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Rain tapped against the windows outside of their bedroom, a crack in the heavy, drawn curtains illuminating the dim bedroom in a warm, cozy glow. Shane and Ilya laid back against pillows, the both of them tucked underneath the weighted blankets.
Ilya woke up first, he had spooned Shane from behind, held him closely against his chest, with his chin resting in the space between his neck and shoulder comfortably.
His eyelids felt heavy with fatigue, his body thrumming and telling him to go back to sleep despite how glad he felt hugging his boyfriend right now. It didn't help that the bed felt comfier than it usually did.
He gazed at the clock on the wall: 7:30 A.M. He still had a lot of time to spend with Shane, and a smile crept up on his face at the thought. He blinked the fatigue away, wanting to savor the moment just for a little bit before he could go back to sleep—if he was still even planning to.
Once he felt more awake, Ilya pulled Shane closer to get a quick look at him resting soundly, propping himself up on his elbow. He couldn’t help but sigh fondly at how peaceful he looked, sleeping in his arms.
He tilted his head lightly to the side, pressing a slow kiss to his neck, one that Shane would've gone crazy over if he were awake. Oh, how he loved these kinds of mornings. No games to think about, no dumb parties to attend. Just him and Shane.
It felt domestic, just how casually they were spooning after making passionate sex all night. It was a type of vulnerability he never got to have with anyone else before and gladly, he was very thankful for it. He couldn't imagine having anyone else that isn't Shane in his arms.
Shane let out a short hum after he was woken up by the kiss, shifting in bed.
"Good morning, sweetheart." Ilya cooed in a sweet, gentle tone, giving Shane's body a slow and warm squeeze in hopes that it'll wake him up a little bit.
"Good morning, Ilya," Shane yawned, craning his neck back at him.
Ilya pressed a kiss to his forehead and carded his fingers through his hair as he gazed upon his face. Shane looked back, his eyes opened slightly more to look through the crack in the curtains, then back towards Ilya.
"You're already awake this early?" He asked.
Fatigue tinted every word he drawled out. Shane looked as if he were pouting from how little his lips were moving, and it brought a smile to Ilya's face.
Ilya stared at his plush lips, wanting to kiss them so badly with all the love he felt this morning, but he knew that Shane was still half-asleep and would get frustrated if he showed him too much affection, so he had to keep it to a minimum. For now.
He eyes drifted back to Shane. "Well, is not early. It is 7 A.M, you know." He corrected, unable to hold himself back from pressing a firm kiss to his cheek."7:30, if you want it more specific."
Shane let out a dry chuckle, smiling amusedly. "Yeah, whatever. That's still early." He shifted yet again in bed, mumbling and closing his eyes. He was so ready to fall back asleep.
"Let's just go back to sleep, okay? We still have lots of time to sleep in, so we don't have to rush." He lightly nuzzled the side of his head against the pillow.
"Mmm." Ilya pretended to play along, closing his eyes. "Okay."
He lowered himself, pressing his chest against his back, pretending to fall asleep just for Shane's sake, still smiling.
The room fell quiet, and Ilya's affection for Shane grew more and more the longer he held him in his arms.
Shane opened his eyes after a moment passed, unable to fall back asleep now that he was woken up. He turned around to check if Ilya was asleep, only to find him looking at him with a sweet smile, with his head still on his shoulder.
"I said go to sleep," Shane lifted his head up from the pillow to gaze back at Ilya, whose gaze flickered to his lips, then his eyes.
"Hmm. No." Ilya replied stubbornly and returned the smile, still gazing at Shane fondly. "I don't want to go back to sleep. You're too comfy to hold." He purred, his bare chest pressed up against Shane's back.
Shane let his head fall back down, taking a deep breath and exhaling. "My back hurts like hell, you know."
Shane scowled, turning his head just enough to glare at him, though there was no heat behind that glare; rather, there was playfulness and love.
"And?" He asked, rather proud of himself.
He fully turned around and threw his arms around Ilya's shoulders. "And thanks to you, I don't get to have any proper sleep until the next game— again."
Ilya pressed a kiss to his cheek.
"I know. Is too early in the morning to be complaining about having no sleep like old, grumpy man anyway." He went on.
"Oh, I'm going back to sleep! My back hurts!." He laughed proudly, doing his best to copy the way Shane talked to tease him. Still, he had a fond look in his eyes.
Shane gazed away, scoffing exasperatedly.
"Oh my god, Ilya."
"What? Is the truth! You said it yourself." He defended himself. He knew very well what Shane meant.
"No, not that. I—" He groaned, looking back at him furiously, making Ilya grin. "I do not sound like that!"
"Yes, you do."
"Says who exactly?" He caught a glimpse of Ilya glancing at his lips then his eyes again, and he blushed. Just a little bit.
"Me. You sound like that to me all the time." He chuckled.
"Oh, fuck off."
Ilya smiled, reaching up to ruffle his hair. He knew how crude Shane could get with his mouth, but as his boyfriend, he didn’t have any special treatment. Nevertheless, it was endearing whenever he cursed at him; knowing that it was rarely full of heated words.
"But anyway..." He paused. "I promise to make it up to you. Okay?"
He kissed his neck, leaving a lingering and sweet kiss. A warm shiver ran down Shane's spine, and he scooted closer to Ilya.
"And how are you planning to do that, exactly?" He questioned.
"Is a secret. You'll find out later."
Shane sighed at that. He could already imagine what Ilya's way of 'making up to him' was. "Sure, sure. Make it up to me then. I guess I'll just let you ruin me and my sleep schedule some more too." He playfully chided him.
"Hey. I keep my promises, you know. Trust me, I will make it up to you in the best way ever." He bragged cockily, reaching out to hold his chin, his thumb gliding across his lower lip, softening Shane up.
"Fine."
Ilya's eyes roamed over Shane's features, his messy dark hair, then his dark and rich onyx-colored eyes— his eyes that once looked at him with fierce competition when they were on ice; now looked at him as if he was the greatest thing to ever gaze upon.
Then again, his soft, plush lips. He felt as if his heart was going to burst; heavy from all the love he holds for Shane.
No matter how many times he's seen Shane naked, messy, or at his most vulnerable, he always will find him to be so beautiful.
Shane had noticed the way he was looking at his lips and it made him feel nervous— but in a good way. It made him blush, almost completely forgetting how Ilya had ruined him the previous night. He adjusted his position, laying on his back and leaning against a pillow just in case Ilya planned on kissing him. He hoped that he would.
Ilya almost forgot to reply. "But... Do you still want to go back to sleep?"
"No... I feel more awake now." He shook his head lightly. "And with the way you're looking at me..." He paused, his voice sweeter. "I don't think I want to anymore." He reached out to rub his Ilya's chest, his touch slow and soothing. It could put him in a trance, and Shane knows it.
Ilya blinked, his gaze drifting to Shane's hand, then back to his eyes, a heartfelt expression painting his face. There was always a fond smile underneath such a usually cocky grin.
"Does that mean I can kiss you?" He asked.
"Do you still need to ask me?"
Ilya took one last look at Shane before he pressed a kiss to his lips after what felt like an eternity. His hand drifted to his cheek, cupping it. His thumb grazed across his cheek with a touch full of longing, a tension slowly released from his shoulders the longer they kissed.
Shane kept his arms around Ilya's shoulders. Kisses poured out all the fondness and attraction that only grew stronger this morning, not once pulling back to get some air.
But after some time had passed, Ilya pulled away, their faces still very close that it drew him in closer, he couldn’t hold himself back anymore.
His lips hovered above Shane's cheek and he gave him a soft, feathery kiss. He gave him another one. And another one. And yet another one. The kisses seemed as if they weren't going to stop anytime soon.
"You are so, so cute..." He cooed, pressing his lips against his cheek harder.
Shane laughed, his eyes crinkling as Ilya squished his already flushed face with his lips alone.
"Ilya— stop! That's— That's enough!—" Shane squawked out, trying to push Ilya away from the kisses on his cheek.
Ilya really couldn't help himself. He wanted to hear Shane laugh, see him blush, make him smile... He always wanted to be the reason why he felt so happy and loved.
Though as much as he'd love to keep on kissing him, he had to pull back. Not because he wanted to, but he had to listen to him. He sat up straight and leaned back on one hand, looking at Shane.
"Sorry, sorry. Can't help myself." Ilya chuckled, but he kissed his cheek one more time just to see what it would do.
"Stop..."Shane groaned. He sat up and leaned against the headboard, his hair messier, and face flushed, but there was a hint of a smile on his face that said it was all worth it.
"So. As promised, I will make up to you in best way ever—" He grinned. He sat beside Shane and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, toying with his hair. "What do you want for breakfast today?"
Shane relaxed, the tension in his shoulders leaving. That was his way of making it up to him? He chuckled out of relief. Well. He wasn’t complaining if he wanted to do something nice.
After a moment of thinking, Shane replied, still a little out of breath from the kisses earlier. "Crepes. Actually— strawberry and Nutella crepes would be really good right now. I haven’t had that in a while."
"Crepes?" Ilya asked as he blinked twice, before noticing how red he was in the face, letting out a giggle as he tried to surpress his laughter.
"What?" He shook his head lightly, a smirk of confusion and disbelief on his face. "What's so funny?"
"Your face," Ilya made an encircling gesture to his own face, "Is very, very red. You look like tomato." He finally let out a laugh, eliciting a groan from Shane.
"Jesus— Ilya." He laughed and lightly smacked Ilya's bare chest, rubbing his face as it burned hotter.
Ilya opened his mouth to point out again how much redder his face got after he pointed it out, but then they'd be in bed all day, laughing at and making fun of each other. "Tell me what crepe is again?"
"Crepes are like, flat pancakes—"
"I don't know how to make that."
Shane blinked. "It's fine. You can probably use pancake mix to make it."
"We ran out of pancake mix."
"...What?" Shane asked, his eyebrows almost stitching together out of disbelief.
"Yes. We don't have pancake mix. You always ask me to make some almost..." He trailed off, thinking. "Everyday. I'm surprised you want something different for breakfast."
"Well I'm not always as boring as you think I am, then. And besides. It's a comfort meal of mine." Shane retorted playfully. He shook his head, smiling. "My mom has a crepe recipe, and I can always teach you how to make it. It's really easy to make, so. Yeah."
Ilya's eyes lit up. Teaching him. Of course. He's always more than happy to try out new things, especially with Shane. But he had one problem.
"I'd love it if you teached me. A lot. But what about your diet?" He asked.
Shane stood quiet. Despite how strict he was with his diet, he momentarily forgot about it. But he blushed. It was the sweetest thing to know that Ilya remembered things about him that he sometimes forgot about too.
"I'll be okay. It's just an occasional treat for me." He reassured, a pink hue tinting his cheeks.
"Are you sure?" He leaned closer.
"Yeah. Yes, I'm sure." Shane affirmed with a nod. "But anyway— You only need, like, a few ingredients to make a crepe."
Ilya hummed, nodding slowly. "Good, I don't feel like washing many dishes this morning anyway."
"I could always help you, you know, if you're not up for it." He offered.
Ilya shook his head, smiling and patting Shane's head.
"No, no. Like I said, I want to make it up to you." He pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Let me handle everything, even if I hate doing it." He looked around for the clothes he discarded on the floor last night.
Shane wanted to protest, to try and convince Ilya that he could do the dishes himself to provide some help, but he knew that he would get turned down again. "Okay." He sighed.
"Okay." Ilya repeated back, nodding. He stood up from the bed, picking up his own shirt and tossing it over to Shane, gazing back at him.
"Put this on."
Shane let out an amused huff, turning the shirt inside out and putting it on while Ilya was changing into Shane's own shirt.
"Asshole." He mumbled affectionately under his breath. He shook his head fondly, chuckling with a blush on his face. He really loved wearing Ilya's clothes, they were slightly oversized, and were comfier than the ones he owned. Everytime he wore it made him feel like he was receiving hugs from Ilya.
Grabbing the fabric, he pulled it upwards and took a sniff, exhaling. It smelled just like him too. Earthy, deep, and sensual. It reminded Shane of the cologne Ilya always wore, even if he was staying at home.
Shortly after, he stood up and picked up his other discarded clothing, putting it on.
...
Shane sat by the kitchen island counter, clutching a can of ice-cold ginger ale, watching as Ilya prepared the ingredients they needed. Sometimes, he forgot how good he looked in an apron, and the sight of it brought a warm smile to his face.
Ilya could imagine the crepe in his head, light brown, floppy, and soft since Shane said it was apparently just a lighter, flat pancake. He placed all the ingredients he needed onto the space beside the stove. He leaned against the island counter, lightly tilting his head to the side.
"So I have the sugar, flour, eggs, milk, salt and the Nutella. Are you sure is all I need for this?"
Shane started to nod, but he slowly shook his head afterwards.
"Yeah, no." Shane took a sip from his can, settling it back down onto the counter, a smirk on his lips. "You forgot about the strawberries."
Ilya groaned rather too dramatically, rubbing his face. "Of course... I forgot the strawberries." But when Shane laughed, he smiled. It was exactly the kind of reaction he was looking for. "Thanks for reminder."
"You're welcome, hon." He took another sip.
Ilya's heart melted. Shane occassionally called him pet names, but each time he does, it always gets to Ilya. Really bad. And Shane knows that very well.
He strode over to the refrigerator and took out a box with half of the remaining strawberries, placing them on the counter. He lit the stove on, grabbing a pan and placing it on top to heat up the pan.
"I trust you not to burn the crepes." He teased, making Ilya huff.
Ilya glanced at Shane then back at the pan. "Trust me, I won't."
One cup of pastry flour, then a one-half teaspoon of sugar and a pinch of salt, Ilya reminded himself. Shane watched as he measured the pastry flour into a cup and sifted it into a fine mix in the bowl underneath.
Ilya could hear Shane's voice in his head, telling him the instructions as he made the crepe mixture. He added sugar and salt into the bowl, whisking it thoroughly.
"So, this is your mother's recipe, correct?" Ilya asked, his head still down.
"Yeah... It's my mom's." Shane nodded and leaned back into his touch as Ilya cracked two eggs and added in third quarters of milk, whisking the ingredients together.
"It's been a while, like, a year or two. I kind of forgot that it existed, so I've been wanting to try it again." He went on. "Also— My mom likes to add an extra quarter of milk to keep the crepe soft."
"Noted." Ilya added another quarter of milk. His hand hovered over the pan, checking the heat.
"So you know your mother's recipe, but can't replicate it?"
Ilya sliced a piece of butter with a butter knife and dropped iit into the pan as it melted and pooled in the center. Ilya grabbed the pan's handle and tilted the pan around to let the butter spread evenly.
"Well. I've tried making it before in the past," Shane nodded and curled his lips into an awkward, tight-lipped smile. He exhaled, taking a sip and tapping his fingers on the can. "But no one makes it better than she does, you know?"
"I see."
Shane trusted him with his mother's recipe, and Ilya felt as if he had a responsibility to make it taste just as good. He took a ladle from the utensil holder nearby, dipping it into the mixture before he poured it slowly into the pan. He swirled the pan around, making sure the mixture coated the surface of the pan evenly.
He repeated the process a few times and listened to nothing but the sound of crepe mixture being cooked on the pan, Shane sipping from his can, and the clatter of some kitchenware here and there.
There was a comfortable silence between them both.
Shane's eyes never left Ilya as he worked by the stove, watching him with adoration. Shane could've made breakfast himself. It wasn't that big of a deal for him to do even if it was Ilya's way of making up to him.
But there was no point in insisting, anyway. He loves Ilya and his cooking too much, and he would agree with anything he wanted to do. Hell, he'd rather eat meals prepared by him than the food he prepares for himself, too.
Ilya grabbed a knife and a chopping board, and chopped the strawberries into thin slices. He arranged them onto the crepes with Nutella smothered onto them, leaving a single strawberry slice for Shane.
He took the remaining slice, putting it close to his mouth. "Here. Is for you. Say ah."
"Ah." Shane played along. He opened his mouth as Ilya fed him a slice of strawberry. While Shane ate the strawberry, Ilya leaned in closer, stealing a kiss.
He chuckled, now folding the crepes. "Now you're just as red as strawberry, sweetheart."
Shane grumbled something, still chewing on the strawberry. He was in fact, just as red as the strawberry.
Ilya pushed the plate right across the counter and over to Shane, smiling. "Food is ready."
His eyebrows raised, gaze fixated onto the food on his plate. "This looks just like hers." Shane complimented, gazing at the food on his plate. It almost looked exactly like the ones his mom made. While it wasn't entirely the same, there definitely were similarities.
Shane picked up the utensils, he cut a small piece and took a bite from the fork. He moaned heartily, closing his eyes.It tasted just like her recipe.
"Holy shit—" He laughed, unable to hold himself back from grinning.
Ilya grinned, and leaned in closer. "So? Is it good?"
Shane instantly turned his head to Ilya. "Are you fucking kidding me? I love it! It tastes just exactly like her recipe too." Not a second after, he eagerly cut a bigger piece this time, almost shoving the fork into his mouth to take a bite.
"Let me try." He picked up a crepe with his hands and took a bite. "Mmm." His eyebrows furrowed as he thought about the flavor.
The softness of the crepe. The silkiness of the Nutella, paired with the sweet strawberries brought all the flavors together. Sure, it was simple, but it was delicious. He could see the appeal.
He nodded. "Your mother is very good cook. No wonder why you missed eating this." He said as he placed the crepe back down. He noted to himself: When making crepes next time, make it for two.
Shane was now halfway finished with his crepes. "These are so, so good." He couldn’t help but repeat himself, washing down the sweet flavor with a few sips of ginger ale, which might hurt his stomach afterwards. But he didn't care.
"I should let mom know about this— Maybe I could teach you more of her recipes too."
"I'd love that." He smiled, admiring him.
He stuffed his face with the remaining crepes, maintaining the biggest smile after each bite. Ilya couldn't stop staring at him. The way his eyes crinkled from how delicious the food was, how his cheeks slightly puffed up as he ate, killed him. He had to look.
Shane sighed, and his features relaxed. "Thanks again for the food." He chugged the remaining ginger ale in the can and placed it on top of his plate together with the used utensils.
Shane maneuvered around the island counter, approaching the sink with his plate in hand, but Ilya stepped in his way, taking the dishes from him and placing it into the sink. "No, no, no." He gestured to his chair. "You go and sit back down. I will wash it myself."
Shane sighed. "Fine." He leaned in closer and pressed a kiss to Ilya's cheek and cupped the other one. "I guess I'll be in the shower then. If you want to wash the dishes first, you can join me later." He pressed another kiss, then he turned with his back toward Ilya and walked in the direction of the bathroom.
"What?" Ilya's eyebrows raised, and he grabbed Shane's wrist. His heart thumped in his chest. "Wait— Not so fast."
His hand drifted from his wrist to his waist and he pulled him in closer. "Dishes can wait. Me? No. I can't wait for you." His arms wrapped around Shane from behind.
"I want to join you in the shower..." He whispered. Ilya's lips brushed against the shell of his ear, and he looked over at Shane with soft eyes that pleaded nicely. "Please?"
Shane sighed. After all, Ilya had been very good to him this morning, going so far as to make breakfast for him. As much as he wouldn’t like his back aching more... He could never deny him.
He hugged Ilya's arms that wrapped around him and held Shane firmly in place. "Fine. But do the dishes first, then you can join me."
Shane gave Ilya one last peck in the corner of his mouth and felt his arms tighten around himself. He let go and walked towards the bathroom door, entering it and shutting it. Ilya had to catch up to him quickly.