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Shane was sitting on the hotel room bed, reading the latest edition of the New Yorker. He had picked it up at the airport yesterday, much to Ilya's amusement. But their flight from Ottawa to New York had been delayed, and Shane needed to kill time so that his thoughts wouldn't swirl all over the place. He had to stay calm and focused for their game against the Admirals that night, after which they had planned to meet up with Scott Hunter and his husband Kip at the Kingfisher.
Shane was still not entirely comfortable being seen in public with his husband, and going to a gay bar would almost certainly be reported in the media the following day, he thought. This morning, however, there was no more talk about them than on any other day. Maybe he did not have to worry so much about being in public with Ilya anymore.
His reading was interrupted by Ilya frantically pacing through their hotel room and throwing clothes left and right. Shane had packed his suitcase after they had come back from the Kingfisher, so he wouldn’t have to do it in the morning. His clothes were folded neatly and the suitcase was standing by the door, just waiting for the last few items to be added before they left. On the other hand, Ilya's side of the hotel room was a mess now. There were clothes strewn all over the place, like they didn't have to leave for the airport in fifteen minutes.
“What’s going on? We have to leave soon,” Shane asked in confusion. “I can’t find phone. Just had it, but now it’s gone. Can you call?” Ilya responded. “But you usually mute it, how would we even hear?” “No, no, not this time. I had sound on this morning. Didn’t want to miss Farah’s call.” Their agent had scheduled a brief call in the morning to go over their upcoming ad campaign. It was the first ad that Shane and Ilya were doing together after being publicly outed, so it was very important to them.
Shane dialed Ilya’s phone number. A muffled sound emerged from under one of the many piles of clothes on the floor. Why did Ilya bring so many clothes? It was just a short stay in New York before they returned to Ottawa, not a long road trip. As Ilya removed pieces of clothing from the pile one by one, the sound became clearer. It was a Russian pop song, but even though Ilya often listened to this genre at home, Shane could not remember hearing this one before.
Finally, Ilya pulled out his phone from the pocket of a pair of sweatpants he had thrown aside earlier and hung up the call. “Thank you, moya lyubov,” he said as he leaned over to give Shane a tender kiss. Then he turned around and started to haphazardly toss clothes into his suitcase. Shane smiled to himself, thinking about how the two of them worked so well together, even though they almost could not be more different.
***
The next morning, Shane woke up late. They did not have any practice or meeting that day, and he was going to enjoy a quiet day at home, relaxing with his husband. He did not even want to go for his usual early morning run. He could work out with Ilya later if they felt like it. When Shane reached over to Ilya’s side of the bed, he found it empty. His fingertips could still sense some traces of warmth under the blanket, so he must not have gotten up that long ago. Slowly, he got up and made his way to the kitchen, where he could hear Ilya rummaging.
Shane stopped in the doorway to take in the scene. Ilya was quietly singing a song and dancing with their dog Anya, all while making pancakes. A smile crept over Shane’s face. He could still not believe that this was his life, so full of love and happiness. He walked over to give his husband a sleepy hug from behind, stretching up to plant a gentle kiss on his neck.
“Good morning, moya lyubov,” Ilya said, flipping pancakes. Shane watched him prepare their breakfast for a few more minutes as Ilya continued humming a melody. “That’s the song you had set as your ringtone, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve heard it before. What is it about?” Ilya turned the heat on the stove down to cook the pancakes more slowly, then turned around to properly hold Shane in his arms. The corners of his lips pulled up into a smirk. “What, you don’t know any Russian, moya lyubov? You tell me what song is about.” And then Ilya sung to his husband.
“A mozhet byt' zabudem vso i sbezhim/ u nas odna lyubov' i odna tol'ko zhizn'/ a mozhet byt' zabudem vso i sbezhim/ navsegda…” He paused, looking at Shane expectantly. “Umm, something about we have one love and one life, I think?” Ilya nodded proudly. “Yes. Maybe we will forget everything and run, forever.”
Ilya thought for a moment, then started rapping another part of the song. “505, 505 rasstavalsya s toboy ya tysyach raz/ no opyat' i opyat' popytayus' na serdtse ya vysech'.” Shane’s face distorted in confusion. “Okay, I don’t think I know any of these words.” Ilya smileed. “Yes, a bit more difficult. You will learn. I left you a thousand times but I will try to cut your name in my heart over and over. Hmm… not cut… what’s the word, like cutting names into our wedding rings?” “Engrave?” “Yes, engrave. I will try to engrave your name into my heart over and over.”
A wide smile spread over Shane’s face. He gently rubbed his thumb over the ring on Ilya’s necklace, remembering how they had gotten each other’s names and their wedding date engraved on the inside on their first anniversary. They had chosen to use the date of their first wedding, the one held by the Pike kids, as the day they would celebrate their anniversary.
“Okay, next part,” Ilya said. “Imya lyubimoye moyo - tvoyo imenno/ imya lyubimoye moyo/ i nepobedimaya lyubov' moya - moya imenno/ imya lyubimoye tvoyo - moyo lyubimoye.” Shane thought it over for a moment. “Something about your favorite name, I think?” “Very good,” Ilya confirmed. “My favorite name is your name, of course, and my love cannot be stopped. Is good song. Reminded me of you back then, so I made it your ringtone.”
“Back then? When was that?” Shane asked, his curiosity piqued. Ilya’s brows furrowed as he thought back. “Let me think… maybe 2016? I heard it in club in Russia over the summer. Didn’t make it your ringtone right away but I kept thinking of you when I heard it. Even Svetlana noticed I was… what do you call it… singing with mouth closed?” “Humming?” “Yes, that. Couldn’t help myself. Was in love with you before I even knew.”
Shane’s smile grew even wider. He leaned in closer and Ilya gave him a slow, tender kiss. Then Ilya’s lips wandered across Shane’s jaw and down to his neck. A quiet moan escaped Shane’s lips. He pressed his body even tighter against his husband, unable and unwilling to hide his instant arousal.
Suddenly, Anya ran around their feet and barked at them. They parted and finally noticed the smell. Ilya turned around quickly and removed the smoking pancakes from the stove. “Nooo!” he yelled in exasperation. “They’re burnt. We have to toss them.”
As Ilya scraped the charred remains of the pancakes out of the pan, Shane looked around and saw that there were two stacks of pancakes that Ilya had prepared. One tall stack with big pancakes, and a small stack of tiny pancakes. “What’s that all about?” he asked. “Huh?” Ilya looked up. “There are big pancakes and small ones?” “Ah, yes. The small ones are for Anya, of course.” Shane laughed out loud in surprise. “Are you sure my name is the one that’s your favorite? Not Anya’s?” Anya barked in agreement.