs, running his thumb over Ilya's cheek, “Are you sure?”
Ilya nods. “She...hated how much we had to hide all the time. Cover the bruises, cover the scars, don't tell them you love skating, Ilyusha, I would hate it if they took from you like they did from me. No, I...want to show her off.”
“Oh, Ilya.” Shane makes a sad noise in his throat and reaches up to wrap his arms around Ilya.
“Hurry up text Harris before he freaks out,” Ilya says after a minute of letting himself bask in the feeling of Shane's arms around him, comforting him.
Shane leans back to do so, never fully letting go of him.
A few days later, when the video is published, Harris titles it
The Best Captain Ever: Mic'd Up Ilya Rozanov
The caption says
We would like to draw attention to the Irina Foundation, in honor of 'Mama' mentioned many times throughout this video. Mrs. Rozanova, the Centaurs never got to know you, but we thank you for bringing your son to us. - Sincerely, The Social Media Team.
Shane posts a screenshot of Ilya looking up in the video and writes on his instagram page
Irina Rozanova was once one of the best junior figure skaters in Russia. Instead of pursuing those dreams, she stopped skating, got married, and raised two children, one of whom is my husband, Ilya Rozanov. She taught him to skate, gave him his love for the ice, and for that, I will forever be grateful.
Please donate to the Irina foundation, come volunteer with us, or even just get the information out about it to everyone you know. We're super excited to be launching some women's sports involvements in this summer, so be on the look out for that.
Ilya, my love, my captain, my world, I love you so much.
If anyone asks, Ilya does not cry when he reads it later in bed next to Shane that night.