Chapter Text
The sun is barely peeking over the horizon, the birds only just beginning their morning melody, when Ilya wakes up, arms nestled tight around Shane’s waist. Shane is still sleeping soundly, head tucked beneath Ilya’s chin, pacifier hanging loosely from his slack lips. He had fallen asleep with it planted firmly in his mouth, insisting it was only because he was getting used to not chewing his fingers in his sleep. The morning was a bit of a role reversal, with Shane usually waking up before the sun even begins its morning ascent. Ilya lets exactly one day go by before he decides to sit Shane down to have a proper talk about their shifting dynamic. He’s always been naturally dominant, but now it looks like caregiving is a new facet of that domination, and as his dom, he can not let Shane hide from this major part of himself again. He lies in bed for a moment longer, carefully devising a game plan to broach this sensitive subject.
If he could, Ilya would like to avoid a repeat of yesterday’s meltdown. Finding Shane hiding in the guest room closet, bawling his eyes out tucked into a corner had left Ilya reeling, nearly drowning in his own guilt. Even before he knew what a caregiver was or what it entailed, he’d been extra careful with how he handled Shane Hollander. Yes, he was a strong-willed and very disciplined man, but he always had a sensitivity about him, especially when it came to Ilya. Shane absolutely wore his heart on his sleeve, and Ilya may have been an asshole, but he was very protective when it came to Shane’s feelings. Even before, when they’d had to hide their feelings from themselves and from the world, there was always a degree of possessive consideration for his boy.
So, he was very intentional when he sat down across from Shane later that morning over an early breakfast. He had decided, while he cooked up Shane’s safe breakfast foods, to bring up the subject only after they were both eating. Since they both had a late practice that afternoon, Ilya had just enough time to initiate what he was sure would be a difficult conversation for his boy before he had to make the two-hour drive back home, and he wanted them to both leave the conversation with a new understanding of what their dynamic would be.
“Sweetheart, we need to talk about what happened yesterday,” Ilya began, watching Shane’s face carefully for any signs of trepidation. Shane only groaned in response, clearly not too happy with being asked to rehash the prior day's meltdown.
“No moya lyubov, we must. It is for the best. I want to know why you think I would make fun of you for something like this? Is the second time you’ve said this,” Ilya pointed out. “You know I only tease you, right? I would never hurt you with purpose,” he continued, trying and failing to catch Shane’s gaze.
Shane sighed through his nose, keeping his eyes trained carefully on the peppers and egg whites he was pushing around on his plate. “On purpose, Ilya.”
“Is what I said,” Ilya said flippantly, “and you cannot distract me. Talk to me.”
Shane carefully placed his fork down on his plate, his eyes quickly flitting up to meet Ilya’s before resting somewhere around his chin. “I don’t think you’d hurt me on purpose. Just that I thought, maybe you were teasing me for real. Like you thought I was just some dumb baby.”
Ilya’s mouth twists like he’d bitten into a lemon, choosing his words carefully. He knows Shane’s brain is sometimes mean to him, but it still saddens him whenever Shane shares what is plaguing him. If he could, Ilya would scoop out every single untrue thought and kiss away all his worries, but since he can’t, he settles on doing what he can, which is reassure Shane whenever he does share.
“Dumb? Ahh, no, of course not,” Ilya began, “but you are my baby, and I always want to see you happy. Even if it means getting along with stupid Hayden Pike, or color sorting my laundry before I wash it,” he quipped, trying to bring a smile to his boy's face. He is pleased to see that it worked, even if he was only awarded a tiny one. “I like that you need me. I like that you let me help, even if you can do it by yourself. I only want to see your cute little Shane smile that is just for me. And when I do tease you, I want you to know it is not serious. I love every part of you, even the boring part that irons his socks before he folds them.”
Shane ignores that, eyes coming up once more to meet Ilya’s before dropping to his hands in his lap. “I like needing you, Ilya. I like not having to think or-or have responsibilities. Not having to be “on” all the time. Sometimes I just want to…be,” he admits quietly.
Ilya is so proud of Shane for having this conversation with him. He knows how difficult it must be for him to talk so openly about his feelings, and he’s doing so well, Ilya can’t help but lean over the table and smack a kiss on his downturned lips.
“That is ok, dorogoy. You can just be with me. We can have Shane days whenever you want, and it will be just Shane and his Papa. You do not have to worry because I will take care of everything,” Ilya promised.
Shane glances up at that, blush spreading pink across his freckled cheeks. “My papa?” he asked, a shy smile lighting up his face.
“If is what you want,” Ilya said, the tips of his ears staining red and accent thickening around his sudden self-consciousness.
“I do..I want that,” Shane admitted, hand raising to nibble at this fingers.
“Me too, baby.” Ilya reaches across the table to pluck Shane’s hand from his mouth, dropping a soft kiss to his palm. “You can let yourself have it. I promise I will never tease you for needing me, and I will always praise you for being so brave for me.”
Now that the hard part of the conversation was over, Ilya stood and moved to sit next to Shane. “Give me kiss,” Ilya said, fingers reaching out to grasp Shane’s chin, who leaned forward to place a soft kiss on Ilya’s waiting mouth. Ilya let Shane control the kiss for a second longer before he tilted his face up higher and licked into his pliant mouth. He brushed his tongue against Shane’s, pulling back only to nip at his plush bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue.
When they finally separated, Shane was slightly breathless, lips red and swollen, and oh so tempting. Ilya just brushed his thumb across Shane’s open mouth, thumb dipping in to rest on his tongue. He has to stifle the moan bubbling its way up his throat, eyes darkening hungrily when his needy boy sucks on the thumb in his mouth, cheeks hollowing, and tongue swirling around it. Ilya pulls back again, reluctantly removing his thumb and placing a quick kiss on Shane’s pouty lips before moving back to his seat to finish his breakfast.
“Eat, moya lyubov, you have practice, and I must leave soon.”
Shane groans, begrudgingly picking up his fork again to finish his boring breakfast.
~.~
Shane was absolutely not pouting by the time he walked Ilya to the door, sports bag in hand. They had finished breakfast before cuddling on the couch for a while. It almost felt harder to let Ilya leave now that he lived so close; their new proximity only highlighting the unfairness of their arrangement.
He couldn’t tell Ilya this, but now that he knew about Shane’s regression and agreed to be his caregiver, his papa, it made the distance between them feel all the more impossible. He was finally able to have Ilya in every way he wanted him, and now he was heading back to Ottawa, where he wouldn’t see him for two whole weeks. The Centaurs roadtrip to the states to play against the southern teams was not a surprise to Shane, but that didn’t make it any easier.
“Oh, Solnyshko, do not cry, please,” Ilya murmured, fingers reaching up to wipe a tear Shane didn’t know was falling.
“I’m not,” Shane lied, his own hand coming up to aggressively wipe all evidence of his sadness away. The lie sounded brittle even to his own ears. He pitched forward into Ilya’s arms, rubbing his face in the soft material of his hoodie. “I’ll just miss you, is all,” he whispered.
Ilya sighed above him, arms tightening around his sweet boy. “I know, I will miss you, too,” he promised. “We do not leave until tomorrow, so I will call you before and after practice, okay?” Shane huffs out a breath but agrees, tilting his face up for a kiss, which Ilya gladly complies, leaving pecks all over Shane’s freckles until he’s giggling and squirming away. Only then does Ilya pull back, bringing the strap of his bag over his shoulder.
“I have to go now, lyubov,” Ilya said, bringing his boy in to steal one more kiss.
“I know that,” Shane said, his familiar scowl chasing away the remaining laughter on his face. “I need to get ready for practice anyway,” he remarked, trying to seem more in control than he actually was.
“Be a good boy at practice today, Shane.”
“Yeah, ok, Ilya. Eat something good after practice, not McDonald’s,” Shane quipped back, closing the door on Ilya’s retreating form, before heading upstairs to get ready for the day ahead. By the time he finished his shower, the sun was blazing overhead, and he was back in captain mode, ready for the week ahead.