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Ilya steps outside onto the patio and into what seems like the rest of his life.
Everyone he loves is right here in his backyard, here to celebrate him and Shane getting fucking married, which is insane. If you were to tell him 5 years ago that he would be getting married to his situationship, who freaked out on him because they had said each other’s first names in a tuna-melt-induced haze, he would have laughed straight (ha) in your face.
He scans the crowd, searching for his husband– God, he would never get tired of saying that– when he feels a pair of thick arms snake around his middle, a hand resting on his abdomen while the other holds a champagne flute. Ilya laces his hand with the one that is currently free. “That’s your like, third one,” he playfully chides, but also still leaning into Shane’s touch.
Shane hums in disagreement. “Shut up, it’s my wedding day, I’m allowed to get a little buzzed. Plus, you should see Marleau. I’m pretty sure he’s on his fourth cocktail.”
Yikes. He should probably search Marleau out soon and tell him to slow down; he gets all sad when he gets blitzed. “Our wedding day. Don’t get too drunk, I want to be able to- what is word, fuck to confirm marriage is real?”
“Comsummate?” Shane huffs indignantly, “Who even taught you what that word meant? Am I going to have to kill someone on my own day of wed?”
Ilya chuckles, swaying them slightly to the melody of the song that’s faintly playing. “You are jealous of words now, Hollander. This is new level of possessiveness.” At Shane’s groan and attempt to pull away, Ilya puts on a fake pout and whines playfully, “Nooo, I like when you are possessive crazy man. It shows how much of a freak you are.”
Shane pulls off completely with an exaggerated exhale, “I am not a freak, now if you’re ready, according to my itinerary, it’s about time to cut our cake. Do you mind rounding people up?”
“Always with the itinerary,” Ilya faux groans, but turns around to kiss Shane’s cheek before he walks away. “Yes, moya lyubov.”
Once everyone was seated in their appropriate seats– via a seating chart by one Shane Hollander– around the long white table (that Ilya spent months looking for to ensure that it would look enough for all the guests attending, but still fitting Shane’s aesthetic he had going on), Ilya couldn’t help but feel a little misty-eyed. This was his family, the Centuars members, Marleau and Connors, Yuna and David, he’s even happy that Hayden Pike and his 4,000 children are milling around. Here he was, celebrating the marriage to the love of his life…
“Attentio–attention! Can I have everyone’s attention, please!” At the end of the table, Cliff Marleau was standing up and obnoxiously clanging his fork against what had to be his sixth cocktail by now.
Oh no.
Ilya is a pretty outgoing man. Sure, he’s kept his sexuality a secret for most of his life,save for some people, but he likes to think of himself as someone who tells anyone anything they need to know. But, there are some things that Ilya has maybe told a few select people that should never leave the mouth of anyone, especially in a wedding setting. Least of all for the Hollander parents to hear.
Ilya quickly stands up out of his seat and walks over to where Marleau is still banging his glass. “No, no, we really don’t need to hear– maybe sit down, yes?”
Marleau gives Ilya a confused look, then slurs loudly, “What, you’re not gonna let your best man give a speech? This is a once in a lifetime opp- opport— this only happens once!”
“I’m sure there will be other weddings that you can–”
“Don’t you wanna tell the people about our two-man adventures from 2012? Eiffel towers for days, son!”
That. That was what Ilya was trying to avoid. Maybe Shane didn’t hear that specific part-
But no, Shane was already lifting his eyebrow in that incredulous way that meant Ilya was about to spend a week on the couch. “What is this about a ‘two-man’, Ilya?”
“Yeah, Ilya, what is a two-man, even?” Hayden fucking Pike chirped. And Ilya thinks he may need to buy a gun. Whether it’s for Hayden or Cliff or himself, he doesn’t know.
Actively ignoring Ilya’s warnings and the cutting motion Connors is doing to his neck, signaling for him to stop, Marleau barrels on loudly, “I’m glad you guys asked.” He tumbles out, slurring the words so bad that ‘ask’ sounded like ‘assed’.
Ilya gives up. He slowly marches back to his seat next to his husband, each step feeling like a death gong is going off in his head. He’s got a feeling that whatever Marleau is about to say, Ilya isn’t going to be allowed out of the house for a while.
“So the basic idea of a two-man is that you and your friend go out in search for two other people to connect with, if ya know what I’m saying.” Marleau wiggles his eyebrows, which gets a loud ‘boo’ from Hayden. “Fuck off, anyway, Roz and I used to be active in that hashtag two-man life. Hell, I think one time in 2010 we brought girls home every night for a week straight.”
Ilya’s shoulders were hiked up to his ears. He could feel rather than see the slow turn of Shane’s head in his direction. “For a week straight, huh?”
God. Ilya was about to die. He was going to die and it wouldn’t even be because of some cool fun sex injury that would get him on the news– it’s going to be because of Cliff Marleau’s goddamn speech. “Well, uh, you know 2012 was a–”
“And then after around 2014 we kind of stopped for a while,” Marleau interrupted, getting an almost wistful look in his eyes, “I was actually kind of sad about it, you know? Two-manning isn’t just about the hooking up– it’s about that brotherly bond you make, you feel?”
Marleau had left a beat of silence for people to answer, to which no one took the opportunity. “...M’alright. Anyway, I was super sad about Roz being done with our nightlife. I thought he was done for real! Until about.. God, when was it–2016? Yeah. That was the time when he was really going into it with Jane. The two-man’s increased tenfold, then” Marleau clamps a hand over his mouth suddenly, like a child who just spilled a very important secret. “Shane, did you know about Jane?”
“I’ve heard the name.” Ilya isn’t able to decipher Shane’s tone, but he can tell that he is going to be getting a privacy screen for his phone. Marleau, the nosy fucker going through Ilya’s phone every time they’re in the locker room.
“Anyway, all of that is to say that Hollander turned a hoe into a househusband, or a two-manner into a family man of two. Does that make sense? Cheers to the happy couple!” Marleau raises his glass, and scattered applause breaks out from the table (although he’s pretty sure he can hear Pike struggling to contain his laughter behind his glass, the asshole).
Ilya chances a glance over where he can feel Shane’s eyes burning a hole into the side of his head. Oh, yeah. He’s getting his ass beat later. “Well, was nice speech, yes? Very uh, straightforward.”
With nothing more than a glare, Shane abruptly jumps up from his chair, seat scraping awkwardly against the concrete under it, leaving everyone to stare at Ilya. Which– what was he supposed to do? He’s not the one who made that godawful speech!
After a couple of beats of silence that seemingly no one was going to fill anytime soon, Ilya cleared his throat and forced out what hopefully sounded like a nonchalant chuckle, “Da, so, lovely speech, Cliff, I’m sure Shane is just–” He trails off, phone buzzing twice in his back pocket. He takes it out of his pocket, and his heart drops to his ass.
Shane ❤️💦: Come to the guest bathroom.
Shane ❤️💦: Hurry up.
Welp, it’s official. He’s going to die in the guest bathroom of his house on his wedding day. It’s for the best, really. He’s at least going to die at the hands of his husband. He's pretty okay with that.
Ilya stands up slowly, rubbing his palms together–not nervously, of course, he’s just sweating ‘cause it’s hot outside, “Okay, if everyone is okay to conversate amongst themselves, I'm going to go find Shane.”
“If you go missing, we won’t be calling the body in!” Connors chirped playfully, unaware of how true that statement might actually be.
Once he reaches the bathroom, Ilya is actually feeling quite nervous. Are they really about to fight on their wedding day? Because of Cliff Marleau’s big fucking mouth? He knocks on the door, then immediately regrets it and just pushes inside.
As soon as he enters the bathroom, Shane is grabbing the lapels of Ilya’s fitted black suit and backing his aganist the door. The downstairs part of Ilya is very happy with this arrangement, but from the Look on Shane’s face, he’s still probably in some type of trouble. “I cannot tell if you are horny or angry, moy serditaya koshka,”
The look on Shane’s face turns from half exasperation to full annoyance, much to Ilya’s dick’s dismay, “Don’t grumpy cat me, you asshole. Why did you never tell me about the rendezvous you had before we were together?”
Ilya raises an eyebrow, “You do realize how ridiculous that sounds, yes?”
Shane gives Ilya one last hard look, before it softens into something much more sweet. His forehead dips to rest into the space on Ilya's chest and he groans, “Ugh, fuck, you’re right. I am a jealous freak. I just, I don’t want you to feel like you’re… missing out on anything that you used to do before we were serious.”
Ilya feels his heart break in two. He shifts two fingers under Shane’s chin, bringing his head up to look him in the eye, “Shane, I will never ever want to exchange what I have now for some night in Boston. Was fun, yes, but never felt truly satisfying. Always felt I was missing something, like last piece in puzzle. But, with you, I always feel like I am overwhelmed with love. Even back then, I might not have been sure what it was necessarily, but I knew that you were the missing part that always lingered in me.”
Shane finally makes eye contact with him, biting his lip to hide what Ilya knows to be a smile. “You’re a real big sap when you want to be, you know that, Rozanov?”
“Ah, yes, well, you are already best at blowjobs, riding, and taking my cock. I had to be good at something.”
“Alright, asshole,” Shane says on a laugh that’s more of an exhale. “Best at blowjobs, huh? I was unaware that I had this title.” He looks down to where Ilya is still half chubbed in his trousers (what? His gorgeous husband is all up in his face and you expect him not to be hard?), “Should I… ensure the title is still safely mine?”
Now, Ilya’s dick can get with this program. “Well, I could have been wrong, of course. Probably best for you to make sure the title is still yours.”
With that, Shane drops to his knees, and Ilya has never been more glad that Cliff Marleau opened his dumb, stupid mouth.