Chapter Text
Shane wouldn’t call himself a model, no. He’s a hockey player, living and breathing for ice-cold air and the ache of his thighs after a victory. He also believes that models are fundamentally fashionable creatures with a figure and a facial charisma able to pull off the extravagance of their employers.
And, Shane is many things. But fashionable is not one of them, he wears sports gear every day of the year, and the only times he takes them off are reserved for formal events. And he’s been rocking the same three suits for a good chunk of his career, only tailoring them as he started gaining muscle mass when he changed his diet earlier this year. He moved in with his husband, he didn’t have much of a choice.
He wouldn’t pretend his face holds any charisma either. While it is known that he’s fairly attractive and above average despite the thousands of dots on his face, Shane’s features are particularly neutral. Flat as a cutting board.
He’s half convinced his face is only capable of frowning and resting, and the only time he saw himself on film doing a new variation of expression, he was getting married. He smiled, big. He’s kinda super in love with his spouse.
Not a model though. Don’t let his resume fool you, Shane knows how to stand before a camera but he doesn’t work with it. He tries his best and he hopes his branding will make up for his stiffness. Because that is what Shane is. A brand, not a model.
Rolex, Reebok, Axe, Under Armour, they put his face on the product because Shane has brand sales, Shane The Hockey Player™ represents a brand that makes the pride of Canada. His face, in itself, has very little to do with it.
Well. He’s sure it does help, but it’s not actually relevant anymore, if it ever was. And while Shane speaks in the present because his publicist and his mother do, Shane is very aware that his branding as Shane The Hockey Player Pride of Canada™ is gone, useless and not the marketing argument the brands reach out for him anymore.
He’s Shane The Gay That Married Another Player now. He’s not Montreal’s Outstanding Captain. He’s the guy who makes out with his long-time rival. He’s gay, he’s not a captain anymore or anything particularly interesting outside of his marriage, and he’s not really expecting a call from Axe anymore.
It’s fine.
A bit reductive after ten years of dominating his sports, especially when he’s been gay the whole time, but he knew that, didn’t he? He chose this, he chose Ilya.
He doesn’t regret it, he’d choose him every time. His brand is not nearly as important as his person, his husband. But choisir, c’est renoncer, as they say in French.
To be with the man he loves out in the open, Shane had to make sacrifices because he lives in a shitty world. Ilya gave up Russia, the land where his mother rests, and he left Boston and built Ottawa from scratch. It sucked but he loves Shane so he did it.
Shane was ready to make his own moves, he had a plan to cushion his fall from grace. Brad fucked it up, Shane’s legacy went down like a house of cards. His name met the mud, his reputation tanked, and Canada’s golden boy became Canada’s gay former star player. He was destituted, thrown out by the people he carried on his back for almost half of his life.
There was no cushion. Shane fell hard, painfully and devastatingly. He took the paycheck cut, he tanked being dropped by his sponsors, and let himself be reduced from a three-time champion to Ilya Rozanov’s husband. The player the Ottawa Captain is married to.
He loves being Ilya Rozanov’s husband. Like really. He is giddy with it sometimes and he wears his wedding ring with pride. It’s just a lot of changes.
Adjustments. Shane doesn’t like changes too much, so he is a bit overwhelmed with it all, but there are worse things to be than Ilya’s husband. Like, he could be Dallas Kent’s teammate, that would be horrific. He would have to retire. Or kill the motherfucker.
It’s just a bit weird, going from being called for interviews to taking his time in the lockers waiting for his Captain. His post-game interview suit is in his closet, it’s been there since he left Montreal. He doesn’t bother bringing it on the road anymore. And when he is called for interviews, it’s next to Ilya as the husbands. An item. And the report jokes about him being bossed around on and off the ice, and they ask if Ilya is as cocky at home.
They ask Ilya if Shane handles their work relationship well. He does, he could tell them. Doesn’t matter. He smiles at whatever Ilya says and nods.
The most change is with his mom. She is both their manager. She works for their brands. Respectively. She wants them to be equally successful, but her wishes are not a reality. Public opinion is law, popularity is god and the sponsors’ image curating speaks for both entities.
Ilya is approached by designers’ houses, asked at fashion shows next to fashionable F1 drivers and other celebrities. Ilya recently became the ambassador of a perfume brand. Shane loves it, his husband is dressed to the nines and he smells incredible. And when they sit down to watch matches with the team, everyone chuckles a bit when Ilya’s ads come on TV.
They rank from hyper masculine sports brands, to funny and camp, to stupidly sensual. Shane is endeared and turned on every time. Ilya is good at this, and now that he has proper management he does a much better job than Shane ever did for Rolex.
Ilya Rozanov is Russia Rebel Love Machine Turned Loving Husband With A Flirty Edge™ and that is something people love.
Because Ilya is masculine, because Ilya is a womanizer that’s built like a tank and winks with the awareness of his attractiveness. And that works for straight men. But he’s kind, he has this bad boy turned good vibe when he talks about Shane and this protective appeal when he talks about the team that works for straight girls. And he’s hot and loudly queer and expressive which works for the rest.
Shane is gay, stiff, stern, and boring. Not So Golden Boy, just Gay. The most interesting thing about him is his captain, so that’s where people look.
Ilya is booked and busy like Shane once was. Going in and out of their house on rest days with Yuna behind. And Shane is left to pet their dog and pretend he doesn’t see the pitiful and worried look his mother gives him before she leaves. Just like he ignores her glance at their calendar.
It’s colour-coded. Ilya’s sponsorship activities are written in black while Shane's are blue. In theory. It’s all black. Blue only features for ads and media days for the team as a whole.
It’s fine.
He just makes Ilya pay when they go out or order takeout. He’s a kept man, he jokes sometimes even. Really the most bothersome thing about all that is that he can’t invest in real estate anymore. It would be too risky, and he manages his money too well for that.
He never liked doing shooting and whatnot in the first place, and his free time is now actual free time not ‘I think we can squeeze this here’ time. Sure, it’d be great if he could spend that free time with Ilya but he spends all his other time with his husband so it might just be for the best to be separate every now and then for independent activities.
He goes on hikes mostly, taking Anya to go jump in lakes and dazzle in meadows, making her run until she can’t no more. He rewards her with his hand in her fur as they watch TV, murmuring to her when Ilya’s face comes up.
“Look at him, Anya, he’s so handsome,” he says one afternoon on a Monday that’s a little too quiet for his taste. He used to pray for days like this, but he’s a human being. Perpetually unsatisfied.
Anya is far too tired to give Ilya’s face the party she usually reserves for him, but Shane is sure she shares his sentiment. Ilya is put on display on the screen, arms out as he moves around cars and buildings to reach some secret elite party with the power of his perfume and his elegant charming masculinity.
If it wasn’t for his missing teeth and the fact that he already has a full-time job, his husband could have been a supermodel. Shane might be a little subjective and well, he married the guy. Sue him for loving his man.
It’s been attempted before but Shane has very good lawyers.
He checks his watch — it’s a basic vitals tracking watch because he’s not contractually obligated to wear his Rolex everywhere he does anymore — and groans a bit. Ilya must be done with the shoot by now, unless he went overtime, but even then it will take him two more hours to get home.
Shane resolves himself to grab his phone and open his text thread with Ilyushenka. Just a quick check in. Hey, baby, we miss you. Hope everything is good for you. With a heart and a picture of their dog dead asleep on the sofa.
Only when he’s sure the message is delivered does he give himself the right to check the rest of his notifications. The team’s group chat is active, with some group events being organised. Shane doesn’t bother participating, he’ll be there because Ilya will be. He doesn’t participate in the group chat much, he’s mostly there for Ilya to tag him for backup on some ridiculous argument or a stupid joke.
He’s new. He doesn’t know his team, and they’re Ilya’s people first and foremost. Shane is the patch-up piece-in-law for most, and for the rest, he’s the fallen Shane Hollander. A refugee from the crumbling of his own kingdom.
Hiding behind Ilya’s radiant presence is too easy. It’s a bad habit, Shane knows. But he can’t deal with the awkwardness and the small talk that circles around him and whatever they think his problem is.
He’s fine. Adjusting to a new normal, leave him be.
Miss you too, beloved. I am coming home to you soon. Be naked.
Ilya’s response comes up, taking him out of his thoughts. It’s sent alongside a picture of his husband with some kind of dark make-up around his eyes, grinning at the camera while he bites his tongue.
Shane finds himself smiling.
I went on a hike with our girl, and I am tired
Let me lick you you will have to lie like pillow princess and i lick you clean, promise.
No shower?
No. Big sweaty husband is for me.
Gross. Ok.
You’re perfect. Love you.
I love you too.
He puts down his phone to try and school the goody smile on his face and the heat in his chest. He loves his gross handsome husband very much and he sometimes finds himself a little embarrassed about how much he needs him. It’s like he doesn’t know how to properly breathe without Ilya anymore.
They got itched and suddenly Shane’s system rebooted to be paired to Ilya’s forever and ever.
His phone buzzes again, and he checks to see if Ilya, of course, sent him something new. But no, not yet at least. It’s his mom.
Hi hon’, are you free for a quick Zoom call about a Calvin Klein campaign?
Shane frowns at that. The last time his mom talked about brands with him, it was six months ago to tell him Reebok was reviewing his contract due to his career shift.
Gay. Gay second liner.
Shane would be lucky to be in a hockey commercial, so a campaign for an internationally known underwear brand whose marketing campaigns are set around sex appeal and the masculine form in a pair of boxers, it’s out of left field to say the least.
Hey mom, you're confusing your sons.
It’s Shane. Ilya is on his way home I’ll text you when he’s free.
He puts down his phone, chasing away the little pinch in his heart to do something. It’s cool outside but it’s not raining and the grass needs cutting anyway. And if he has time, he'll fix the light on the porch.
His phone buzzes again, near Anya who doesn’t steer. He can visualise his mother's apology text, and he’s good enough for a son to promise her it’s fine and there is nothing to apologise for.
No. Shane, it’s for you.
Are you sure? This has to be a mistake.
I am sure. Are you free?
He looks at the grass in the backyard. He promises himself to do it soon.