Chapter Text
Ilya thought he’d handle it just fine. He really thought he wouldn’t care.
He was wrong.
He wakes up late. There’s an optional skate today, and Shane had let him sleep in. So he’s alone when he realizes. He’s barely awake, walking to their closet to grab one of Shane’s hoodies, when he catches a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror.
He freezes, his hand hesitantly moving to his stomach.
There’s a soft swell, something that he definitely hasn’t noticed before. Not much, it really doesn’t look like much, nothing that couldn’t be passed off as some bloating, but.
But there’s something.
And it hits him. The same way seeing the test did. The same way the first ultrasound picture did. The same way hearing the heartbeat did.
This is real. He’s pregnant. In, what, 5 months, they’re going to have a baby. A real baby, a human life that they have to take care of. That they have to nurture and shape into a good person. A new person who’s life he’s going to shape.
A new person who’s life he has the opportunity to destroy.
He looks away from the mirror, ripping his hand from his stomach. His vision narrows, dread and horror flooding his body in a way he hasn’t felt in years. He stumbles, distantly hearing a yip from Anya. He must’ve stepped on her foot. He mumbles an apology, which just makes him feel even worse. He grabs a hoodie, he doesn’t know which one or whose it is. He doesn’t even care anymore. He pulls it over his head and shuffles back to bed. Anya jumps up next to him, whining softly as she curls up against him. He buries his fingers in her soft fur, pressing his lips to the top of her head.
“I’m sorry, my sweet girl,” he murmurs to her in Russian. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
She licks his cheek, which makes his eyes start to water.
So forgiving. He hurt her, and she forgave him. Unconditional love. God knows he doesn’t deserve that. He never has.
All he’s done in life is disappoint. He’s done nothing but fail.
This must be how his mother felt, he thinks distantly.
He thinks about her all of the time. Sometimes in passing, when he sees something she would’ve liked. When he hears a joke that would’ve made her laugh. When all he wants is a bowl of her chicken soup. He thinks about his Mama. But right now, he thinks about Irina Rozanova.
Did she feel this? This deep feeling of dread setting in when she realized “Oh, God, this really is happening”? He thinks about a young woman, one who had never had the chance to live on her own. To find the person she dreamed of becoming. A girl, really, who was forced into the role of wife and mother earlier than she should have been. He thinks of Irina Maksimovna Rozanova, 20 years old, married to a man so much older than her, absolutely terrified of what’s to come for the baby she’s carrying. She doesn’t know how to be a mother, she barely knows how to live without her own mother’s loving hands guiding her. How is she supposed to raise a child when she’s barely more than a child herself? Did she have someone who loved her, someone she could lean on? He hopes she did. He prays to a God he’s not sure exists that she did.
Ilya has so many people who he loves, who love him. Everywhere he turns, there is someone there who he can lean on. And all he does is take them for granted.
Who is he to feel this… scared, this hopeless, when there is so much love, so much care?
He has a loving husband, who would walk through fire just to satisfy any want he might have. He has a friend who has stood by his side, through the best and worst, who helps him when he’s down, who feels safe enough to allow him to help her up. He has a team, a family, who loves him, whether he’s leading them to victory or not.
He has all of this, and he still feels like this?
Weak. He hears his father’s voice echoing through his skull, a sound that he’s learned to ignore, but has grown loud. Useless. Hopeless.
He understands why his mother felt that death was the only feasible way out.
And that makes him sick.
***
He doesn’t know how long he stays in bed.
Ilya comes out of his daze when Anya’s head perks up, and she lets out a quiet bark. He blearily turns his head towards the door as Shane walks in.
“Ilya?” Shane’s voice is quiet, cautious, as he sits down next to Ilya’s hip.
“Hello,” his voice crackles with disuse.
“Baby, hey..." He places a gentle hand on Ilya’s hip. "Are you okay?"
“I…” He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. He tells himself that he doesn’t have to be the strong one all of the time. He’s allowed to not be okay, he’s allowed to need help. He shakes his head. “No.”
“Okay,” He murmurs softly. “Okay. Um. Give me a second.”
Shane stands up and rushes over to their closet. He comes back after a few moments in a threadworn tee and a pair of sweats. Ilya feels the bed dip behind him as Shane plasters himself against Ilya’s back.
“What can I do?” He asks, pressing his lips to Ilya’s neck.
“I don’t know,” Ilya hates how his voice wavers. He doesn’t think he’s stopped crying since he stumbled back to bed. He’s probably so dehydrated. “Could you maybe get me some water? Please?”
Ilya feels another kiss against his neck, then the comforting weight behind him disappears. Ilya can’t help the pathetic sound that escapes him. Shane softly brushes a curl from Ilya’s forehead.
“I’ll be right back, Солнышко,” He murmurs before leaving the room. Ilya blinks, and he’s back. He must be exhausted. “I’m gonna put this on your nightstand, yeah? For whenever you’re ready.”
And then Shane’s back, wrapping himself around Ilya like a living, breathing weighted blanket.
They lay together for as long as it takes for Ilya to form the words he’s looking for.
“I’m showing,” is what he lands on. “Just a little bit. But, yeah.”
“Oh?"
Ilya sniffles. “I don’t know what happened. One second, I am getting one of your hoodies, and the next, all I can think of is the total, um, fuck- ужас, uh, fear?”
“Dread?” Shane supplies.
“That’s the word. The dread my Mama must have felt when she was pregnant. I just… I’ve been thinking about her a lot.”
“That makes sense,” Shane murmurs, holding on to Ilya just a bit tighter than before. “This is… big. This is a huge change. It’s normal to think about her.”
“I…” He swallows thickly.
He’s not suicidal. He hasn’t ever been suicidal. Not actively, anyway. It’s something that he’s thought about in passing before, many times, but he’s never thought of it as the answer. The solution. And he hates to think that Shane might think he has. He has to phrase this right. He doesn’t want to scare Shane, to make him think that he might lose him.
“I think I understand why she did what she did,” he lands on after a few moments.
Shane doesn’t respond.
“I… I don’t want to do that. I wouldn’t do that to you,” He stumbles over his words.
Shane places his hand on Ilya’s, squeezing. “I know, baby.”
Ilya lets out a breath. “Okay. Good. Um, I just… I thought I understood before, you know? When it was really bad. I thought I understood. But then…” He squeezes his eyes shut, a tear slipping out onto his pillow. “You realize that this is real, that there is someone you are creating, that you will shape, and you realize that you might fail them. That you could… hurt them.” His hand not being held by Shane’s drifts up to the crucifix hanging from his throat. He wraps his hand around the pendant, feeling the cool metal biting into the thick callouses on his palm.
“Ilya…” Shane’s voice is hushed. “We’re going to fail them. We’re not always going to know the right thing to do. We’re not going to have all of the answers. We may be teaching them, but we’re still also learning how to do that. It’s okay to be wrong. What’s important is that we’re going to try. We won’t give up. We’re going to do our best to give them the best life we can. And If we mess up, we do our best to fix it. We try again. And we try not to make the same mistakes.
“I know you’re scared, baby. But you’re not your parents. You are not your father, and you are not your mother. I’m not going to tell you that it’s going to be amazing, that it’s going to be all sunshine and rainbows, but I am going to tell you that it’s going to be okay. You have me. I have you. We have our family, our friends. We have so much more than your parents did, hell, than even my parents did. We’re going to be okay.”
He presses a kiss to the back of Ilya’s neck, and Ilya squeezes his eyes shut tighter, trying to ignore the tears leaking from them.
***
“Motherfucker-” Ilya grunts as he tries to button his jeans.
He thought he’d have a few more weeks until this point. He barely started showing, he wouldn’t need a whole new wardrobe until later. He was apparently wrong about that.
“What’s wrong?” Shane pokes his head into the closet, his toothbrush in his mouth.
“Stupid pants won’t button,” he grumbles. He sucks in as much as he can, and he barely gets the button done. He exhales and frowns at his reflection in the mirror. “I look stupid.”
Shane steps back into the bathroom. Ilya can hear the sink for a moment before Shane is back, wrapping his arms around Ilya. He hooks his chin over Ilya’s shoulder, his hands resting on the soft swell of Ilya’s stomach.
“You don’t look stupid,” he presses a kiss behind his ear. “You’ve just outgrown these pants.”
“Which is stupid! I am 20 weeks, I should have more time before I need new pants!”
Shane has the audacity to smile. “Well, my books did say you might have to look into paternity clothes by week 18. So you’re right on schedule.”
Ilya rolls his eyes. Shane laughs and gently tugs Ilya so he turns around. He places his hands on Ilya’s hips and kisses him. “Hey, it’s just a doctor’s appointment. You can wear sweats, it’s okay. We can get you some new pants after.”
Ilya makes a displeased sound before learning in for another kiss. Shane obliges, this kiss lingering just a touch longer than before. “Fine. But you just want me to wear my sweatpants for your perverted fantasies.”
Shane laughs again, brushing their lips together, softer. “Maybe.” He grins. “You do need to hurry, we really do have to leave soon if we don’t want to be late.”
They make it to Ilya’s appointment early, but just barely. The nurse calls them back only a few minutes after they sit down in the waiting room. It’s routine, at this point. Ilya makes small talk as they get his weight and blood pressure, then they’re left for a moment to wait for the ultrasound tech.
“Are you nervous?” He asks Shane when he catches him jogging his knee.
Shane grins. “I mean, aren’t you? We might find out the sex today.”
“I will be happy regardless.”
“I will be too, it’s just exciting.”
“It is,” Ilya murmurs. He brings a hand up to cup his still small bump.
Soon enough, there’s a knock on the door. The ultrasound tech opens the room, a smile on her face.
“We’re ready for you, if you are!”
Ilya glances at Shane, who nods softly and stands, holding out a hand to help Ilya. He doesn’t really need it, not yet, but he’ll never say no to holding Shane’s hand. They follow the tech down the hall to the ultrasound room. Ilya sits on the fancy chair and tugs up his shirt, tucking the waistband of his pants and boxers down beneath his bump.
“Oh, you’re a pro,” the tech laughs. “Didn’t even have to tell you what to do. Cold gel,” she says as a warning before squeezing some of the conducting gel onto his stomach. He doesn’t flinch this time.
She picks up the probe and gently starts moving it. Ilya holds Shane’s hand, both of their gazes glued to the screen. It’s only a few moments before their baby shows up on the screen.
“Woah,” Shane breathes out.
Woah, indeed. Ilya feels like he just took a bad check and landed hard on his back, all of the air in his lungs getting knocked out.
“That’s a baby,” he blurts out. Because it is.
While it may have looked like a baby before, all of the features are much clearer now. There’s arms, legs- he can even see the fingers, holy shit. The tech, thankfully, doesn’t laugh at his obvious observation. Shane lets out a breathless laugh when their baby lifts a hand.
“They’re waving,” he murmurs.
“Looks like it!” the tech smiles as she tries to get a good angle. “You should be able to feel movement soon, if you haven’t already.”
Ilya shakes his head minutely. “No, not yet. Is that bad?”
“No, not at all. It’s your first pregnancy, it might take a little longer. Especially with your build.”
“There’s too much muscle in the way,” Shane teases as he kisses Ilya’s temple.
Ilya smiles. “What does it feel like?”
“Well, some people describe it as fluttering, or like gas bubbles moving,” The tech squints at the screen. “Hm.”
Ilya immediately starts panicking. That can’t be good. “What? Is everything okay?”
“Oh, yes, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you!” The tech rushes to affirm. “I just can’t get a good angle to see the sex. Baby is turned the wrong direction.”
Ilya exhales, immediately relieved. “Good,” he looks at Shane. “Is okay if we do not know today, right?”
Shane nods. “Yeah, of course.”
“Good to hear, because I don’t think I’m gonna be able to tell you today. I’m sorry!”
“No, no. Do not apologize. Baby is just stubborn, like their papa.”
Shane laughs and kisses Ilya’s temple.
***
“What if we don’t find out?” Ilya asks over dinner a few days later.
“Find out what?” Shane says after swallowing a mouthful of rice and salmon.
“The sex. What if we leave it surprise?”
“Oh. Do… you want to be surprised?”
“I don’t care, really. Boy, girl, as long as they are healthy I will be happy.” Ilya shrugs and takes a sip of his ginger ale. “Besides, if baby is anything like me, they will be in wrong position every time they try to look.”
Shane laughs. “Okay. Then we’ll be surprised.”
Ilya smiles and leans over the table, kissing Shane softly. “I cannot wait to be surprised with you.”
Shane smiles and kisses back. "Me either."