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Coming back from a walk with Anya, Shane almost forgot that Ilya had asked him to check their mailbox.
He wouldn’t have been surprised if he hadn’t spent the last week staring at an enormous pile of wedding catalogs Ilya ordered, without actually choosing anything. It was probably just his new hobby and a way to cope with the anxiety.
The last month hadn’t been easy for either of them, but once the peak had passed, Shane could admit hadn’t been the worst either.
During the first week after that accursed video of Hayden was published, Shane felt like he was going to die. He could barely breathe most of the time. The world around him was collapsing. His team - the people he had thought were his family - turned away from him, and everything… it was just really bad, okay?
He survived it only because of Ilya, who stayed by his side every single second. He sat with him during his panic attacks, talked him through the worst-case scenarios, held his hand, and hugged him tightly so he could get some sleep.
His parents were there for the first few days too. But then they saw that he was in Rozanov’s good hands and under his utterly tender care, so they gave them some space to get through it together.
After the nastiest fight with Metros, Shane decided fuck it, packed up all his stuff, and moved into Ilya’s place in Ottawa.
Their place, as Ilya always corrected him.
Since then, everything had started to… stabilize. He signed with the Ottawa Centaurus (not publicly yet, but already relieving to him), every day he woke up and went to sleep beside the love of his life, and they finally could build an everyday life together. Sometheing they’d always lacked.
The kind they’d only ever had during their secret vacations at Shane’s cottage every summer.
So… yes. Now it was… tolerable.
Even nice, to be honest, Shane thought as he pulled huge magazines out of the poor mailbox at the edge of the yard.
He whistled for Anya to come back inside, then stepped into the house and toed off his shoes while looking through the mail.
Their house was strictly shoes-off. It was tenderly funny to both of them how the Asian culture from Shane's mother and Ilya’s Russianness met there. The Marly and the Centaurs, who came to visit and support them, had been pretty surprised by their strictness about it.
“Ilyoosha, we’re back!” Shane shouted.
“Hi, love! Come here, breakfast’s almost ready!” Ilya peeked out of the kitchen, wearing only an apron over his bare torso.
“I brought you all your mail. Are you ordering all this stuff so we’ll have enough paper for a bonfire at the cottage? I warned you, magazine paper burns poorly.”
“Yes, yes, you are no fun,” Ilya rolled his eyes. “I just want to look at cakes. I want us to have a really cool cake for the wedding! Maybe like a huge puck?" he teased. "And a beautiful wedding arch too, so we can put all these pictures up on the wall, yeah? And now come here and gimme kiss,” he finished with a smile.
“You’re such a romantic,” Shane couldn’t hold back a smile as he stepped into Ilya’s open arms and pecked his pouted lips.
“Ah, yes.” Ilya immediately pulled him into a slow, tender kiss, but leaned away far too soon. “I don’t want to burn the eggs. I kiss you more after we eat.”
Yes. It definitely was nice, Shane thought.
He put the mail down on the coffee table in the living room so they could go through it together later, but then he noticed an envelope tucked in between the magazines.
He frowned as he pulled it out. It couldn’t be anything good.
But his eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline when he read what was written on the envelope.
To:
Ilya Rozanov
Pond Street 100,
Ottawa, Ontario,
ON K1L 8J1,
Canada
From:
Ottawa University
120 University Private
Ottawa, Ontario K1N 6N5
Canada
“Sweetheart, what’s this?” Shane walked back into the kitchen and handed him the letter.
“Oh! That’s probably news about my degree!” Ilya didn’t look bothered, only curious. “Can you open it? My hands are dirty.”
“Your deg… what?” Shane’s choked.
“Honey, open it, please. I want to know too,” Ilya snorted, rolling his eyes as he deftly flipped the protein pancake in the pan.
Shane opened the envelope and skimmed through the document inside. The more he read, the higher his eyebrows climbed.
May, 20th, 2021
Dear Dr. Rozanov,
On behalf of the Faculty of Economics at the University of Ottawa, I am pleased to extend our sincere congratulations on the successful defense of your doctoral dissertation entitled:
“Financing Mental Health Equity: Socioeconomic Models for Large-Scale Philanthropic Intervention”
Your research represents a significant scholarly contribution to the interdisciplinary study of economics, social policy, and mental health financing. The Faculty commends the depth of your academic achievement and your commitment to advancing innovative approaches to equitable mental health support systems.
Following the formal approval of your dissertation and the completion of all doctoral degree requirements, it is our distinct honor to invite you to attend the University of Ottawa Doctoral Graduation and PhD Diploma Conferral Ceremony.
The ceremony will take place as follows:
Date: 12.07.2021
Time: 11am
Venue: Tabaret Hall, University of Ottawa, Ottawa, Ontario
During this formal academic convocation, your Doctor of Philosophy (PhD) degree will be officially conferred, and your diploma presented in recognition of your outstanding accomplishment.
We kindly ask that you confirm your attendance by [RSVP Date] through the Office of Graduate and Postdoctoral Studies at [contact information].
Please accept once again our warmest congratulations on this important milestone. We look forward to celebrating this achievement with you and your guests.
Yours sincerely,
Professor Margaret L. Whitmore
Dean, Faculty of Economics
University of Ottawa
“Dr. Rozanov? Ilya, what the fuck?” Shane murmured, completely shocked.
Ilya looked over his shoulder, glancing through the text.
“Ah! I actually didn’t want to go, but they were so polite about it. And now I can invite you as my plus-one. Will you be my date, Mr. Hollander?” he asked with a sly smile.
“Is this some kind of prank? I don’t get it, Ilya. Why is it funny?” Shane looked at him with a mix of annoyance and helplessness.
“Not funny and not a prank. I had a lot of free time while living in Ottawa,” Ilya shrugged, like it was nothing. “I was doing a lot of work for the Irina Foundation, so I thought we would look more trustworthy if we applied for government programs with a degree behind us. I didn’t need any grant money, so I contacted them and looked into my options. I did research for the foundation anyway so I wrote the dissertation about it.”
“You wrote...what? Wait. Please, wait. Slower. Let me sit down,” Shane huffed, rubbing a hand over his face.
“Heeey… hey, Shanya…” Ilya carefully guided him into a chair. “It’s nothing special, yes? Just some random paper. Why are you so nervous?”
“Ilya, are you fucking kidding me? You defended a fucking PhD dissertation? Dr. Rozanov my ass! I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW YOU FINISHED COLLEGE!”
“Well… yes?” Rozanov’s voice sounded uncertain. He felt guilty, even if he didn’t really know why. “A long time ago. Back in Russia. My father would never have allowed me not to get a degree, so I studied economics.”
“I’m somewhere between kissing you and killing you right now,” Shane groaned. “Why did you hide this from me?”
“I wasn’t hiding it, it just… never came up.” Ilya rubbed at his nose sheepishly. “I did my bachelor’s and master’s a very long time ago. We weren’t yet… y’know.”
“But why had you done it in the first place?”
“Oh. Hadn't you? My father wanted me and also in Russia, it’s pretty common for professional athletes to get some kind of degree. Usually it’s nothing serious, they’re only attached to a university on paper, but my father…” he huffed softly, “he wouldn’t allow that, so I actually had to study. I did my exams during vacations back in Russia.”
“No, Ilya, I had not. Believe me, not a single person on your team or mine..” Shane grimaced. “I mean Metros.”
...fuck Metros.”
“...fuck Metros,” Shane agreed immediately. “Yeah, none of them have a degree. And you have a fucking PhD?”
“Apparently? It seems so, yes.” He shrugged again. “Like I said, it was for the Irina Foundation.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Shane grabbed the letter and reread it. “Faculty of Economics,” he mouthed. “Love of my life, what were the topics of your bachelor’s and master’s dissertations?”
“Ehmmm… why?” Ilya looked confused.
“Please?”
“If it makes you horny,” Ilya smirked, and Shane had the sudden thought that later, once he stopped being angry that Ilya had hidden all this from him, it actually would make him very horny. Oh my God. He was going to get fucked by Dr. Rozanov.
“I wrote them in Russian, so my translation might be bad. Something like…” He paused, silently mouthing the words to himself. “For my bachelor’s, it was Collective Investment Funds and Their Influence on Private Investor Activity. And for my master’s…” He paused again, trying to figure out the translation. “...something like Trust Funds and Endowment Capital as Instruments of Long-Term Financial Stability.”
“Oh wow. And you were saying the New Yorker was boring?” Shane looked completely lost. But a second later, he reached for his phone.
“What?” Ilya panicked. “You’re divorcing me because of my education?”
“We’re not married yet, Dr. Rozanov,” Shane replied pointedly, ignoring the warm feeling in his stomach when he said it.
“You don’t want to marry me anymore because I didn’t mention it to you? Shane, please…”
Hollander ignored him, putting his phone on speaker as he dialed someone.
“Good morning, Shane,” Yuna answered after two rings.
“Hi, Mom. Did you know?”
“Did I know what, baby?”
“Did you know that my future husband has a fucking degree in economics?”
Ilya relaxed and smiled when Shane said future husband. The worry faded almost immediately, replaced by growing amusement at how genuinely pissed Shane was.
“Shane, language. And yes. He helped me with some stocks and investment funds, and he practically handles everything for your charity himself. So I asked, and he told me,” Yuna said with a smile. Her sons always made her proud.
“Sorry. But… AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME?”
“I thought you knew, sweetheart,” she said, barely holding back a laugh.
“Well, I didn’t, and now I’ve discovered that my husband is A DOCTOR?”
"You’re not married yet," Yuna corrected him and Ilya had to hide his laugh behind a cough. "Ilya, are you there?”
“Mom, we’ll talk about this later,” Shane said, now annoyed with his entire family.
“Yes, Yuna,” Ilya replied, still coughing and trying not to laugh and piss Shane off even more. "Hello."
“Congratulations on your defense, baby! David and I are very proud of you!”
“Thank you, but Yuna, we have to go, because it looks like our Shane is about to explode, and I have to fix it.”
“Have fun, boys,” she said, and they could still hear her laughing as she hung up.
“Sooo…” Shane squinted at him dangerously. “Dr. Rozanov, PhD in economics, huh?”
Ilya beamed at him, slowly stepping closer.
“Mr. Academia. Mr. Higher Education,” he teased with Russian accent. “Doctor, my ass.”
“Oh, солнышко, if there were a degree for your ass, I would be the first and only graduate,” Ilya murmured into his ear as he grabbed Shane by the ass, lifting him up onto his hips.
Shane wrapped his arms around him, and the annoyed expression on his face shifted into a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to prove your qualifications to earn a PhD in that, Dr. Rozanov,” he smirked.
“You’re afraid, Mr. Hollander? Maybe eager is the better word?”
“Oh fuck, your English really is good. We saw each other so rarely last years, and then all that stupid video shit happened, so I never really paid attention. I’m sorry, baby.”
Shane pressed his forehead against Ilya’s.
“Is okay.” Ilya smiled. “I know many smart words, but I still do not care about grammar. So you can continue correcting me, Mr. Native English-and-French Speaker.”
“Oh, I will, Dr. Economics. Why did you let me handle all our money stuff then?”
Ilya shrugged, slowly carrying him toward their bedroom and pressing tiny kisses to Shane’s face.
“I have a degree, yes, but I had been doing this for my family for a very long time. You know I paid for everything for them since I was eighteen. Did you really think I would buy all those cars and houses without knowing whether I could afford them and still have enough money left to take care of my father afterward?”
“I didn’t think about it.” Shane’s face turned red, his hands gripping his fiancé’s back tightly.
“Well, yes, I did. All the commercials, the stocks, I handled all the money myself for a long time. Hockey is risky. I could lose all my income because of one stupid injury, so I had to make sure I was safe. There was no way I was going back to Russia if I got injured.”
“And you just… trusted me to handle everything?”
“Mhhh…” He pressed a long, hungry kiss behind Shane’s ear while opening the bedroom door with his leg. “I loved you doing it. It made us family. For the first few months, I did some little… checks, but you and Yuna were so good at it. And I felt… cared for, maybe for the first time in a very long time. So I enjoyed it a lot…”
He threw Shane onto the bed and hovered over him.
“I care about you so, so much, Ilya,” Shane whispered, his gaze flickering from Ilya’s lips to his eyes and back again. “I love you.”
“I know now, любовь моя. I love you too.”
And finally, he kissed him.
***
Together with their families,
Mr. Shane Hollander and Dr. Ilya Rozanov
joyfully invite you to celebrate their wedding
on 14th of July, 2021
at 15:00
Walkers Point on Lake Muskoka, Ontario, Canada
Dinner and celebration to follow.
Your presence would mean a great deal to us.
Shane’s phone rang while Ilya was sprawled across his stomach, Shane’s fingers tangled in his curls.
“No, Ilya, it’s my phone, give it to me—”
Hayden could hear a playful voice in the background from the call.
“No, I answer. Your hands are busy,” he heard from farther away, and then suddenly much closer and louder, wrapped in a heavy Russian accent:
“Mr. Hollander’s phone. I’m listening.”
“Are you fucking kidding? WHAT THE FUCK, DR. ROZANOV? SHANE, WHAT IS THIS ABOUT?”
And then he heard both of them laughing.
He was going to kill this Russian guy for corrupting his best friend, Hayden thought tiredly.