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Shane loved Ilya. So much.
But he was stubborn as a mule sometimes.
“I am not sick!” He called from the couch in the living room. Specifically, from the couch where he was currently shivering, despite the Centaurs hoodie he wore and the checkered blanket draped over his legs.
“Sure you’re not,” Shane called back from the kitchen, rolling his eyes as he replayed all the times his husband had tried –and failed– to hold back his sneezes that morning. He couldn’t help but smile, though. Ilya was cute when he knew he was fighting a losing battle.
Ilya was, in fact, ill. Nothing serious, just a head cold, probably from the sudden cold snap that had coated most of the province in frost for the last week. But Ilya refused to acknowledge that, even though he hadn’t been able to breathe through his nose for the last 24 hours. Shane emerged from the kitchen with a mug of hot water and honey, a bottle of Tylenol, and a cold, wet facecloth. Ilya spotted the items and groaned before blowing his nose.
“You sound like a backed-up trumpet.” Shane chuckled and kneeled next to the couch, offering Ilya the mug, which he grumpily accepted. His hands must’ve been cold, because he didn’t use the handle.
“Is bullshit, Russians do not get sick,” he pouted, “I am healthy as horse.”
Anya trotted merrily into the living room then, yipping softly as she hopped up into Ilya’s lap, awaiting her head scratches.
“Anya, milaya, be good girl and tell your papa Shane I am perfectly healthy,” he cooed. Anya’s tongue lolled adorably as Ilya scratched behind her ears, then jumped and skittered off the couch when he sneezed again, opting to curl up in her bed by the fireplace.
“Even a stallion like you can catch a cold, sweetheart.” Shane reminded him, testing Ilya’s forehead temperature with the back of his hand. Too warm. “We need to break your fever. This is going to be cold, okay?” Shane placed the cold facecloth above Ilya’s brow.
“Stupid country, Canada,” Ilya hissed at the contact, “first, you try to kill me with wolf-birds, then you say you call money ‘Loonies and Toonies,’ and now you say I’ve ‘caught a cold?’” He grouchily drank his honey-water and shot death glares up at his husband, looking as threatening as an angry puppy. His nose was red, his eyes were a little watery, and his cheeks were flushed, but still, he was the most gorgeous person Shane had ever seen. Shane bit back a grin and opened the Tylenol bottle.
“Well, in this ‘stupid country,’ we take care of our loved ones when they’re sick–” Ilya interrupted him with an unintelligible grumble, “and,” Shane continued, “usually, they let us.” Shane pressed a soft kiss into Ilya’s golden-brown curls and cupped his cheek lightly, holding up two pills in his free hand.
The blonde grumbled and reluctantly took the Tylenol, chasing it with the honey water.
“I am only taking this because you are my husband, not because I am sick,” he mumbled, taking a second swig, “and I only drink this because it tastes good,” he added, making Shane giggle again. He would’ve made Ilya tea if there'd been a kind he liked, but he always said he didn't like the stuff, so honey water was the next best thing. His sweet tooth was reliable in that way.
“So you’ll let me take care of you?” Shane tilted Ilya’s head up to catch his eye.
“Maybe.” Ilya challenged. Even with a cold, he still had some fight in him. So, Shane pulled out the big guns.
“Pozhaluysta, moy lyubimyy?” he whispered, letting all his love and concern play through his eyes.
Ilya melted. They’d been married for 4 months now and a serious couple for years, but still – every time Shane spoke his mother’s language, his heart became a puddle in his chest. And, God help him, he could never say no to those big, brown eyes. Ilya hummed, then nuzzled into the hand still cradling his cheek.
“Da, okay. You can take care of me, like hot male nurse.” Ilya relented, earning another laugh from his husband.
“Well then, you’re going to finish your drink, then you’re going to have a nap. Nurse’s orders.” Shane gently patted Ilya’s cheek. Before he could pull away, Ilya caught his hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.
“How did I get so lucky?” Ilya whispered. Now Shane’s heart melted. He didn’t have an answer to that question.
“I don’t know, dorogaya, but we’re both very lucky.” Shane gently extracted his hand and adjusted the blanket over his husband’s body, making sure everything was covered and that his feet wouldn’t get cold. Ilya drained the last of the honey water from his mug. It did help soothe his throat, but he wouldn’t admit that.
“Ya tebya lyublyu, moye solnyshko. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Shane removed the facecloth from his husband’s forehead and, unable to resist, kissed the damp skin there.
Ilya hummed and wiggled into a more comfy position, curling his hands into his chest, a light smile playing on his lips as he closed his eyes. Something in Shane’s ribcage did a little flip. There were still little firsts like this. Seeing Ilya Rozanov, who was an unstoppable, formidable player on the ice –who anyone in hockey with a mite of sense would be terrified to face off with– cuddled up on the couch and looking impossibly adorable… loving him would never get old for Shane.
~~~
Ilya woke up to the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen. He slowly sat up, distantly noticing that his headache had faded slightly. He could hear Shane puttering around the kitchen, mumbling to himself and Anya as he cooked. Ilya smiled, then spotted the glass of water left on the coffee table, and, concluding that Shane had put it there for him, downed the whole thing.
He shrugged off his blanket and padded over to the kitchen. Anya sat obediently next to Shane by the stove, who tossed her a bit of whatever he was cooking. She chewed on it happily before getting up to greet Ilya. Shane turned, spoon in hand, and beamed at his husband and their dog.
“How was your nap? Seemed like you needed it.”
Ilya rolled his eyes and moved to tuck his chin over Shane’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his husband’s waist.
“Did you drink the water I left–”
“You left for me? Da. What are you making?” Ilya mumbled into his husband’s shirt, pressing a kiss to the worn cotton.
“Chicken noodle soup. Mom and Dad suggested it. They say they hope you feel better soon, by the way.” Shane lightly bumped his head against Ilya’s, then turned off the burner. “You, sit,” he put on a stern voice, but his eyes went all soft at how Ilya’s hair was messy from sleep.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Nurse,” Ilya did a little mock salute and parked on a stool at the breakfast bar. Shane heard him sniffle behind him as he dished out the food.
“Milaya, do we have–” Ilya was interrupted by Shane sliding a steaming bowl of soup and a fresh box of tissues across the counter. “You are a perfect husband, you know this, yes?”
Shane grinned and circled to sit beside Ilya, cradling his own bowl.
“How are you feeling now?”
“Bit better, I think.”
“Your nose is still stuffy, though.”
“Oh, is it?” That earned Ilya a laugh from Shane, who was relieved to hear him making jokes; it was always a good sign.
“Eat your soup while it’s hot, Ilya,” Shane lightly nudged him and got to eating his own serving. Like a child, Ilya stuck out his tongue, but obeyed and ate his food.
Ilya watched his husband put his dishes in the machine and pour the remaining soup into a container for reheating later. It would never get old, seeing Shane doing mundane domestic tasks like dishes, or packing up leftovers, or folding his clothes. He was wearing his glasses, which made him look like a librarian-jock, if there was such a thing. A small smile played at Ilya’s mouth, making Shane flush slightly when he caught it.
“I’m running you a bath,” he announced, walking down the hallway.
“What, no sponge-bath from nurse Hollander?” Ilya called after him, then drained the remaining broth in his bowl, dropped it in the sink, and quickly followed. Shane’s chuckle echoed against the bathroom tile.
“Sponge-baths are for people in casts, not sick husbands with a high libido,” he chastised Ilya, turning on the hot water. Ilya leaned against the doorframe, observing his husband as he pulled out Epsom salts and bubble bath solution, measuring both carefully before dumping them into the large tub.
That’s when Ilya heard them. The voices he’d known since birth that told him he didn’t deserve to be taken care of, that he was showing weakness, like an animal lying belly-up in submission.
But there was Shane, kneeling next to the bath, testing the temperature with his hand to make sure it was perfect. Shane, who had already gotten out their softest towels for after. The man who held his heart, who had unearthed a scented candle from god-knows-where, so the whole washroom smelled like clean soap and eucalyptus.
This is love.
And the voices of his father and brother were gone, just like that.
Shane turned off the water and stood, satisfied with his work. Ilya stepped forward and engulfed him in a hug. His voice was muffled as he spoke against his husband’s neck.
“I love you, Shane.”
Shane pulled back and gently held Ilya’s face with both hands.
“Ya tebya lyublyu, Ilyusha.”
If he wasn’t worried about breaking Shane’s no-mouth-kisses-when-one-of-us-is-sick rule, he would have pulled him in right away. Ilyusha. It rang in his ears. He couldn’t find words.
“Sveta told me about Russian nicknames and terms of endearment, how they’re built off of people’s first names.” Shane’s wide, brown eyes betrayed a little worry at Ilya’s shock. “Was that okay? Did I get it right?”
Ilya buried his face in Shane’s neck again, suddenly fighting the urge to cry. Shane ran his hands up and down his back soothingly.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t,” Ilya spoke into his husband’s shoulder. He took a deep breath and pulled back.
“Nobody has called me Ilyusha since… since my mother.” He took another steadying breath, watching Shane’s face as he processed this.
“Is it okay that I called you that?” He asked, still looking a little scared. Ilya couldn’t not smile, even with the tears in his eyes.
“Da. More than okay. It felt good to hear it again. Like she is still here.”
Shane nodded and pressed a kiss to Ilya’s forehead before pulling him into another bear hug. They stayed like that for a few long moments, Shane rubbing small circles into Ilya’s back, and Ilya letting his emotions settle.
“You should probably get in the bath before it cools off.” Shane gently extracted himself, reaching down to help remove his husband’s hoodie. Ilya nodded and undressed quickly, then slipped into the tub.
The relief was instant. The water was wonderfully warm and silky-feeling from the salt and bath solution. Ilya sighed and sank deeper, letting the foamy bubbles rise past his shoulders. It was bliss. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a bath this nice, if ever.
Shane stood awkwardly by the counter, gnawing on his bottom lip. He should probably let Ilya relax on his own, right?
“You are not coming in?” Soft, accented words pulled him out of his head.
“You want me to?”
Ilya’s eyebrows knit together, his blue eyes pulled Shane in like the tide. “I always want you.”
How could he say no?
Shane nodded and stripped. Ilya shifted forward in the tub so he could sit in front, letting Shane slide in behind him. Ilya hummed and laid back on his husband’s chest, wrapping his hands around the thighs bracketing his lower body. Shane’s arms found their place loosely wrapped around Ilya’s waist and trailed his fingers lightly along his ribs, making him hum again. Shane studied the rise and fall of his husband’s shoulders, the way his breathing evened when he drew close. He was half-sure Ilya was falling asleep again, so he was glad to be there to ensure he didn’t drown. It’s nice, to hold him like this.
Ilya couldn’t remember the last time he felt so safe and warm. Cradled in his lover’s arms, floating in sweet, warm water. No sounds to bother him except the steady in and out of his and Shane’s breathing and the gentle swish of the bath. He was caught somewhere between awake and dreaming, drifting pleasantly. He missed his mother. He wanted to tell her how much he loved Shane. How much he loved him for taking care of him like this, for not letting Ilya push away affection because of the fear the men in their family tried to instill in him.
Mama, I found someone who loves me and makes me brave. I found someone who will take care of me. I found someone I will never be scared of, because I know he loves me with all his heart. I love him so much. He would have loved you. I know you would love him too.
He could see her, a hazy vision of her easy smile, painted in the colour of sunshine.
~~~
Shane really didn’t want to disturb Ilya, but his fingertips had pruned up, and the water was getting a little cold. He squeezed Ilya lightly and kissed the back of his head.
“Ilyusha, we need to get out now,” he murmured
Ilya nodded sluggishly. “Mm, probably good idea,” he sighed.
Shane got out first and retrieved the towels, quickly wrapping one around his waist before helping Ilya stand and step out onto the bathmat. Ilya reached for his towel, but Shane shook his head, electing to dry his husband himself. He felt a little silly, raising his arms and turning so Shane could gently wipe the water from his skin, but the little scrunch of his husband’s brow and the focus in his eyes were irresistible.
“Wait here,” Shane requested once he’d finished towelling Ilya off. Ilya just nodded. He felt like his bones were made of cooked spaghetti.
Shane quickly returned with his favourite flannel pj’s and a worn Skate Canada hoodie.
“Lyubimyy, I have clothes right there,” Ilya gestured to the neat pile on the counter.
“Fresh clothes after a bath always feel better.” Shane held the items out to Ilya. He shook his head and rolled his eyes, but grinned as he started tugging on the flannel pants.
“Moy muzh sumasshedshiy.”
“Oh, I’m crazy?”
“Da, loony like your money.”
They laughed. Shane drained the bath and pulled on his coziest sweats. Ilya hung their towels and went back to the kitchen to blow his nose and drink some water. He heard Shane pad over to the living room and turn on the TV. Ilya filled a second glass and went to join him.
“What are nurse’s orders now?” Ilya set their cups down on the coffee table before plopping onto the couch. Shane had his phone open to the notes app in one hand and the TV remote in the other.
“Do you want to watch something off our list?” Shane prompted.
“Mmm… show me one of your favourites from when you were little,” Ilya suggested, “maybe one you watched when you were home sick?”
Shane nodded and sat next to Ilya, pondering. When he was sick as a kid, he always wanted something with a happy ending.
I know what we’re going to watch.
He flipped through to the search bar and started typing the title. P-R-I-N-C-E-S-S
“Malysh, are we watching Disney movie?” Ilya leaned forward as he put together what Shane was typing.
“Not done yet–” Shane punched out the last few letters and pulled up the film. He turned to Ilya, and he seemed excited.
“The Princess Bride?” Ilya raised his eyebrows at the name. It didn’t sound very interesting, but the man and woman in the poster were objectively gorgeous.
“You’ve never seen it?” Shane was dumbfounded.
“No, I do not know this movie.” Ilya shrugged.
“Inconceivable…” Shane muttered, then chuckled.
“What is that word?” Ilya hadn’t heard that one before. Shane laughed harder and shook his head.
“It’s like, something that shouldn’t be possible, something unbelievable,” he explained.
“Ah, so is like you and me? We were… inconceivable?” Ilya tested out the word, rolling the unfamiliar syllables around in his mouth. Shane’s eyes softened, sweet and brown like cocoa. He took Ilya’s hand in his.
“Maybe we were, but we beat the odds.”
Inconceivable that you love me. But you do. Ilya thought.
“Ya tebya lyublyu,” Ilya said.
“I love you too. And I’ll love you even more once you’ve seen The Princess Bride.” Shane smiled, pecked Ilya’s cheek, and hit play on the movie. But then he stood up.
“Malysh, I thought you wanted to watch?” Ilya protested, reaching a hand out to catch his husband.
“I’ll be right back, I’ve seen it a million times!” Shane called over his shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen.
My silly goose husband. Ilya smiled to himself and turned his attention to the TV. It started with a little boy who was sick in bed. So it’s really a home sick movie. He whistled and patted the cushion beside him. Anya almost immediately jumped up and cozied up with her head in Ilya’s lap. The grandfather had just about convinced the boy to listen to the book he brought when Shane returned with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, offering one to Ilya, who beamed and accepted it happily.
Ilya curled into Shane’s side on the couch as the movie played, drinking his hot chocolate, sporadically petting Anya and asking occasional questions when he didn’t understand the dialogue. When Vizzini said ‘inconceivable’ the first time, he realized he had heard the word before Shane said it.
“Is this a popular film?”
“Very. One of the most beloved, I think.”
“So many people reference this?”
“I think so.”
“Mm, now I will know references, too.” Ilya hummed and pressed a quick kiss to Shane’s shoulder, tuning back into the plot.
By the end of the night, The Princess Bride had become one of Ilya’s favourites. It was a good movie, but he loved it even more because now it would always make him think of Shane, and how nothing could stop true love.