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"Shane, моя любовь, why must you frown? Not good for your pretty face." Ilya cooed while he cupped Shane's face between his hands. He patted his cheeks lovingly a few times but Shane persisted in his frowning. In fact, it was probably more of a scowl by this point. Ilya noticed that Shane had been a little on edge this week – and he could probably guess as to why – but he wanted to hear Shane say it. It would be an exercise in making sure they openly communicated when they needed to – which Galina strongly suggested they both constantly work on – since they both liked to think the other could read minds. He pinched softly at Shane's freckled cheeks and his scowl softened.
"You know why, Ilya. That should be us out on the ice. Fuckin, I can't believe we lost to the fucking Metros." He huffed and crossed his arms, leaning away from Ilya's rough hands.
It was Ilya's turn to pout. "Well maybe they will lose and then we can laugh about their misery together." He rubbed his hands against Shane's thighs and squeezed. "You need to loosen up, sweetheart. So serious." He patted Shane's knee and disappeared to the kitchen. He returned with a small blue gummy square between his thumb and forefinger. "Here, take. Will make you less grumpy."
"Ilya, what the fuck is this?" he held the gummy in the palm of his hand and looked down at it with disinterest.
"Is gummy! Website said it was 'edible'. Should work with your bad diet. You can eat food that is edible, yes?"
Shane blinked wearily at the gummy then at his husband. "Ilya."
"Shane."
"Is this a weed gummy?"
"Maybe," he shrugged. "I already took one so you take one too. I cut you a much smaller square."
"Where the hell did you even get this!?"
"Online! Was looking for things to make you more calm and easier to get along with." He pinched Shane's cheek again and grinned.
Shane rolled his eyes and popped the blue crystalized square into his mouth. He grimaced at the texture of the crystals as they glued to his teeth whenever he chewed, and the bitter taste it left on his tongue. "This tastes like shit."
"Yes, but it makes you feel very good. Promise."
30 minutes later…
Shane shifted uncomfortably in his spot on the couch. He could feel Ilya sneaking small glances in his direction and it made him hyper-aware of his own being. He didn't feel any differences in his system, but now he was paranoid that he couldn't even do weed correctly. His thumb nervously rubbed his palms as he rocked slightly. Should he be feeling any differences right now? What exactly should he be feeling anyways? It looked so different in the movies that Ilya had practically forced him to watch. They all seemed to have a wonderful time, just laughing at nothing – at least nothing Shane had particularly found all that funny – and just relaxing in a way Shane could never let himself do.
He wasn't familiar with weed – with any drug really. Only what was parroted by his school, parents, and coaches – which was 'don't do it, it's addictive and can ruin your life'. Shane had taken their words very seriously, and that probably wasn't helping him loosen up. He could feel his paranoia bubbling into his chest and he rocked harder. He couldn't even begin to describe the dread that was overwhelming his senses, making the world around him feel like he was viewing it through fog.
"Shane-" Ilya slid towards him and threw an arm over his shoulders, squeezing him against his chest. "Take a deep breath, you are scaring me."
Shane blinked his eyes a few times and drew in a shuddering breath. "I don't think this is making me feel calm. I think I'm broken." he half laughed and nuzzled into the crook of Ilya's neck. He drew in another breath, this time trying to take in Ilya's scent and ground himself.
"I cut you such a small piece, maybe it is still too much?" He placed his hand on top of Shane's that rested against Ilya's chest. "I'll keep you safe, so please relax, моя любовь."
Shane sighed and shifted to where his lips rested against Ilya's neck. "I'll try," he whispered out and shut his eyes. He took steady breaths through his nose and out his mouth to try and fight the overwhelming motion sickness he was experiencing. Ilya's free hand moved from Shane's shoulder into his hair and began to softly scratch his scalp. Shane hummed happily in response and wrapped himself tighter around Ilya's chest.
Shane was grateful that Ilya was holding him so tightly. The pressure was a welcome distraction to his dulling senses. In this moment he wasn't sure he would even be able to keep himself sitting upright if Ilya were to let go – his body felt like it was replaced with lead and that he would face plant onto their floor. It felt very similar to trying to move after swimming – all of his limbs just felt useless and heavy.
"Ilya…"
"Hmm?"
"I want to lay down in bed, I feel heavy."
Shane could feel the deep rattle of Ilya's chuckle as it settled in his chest. "Of course sweetheart. Do you need me to carry you?" Shane nodded and clutched Ilya's shirt even tighter.
"I don't think my body remembers how to move. It feels like I'm made of stone."
Ilya smiled and wiggled out from under Shane's body, careful to set him down slowly. Once he was ready, he slid his hands behind Shane's head and legs and lifted him off the couch.
"Hmm, you don't feel like stone."
Shane smiled and stuck his tongue out. "It's a figure of speech." he whined. Ilya rolled his eyes and focused on making the trip up the stairs, ensuring he didn't bump Shane into the wall or miss a step. Shane doesn't normally allow Ilya the chance to carry him without any fuss and he didn't want to fuck this up. He used his back to push the door open and laid Shane out on his side of the bed.
"Do you want to keep your clothes on, or do you want them off?"
Shane didn't answer and just stuck his hands up in the air, assumingly waiting for Ilya to strip him out of his shirt and pants. Ilya got him down to his boxers and placed a small kiss on his forehead while pulling the sheets over Shane's body.
"Спокойной ночи." Ilya stroked Shane's cheek as he sat on the edge of the bed.
"Night night, Ilya. I love you."