Chapter Text
When Ilya finished with Eva he made his way slowly back to his and Shane’s bedroom, where he found his husband waiting for him in their bed. He was leaning against the headboard with his feet tucked underneath the duvet, scrolling on his phone. He looked up when Ilya walked in, eyes softening and mouth curving into a gentle grin.
“She fall asleep okay?”
“Yes, she is, ah, what is the expression? Out like a light?” Shane nodded to confirm Ilya’s english, and patted the bed next to him.
Ilya didn’t need to be asked twice. He peeled off his shirt and shorts to match Shane in only his boxers and crawled under the blankets. Once situated, he dropped a kiss onto Shane’s shoulder before shifting to lie flat on his back and open his arms in invitation.
Shane didn’t need to be asked twice, either. Delaying only long enough to put his phone on the bedside table and turn off the lamp, he shuffled down the bed to curl into Ilya’s side. He slotted in like a puzzle piece: head on Ilya’s chest, arm flung over his waist, one leg tucked carefully between Ilya’s. Tonight Shane would be Ilya’s personal weighted blanket - a responsibility he took very seriously.
Ilya sighed as Shane’s warmth settled over him. With practiced ease he brought his hand to Shane’s back and began tracing gentle patterns over the soft, warm, skin. Shane echoed his sigh, nuzzling his face into his chest and relaxing his weight more fully, completely boneless. Ilya kissed his hair. Shane kissed Ilya’s chest.
“Shane, Lyubimyy,” Ilya broke the silence. Shane hummed quietly in response.
“Mm?”
“Is 15 years since you told me you loved me.”
Shane smiled into his chest, and Ilya’s heart soared at the twitch of lips against his skin.
“Yeah, baby. And it's been 15 years since you told me you loved me. Or, 15 years and one day now I guess.” Ilya chuckled and squeezed Shane tight.
“You are right, Mr Smartypants. 15 years and one day.” Shane giggled a bit and kissed Ilya’s chest again, a grazing touch of his lips. Such a simple movement that meant so much.
“I wonder how many times we’ve said it since then.”
“Not enough.”
“No?”
“No, Lyubimyy. Never enough.”
“I love you Ilya.”
“I love you more Shane. I love you I love you I love you.”
Ilya knew Shane would retaliate, an age old response to the age old argument: ‘I love you more’, ‘impossible, I love you most’, so he acted first, scooping under Shane’s back and flipping them so Ilya was hovering above him.
He kissed Shane’s neck, then his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, his throat, his temple, each one punctuated with an ‘I love you’. Shane was laughing and writhing underneath him, and Ilya thought it just might be the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Finally, Shane managed to get his hands to Ilya’s face, cupping his cheeks and stilling his movement. He rose to meet Ilya’s lips with his own, and whispered into them,
“Ya tebya lyublyu, Ilyusha. Ty luchsheye, chto kogda-libo sluchalos' so mnoy.” You are the best thing that ever happened to me.
Ilya felt tears begin to well in his eyes again as he gazed into his husband’s face. Nobody had told him they loved him in his language, before Shane. He hadn’t heard those precious words since he was 12 and he lost the person who had loved him, cherished him, understood him the most. And now Shane could say more than that, and did constantly. The sweetest, most heart melting, romantic words would fall from his lips in the language he had learned just for Ilya. Perfect, with only a slight accent.
What had Ilya done to deserve this beautiful man, body and soul?
He thought maybe his Mama would tell him that he deserved all the love that came his way, all the good things, just for being himself and being brave. He tried every day to listen to her.
Shane wiped the single tear that tracked down Ilya’s cheek and tugged him down to his chest. He went willingly, melting into the body he had learned to call home.
“How are you, really?” Shane whispered into the darkness.
Ilya let the question settle around them, burying his face into Shane’s shoulder and steeling himself to answer. He was honest with Shane now. Always. It had taken a bit to get there, but he knew the hard conversations were worth it.
“Was a hard day, a bit.” Shane smoothed a hand through his hair in response, just listening. “Was the kind of day where before I would have stayed in bed all day and then gone out to drink. Be drunk to stop the thoughts.”
He paused, thinking about those days. They couldn’t feel further away now, a distant memory of a time long past. His life was so unrecognizable from how it had been then, but he wouldn’t change it for a thing.
“Is different now, with you and Evochka,” He continued, “I am okay Shane, I promise. I love you.”
“I love you more.”
And with that, Shane squeezed him tight to his chest and Ilya was helpless but to close his eyes and let his drowsiness take over.
He pictured his Mama looking down on them from some shining star in Ottawa’s vast night sky. Her voice echoed in his head, whispering through the night:
Moj milyj malʹčik, ty našel žiznʹ, o kotoroj ja mečtala dlja tebja.
Ceni každoe mgnovenie, radi menja i radi sebja.
Ja vsegda s toboj.
Be it the wind, a dream, his imagination. It didn’t matter. It was good advice, the kind only a mother could give.
Ilya would cherish this beautiful life, and he would carry her with him forever.
This, he could guarantee.