WavesofBlue



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    Shane wanted to hold Ilya’s hand. He wanted to touch something that wasn’t the edge of the exam table, which he currently had in a white-knuckled grip, fingers curled around the edge. Ilya was worried, and Shane had made a mistake in banishing him, and he felt bad about that, and about the oddly sympathetic way the doctor was looking at him. Shane had never felt comfortable being pitied.

    “My knee’s fucked,” Shane continued, a little more flatly; under control. It’s what he’d suspected deep down, after all. “And so I can’t play hockey. I’m done.”

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    18 Jan 2026

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    Ilya’s laugh is loud and delighted and absolutely infuriating. He leans back on his hands, eyes lighting up like Shane just told him the funniest joke ever. “Oh my god,” he says, murmuring something in Russian that’s too quick for Shane’s mind to translate. “You want to have a not-sex competition.”

    Shane shrugs. “You said I couldn’t resist you so…”

    “Hollander,” Ilya says fondly, shaking his head, “You have finally lost it.”

    “Or,” Shane counters, stepping closer, “You’re just not used to losing.”

    Ilya’s grin widens. He looks Shane up and down, slow and obvious. Shane’s body has never been subtle where Ilya is concerned and he can’t help the heat that floods his cheeks with Ilya’s eyes on him so intensely.

    “Fine,” Ilya says easily. “We’ll see how long you last.”

    Shane doesn’t hesitate. “Longer than you will.”

    ____

    5 times they don’t give in, +1 time someone finally does

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    16 Jan 2026

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    Eddie shrugs, goes back to chopping cilantro. “I guess I didn’t think you were that serious about moving out right now. I kinda figured you’d just…”

     

    “Stay?” Buck says, his voice suddenly so quiet Eddie’s not sure he really heard it at all.

     

    He looks over his shoulder at Buck who has a distant sort of look on his face. “Yeah. I mean. Chris and I make pretty good roommates, don’t we?”

     

    Eddie finds a way to make Buck stay.

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    14 Jan 2026

  4. Public Bookmark 59

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    Ilya considers, then, the idea of a smaller joy, the kind so molecular no one would know how to make him feel sorry for any of it. He thinks of Svetlana and him at McDonald’s, drunk and laughing; sprints, instead of long and dreadful runs; and even then that familiar swath of freckles, all faded from weak winter sun.

    There are times when Ilya is sorry, and there are times when he is not.

    (or: Heated Rivalry, as told through so many apologies.)

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    12 Jan 2026

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    "Kiss me."

    Buck's hands freeze, the stroking stops. “...I’m sorry?”

    “Kiss me.” Eddie doesn't know where this is coming from, except he does, actually—it's coming from the part of his brain that has been chewing on this problem for two days straight and has finally arrived at a solution. A terrible solution. A solution that makes perfect sense if you don't think about it too hard. "I need to know."

    Or,
    The scientific unravelling of Eddie Diaz.

    a 9x7 coda

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    12 Jan 2026