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Shane barely opened his eyes a smile already tugging on his lips. Ilya was sprawled halfway across his chest, curls tickling Shane's neck and chin, a patch of drool soaking through Shane's t-shirt. Anya was safely nested between his knees, her head resting on top of his thigh.
For a person who made a strict rule of not allowing Anya on bed more than a year ago he was failing spectacularly. Because morning like these were wholly in their lives.
Slow mornings. Lazy days. Days where they didn't need to go to the gym or rush to breakfast with their friends and family. Not that they didn't love that, but sometimes they just wanted to indulge in soft mornings like these, relishing in the fact that they finally get to do this.
After excruciating eleven years of hiding and sneaking around, they finally get to love each other in broad daylight and it was everything.
It's strange isn't it, how something so small and usually irelevant in someone's relationship - like holding hands in public, kissing or just existing next to each other - seems so big and earth shattering when entire world is against you because you love who you love?
So, both Shane and Ilya loved their freedom. They were still getting used to it, sometimes forgetting that they don't need to hide anymore but they were making baby steps.
Still with his eyes half closed Shane turns his head and drops a soft kiss on top of Ilya's curls, exhaling softly. But then, a bright ray of sunshine spirals from their bedroom window and catches him right over the eyes. He blinks ofended then fully opens them trying to find the culprit - the traitorous ray of sunshine who tried to ruin their slow morning.
But, when he opens his eyes his heart flutters and huge grin appears on his face.
"It's snowing!"
Shane yells jumping out of bed almost waking Ilya from deep sleep and all but sending Anya flying over the bed from how fast he got out of it. He runs to the window with a skip in his step then goes back to his husband shaking his shoulder and cradling fingers through his hair.
"Ilya, wake up! It's snowing!"
The way Shane says it sounds like something mysteriously shifted overnight and there is suddenly World peace, no starving children and everyone is finally happy.
Ilya just groans and shuffles deeper into the pillows, Anya next to him burrying her nose in the crook of Ilya's shoulder, only half of her body visible on the warm spot in the bed Shane just vacated.
"Ilya! Ilya! Wake up!" Shane says again and starts uncovering Ilya under the pile of cushions and comforters.
"Did you hit your head Hollander? It's december. It's snowing for the past two months," Ilya lifts his head, curls all wild, eyes puffy from sleep with pillow marks all over his face from the way his cheek was smushed into it.
He rubs his eyes and opens one then the other and is met with Shane in his most sunshine form ever. Ilya scrunches his forehead in confusion.
Did he just wake up in an alternate universe? The usual form of angry kitten of his husband suddenly transformed into an overenthusiastic golden retriver.
"Okay, you really did hit your head. Come here. Do you have a fever?" Ilya tries to check for temperature but Shane huffs out a laugh and bats his arm.
"It's snowing. But, it's the right kind of snow."
Shane says it again, like it is supposed to mean something.
"The right kind of snow?" Ilya repeats slowly.
"Yes," Shane grins again, kissing Ilya on his shoulder, looking his husband straight in the eyes.
Ilya is so confused right now.
"There are right and wrong kinds of snow?" He tries to ask politely because he really wants to go back to sleep but his husband is so happy and he doesn't want to burst the bubble.
Shane enthusiastically nods.
"Yes! You have the awful watery kind, the overfluffy kind and the right kind."
"And we want the right kind of snow foooor?" Ilya is still looking at Shane like he might be experiencing stroke.
Shane lovingly rolls his eyes pulling the entire comforter from Ilya's body. Ilya shivers and immediately tries dragging it back again. Either of them not wanting to drop their sides of the comforter, both tugging each side like a childlish tug war.
"For snow angels, obviously," Shane smiles and Ilya immediately drops his part of the comforter, him and Anya out in the cold again.
"Obviously," Ilya deadpans.
"Yeah. Obviously."
"But you hate snow. You say is a sensory nightmare," Ilya cocks his head and is looking over Shane's body for other signs of stroke. He heard that uneven smiles were one of the symptoms. But no, Shane's smile is the brightest smile in the world right now.
"It is but this kind of snow is just right."
"For snow angels?" Ilya tries again.
He's probably dreaming. That must be it.
"Yeah. Come with me?" Shane offers his hand. Ilya keeps looking at it like it might explode in front of his eyes.
"To make snow angels?"
"Did You hit your head Rozanov?" Now it's Shane's time to jab at him making grabby hands for Ilya to take.
"Okay. But if you complain that you are cold and wet after, I will not take shower with you to warm you up," Ilya sighs knowing fully well that he's already lost that battle.
"Right. Like you would say no to that."
Ilya accepts his hand and Shane drags him to their walk in closet and keeps throwing clothes at Ilya. Ilya takes a piece of clothing in his hands inspecting it while the rest of it keeps flying at him or over his head. He doesn't even try to avoid the flying clothes coming at him.
Because, what?
The pieces of clothing were, kind of, questionable? He lifts his eyes and watches Shane now haphazardly throwing his own clothes on. The same weird clothes he just threw at Ilya.
"Are we going to the circus to make snow angels?"
Ilya asks twisting a colourful hand knitted sweater, that he never saw the entire time he's known Shane, in his hands. It had a pattern of dozens of tiny moose over it and all the combinations of colours in the world. It seemed like someone started making the sweater with carefully put colours then halfway through ran out of yarn and just used whatever they had around.
Ilya tries to sneak a look at the tag but there are no tags. The tag either never existed because it was hand made or because Shane killed all the tags as soon as he got the sweaters.
Ilya brings the sweater to his nose and it smelled of something sweet, like some kind of candy but he couldn't place the smell. He definitely smelled it in David and Yuna's house at some point. The wool of the sweater was so incredibly soft that made him forget how ridiculous the pattern was.
Ilya must've been staring at the sweater for far too long because Shane was right in front of him fully clothed, with a similar sweater on. His just had tiny beavers instead.
"Why aren't you getting dressed? Chop chop," he claps his hands and yanks an equally colourful wool hat with a bright yellow pom pom over his head and pulling the socks over his joggers.
"I'm so confused right now," Ilya mumbles but dresses as quickly as possible.
He accepts the hat (similar to Shane's but with bright green pom pom) and stuffs the mittens into the pockets of his jacket when Shane pulls him towards him.
Ilya just stares at Shane as he zips up his jacket half way up then starts rolling the scarf across his neck and mouth vigorously before tucking it in in front of his chest and zipping the jacket fully up.
Ilya felt like he was a child again when his mother used to dress him to go out in the freezing Russian weather.
"Okay. Okay. You are very mama bear this morning. You know I don't mind a little snow?"
Ilya tries to school his expression because he was halfway through sobbing right now and it wasn't even ten in the morning. Shane just grins widely.
"I know. But this is so much fun!"
Ilya blinks looking at his husband who just combined the words snow and fun in the same sentence. He steers them through the house to get their boots on then pushes Ilya towards the patio door and their backyard where a fresh blanket of snow was covering the ground.
And Ilya can confirm, it was mesmerizing. The way the morning sun hit the ground at just the right angle making the snow glisten like thousands of little diamonds reflecting light.
Shane lets go of Ilya's hand, stands in the middle of the backyard head up at the sky and spins with both of his hands spread wide.
For a moment Ilya just watches his husband giggling and enjoying himself. Trying to catch the snowflakes on his tongue but them dropping on his cheeks instead.
And in that moment Ilya knew what Shane meant. It was cold but not too cold; there wasn't any wind; the snow wasn't soggy nor extremely fluffy, it squeeked wonderfully under their feet and it was just perfect.
Shane's cheeks were flushed, freckles doing their little dance every once in a while when a cold snowflake hit his face and he scrunched it up in surprise. His long hair was falling over his forehead under the ridiculously looking cap. His scarf and mittens all matching.
He seemed like a child enjoying his first day of snow.
Ilya was captivated, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. Anya watching them from a safe distance, right from the doorstep, not wanting to hurt her little feet with cold - but satisified that she had them where she could see them.
Shane turns and offers his hand for Ilya to take. Ilya goes willingly, his whole body pulling like a magnet. He stands right in front of Shane and craddles his face between the palms of his cold, mittenless hands.
Shane scrunches his face in cofusion.
"Ilya, were are your mittens? It's freezing."
"Don't care," Ilya says, eyes glistening with tears, thumbs slowly going over Shane's freckles. Shane fluttering his eyelashes in response, a small smile on his lips.
"What's with the hats and sweaters? You never showed them to me," Ilya says dropping a small peck over his husband's nose then cheeks then pulls off to put his mittens on.
Shane smiles even brightly.
"My mom and obaachan, um - grandma, made them just before she died. It was a little while before I was born. They made two because my mom always wanted two kids. The one I'm wearing my grandma made, and the one you're wearing mom made.
"She was teaching my mom how to knit, hence the mismatched colours and everything. But I don't care about that. I never had a chance to take them out before because the weather was never right. Not like right now."
Ilya felt his stomack do a back flip and suddenly he forgot how to breathe. He didn't know what to say. Both Russian and English language were meaningless in this moment. So instead he just kept looking at Shane like he was the only person in the entire world trying to convey every ounce of emotion he felt in his body.
"Hey, you okay?" Shane asked softly tucking a stray curl from Ilya's forehead under the hat.
"Perfect," Ilya drops a soft kiss over Shane's lips then looks around their backyard. "So, snow angels."
And then Shane's face explodes into a mischieveous grin and pulls Ilya hard to the ground.
"O-of Hollander. Warn next time."
"No warning, just fun!" He exclaims then starts wringling so he could have enough space to make a snow angel. Ilya watches as smiley faced Shane moves his arms and legs like he's a child again and mimicks his movements when Anya lets out a sad whine from the doorstep.
Ilya lifts his head and sees her sad little eyes. He knew that look, Shane always teased him that him and Anya shared the same braincell because he always knew what she was thinking. So, Ilya did the first thing that crossed his mind.
He unzips his jacket and patts on his chest for her to come.
"Come girl. Be fast and hop on me. I'll keep you warm."
Anya's ears fluff up and she runs over to Ilya who snuggles her in his jacket and zips it all the way up until only her head was peeking nestled against his scarf. She blinks at the sky a couple of times watching the snow falling then sneezes when one snow flake drops on her nose.
Shane is lying completely still in the center of his finished snow angel, breathing in the cold air, letting the snow melt on his warm and flushed cheeks and just letting his mind slowly melt away to his surroundings.
Ilya never understood why people were so obsessed with art and museums and famous paintings. Never understood what was so enticing for people to stare at them for minutes or hours at a time, or even dedicate their entire lives studying art.
But in this very moment if someone offered to paint Shane's face he would pay millions to do so. And then he would cherish it more than every single Michelangelo or Boticelli in the world.
Because his husband was breathtaking.
The way the snow sparkled around Shane made his entire face pop up. The small smile on his pink lips. The contrast of freckles on his blushed cheeks made Ilya think about those little porcelain dolls his grandmother kept in her closet - only to be seen and not touched. So gentle and breakable.
But Shane wasn't breakable, he was alive and strong and so fucking soft right now that Ilya wanted to freeze the moment.
Wanted to always be able to see the crinkle around Shane's eyes when he smiled so freely with his whole face and that jet black hair falling haphazardly from that ridiculously colourful hat with even more outrageous bright yellow pom pom.
Ilya wanted to be able to stay forever in this bubble of pure bliss. Of a moment in time where his husband didn't look back trying to figure out if someone was watching them, or obssesing over food, clothes and schedules.
A moment when Shane truly felt free of all the expectations and rules.
"You're staring," Shane mumbles his eyes closed, enjoying the faint blow of wind pinching their cheeks.
"I can't help myself. You're beautiful."
Shane opens one eye and peeks at Ilya who was now cradling Anya's head on his chest looking like he was stunned by a bright ray of sunshine.
"Me? You look like the Achilles himself," Shane's eyes soften watching how gentle Ilya was with Anya.
"No. Well, maybe. But you are still more beautiful. Pretty like the first day we met."
Ilya extends his hand for Shane to take and if someone had a camera to snap a photo from the top of the trees it would seem like they were angels holding their hands.
"Such a sap this early in the morning, Ilya," Shane jokes but squeezes Ilya's hand in his own, offering comfort.
"Completely your fault, Shane," Ilya returns the squeeze and looks at Shane again, locking their eyes. Not bothering blinking.
Why would he ever want to blink when this masterpiece was in front of him. Shane was thousand times more beautiful than any Mona Liza or The Birth of Venus could ever be.
"Are you glad I woke you up?"
"Every time I wake up and you're next to me I'm glad."
Shane blushes even harder and sits up trying to figure out how to get up without messing with the shape of an angel. Then he looks over at Ilya still sprawled on the ground, sun falling perfectly over his eyes and he instinctively whips out his phone.
"Don't move. I want to be able to go back to this moment."
He then moves closer to Ilya, the fear about his snow angel completely forgotten. He plops his head right next to Anya on Ilya's torso and opens up the front camera and points at their little family. Several clicks later the moment is frozen in time.
They stay like that for a while. Not talking. Just absorbing everything around them.
Shane's head is nestled by warm Anya, his hand burried in her fur feeling her chest go up and down while breathing. One of Ilya's hands is under his head supporting it, the other one drawing slow circles over Shane's shoulders.
"This is so nice but my butt is frozen," Shane eventually says looking up at Ilya who never looked away from Shane in his arms.
"Very romantic of you Hollander."
"What? It is. Butts can be ... Very romantic," Shane blushes looking back at smirking Ilya with one raised eyebrow. "Okay, shut up. Come on. Up. You're on pancakes duty and I'm making hot chocolate."
Shane gets up and offers a hand to Ilya to help him up. They meet chest to chest and Ilya looks down at his husband's eyes. Eyes darting over his freckles, rosy nose from the cold and back to the fluttering eyelashes which were still catching falling snow flakes.
"Hi."
"Hi."
"You're so pretty," Ilya says again caressing his freckles, his heart threatening to explode in his chest.
"Ilya," Shane whines embarassed.
"No, no. You are. Normal pancakes or your diet ones?" Ilya decides to stop torturing his husband and kisses the tip of his nose instead.
"Normal. I'm feeling wild today."
Ilya's face spreads into a wild grin.
"This is the best day of my life. Pretty husband and carbs early in the morning."
Shane pushes him lightly in the chest and smiles. They keep looking at each other not saying a single word but feeling the entire world inside of them bubbling.
"Can we make a video to remember this moment?" Ilya asks swallowing a lump of emotions in his throat.
They both still had some issues with taking photos and videos together. For so long they had to delete every proof that they were ever together that sometimes they had to check in with each other if it's okay to do so now. But they were making baby steps.
Ever since the plane crash they decided that every moment, no matter how simple or small, should be memorized. And now, their phones were full of Ilya loading the dishwasher, Shane ironing Ilya's clothes and Ilya half asleep trying to pull on some socks so he can join Shane in the gym early in the morning because he didn't want to stay alone in the bed.
"Yeah. Of course."
Shane unlocks his phone and turns it around again. They both look angelic, blushed, noses red from cold, bundled up and happy. The moment video rolls neither of them finds words what to say to each other. They keep glancing towards the camera, at Anya then back at themselves eyes sparkling. They move around laughing, showing off their snow angels then go inside.
The morning carries on, for some reason Shane not wanting to ever forget this moment so he keeps snapping pictures and short videos of Ilya cooking pancakes in Yuna's sweater. Ilya takes turns and does the same for Shane making hot chocolate and Anya snoring softly by the fireplace.
Happy and well fed they gravitate towards the couch where Ilya pulls Shane over him, turning some sports programe on mute to play in the background. He pulls the blanket Yuna made Ilya when he first moved to Ottawa over both of them and let the silence lull them in.
Shane yawns going through his camera roll snuggled on Ilya's chest.
"These are perfect. Wow."
"Yes. Tiny happy people."
Shane looks up at him, chin hooked on Ilya's chest then says suddenly.
Well, it wasn't that suddenly. He wanted to do it for a while now but he didn't know how to approach Ilya with it because he thought he would probably tease him about it. But he had an idea and he spent hours on youtube and with Harris learning how to:
"I want to post a video."
"Post a video?" Ilya repeats like he doesn't understand the words coming out from his husband's mouth.
"Yeah. You know. The candid video of us with some nice ambiant music behind it," he shrugs his shoulder like he didn't carefully planned this.
"You want to make an edit of us?" Ilya pinches Shane's cheek and offers a small smile. Not teasing, just endulging the moment.
"Fuck off. But yeah. Can I?" Shane doesn't even try to pull of from Ilya, just leans into the touch turning his boba eyes on maximum efficiency.
"It's your socials Shane. You can do whatever you want." - Ilya says without a beat.
"But, would you want to..."
"Want what?"
"To me to do that?" Shane asks now suddenly terrified that Ilya would say no or that he's indulging Shane because it's what Shane wants.
"You can do whatever you want sweetheart just make it a collab post so it goes on my page too," Ilya hooks a finger under Shane's chin and angles him into a soft kiss.
"Really?"
"Of course."
"Okay."
Shane moves around a bit so he is now snuggled up more on Ilya's side and not on top of him anymore and starts editing their videos from this morning and other candid moments gathered over the past few years.
It was usually Ilya who loved doing this. Making videos and sharing them for all the world to see, but he could admit that it was actually fun. It was like making a video diary, and with all the tips and tricks he meticiously collected in his sessions with Harris he was even more excited.
Ilya occassionally eyed him deep into editing but didn't want to sneak a peek until Shane offered him. So, instead he watched the muted tv and tried not to doze off.
After almost an hour of Shane playing with his phone Ilya's own pinged with notification with a shared post. Shane let out a relieved sigh then nuzzled into Ilya's chest, hiding his face.
"You can look at it now. Wow. I'm actually tired from this. How does Harris do this thing on a daily basis?"
"You didn't use your glasses. Your head will now hurt."
"Shut up. And look at the video," Shane mumbles into Ilya's chest.
Ilya unlocks his phone and his heart almost stops when the video starts rolling in. He doesn't even hear the music over the buzzing in his ears because of the videos Shane choose.
Several of them were from this morning - them in the snow with Anya, Shane cooking, then Ilya cooking and Shane laughing when Ilya dropped a pancake on the floor and them cuddling on the couch.
But, what Ilya didn't expect were the old ones, some of them not even familiar to Ilya. Shane must've took them without his knowledge.
In one of them Ilya rubbed Shane's ankles in his lap while they were watching something.
The other one was just of Ilya's curls in soft morning light.
Another one of Ilya falling asleep with a book about dog training halfway opened on his face.
A video of Ilya and David over the stovetop trying out new recipes and laughing.
Ilya's birthday party. Ilya trying to seem annoyed but thriving, with a paper hat over his head, big cake with dozens of candles and Shane, Yuna, David and Anya behind him singing happy birthday.
A video of them dancing in the sunset at an infinity pool in Ibiza during their honeymoon.
A video of both of them splashing each other in the same pool.
A video of Shane's head bandanged, ice pack over it with a swollen jaw and eyes all loopy from the anesthesia after his wisdom tooth removal.
A video of Ilya and Anya sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace cards against humanity sprawled between them, camera shaking as if Shane was laughing his ass off while Ilya waited for Anya to pick a card.
A video of Yuna and Ilya, walking hand in hand at farmers market last summer, filmed from behind by Shane. Then a video of Shane on the same market grinning widely at the camera lifting two bouquetes of flowers like it was a surprise. Then surprised and blushing Ilya smelling the flowers and teary eyed Yuna with her own.
A video of Ilya and David doing puzzles in their parents cabin, focused on a task like they were solving world peace.
And a video probably Yuna filmed of both of them in the summer at the cottage, snuggled up in the hammock - light dancing perfectly through leaves and over their sleeping bodies.
Ilya felt like if he died right now these memories would be the ones replaying in front of his eyes. He looks over at Shane who was studying him, waiting for a reaction.
"Is it... Too much?" Shane asks in a small voice.
"It's perfect," Ilya barely managed to say, his voice hoarse from the emotions. Then he sees the caption and it was like Shane wanted him to die right this second:
'Forever grateful that I walk this Earth knowing you're mine ❤️'
"Fuck Hollander, you're going to give me a heart attack," Ilya says sobbing, trying to hide his face into a pillow he pulls from behind Shane's back.
Shane gets up on his elbow, taking the pillow out from his hands and wipes Ilya's tears softly kissing his cheek.
"Love you too asshole."
Then Ilya drops his phone on the ground and turns to envelop Shane in a bear hug kissing every inch of his freckled little face.