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Shane wakes up like he always does from anesthesia, all at once but completely disoriented. He doesn’t know why he’s there, but he knows right away he’s in the hospital: there’s that distinctive antiseptic smell and the persistent beeping of monitors. He tries to sit up, to look around, but there’s a dull pain in his right side and a hand on his shoulder urging him back down.
“Shhh. Shhh,” someone says. Shane rolls his head to the side and tries to focus on the person next to him, still touching his shoulder. At the sight of him, Shane sucks in a breath and starts coughing, which alerts him to the dryness of his mouth and throat. The man offers Shane a cup with a straw and says “small sip,” as he puts one hand behind Shane’s head to help him steady himself.
The thing is, the man beside his bed is pretty much the most gorgeous person Shane has ever seen. He has dark blond hair that curls around his face, his eyes are an astonishing blue-green, his face is scattered with appealing freckles and moles, and his full lips have a cupid’s bow that begs to be explored.
“You're beautiful,” Shane says to the man, once he has cleared his throat. It comes out "bee-you-tee-ful." Shane’s aware that he normally has more of a filter than this, but he can’t seem to help himself.
The man smiles at him, which makes his face light up and his eyes crinkle adorably. “This is the first thing you say when you wake up?”
“Sorry but it’s true! Um. Are you the nurse?” Best nurse ever, Shane thinks.
The beautiful man looks confused. “No. No, not the nurse.” Oh. He has an accent that Shane can’t quite place. Eastern European, maybe, or Russian. He says, “I will be right back,” and ducks behind the curtain drawn around Shane’s cubby before Shane can embarrass himself any further. Shane lies there and stares at the ceiling--he’s really very awake, considering he apparently just came out of anesthesia--and contemplates who the mystery man might be. Shane hopes he comes back soon; he’s so nice to look at.
A few minutes later, he does come back! There’s a woman in scrubs with him, who, it turns out, actually is a nurse. She explains that he had his appendix out--appendicitis! Huh! He still doesn’t remember anything about it, but she says that is sometimes an effect of anesthesia, and he should just relax for a bit and not worry about it.
She’s an attractive woman, but Shane doesn’t feel giddy about it, so maybe it’s starting to wear off. Then he looks back at the man, now standing at the end of the bed, and nope, he’s still the most incredible thing Shane has ever seen. Shane giggles a little and says “you’re just so pretty!”
The man offers him a crooked little smile. He’s even prettier when he smiles! He also has really nice teeth! Shane needs to find out his name. And what he’s doing here.
At the moment, he’s conversing quietly with the nurse. “Okay,” he says, with just a hint of that charming accent. And “okay,” again. And then, “how long? Good. Thank you.”
The nurse turns back to Shane with a smile. “Just rest now, Mr. Hollander. You’ll be up and about before you know it.” She ducks out behind the curtain, and now Shane’s alone with his mystery man again.
“What’s your name?” Shane blurts out. “Who are you? You have such nice teeth!"
“I am Ilya,” he responds, and laughs.
“Ilyaaaaa,” Shane breathes. “That’s such a nice name! And you have a good laugh! Why are you here?”
“I am here to make sure you are well,” Ilya says. “And take you home, when the doctor says you are ready to go.”
That’s so nice! “That’s so niiiice,” Shane tells him. “You are nice and pretty. Soooo pretty.”
Then! Ilya comes back to Shane's bedside and puts his hand on Shane's! Shane is flabbergasted. He still doesn't know who this lovely person is, but he's certainly very friendly. Shane thinks he'd normally feel weird about a stranger touching him, but Ilya had held his head up before, and now is holding his hand, and all Shane feels is a sense of comfort. And, well. There may be some tingling, too.
“How are you feeling?" Ilya asks.
“Stomach hurts a little, and my head’s all fuzzy. But you being here makes it better." What a silly thing to say. But Ilya is making him feel better, somehow, even though Shane still has no idea why he's here. He’s rubbing his thumb in soothing little circles across the back of Shane’s hand now, and yup, those are definitely some tingles. Shane never thought love at first sight was real, not before this moment. But now he thinks maybe it is a thing. A thing that's real.
“I'm glad," says Ilya, and then says something in a different language, maybe? It sounds like "ko-tik.”
“What's that? What you just said?"
“Is Russian for ‘kitten.’ You look like kitten, all blinky and, um, big eyes." And Ilya grins, turning the full wattage of his twinkling eyes and toothy smile on Shane's discombobulated self.
His mystery man is Russian! Shane forgets how to breathe for a moment. That smile is like sunshine.
“Who are you?" he whispers. “Do I know you?"
“You know me. Your brain is just a little confused right now. Nurse said it will be fine after more rest."
He knows Ilya? He forgot someone that pretty? The only people he really knows are other--oh. Shane feels a little let down, for some reason.
“Do we play hockey together? Are you on my team?"
“Yes, we are on hockey team together, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart! Is that a hockey joke? It’s a weird joke.
“How do we play together? I would be distracted alllllll the time.”
“Is a big problem,” Ilya responds. “It helps that we are also husbands.”
They are -- what? What does that mean, they are husbands?
“Husband? You have a wife?" Shane feels disappointed, although it's not like he could ask Ilya out anyway, not if they are on the same team. Also, Shane has never dated a man! Has he? What is he even thinking right now?
"No, I do not have a wife. I am husband who has husband. Just like you.”
"I don't have a husband! Or a wife!"
Ilya sighs. "You should maybe just rest. When you wake up again you will know more.”
"Wait!” Shane's thoughts are moving at the speed of maple syrup. “I have a husband?"
“Yes, kotik. We are married."
“Whaaat? You're my husband? We’re married to each other?” Is that really what Ilya’s telling him? If so, best news ever.
Ilya smiles that beautiful smile at Shane again. “I am your husband. You are my husband."
“Yaaaaaaay!"
Ilya laughs. So Shane laughs too. It is pretty funny. "You're sure? We got married?”
"Yes, I am sure we got married.”
"I'm sooo lucky,” Shane says. "I wanted to ask you on a date but then I thought, inappropriate. Because I didn't know you! And I don’t date men. But you're so beautiful! And then you’re also so nice. And it turns out I do know you! And I do date men? And we got married!”
Those are the most words Shane's put together since he woke up, and it makes him a little tired. Maybe he should close his eyes again, just for a little while. He did just get out of surgery, after all.
Hopefully the nice, beautiful man -- Ilya -- his husband! will be here when he wakes up.
Shane wakes up like he always does from anesthesia, all at once and completely alert. His right side is sore, unsurprisingly, and his throat is dry. He glances around, and sees Ilya sitting in a nearby chair, looking at something on his phone. When he notices Shane’s movement, though he jumps up and moves to stand near Shane’s head.
“You are awake! How are you feeling, sweetheart?”
Shane loves it when Ilya calls him sweetheart. “I’m okay, I think. A little sore. Is there water? My mouth is like a desert.”
Ilya grabs a water cup with a straw off a nearby tray table and holds it to Shane’s mouth. “Here. Just small sips, nurse said.”
Once Shane feels slightly hydrated again, he asks, “has the doctor been in? How long was I out?”
“Doctor said all good, you can go home in a few hours. You’ve been asleep for hour maybe, this time.” Ilya looks at him curiously. “Feeling better now?”
“Better than when my appendix attacked me? For sure.” He’d been coming off the ice after practice, Shane remembers, feeling a little nauseated. Then while he was changing the pain shifted to his side and became sharp, nothing like strained muscle, and anyway, he hadn’t taken any hits. When he doubled over, gasping, Ilya called for a medic to take a look. They had sent him immediately to the ER, where he was hustled right away into surgery.
“Yes, of course, but I mean better than last time you woke up? You know me now?”
“Know you? Of course I know you. What are you talking about?”
Ilya grins. It looks particularly wolfish, for some reason. “You did not remember me, last time you woke up."
“Last time I --"
“You wake up from surgery, you say to me ‘you are so beautiful, strange man, I must have you!’ I am worried, of course, my love has forgotten me, but nurse says this can be temporary side effect of anesthesia and you will remember later. So I do not worry, I enjoy you being silly.”
"Fuck you, you’re making this up.”
"I swear! Just ask nurse. You giggle and say ‘yaaay’ when I tell you we are married. Was very funny and cute.” Ilya smoothes some straggly hair off Shane's forehead with a gentleness that belies the glee in his words.
Shane can feel his cheeks turning bright red. He's been told he's sometimes goofy when he's had pain meds but this is ridiculous. How could he forget Ilya, of all people?
Uncharacteristically, though, Ilya stops teasing Shane. He stays by his side the whole time Shane's in recovery, making sure he has water and running gentle fingers through his hair. Ilya really does worry so much when Shane's hurt.
A few hours later, the doctor releases Shane to go home and Shane's so glad he doesn’t have to spend the night at the hospital. It’s late at this point and all he wants is sleep, in his own bed. Ilya brings the car around and the nurse wheels him out.
When the nurse opens the passenger door, Ilya exclaims, “Shane Hollander! It is me, Ilya, your husband, come to take you home!”
Ilya's never going to let him live this down. He’s such an asshole.
Shane loves him so much.