Chapter Text
Things have been painfully boring lately and it doesn’t take long for Ilya to pin point the cause. Shane Hollander has been missing from the hockey world for almost a month now.
Anything about the man's absence just cites some mystery illness. Ilya almost didn’t believe the news at first. Shane seemed far too controlled to do something as trivial as get sick. But suddenly, he was gone and the absence felt like a hole in Ilya’s chest.
While it's true that they don't get to spend much time together, Shane has always managed to maintain a steady presence in Ilya's life. Ilya watches every one of Shane's games, fascinated by the way the man plays. And every interview he has invariably circles back to talking about his ongoing “rivalry” with the man. Things just seem flat without his reliable presence.
The absence makes Ilya feel twitchy, almost desperate to hear from the man. Eventually, the overwhelming feeling to check on him wins out and he grabs his phone.
Lily: You still alive?
The message is seen, but left on read. Ilya tries not to think of it as a rejection. Instead he imagines that Shane is too ill to have the energy to reply. He's not sure which option is worse.
Lily: Beating Montreal will be boring without you.
Lily: So get better soon x
He wonders if he’s gone too far with the kiss. But if Shane ever asks him about it, he'll just say that he’s leaning into Lily's feminine persona.
He smiles to himself when Shane hearts the message. It's a small crumb of attention but the proof that Shane is in fact alive settles something deep in his chest.
***
The game against Montreal is, predictably, boring. Boston's on home turf and the Metros can barely keep up with him.
Ilya scores a hat trick, grinning as he celebrates with his team. He skates around the ice in a victory lap, almost falling over his feet when he spots a familiar face standing next to the Metros coach.
Shane looks like he’s on the brink of death. His Metros hoodie is a size too big and the hood is up to hide as much of his face as possible. But Ilya's sharp eyes can tell that Shane is worryingly pale, with heavy bags under his eyes. His cheeks look gaunt and he's barely standing upright, leaning against the wall of the stands to hold himself up.
He’s muttering away to the coach, probably critiquing the team and advising the best plays. He scans the ice, eyes landing on Ilya in a way that makes him nervous. Shane's eyes look unfocused, like he could pass out at any moment.
Cliff claps a hand on Ilya’s shoulder, shaking him out of his thoughts. ‘Did someone fucking kill Hollander?’ He asks, following Ilya's line of sight.
Ilya lets his enhanced senses reach out, zeroing in on Shane. He can hear the muttered recommendations about the next play in an exhausted, monotone voice. But what he can’t hear is Shane's heartbeat.
‘...Fuck, I think so.’
‘What's the play, Cap?’
‘Finish the game. I’ll handle it.’ Ilya promises, reluctantly pulling his gaze away from the Metro's crumbling Captain.
***
The win against Montreal is swift and brutal. Ilya doesn't bother celebrating in the locker room. Thankfully, Cliff steps in to distract his team while Ilya swipes for his chat with Shane.
Lily: Room number?
The message is seen. No response.
Lily: Jane. I know you are here. Tell me where you are staying.
Jane: Not really up to it
Jane: Sorry
Lily: No shit. We need to talk.
Lily: Tell me where you are staying or I will ask around to track you down.
Jane: Don't!
Lily: I am still waiting
Jane: Usual hotel. Room 1401.
Lily: Good girl
Lily: See you soon x
***
For a moment, Ilya doesn't think that Shane will open the door. But the threat of Ilya being seen in the hallway must win out.
Shane pulls open the door and it looks like it takes the last of his energy, he slumps against it to keep himself upright.
Ilya steps in, putting an arm around Shane to steady him while he closes the door behind him. He carefully manoeuvres Shane to the bed, not missing the way Shane shudders with the contact.
‘M’fine.’ Shane grumbles as Ilya fusses over him, making sure he’s supported with pillows at his back.
‘You are terrible liar.’ Ilya clicks his tongue. ‘Why the fuck did you come to Boston when it is this bad?’
‘I'm fine. Just been too tired to play. So I came to help the Coach out.’ Shane mumbles, tipping his head back and closing his eyes.
Part of Ilya wants to let him rest, he clearly needs it. But he doesn't have a lot of time to get the truth out of Shane, he has to take the chance while he can.
‘Where the fuck is your sire? You should not be here alone.’
Shane's eyes open, squinting at Ilya. ‘... What?’
‘Who the fuck bit you Hollander?’
‘I don't know what the fuck you're talking about.’ Shane pouts, turning his head as if he can ignore Ilya by looking away from him.
Ilya sits on the edge of the bed, close to Shane but not quite touching the man. ‘...What do you remember? Just before you got sick?’
Shane sighs, looking up at the ceiling. ‘S’blurry.’
‘Tell me. As much as you can, okay?’
‘I was at a bar… and I felt dizzy, so I went outside to get some air.’ He pauses, sorting through his memories. ‘Everything just hurt. Every inch of me… And then…’ He frowns, scrambling for the right words. ‘I drank something like… copper? Metal… Then the bar was on fire. There was a man there and I thought he was going to help me but he just… walked into the fire. Left me in the alley.’
‘He killed himself?’
‘I think? Maybe? I've felt... wrong. Ever since…’
‘Shane.’ Ilya reaches out to hold Shane's hand. The man meets his eyes, surprised by the sound of his first name. ‘You really don't know what happened to you..?’
‘I know.’ Shane says stubbornly. ‘I was roofied and it's going to take time to get better.’
Ilya closes his eyes, taking a slow breath to gather himself. When he opens his eyes again, Shane is looking at him with wide doe eyes and a completely lost expression.
He takes Shane's hand and places it against the man's ice cold chest, where his heart has stopped beating. ‘Shane, that man killed you.’
‘What? No, I'm not-’
‘Shane.’ He repeats, stronger this time. ‘Where is your heartbeat?’
Shane blinks in confusion, focusing on his own body for a moment. ‘...no.’
‘I am sorry Shane. I know this is hard.’
‘I’m not dead, I'm right here.’
‘Yes, you are. Undead, I think, is the better word for this. The man killed you. And fed you his blood, so you would be like him.’
‘Blood?’ Shane repeats in a whisper.
‘You are a vampire. You had not worked that out?’
Shane shakes his head, it's a slow action and Ilya would guess that he doesn't have the energy for anything more than that.
‘Open your mouth?’ Ilya presses a hand against Shane's cheek, running his thumb across the man's lips. Shane gasps, parting his lips obediently. Ilya gently presses his thumb in, running it along Shane's teeth. It catches on a sharp canine that's peeking out from the gums. Ilya leans in for a closer look, he’s never seen fledgling fangs before. It doesn't feel strong enough to piece through flesh properly. It's no wonder fledglings are so dependent on their sires in their early years.
‘You haven't eaten anything at all?’ He takes his thumb out of Shane's mouth but keeps his palm pressed against the man's cheek.
‘Couldn't keep anything down.’ Shane mumbles.
‘I do not mean food.’ Ilya says carefully.
Shane flinches. ‘I’m not-’
‘You need to feed.’ The fact that Shane is still alive is incredible. He must be running off sheer stubbornness at this point. ‘You can drink from me.’
Shane pulls back, his head hitting the headboard behind him. ‘What?! No.’
‘If you do not do this, you will die.’
Shane whimpers, fighting against his resolve. ‘I can't-’
‘Let me show you.’ He places his thumb in his own mouth, catching it against his own fangs without revealing them to Shane.
Once it starts to bleed, Shane twitches, smelling the blood in the air. He holds himself stiffly, not daring to move.
‘Open.’ Ilya slips his thumb between Shane's lips, resting it in the man's tongue.
Shane's eyes squeeze shut and he moans as recognises the taste. He sucks at the digit eagerly, sitting up to move closer to Ilya.
Knowing that the slow trickle of blood won't be enough to sate the starving vampire, Ilya pulls his hand away, smiling at the whine it draws out of Shane. ‘I know. Good, yes?’
Shane bites his lip, stopping himself from agreeing.
‘Is okay. You can tell me.’
Shane nods slowly, seeming almost dazed.
‘Okay. I will give you more.’ He says, standing to pull his hoodie off.
‘Wait, what if-?’
Ilya raises an eyebrow.
‘What if… I can't stop?’
Ilya drops back down onto the bed, pressing a kiss against Shane's forehead. ‘I think I can handle a starved fledgling.’ He says with a teasing grin.
‘How do you know about all this..?’ Shane asks, seeming to be thinking fractionally more clearly now that he has some blood in his system.
‘I am a werewolf.’ Ilya admits simply, hoping that not making a big deal about the revelation will help Shane come to terms with his own change.
‘... Bullshit.’
Ilya just laughs. ‘Let's talk after, okay? This will help you think.’
Whatever Shane is about to say in protest is cut off when Ilya bites his fangs into his wrist. Shane's eyes snap down to the wound, unable to focus on anything else. ‘Here, take what you need.’ He insists, ignoring the pain and putting his arm against Shane's mouth.
Shane's self restraint lasts one noble moment before his mouth opens, latching onto Ilya's wrist. The venom in Shane's saliva eases its way into Ilya's bloodstream, numbing the pain and making the edges of his thoughts fuzzy. Ilya forces himself to stay focused, to stay grounded in order to help Shane through this.
Without his own fangs to latch on properly, Shane drinks messily, lapping up the blood as it pours out of Ilya.
‘That’s it.’ Ilya assures him gently. ‘You're doing great.’
He watches Shane fondly, running his free hand through the man's hair. Once his head starts to spin, he tightens his grip in Shane's hair, tugging him off.
‘Please.’ Shane whines.
‘I know Malysh.’ Ilya says soothingly. ‘I can't give you much more right now. But this will tide you over for now.’
Shane's tongue flicks out, licking the blood that stains his lips. His eyes start to sharpen as he gains back his awareness. ‘Fuck, Ilya, your arm!’
Ilya is so caught up in the sweet sound of Shane saying his first name that it takes him a second to reply. ‘Ah, I heal quickly.’ He promises as he brings his arm up to spread his tongue across the wound.
Shane can't seem to draw his eyes away, watching with a focus that Ilya recognises from their antics in the bedroom; Shane committing the action to memory and storing it away for later.
Grinning, Ilya twists his arm to show Shane the healing wound. ‘Your saliva will do the same.’
‘You know a lot about this…’
‘I have been a wolf for a long time. I know a few vampires. I will make sure you get the help you need.’
‘I don't need help.’ Shane says weakly, protesting only out of habitual stubbornness.
‘Fledglings need their coven, Shane.’ He explains, reaching out to swipe the last trace of blood from Shane's cheek.
Shane flushes and Ilya has to stop himself from thinking about how it's his blood that's causing the colour in Shane's pretty face. He can't help himself from pressing a kiss against the same spot. ‘Feel better?’
‘...yeah.’ Shane admits with a shy nod.
‘It will take time to get used to. But you will.’ He promises. ‘We can make plans in the morning, but right now you need to rest.’
‘... Do I need to sleep during the day?’
‘No, Malysh. Bright lights and a lot of sun will be hard for you, yes. But you can stay on your schedule. Play hockey all the same. Nothing has to change.’
The promise makes Shane relax immediately. Ilya should have known that hockey would have been at the forefront of Shane's anxious mind.
‘Sleep.’ Ilya tells him more forcefully, tucking the sheets around Shane.
‘Will you-’
‘Hm?’
‘Stay? Please?’
‘Of course.’ Ilya says immediately, pulling his shirt off and sliding into the bed next to Shane.
Shane moves immediately, closing the distance between them and clinging to the man. Ilya stays sat up, knowing that he won't get any sleep while he's so focused on protecting Shane. One hand pets through Shane's hair as he reaches for his phone.
Ilyusha: How quickly can you get to Boston?
Sveta: What kind of emergency?
Ilyusha: Yours. Found a stray for you
Sveta: Interesting. Friendly?
Ilyusha: Very cute. Think I'll call her Jane
Sveta: I can be there by Friday. Keep an eye on the pup until I get there?
Ilyusha: Thank you Sveta
Sveta: Have fun 💜
Ilya huffs out a laugh, swiping away to a group chat with most of the Raiders.
Ilya: Does anyone know any local vampires?
Connors: Why the fuck would we know any leeches?
Ryan: Dude! That's like a slur man
Connors: Fuck, really?
Cliff: Yeah, shut the fuck up. Caps bestie is a vamp
Ilya: If I hear anyone say this again, they will be shipped off to the fucking Centaurs. Understood?
Connors: Sorry cap!!!
Cliff: Closest I can think of is the New York coven?
Ilya: Absolutely not.
Ilya: Okay. Everyone gets your ass to my place. I found a fledgling that needs a pack. We will look after him until Sveta can get here
Lev: Why the fuck?
Cadyn: Yeah, not to be a dick but like… why is a baby vamp our problem?
Ilya: Because he is a hockey player.
Connors: Fuck…
Rory: Who????
Cliff: Come on Rookie, you can work it out
Rory: …. Can I have a hint?
Cliff: What hockey player hasnt been around lately?
Rory: !!!!!!!!!
Ilya: Do not say his name in chat. He would be pissed if it leaked
Ilya: I'm bringing him to my place in the morning. You idiots better be there.
Ilya slams his phone down, resisting the urge to growl in case it would wake Shane up. He takes a slow breath to steady himself before looking down at Shane, who mumbles in his sleep, nuzzling closer to Ilya.
Happy that a plan is in place to help out the starved vampire, Ilya lets himself relax.
The distinct lack of breathing from the man next to him is jarring. He reminds himself that he should be used to it, after all Svetlana has never bothered faking her breath around him. He wonders if Shane has even realised that he's stopped breathing. Ilya makes a mental note to tell him in the morning that he’ll need to learn how to fake it to keep up his secret. It's truly a miracle that he hasn't been caught by now. He can only assume that Shane has been too stubborn to go to a doctor, which has unfortunately worked to their advantage because even the simplest of tests would have revealed that Shane wasn't alive anymore.
Eventually, the exhaustion from being drained wins out and Ilya falls asleep, wrapped up in blood stained sheets with a sleeping vampire at his side.