Work Text:
Alexei was not a man to be messed with. He thought he had made that clear to his little brother from the very start. You do not just cut him off like he is nothing, like trash. Nor do you threaten him like he has any kind of power over him. He is only good for one thing, and that is money.
He had gone back, to give Ilya and his whore he called a friend a piece of his mind, when he heard them talking. Not just talking about what had happened, or their dead father, but about someone named Jane, that apparently Ilya loved. Silently, Alexei took a step back, a smile stretching over his face for the first time in days. Because there it was - his way back into controlling his brother’s finances. Because his little brother did not love easy, no, certainly not. He fucked anything that moved, but love? Love was a very powerful weapon.
It wasn’t difficult to get Ilya’s phone tapped - thanks to his contacts in the police, he got the right person to do it. Through that, he got Jane’s number, and managed to track it. It pinged to Montreal, and before he knew it, Alexei had booked a flight there, because if he were to text her, it could easily be ignored or sent onto Ilya. He wanted to make a statement to his little brother, that no matter where in the world he hid his precious things, Alexei could find them.
He didn’t know what his plan was. Threaten her? Take photos of Jane and send them to Ilya, then make his demands? So many options… Perhaps he could threaten Ilya to have her hurt. That would bring him back into line.
His flight landed, and his phone kept track of Jane much better now that he was in the same place as her. He kept tabs on Ilya too, but he knew he was still in Boston, getting back into the season since he had missed so many days. He only had a few days to find her, and he wasted no time, tracking the phone every time it pinged. It was confusing, though - it seemed to spend a lot of time at the Montreal Metros hockey rink. Perhaps she worked there, and that is how they met. It would make sense.
So Alexei watched as best as he could, and yes females came and went, but the dot never moved on the map. Jane was still in there. That was until the hockey players came out - then he got the notification the phone was on the move, which made no sense at all. Something must have been wrong. He tried to follow the phone, but it led him to a gated community that he had no hope of getting into. So the next day, he did the same thing again, watching the dot on the map. Back to the ice hockey rink, and then back home. However, the third and final day, it did something a little different.
The dot moved, but it wasn’t going to the rink. Instead, he followed it out to a private gym. He waited around, when his phone buzzed him to let him know there was movement. He looked up, just as the door to the gym swung open. That… that was Shane Hollander, his brother’s rival. He shot a quick text to Jane’s number, and sure enough, Shane’s phone pinged. No way. No way. This was much better than Alexei could have hoped for. He always suspected there was something wrong with Ilya, and now he had proof.
He didn’t need to threaten his brother anymore… he had found an entirely new source of income. Hollander looked down at his phone, distracted by the strange number he saw there. Alexei wasted no time in walking up to him, knowing this would be his chance.
“Hello, Jane.” Alexei said, a smile curling on his face when he saw Shane freeze. Slowly, the man turned, his eyes wide. “You know Ilya, yes? My brother.”
“I…I…” Shane stumbled, causing Alexei to snort. He jerked his head over to the park behind them.
“We walk, yes? I wish to… talk.”
Shane looked back to his car, as if trying to decide if he should just get in and drive away. Slowly, his shoulders fell, and silently, he followed Alexei. The park was deserted at this time of night, which was perfect. Shane said nothing, but stared at Alexei, as if he could not believe he was really here next to him. They sat on a bench, saying nothing but just looking at one another. He was a very pretty boy, if you liked that sort of thing, Alexei thought cruelly. Ilya always liked pretty.
“Does Ilya know you are here?” Hollander asked, frowning when Alexei shook his head. Alexei held up his hand and opened his translation app on his phone, speaking into it.
“He knows nothing, Shane Hollander. But I know everything.” He watched Shane’s face as the words were translated into English, taking glee in how quickly he lost his colour in his face. This was a much better plan than trying to get to Ilya. “I know what disgusting men you are, if you can even call yourselves that. And I am considering letting the world know about it. How do you feel about that? Your secret lives exposed?”
Shane said nothing for a moment, his breathing picking up. Alexei could not believe this man was one of the best hockey players… he seemed so pathetic. It was so sad to see what love could do to a person.
“How…?” Shane finally managed to croak out. Alexei took a moment to think of what the word meant, before hitting the microphone button.
“Ilya was not so careful back home. I heard him talking to his whore friend about Jane. He had never mentioned this woman before, so I knew she was special. I have good contact that managed to find you, but imagine my confusion when I found you instead of a woman. This Jane that he loves so much, and it is you, a man, a hockey player?” Alexei laughed cruelly. “I always knew he was a faggot. And now I know you are, too.”
“You can’t say anything,” Shane said, but when Alexei just shook his head at him, he pulled out his own translator and repeated what he said. “Please, his career would be over. He wouldn’t be able to go back to Russia.”
“Ilya should have thought about that before fucking you, shouldn’t he have? But don’t worry, I can keep quiet about this. For a price.” Alexei offered, as if he were a reasonable man. Shane stared at him, and Alexei knew what he was thinking; how could someone do this to their brother? Well, he had his fucking reasons, and he didn’t need to state them to a fag.
“You… you want me to what, give you money to keep your silence?”
“Ah, you catch on fast, maybe even faster than you skate. I won’t say a word, if you transfer me twenty thousand dollars.”
“Twenty-are you insane?” Shane asked, standing up. Alexei just smiled up at him, and patted the bench next to him. He didn’t speak until Shane sat back down, like the good dog he was.
“Maybe, but I know for you, twenty thousand is nothing. A drop in the ocean, eh? But of course, if you would rather not pay…”
Shane swallowed and shook his head. “I didn’t say that! Just… give me your fucking details.”
“I knew you would be cooperative.” Alexei practically purred. He watched as Shane opened his banking app with shaking fingers, and followed Alexei’s instructions. “Not a word about this to Ilya. In fact, I think it would be best if you kept your distance from him.” Alexei followed this by spitting at Shane’s shoes. “You have already tainted him, you freak, and now you pay the price, yes?”
“I won’t say a word.” Shane said firmly, but his eyes were watery. “Just… leave me alone, alright? Leave us both alone.”
“But Jane, I have your number now. Should I ever need your services again, well, I know how to reach you.” His phone chimed, confirming the transaction had reached his account. “Ah, nice and quick. Well, it was a pleasure, Hollander.” Alexei stood and stretched, like they had just been having a pleasant conversation all along. He pocketed his phone and turned to Shane, speaking in broken English. “I leave you now, yes? No harm done. It was lovely to meet my brother’s whore.”
Shane didn’t say a word, and didn’t move from the bench. Instead, he watched as Alexei left, whistling as he did so. When he could no longer see him, he curled in on himself, breathing heavily and trying not to cry. Fuck, fuck, what had he just done? He had given money to Ilya’s brother
He knew he couldn’t tell anyone about this, especially Ilya. He would be so mad to know they had gotten caught, and Shane had no idea how he would react knowing he had just given into his brother’s demand. But what was he meant to do? He had been caught off guard, and he could tell Alexei wasn’t kidding around - he would out them, and make it impossible for Ilya to go back to Russia. He could end their careers. If he could leak all their messages… they would have nothing. Shane would not have Ilya, who could be forced to return to Russia if he lost his job.
Fucking hell, he just had to keep his distance, and hope that somehow this new problem would just go away. He would work out a plan - he had to. He just didn’t expect to hear back from Alexei so soon.
*
*
*
While Shane usually counted down the days to playing against Boston, this time he was dreading it. He knew he had to meet with Alexei before he left the city, but worse than that, he had to see Ilya, who he had been avoiding. No texts, no calls - he even ignored direct messages he had sent him over social media, just in case Alexei decided he had broken a rule. It was killing him, and it was ruining his ability to play well on the ice, but it didn’t matter. He had to keep Ilya safe, especially while he was still grieving, and Shane knew there was very little he wouldn’t do to keep him safe.
He knew, deep down, he loved him, which was a terrifying thing. And that’s why he knew he had to let him go, because he could not be the reason that Ilya’s life was ruined.
They played against Boston; thankfully Ilya said nothing to him on the ice, but he didn’t need to - the look on his face was enough to throw Shane off. His play was embarrassing, and he knew his teammates could sense something was wrong, but thankfully no one gave him shit for it when they lost 3-1. They headed back to the hotel, Shane managing to avoid the press for once, when Hayden told him he was going to head out to get them some commiseration snacks. Shane barely lifted his head from his pillow to nod and say goodbye.
There was a knock at the door, the noise causing Shane a sense of dread. Surely Alexei wouldn’t come here, would he? Shane jumped to his feet, telling himself that Hayden probably just forgot his room key - that made sense. He had left in such a rush. Though when he checked the peephole, he gaped. Somehow, this option was both better and worse.
“Let me in, Hollander.”
He had never been able to say no to that voice, that tone. Shane opened the door without a second thought.
“You have been avoiding me,” Ilya said in a way of a greeting, pushing his way into Shane’s hotel room. “Even tonight, you play like shit because of it.”
“Ilya,” Shane said, looking up and down the hallway before slamming the door shut. “You shouldn’t be here; Hayden’s sharing with me, and he could be back any minute-”
“I do not care.” Ilya replied, turning to face Shane with a glower that had him frozen where he stood. “Ever since I get back from Russia, I hear nothing from you.” Shane stared at him, saying nothing. This frustrated Ilya more. “Well? I thought… I thought we were in a good place, Hollander. I thought you would want to see me.”
“I do!” Shane said, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “It’s… complicated, Ilya. Seriously complicated.”
“Oh?” Ilya crossed his arms over his chest, not giving Shane a minute to think. “Complicated? Is it Rose Landry?”
“Rose?” Shane dropped his hand from his eyes to shoot Ilya a disbelieving look. “I’m gay, Ilya.”
“So it’s another boy, then?” Ilya felt his eyes sting; the tears could have been anything from anger to frustration, or heartache, but he would never let them fall. All he could think about on his flight back to Boston was Shane, how much he was counting down the days until their next game together. And then, a few days after he had landed, he had heard nothing. It was as if Shane had changed numbers. He wasn’t used to not being able to reach the other man, nor was he used to being ignored by him.
“Ilya…” Shane bit his lip, his face twisted into an expression that just made him look like a wreck. Ilya felt his heart stutter in his chest, because maybe it was another boy. That would destroy him, and he already felt on the edge.
Before Shane could say another word, his phone alarm blasted through the room, causing them both to jump. Shane swore under his breath when he saw the time - he had to leave in ten minutes to make sure he had enough time to meet with Alexei. Oh God, Alexei. Alexei was here and Ilya had no idea about it.
He had no idea what he looked like, but whatever Ilya saw made him sigh deeply and move toward him. No longer stalking him like he was a predator and Shane was the prey, but in that controlled way that meant Shane was safe to let go. But he couldn’t… because if Ilya found out, he had no idea what would happen, or what it would cost him. He had to protect Ilya.
“Look… I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” Shane whispered, trying to force himself to look at the man he loved. But quickly, he felt tears roll down his face, the words hurting him more than it would hurt Ilya.
“Hollander.”
“Listen to me, please-”
“Hollander.”
“-you have no idea, I don’t want it to be like this-”
“Shane, please.”
“I’m doing this for you!” Shane snapped, wiping roughly at his face. Ilya caught his hand, holding it tightly, and using his own hand to gently wipe Shane’s face.
“What do you mean, for me?” Ilya asked, his tone lost. “If you are doing this for me, do not break this off. Tell me what has happened, and we can fix it, yes? Did someone find out about you? About us?”
Shane swallowed thickly, hating himself for leaning into Ilya’s hand but not able to stop himself. He had missed him, so fucking much. “Yes,” Shane admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “And it’s really fucking bad, Ilya.”
“Nonsense,” Ilya replied, relieved to finally understand, but also mentally swearing to himself. “Who is it? Your parents, hm? Someone on the team?”
“... Alexei.” The name was out of his mouth before his brain caught up to him.
“What?” Ilya asked, staring at Shane. He couldn’t mean his brother. Impossible.
“He came to see me after my gym session one day.” Shane admitted, the words falling out of his mouth now that he felt he had permission to talk about it. “In Montreal. He called out to me, but he called me Jane. He told me who he was - his English is nothing like yours, but he got his point across. He knew about us, and he knew who I was. He threatened to expose you, expose us… but he said he would keep quiet, if I paid him off. So I did. I transferred him twenty thousand dollars, no questions asked.”
“Shane,” Ilya breathed, pulling the smaller man to his chest and holding him there tightly. Shane wrapped his own arms around Ilya, his shoulders shaking as he cried. “Shane, why didn’t you call me straight away?”
“He tapped your phone, that’s how he got my number. I didn't know if he would be watching our texts, or if he would know if I called you. If I told you, he would expose you, and would make sure you could never go home.” Shane said, his face tucked into Ilya’s neck.
“Fuck, I am sorry. This is all my fault; I told him back home, I was cutting him off. He did not take it well.”
“No shit,” Shane said with a snort, but it was a good sign - if he was being snarky, he was calming down. “God, I missed you so much. This has been such a fucking mess. It still is. He texted me a week ago, telling me he was coming back over… he wanted another money transfer, and he wanted me to give him physical cash to take back over. I thought it was going to be a one off thing, but he clearly spent all that money already.”
“He is… here? In Boston?” Ilya asked carefully, looking down at Shane. Shane nodded in confirmation.
“I told him I was playing here tonight, so he came here. My bag has his cash in it. I said I would meet him two hours after the game.”
“Oh, we give him the bag, alright.” Ilya muttered, pressing a kiss to Shane’s forehead. Ilya felt a wave of calm roll over him. This wasn’t like when his brother had called him a faggot, or Svetlana a whore. This was a personal attack on the most important person in Ilya’s life, in a way that Ilya had never experienced before. And Shane… he had went along with his brother’s demands, simply to keep him safe.
It was time to return the favour.
*
Alexei was feeling rather pleased with himself. His new arrangement was working a lot better, using his brother’s boy whore for money rather than Ilya. Hollander was a pushover, hardly a man, and Alexei knew he would not be getting cut off any time soon. Really, he ought to thank Ilya; if he hadn’t cut him off, he would never have found this jackpot.
Alexei had been careful in Boston, not wanting to risk his luck and run into his brother. He watched the game at a sports bar, chuckling when he saw how Hollander could hardly play - and he was meant to be the best Canada had to offer? Pathetic. But now, it was coming close to his meeting time, and he intended to do this quickly. He had a flight to catch, after this, and then parties to attend.
Hollander texted him the address to meet at - some shitty motel that was rented by the hour. He went straight to the door, knocking sharply, already thinking of ways he could make a fool of Hollander for how poorly he played.
The door swung open, and before he had a chance to react, a punch landed squarely on his face, snapping his head to the side, accompanied by a spray of blood. Before he could recover, he was flung to the floor, punches slamming into his face, his chest, wherever they could reach him. He gasped, trying to reach up to push the hands away, but it was impossible. And above the noise of skin hitting skin, he could hear him - he was like a bear, the way he growled.
“You dare, you dare try and hurt him.” Ilya was snarling in Russian, his eyes wild. “What did I say to you, Alexei, hm? I told you what would happen if you tried this shit again. Did you really think I would never find out?”
“So, the little bitch broke, did he?” Alexei said, spitting out blood when Ilya stopped hitting him, but held his throat in such a tight grip he was wheezing. “Did he go crying to you, eh? Begging for a fuck and your help? He’s a pathetic faggot, like you-ugh!”
The punches rained down on him again, and only when they stopped he realised he was now seeing two Ilya’s in his vision. The look on both of their faces had him shrinking back on the ground as he desperately tried to suck in air. He had never seen his younger brother so angry before, so dangerous. Alexei just stared up at him, even though his eyes felt swollen. Fuck, there was a good chance he had pushed Ilya over the edge.
“Shane Hollander is a better man than you could ever be, and he is worth a thousand of you, do you hear me? I do not care that you know we are lovers, Alexei - you have no power over me. You are nothing! You were always nothing to me, to our parents-” Alexei snarled, trying to shove Ilya off of him, but Ilya simply pinned his arms above his head, grinding them into the ugly motel carpet. “You are barely there as a father, as a husband. You are the most pathetic person in this world, but somehow, you think you can blackmail him and get away with it? You are just a leech, Alexei, with no purpose. If I killed you tonight, no one would even care, would they? Your wife would thank me.”
Alexei, for once, said nothing, knowing that if he set Ilya off again, he really might kill him. His heart was beating so fast in his chest, because Ilya had never gotten the better of him like this.
“I will leave him alone, Ilya! I’ll leave you both alone.” Alexei promised, flinching when Ilya raised his fist again. “I promise! I won’t say a word, if you just let me go.” Ilya stared down at him, his breathing so heavy and fast that his chest was heaving with the effort of it. Then, he gave him a sharp nod and stood up, kicking Alexei’s side as he did so. He turned to go into the bathroom, flicking on the light that barely worked, and turned on the tap.
“... You would hurt your own family like this, Ilya?” Alexei said as he stumbled to his feet, nearly falling straight back over. Ilya looked over his shoulder as he carefully washed his hands in the sink, the blood turning the water pink. He looked entirely calm now, not like he had nearly beaten a man to death.
“You hurt mine first, Alexei.” Ilya replied simply, wrapping his knuckles with ease. “If I even see a mention of Shane’s name in Russian media, I know it will come from you, and I promise you, you will be a dead man walking. Understood?”
“... Understood.” Alexei said, sitting down on the edge of the shitty bed when standing became too much. Ilya smiled at him, though it did not meet the rage in his eyes.
“Have a safe flight home.” Ilya mocked as he left. He quickly pulled on his sunglasses and cap, just in case anyone had heard the noise and saw a star hockey player leaving the place where there had been so much commotion. He had gotten his point across, he was sure. But it still didn’t feel like enough.
As he walked to his car, he pulled up Jane’s number and called. Shane answered within two rings, his voice tight with worry.
“Ilya, thank fuck, are you ok?”
“It’s done, moya sem'ya. He will not bother us anymore. Tell me; what time do you fly out tomorrow?”
“Not until late afternoon.” Shane sounded like he wanted to ask more questions, so Ilya talked over him.
“Good - get yourself over to my house. I need you.”
“I need you too,” Shane admitted. “I’ll head over now. See you soon.”
*
The flight back to Moscow had been hell. His whole face was fucked, swollen and painful, making even drinking a difficult task. He was thankfully not questioned too much over why he looked such a mess, and was left alone. When they landed, he was the first off the flight, ready to grab a taxi and head back to Ilya’s old apartment and see his family, when a sleek black car pulled up right in front of him.
“Alexei Rozanov, yes?” The driver called out the window to him. “This taxi was ordered for you.”
“I did not order a taxi.” Alexei said warily, looking around him. Fuck, what was this now?
“And yet, here I am.” After a beat, the driver smiled at him. “Get in.”
Alexei stood still for a minute, before swallowing past the lump in his throat and forcing himself into the back of the car. Thankfully, there was no one waiting for him there as he thought there would be, but the driver was more than enough to have Alexei’s nerves on edge.
“Are you taking me back to my apartment?” Alexei asked, though he was not surprised when the driver shook his head.
“No, you no longer have an apartment in Moscow, sir.”
“That’s a lie!” Alexei snapped, unable to help himself. “My brother gifted it to me, my family lives there.”
“Ah yes… your wife and child still have it. But you do not. You understand me, Mr Rozanov? Your brother said you would.” The driver was far too cheerful for Alexei’s liking. “He told you, what would happen if you messed with him again, yes? I am here to make sure you understand.”
So Ilya had been big enough to beat him, but not to finish him off. Alexei swallowed, his head thumping the headrest. How did it come to this? How had some fucking Canadian hockey player have such a hold on his brother, for him to risk it all? It was maddening, but Alexei no longer had the strength to think about it.
They drove for a long time, before the car stopped… outside of the train station. The driver handed Alexei an envelope; he opened it to see there was a one way ticket out of Moscow. “Your brother said you are welcome to stay, of course, but you may find Moscow is… no longer a welcoming place for you.” He met the driver’s eyes in the mirror, and suddenly, he was no longer cheerful. “You understand, Alexei?”
Ilya would not kill him, but he would not make life easy for him, either. As he got out of the car, his hands shaking as he gripped his ticket, it finally hit him. This time, he truly had no plan, no backup, no help. He was truly alone. As he always feared he would be.
“Well played, little brother.” Alexei muttered, turning into the station. This time, he knew Ilya was truly the one in control.