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If you asked Shane what the most romantic thing Ilya has ever done for him was, he'd have a few answers, but he'd never say the actual one out loud.
Because it was stupid. Because the most romantic thing Ilya had ever done was go above and beyond to get Shane the exact same water bottle when his broke, and Shane hated any other option.
Apparently, his old water bottle had been discontinued in Canada, and for whatever godforsaken reason it wasn't available online whenever he looked.
It wasn't disconnected in the US, however, and when Ilya had gone to visit Svetlana for a few days, he dragged her around countless stores until they finally found the water bottle. He almost missed his flight because of it.
"Here." He put the box in front of Shane once he got home, kissing him, all the while maneuvering around Anya who was tangling herself around their feet.
"What-" Shane was confused but saw the brand printed along the edge, and opened the box to find not only the perfect water bottle he'd been so upset over breaking, but it also being the exact same colour scheme as the broken one, blue and yellow with the tiniest silver print along the bottom, spelling out the brand name.
"And I got one more just if this is broken too." Ilya added.
"You didn't have to." Shane couldn't help but grin, though. The water bottle was just perfect, it didn't spill, it wasn't too big, it was easy to clean, it had a rubber stopper on the bottom so it wouldn't slide, and Ilya had even taken care to get the right colour.
Ilya kissed him again. "I know. Is worth it if it makes you happy."
Despite all of their playful bickering and Ilya's love for teasing, he never gave Shane any real grief over things like these. So he had an extremely specific preference for a water bottle, so what?
"How long did it take you to find this?"
"Is not important."
"Ilya." Shane huffed.
"Doesn't matter."
"Ilya."
"Does. Not. Matter." Ilya punctuated each word with a quick kiss, then gave Shane's ass a light smack. "Come on, I'm hungry."
In the kitchen, they got to preparing something for dinner, and Ilya went to unload the dishwasher while Shane listed some options.
Something else Ilya never questioned was the fact that Shane hated touching dishes, both dirty and fresh out of the washer. He just took that chore onto himself without demanding an explanation or expecting Shane to even have a reason.
Shane had been fully prepared for a lifetime of explaining himself to people, but he never had to explain himself to Ilya.
He couldn't believe he used to be uncertain about them, the man had wasted hours in search of a fucking water bottle just to make him happy.
The only things he questioned now were how could Ilya be real, and how on earth could he think of himself the way he did.
Knowing that the best person in his life had dealt with so much self hatred bothered him, it wasn't fair. Ever since finding out, Shane made sure to point out to Ilya how amazing he was at least once a day, and it was never just about sex or his looks. That much Ilya knew for himself.
Instead, Shane complimented how good Ilya was with kids, even throwing in a little remark about their hypothetical future kids, or how he gave an amazing pep talk before a game, or he complimented his husband's cooking.
At first Ilya put on his playful arrogance, but eventually he learned to actually accept compliments. Eventually he stopped calling himself lazy, stopped echoing his father's words.
As they laid down on the couch to relax for the evening, Shane wrapped his arms around Ilya and rested his head on his chest.
Ilya kissed the top of his head as he shuffled through the channels, trying to find anything worth watching, and petting Anya with his free hand.
"Wait, go back. They were talking about you." Shane said.
Two channels back, there was an interview from a New York fashion show. Shane realized with horror that the person mentioning Ilya was none other than the coach's son.
Apparently he was one of the models, and he was being asked about the best sex of his life, for whatever reason, and he blurted out Ilya's name with a fake sheepishness.
"What the fuck?" Ilya sat up.
Shane frowned at the screen, the guy threw in a French phrase and he rolled his eyes. "His French is ugly."
"Mm, personality can be too." Ilya remarked, switching the chanel to a sports one before picking up his phone.
"What are you doing?"
"Telling Ceca to go get him under control, she's at that event." Ilya explained, using the nickname that made no sense to Shane, since Svetlana and Ceca sounded nothing alike. He had looked it up, apparently it was a common Serbian nickname.
He had looked up Sasha once too. Out of curiosity, right after that very first time Ilya mentioned him. Back then, it had made him insecure. The guy was pretty hot, and he was a model, and Shane had thought he probably understood Ilya far better than Shane ever could.
Now secure in both himself and their relationship, Shane knew that wasn't true, but seeing the guy still bothered him a little.
As Ilya was typing out a message to Svetlana, his keyboard lagging for whatever reason, which only frustrated him further, his phone rung.
"Ty smotrel?" The voice on the other end laughed. Sasha laughed. And Shane tensed at the sound.
"You think you are funny?" Ilya asked, and Shane knew he was speaking English so he could understand. He often did that lately, or he translated for him.
"English? You forgot to speak your language, Ilyushenka?" Sasha mused.
"Fuck you. Where is Svetlana?"
"Don't know. Probably with annoying girlfriend."
Shane wanted to snap at the guy for calling Rose annoying, but he kept quiet, since there was no point over the phone.
Sasha went on. "And I guess you are at home with husband? Is that why you call? He did not know about us?"
"There was no us." Ilya corrected. "It was sex. Is a little embarrassing you said best sex of your life was when you were fifteen, also."
"There he is. Do you talk to him like this too?"
"You are drunk. Or worse." Ilya rolled his eyes.
"You will call Sveta on me?"
Ilya sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sasha."
There was a scuffle on the other end, and then Svetlana was on the phone. "I will handle him."
"Thank you." Ilya hung up, rubbing his face.
"You okay?" Shane didn't expect him to be that rattled.
"Yes, is just annoying when he does this."
Shane pulled him closer, sitting upright to have Ilya put his head on his lap. "He can go fuck himself, you're mine now."
That made Ilya laugh. He took Shane's hand and kissed his wedding ring. "I would never have it be any other way."
"Good." Shane leaned down to kiss him, then started running a hand through his hair to calm him down.
Something else that used to eat at Shane was the fact that the smug model that was on their screen a few minutes ago, shared a language with Ilya, a language that Shane himself would never fully understand.
Not Russian, Russian could be learned. Matter of fact, Shane was dead set on learning it no matter how difficult it turned out to be. No, the language Ilya shared with Sasha and Svetlana was a language that only abused kids spoke. Additionally, it was also a language that one only learns when they grow up in an environment that forces them to hide a core part of their identity for so long.
Shane hid his sexuality too, yes, but he was very aware that fearing a public reaction and fearing imprisonment were two vastly different things.
It wasn't until Ilya sat him down and explained some things that Shane understood. He might never speak that language, and he was grateful he didn't, but Ilya had explained that Shane didn't have to always fully understand, the fact that he tried was enough.
Because it didn't matter that Sasha could understand and Shane mostly couldn't, what mattered was that it was Shane who tried time and time again.
Even with all that, however, there was still a pang of jealousy stung in his chest. Ilya's fidelity was never the question, naturally. What bothered Shane was the simple fact that this other man, this coach's son, very clearly wanted what was his. Legally his.
"You are jealous." Ilya pointed out. "Shane-"
"I'm not questioning your loyalty." Shane cut him off with a kiss. "I just don't like the way he's talking about you."
Ilya smiled. "He does not know who he talks about."
"What do you mean?"
Ilya kissed his hand again. "He does not know me. Not like you know me."
"What doesn't he know?" Shane smiled, using his other hand to detangle curls.
"He doesn't know anything. He does not know I like cooking, or that I love animals, he thinks I hate animals, actually. And he doesn't know... anything. Anything that matters. And you know everything."
"Everything." Shane echoed, it was not a question.
"Everything." Ilya confirmed.
They kissed for a while, and usually it would inevitably lead to sex, but Ilya was beyond tired, so instead it lead them to going to bed early.
Shane pulled his husband into the shower first, and then into a bath, where he insisted on washing Ilya's hair for him.
As he did, he thought about all the little things about Ilya that only Shane knew. Like the fact he wanted to dive with sharks, or that he actually loves to read, he's just specific about the genre, or the fact that Ilya used to hate history pieces but Shane once got him to watch one and now Ilya was insisting they watch Bridgerton, or that he would hum the Full House theme song while he cooked.
Shane, being a rational person, was scared of the ocean, but he sat there in the bathtub, massaging conditioner into his husband's hair, and knew that he had booked them a dive for Ilya's birthday.
He'd be lying if he said he wasn't terrified of the idea, but that was the rational part of him. Luckily, he had never once been rational about Ilya.
"Thank you." Ilya sighed, he was barely keeping himself awake, and he most defienely didn't have the energy to do his whole hair routine.
Shane kissed his shoulder. "You don't have to thank me."
Ilya just leaned back into his touch, fully relaxed, almost melted. When he was this tired words were beyond his reach, in any language.
So instead of talking, he simply showered Shane in kisses as they finished up in the bathroom.
"You're cute." Shane had to remark. He was standing at the sink, washing his face, and Ilya was hugging him from behind with his head rested on Shane's shoulder.
"Not cute." He grumbled. "Hot, sexy, irresi- irresistib-, that."
Shane laughed out loud at the failed attempt. "Adorable even."
"Shut up." Ilya kissed his neck.
"Sweet." Shane went on.
Ilya was quick to drag him to the bedroom as soon as he finished, plopping them down onto the bed and wrapping his arms around his husband as if he were a teddy bear. "No more words."
Shane rolled his eyes before stealing one more kiss. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, милый." Ilya whispered against his skin. It didn't take him long to fall asleep after that.
Anya settled down at the foot of the bed, tail thumping against Ilya's leg for a little before settling down.
Shane remained awake for a little longer, just looking at him. At his husband who didn't question his little quirks, who watched cooking shows and confidently proclaimed he could win them, who secretly loved Bridgerton, who adored animals, and for who's birthday Shane was apparently going to go diving with sharks, despite thinking that was a ridiculously dangerous idea.
Regardless of that, Shane felt smug thinking about the fact that Ilya would most definitely post photos of that little event, and Sasha would most definitely see them, and it would eat at him.
That sounded pretty mean, when Shane thought about it. But he didn't mind being a little mean when it came to Ilya.
Usually, Ilya was the protective one. The one who lead Shane through a crowd, a gentle, guiding hand at the small of his back. The one who snapped at press when they asked inappropriate questions.
What nobody knew was that Shane was far more possessive. He hated when fans got handsy with Ilya, hated seeing interviewers giggle and blush in hopes of him noticing. That was his husband they were talking to.
But Sasha bothered him more. Because he seemed to still be convinced Ilya would come back to him, for whatever reason.
Looking down at Ilya, Shane felt even more smug knowing that Sasha was living in a delusion. Because Ilya was happy right where he was.
If you told the Shane who got insecure after looking Sasha up, that years later he'd have it all, he would've thought you were crazy.
But there he was, in their home, with Ilya asleep in his arms, no longer guarded or scared. They had talked about possibly adopting, starting a family, and there was a mutual agreement that they wanted that. No real moves had been made yet, but there was time.
Before long, sleep started tugging at Shane, and as he closed his eyes and placed a kiss on Ilya's forehead, he was the happiest man in the world.