Chapter Text
“Please.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Please, please, please.”
“I said no.”
“I'll give you bigger bonus this quarter.”
“Nice try, asshole.”
This time, instead of replying, Ilya groans and bangs his head onto Shane's desk.
Shane had been busy doing paperwork when Ilya unceremoniously sat down across from him. Now, at any other given time, Shane wouldn’t care. Ilya is his boss, and they always do a catch-up before opening up for the day. This time, though, instead of talking about patients and procedures for the day, Ilya proposed an idea so absurd that Shane balked at him for a good minute. When he finally recovered, he said no. Unfortunately for him, his boss did not let up. It’s almost 10 AM now, and they've been at this for 30 minutes.
Ilya has pouted, bribed, and looked at Shane with his big blue eyes, hoping he would finally say yes to his idea. But Shane has two 11-year-old kids, twins, and he'd like to think he's now an expert at saying "no". So yeah, Ilya Rozanov will not sway him. Not for this.
Shane flicks Ilya's forehead now. He needs to focus on these patient files before their first scheduled patient comes in for the day. Being a receptionist-slash-assistant to one of the most sought-after plastic surgeons in Los Angeles requires precision and dedication. But he knows he does his job right, and he does it well. From encoding and keeping patient information, communicating with patients and supply vendors, and even assisting with operations and procedures, Shane runs their clinic like a tight ship, alright. This is what he’s good at, and he loves it. Well, too bad his boss is literally preventing him from finishing his work right now.
When Ilya raises his head, he's pouting at him again. Shane can't believe this man is the same surgeon who regularly performs nose jobs and penile enlargements and breast reductions. He literally looks like a moody teenager right now. “It's not a big deal, Hollander! I swear, we just go to one dinner, we talk to her, that's it!”
Shane raises an eyebrow. “'That's it'? Ilya, you were trying to convince me to pretend to be your husband, who is about to divorce you, just so you could save face in front of your latest conquest and explain why she found a ring in your pocket.”
Ilya waves a hand as if he isn't planning to do something borderline unethical, and at the very least, ridiculous. “Eh. Tomato, tomahto. Also—”
“That is not how you use that.” Shane scoffs at him, but he can't help the small smile on his face.
“—she is not just a latest conquest, okay? I swear I could see myself with this girl.” Ilya rubs a hand on his face.
Shane only looks at him and gestures for him to go on.
Ilya purses his lips for a moment. “Her name is Svetlana. She is also Russian, and she's gorgeous, and she gets my jokes, and she's so smart, Shane. I swear, it was different with her. Not like the other women or men I've been with before. It was something precious. I could actually see a relationship with her.”
Now, that is something big. For all the seven years Shane has known (and has been working for) Ilya, he has never once heard him talk like this. He talks about his healthy, active sex life. He talks about the hot people he's been with. He talks about which new car he's bought and another car he's going to sell. He talks about a new hobby he picked up or a new TV show he started. He talks about new medical books and courses he has started. He talks about new regimens and workout routines every other week, never really settling on something consistent. Because that's who Ilya Rozanov is. Always on the move, always doing something new...and always with a new person because he told Shane when they got drunk one night that he doesn't see himself settling down. But now it looks like something changed. Shane figures this woman must be pretty special. To make Rozanov think that he can do a relationship. He has to admit that he's a little impressed.
“And I don’t want to look like a loser to her, okay,” Ilya continues. “So, I don’t think I can tell her the truth.”
Right. The truth. The truth being that Ilya sometimes wears a wedding ring, even though he isn’t married, just so he can fend off annoying people who hit on him in the most random places. The truth being that Ilya also sometimes wears this wedding ring and invents an elaborate lie about being in an unhappy arranged/open marriage so he can keep things casual with his lovers. Shane knows this because, again, he and Ilya had gotten drunk one night and had been sharing stories until 3 AM in the morning.
Shane should really stop getting drunk with his boss. But then again, Ilya is one of the few people in his life he can consider a friend. He doesn’t have many friends right now, especially as a 29-year-old single dad with twins.
“Okay, well, I guess you're right.” Shane sighs. “You can’t tell her the truth. You have to go with this lie. And there’s no other way out but through.”
Ilya beams at him. “Yes! I knew you would understand me, Hollander.”
Shane holds up a hand. “But why do I have to be your pretend husband?” he questions. “Why didn’t you say you had a wife? You could have said it’s Rose.”
Ilya groans and lays his head on Shane’s desk again. He mutters something unintelligible.
Shane furrows his eyebrows. “What?”
Ilya lifts his head to look at him. “I panicked, okay? I panicked. She asked whose wedding ring was in my pants, and all I could say was your name.”
Shane sputters, “What?”
“I said ‘Shane’, and she asked again who, and I said, ‘That’s my husband, we’re divorcing soon.’”
Shane can’t help it; he bursts out laughing.
Ilya rolls his eyes. He leans back on his chair and crosses his arms. “Stop laughing at me.”
“I’m s-sorry,” Shane wheezes. “I’m just trying to process this. You,” he points a finger at the surgeon, “who invents elaborate lies about open relationships and arranged marriages every other weekend, panicked and told this Svetlana that you’re about to divorce your husband called ‘Shane’.”
“It was the best thing I could think of at that moment!” Ilya replies exasperatedly, but Shane notices a small, amused smirk on his face.
“Oh, Rozy.” Shane shakes his head at him, still chuckling. “What would you do without me?”
Ilya grins back at him, chuckling. His golden curls look like they’re bouncing. “What would I do indeed?”
The clinic door bangs open before Shane could reply, though. And somehow, he already knows the people coming in.
“Dad, give me some money.”
Shane peels his gaze away from Ilya to look at the newcomers. Unsurprisingly, it’s his pride and joy, and also somehow the main source of all his stress in life—his kids.
“Well, hello to you, too.” Shane raises an eyebrow at the twins, who are flanked by Luca, their babysitter. Luca grins sheepishly at him and waves hello. The twins eagerly make their way to his desk. “Please say hello to Dr. Rozanov.”
“Hello, Dr. Rozanov!” Mira greets Ilya. Ilya, in return, says good morning to his daughter. His son, on the other hand, has a different greeting.
“Hello, Dr. Rozy. Dad, money.” Jiro already has his hand outstretched. Ilya tries to hold back a laugh.
Shane tries to glare at him and turns back to his son. “Didn’t I already leave you money before I left for work this morning?”
“Yes, and he already spent it on Fortnite,” Mira snickers.
“Mira!”
“It’s the tru—”
Shane decides to cut them off before it turns into a full-blown fight. They’re opening in a few minutes, and he really does not want patients to see two kids yelling at a plastic surgery clinic. “Okay, hold up. Jiro, you weren’t supposed to play video games. I know it’s a Saturday, bud, but not this early in the morning.”
“Ha!” Mira screams in delight, her face smug. It’s scary how much Shane sees himself in her sometimes.
Jiro groans. “Daaaaddd, I didn’t play, I swear! Luca just showed me something!”
They all look at Luca, who’s now sitting on one of the couches. His eyes are wide. “I just showed him this new trick I saw, Mr. Hollander. He didn’t play, I swear. I would never break your rules.”
Mira is giggling now, and Jiro is nodding furiously. Luca is probably their favorite babysitter, the best one so far. With only six years between them—Luca being a senior in high school and saving up for college—it makes sense that he gets along well with his kids. Shane is thankful for him every day.
“‘Mr. Hollander’?” Ilya balks at Luca.
“Luca, I told you you can call me by my first name.” Shane rolls his eyes fondly. “And it’s okay, don’t worry about it.” He ruffles Jiro’s hair.
Jiro leans into him. He always did like Shane’s hands on his hair. Always seemed to calm him down and comfort him when he’s feeling stressed or overwhelmed. Oh, God. Shane dreads the day puberty and middle school madness will hit, and suddenly, his twins can’t stand their dad. He survived his college years as a single dad taking care of his babies, but he won’t be able to survive that.
“How about you, Dr. Rozy? Will you give me some money?” Jiro turns to Ilya with his sweet eyes.
Mira now nods in agreement. “Dad says you’re rich.”
“Wait, are you rich enough that you can take us to Hawaii?” The boy looks at the surgeon with wonder.
Shane’s mouth drops open at this, but Ilya throws his head back and laughs.
“I mean, I am, yes,” Ilya tells the twins. “But I think rich people don’t just give people trips. That’s how they stay rich.” He boops Mira’s nose.
“But dad says you do charity all the time.”
“Da, yes.” He nods seriously. “I fix cleft lips for kids and offer services to Pride organizations. That kind of charity.”
“So, you can’t take me to Hawaii?”
“Ah, sorry. I think that would be kidnapping, yes?”
“And I think we’re opening soon!” Shane cuts. He looks over to Luca for help. Luca nods and stands up. Time for them to go.
💍
Two hours and three patients later, Shane is rearranging medical equipment and getting ready for another appointment. When he closes the cabinet, Ilya is right there beside him. Shane jumps.
“What the fuck,” Shane exclaims. He smooths his hands over his medical coat and his jet-black hair to calm down. “Make some noise, you asshole.”
Ilya looks at him with a straight face. Clearly, not caring that Shane almost died from shock. “Boring. So. Dinner, yes?”
Shane sighs and purses his lips. “You’re really serious about this?”
“I am! Yes!” Ilya grabs his forearm in desperation. The pout is back, too. “Please, Shane. I will owe you.”
Now, Shane doesn’t like lying. Doesn’t like to be in situations where he doesn’t have some sort of control. And he definitely doesn’t want to be roped into a complex situation like this. But Ilya Rozanov owing him one? He likes the sound of that. Maybe he’ll finally get Mira to that acting class she’s been looking at. Or maybe he can get Jiro the latest PlayStation. Whatever he gets out of this, it better be worth it.
“Okay, fine. Let’s do it.”
Shane hopes he won't regret this.