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Shane was woken by a crash coming from the kitchen followed by a string of Russian curse words. He grumbled and pulled the covers over his head. Their first day post-season and their first day at the cottage and all he wanted to do was sleep in. He rolled over and looked at the clock on his nightstand. 11:30... PM. Why the hell was Ilya in their kitchen in the middle of the night? Shane grumbled again and got out of bed, pulling the covers with him. He padded down the stairs and walked into the kitchen where he found Ilya looking at his phone like it had personally insulted him.
"Ilya," Shane said, "What the hell are you doing?"
Ilya looked up, "am making brownies."
"Brownies?"
"Yes. Kind of like cake but not really? Chocolate? You are familiar yes?"
Shane rolled his eyes, "I know what brownies are asshole, I meant why now."
"Could not sleep," Ilya shrugged, "and I was hungry."
"And why are you glaring at your phone?"
"The recipe has American measures."
"And?"
"I don't know this. I know metric system. The normal way."
"Find a different recipe."
"They're all in American way."
"What are you on?"
Ilya hesitated, "pintrest."
Shane tried very hard not to laugh. A giant, tough, hockey player Russian was in his kitchen looking at American brownie recipes on Pinterest.
"I have an old recipe from my mom, let me find it."
He stood up and started looking through drawers. He should have taken a picture when his mom gave it to him, but when was he going to make brownies? In the middle of the night, apparently.
Finally he found it and held it up triumphantly. "Found it!"
Ilya snatched it out of his hands, reading it carefully, "Get me eggs."
"So this is how we're doing this?" Shane laughed, "You're going to boss me around in my own kitchen?"
"Well you know where everything is." Ilya said, gesturing around him, "Eggs?"
One hour later, (longer than it should have taken to make brownie batter, but whatever), they were curled up together on the couch waiting for the brownies to bake. There was only a little bit of flour in Ilya's hair. A win is a win.
Shane was trying to brush out said flour when the timer went off on his phone. He went to get up but Ilya pulled him back down.
"They're going to burn."
Ilya grinned up at him, "gimme kiss."
Shane rolled his eyes but obeyed. When they broke apart he said, "Now can I go get the brownies that you wanted to make?"
Ilya sighed, "I suppose."
They put the brownies on plates and went out to the dock. The brownies were a little messed up, but neither of them had wanted to wait for them to cool before taking them out of the pan. They sat side by side in the dark looking out at the lake. Ilya took Shane's blanket and wrapped part of it around himself.
"I thought Russians didn't get cold."
Ilya glared at him mid bite, "We'll I thought Canadians were exciting. Don't believe everything you hear, Hollander."
Shane grinned and snatched a piece of Ilya's brownie off of his plate.
"WHAT THE HELL SHANE!" Ilya shouted, pushing him away playfully, "you have your own damn brownie right there!"
Shane laughed, chewing the brownie chunk he had stolen. Ilya huffed and quickly ate the rest of his brownie, lest it be stolen again.
Ilya sat back on his hands and looked up at the sky.
"So many stars," he said, "so many more than when in the city."
"Yeah," Shane agreed, tilting his head to look up, "they're beautiful, aren't they."
"They are."
Ilya used the opportunity to steal the rest of Shane's brownie off of his plate. Shane reached to stop him, but not quick enough.
"Asshole!"
"You stole mine first!"
Ilya wasn't looking at the stars, he was looking at Shane.