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Being in Hollander’s family home, holding him in his arms while his parents were watching a hockey match wasn’t on Ilya's New Year's list, but it was happening. The coming out, the panic attack at lunch, the tension accumulated in years of hiding came down hard on Shane, who didn’t last in front of the screen for more than five minutes.
He slowly moved so that his head was resting on Ilya’s chest, and the Russian player was circling him with his strong arms.
“Shane… Shane, wake up,” Ilya urged
“Let him sleep,” Yuna said, raising a hand to stop Ilya from actually shaking her son awake. “He doesn’t react very well when things go out of control, and this was…” she paused, afraid of using the wrong words.
“…a very big one. He does look exhausted. He was panicking before coming here. He was worried about having kept this from you.” Ilya confirmed.
Shane moved a little, mumbling something in his boyfriend’s chest, who stroked his hair, murmuring something back in Russian, which seemed to calm Shane down.
“Does he know Russian?” Yuna asked in a surprised tone. Shane was good at foreign languages, but Russian seemed a little complicated to learn.
“No, he knows a few swear words, but it’s just the sound of my voice calming him. it doesn't matter what I say, it can be the grocery shopping lists for what he gets.”
“This is weirdly sweet.”
Yuna kept her eyes on the couple, her heart swelling at how careful Ilya was with Shane. That big man was taking care of her son even better than she could, with a softness she hadn't thought he could have considered how vicious he was in the rink.
“I’ll bring you something to drink; he’ll be out for a while.” Yuna offered, trying to make Ilya as comfortable as possible. She was aware that the situation must have been hard for the Russian player too, even if he was doing his best to appear unbothered.
“Thank you. I think you might be right.”
Ilya remained still for two hours straight, then biology got the best of him and he needed to use the restroom, so he gently moved Shane, who whined, clinging to his T-shirt.
“I need to pee. Let me go.” Ilya didn't beat around the bush; he went straight to the point, as usual.
Shane whined again, a little more in distress, but Ilya managed to pry his hands away from his T-shirt, commenting:
“You are like a baby, kapreezniy kotyonok.”
Ilya’s tone was so endearing that when he came back and took Shane in his arms again, Yuna couldn’t help herself and inquired in a sweet tone.
“What does that mean?”
“What?!” Ilya wasn't sure to have actually voiced the nickname in his mother tongue, but the question was suggesting otherwise.
“The last thing you called Shane, in Russian.”
Ilya chuckled a little before answering: “It means like bratty kitten, maybe more like when one baby wants attention, how is that word?”
“Fussy? Cranky?” Yuna provided swiftly.
“A bit of both,” Ilya confirmed after thinking for a while.
It was so fitting that Yuna laughed out loud waking her son up. Shane rubbed his eyes like a baby, which made the situation even more comical.
“Why are you laughing? Is it about me?” Shane asked, a little puzzled.
“No,” hurried Yuma, hoping not to upset her son.
“Yes,” stated Ilya, “Because you are like a baby.”
Shane blushed furiously, his freckles even more visible on his heated cheeks. He stood up, trying to regain composure, but Ilya just pulled him back where he was.
“I like when you feel ok to be like a baby.”
Yuna looked at them and gave David a knowing look: it was impossible to deny how much Ilya was in love with Shane, and it was obvious that their son was equally in love with him. Shane was loved by his teammates, but it was more because of his prowess in hockey than because of his sparkly personality. Yuna was worried about him ending up with someone who wanted his money, his fame, but with Rozanov, there was no risk.
“Mum, can I have some coffee?” Shane asked almost petulantly.
“Do your legs not work? You go and make coffee for her!” Ilya sounded a bit scandalized by Shane’s shameless request.
“But it’s mum! She loves me!” Shane protested.
“And you don’t love her?” Ilya rebutted.
With a sigh, Shane stood up and made coffee for everyone, muttering something along the lines that being at home should mean having someone taking care of you. Ilya, hearing the muttering, looked at Yuma, pointing out:
“See? Kapreezniy kotyonok!”
Yuma laughed again, under the shocked gaze of her son.
“Since when do you understand Russian?”
“Since Ilya has found a very fitting nickname for you.”