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Almost the whole time Shane has been at Rozanov’s house, he couldn’t quite tell what exactly was going on. He did, however, know that something was off.
Don’t get him wrong. The sex was great. It always was. The things surrounding the sex, however, felt…
Well, a small part of him wanted to say nice. Another part of him wanted to say wrong.
He and Rozanov don’t usually do this. They don’t talk. They don’t watch games together. They don’t really cuddle. They don’t eat together. Their time at the most recent awards made that very clear. They weren’t supposed to be anything to each other. And yet, here they were, eating tuna melts on Ilya’s couch, sitting side by side, and talking.
“Do you like them?” Ilya asked between bites of his sandwich.
“What, the tuna melt?” Shane guessed, then started to shrug. “Yeah, I guess-“
“No, girls,” the man specified.
Shane blinked a few times. This was now one of those moments where he couldn’t quite tell if the person he was talking to was joking. He set his sandwich down and picked up his ginger ale to take a sip.
“Uh, yeah, sure, of course.” He said it in his usual, monotonous voice. It was the safest option. Granted, he probably didn’t have to do that around Rozanov, but he was a creature of habit.
“I don’t usually hear about you with them,” Rozanov told him, studying his face anyway, and Shane wondered how good a response it actually was.
Shane just shrugged in response.
“You don’t like them, do you?” Rozanov inquired.
Shane began to panic, and apparently, the Russian could detect that too.
“Is okay, you know,” Ilya continued. “To not like them. No judgement from me.”
Shane didn’t quite know what to do in this situation aside from continuing the conversation in a way that didn’t focus on him.
So, he pointed out, “You seem to like them a lot.”
Ilya shrugged. “I do, yes. Boys too. But you know this.” He brought his sandwich up and took another bite.
“Do you bring many guys or girls here?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head, mouth full of food. He took a second to chew and swallow before continuing to talk. “Just… you, and Svetlana, of course, though she lets herself in often.”
“Uh huh,” Shane said absentmindedly as he gave a little nod. He hesitated before asking, “Do you and her still…”
“Not for a long while, no.”
Shane nodded slowly. For some reason, that information settled strangely in his chest.
“And you?” Ilya questioned. “Have you been seeing any boys lately?”
“Just you,” he replied, shifting a little. He tried not to think about the weirdness of it all as he picked up his own sandwich, but he set it back down immediately. “What are we doing right now?” He asked.
Ilya shrugged again as he replied, “Eating sandwiches?” He frowned. “What is problem?”
Shane shook his head lightly. “Nothing’s wrong, it’s just… odd.”
“Is odd I want to spend time with you?”
“We usually don’t. And the last time we tried was the awards ceremony.”
Ilya winced. “That was… bad night. Not good talking subject for me.”
Shane nodded slowly. That wasn’t really an answer, but it seemed close enough to one.
“But you’re… open to talking otherwise?” He asked.
“Is what we’re doing now, yes?” Rozanov countered, eating more of his food.
Shane watched him for a moment before inquiring, “Y- you actually want to spend time with me?”
Ilya paused mid-bite to answer, “Of course, I do.” He set his sandwich down. “Though, more as person with good mouth.”
“Oh, sure.” He rolled his eyes. That time, he could tell - or at least he hoped - Ilya was joking. In a sarcastic tone, he added, “That’s the only reason you made me a tuna melt.”
“Da.” He smiled.
Shane huffed out a breathy laugh and shook his head. “Still such an asshole.”
“You like it,” he said with a nudge and a smirk.
“Maybe.” The ghost of a smile appeared on Shane’s own face.
“Maybe.” Ilya repeated, head moving incrementally, part nod and part shrug. “Maybe I make tuna melt for this incredibly slow, boring hockey player because…” He tilted his head slightly, looking Shane over. “Because he keeps asking stupid questions and I enjoy answering them.”
“Fuck you.” Shane jabbed at his arm, but his smile had grown. “Why did you really?”
“Because I think I like him more than I should.”
He tilted his head. “You do?”
Rozanov blinked. “Well, I mean-“
“I like you too.” Shane said. “A lot.”
“Really?” Ilya asked with a tentative smile on his face. The sandwich in his hand slowly lowered back to the plate. “You are serious?”
“Yes. Really.”
Ilya glanced at him then with something warm and a little uncertain in his expression. “Good, because I was beginning to think I am only one making bad decisions tonight.”
Shane considered that for a second, then nudged his shoulder lightly, as he said sarcastically, “I don’t know if I like you that much just yet.” His smile faded in an instant when a thought came to him. “Besides, you could have anyone-“
“Yes,” Ilya cut in, wrapping an arm around him, rubbing his back. “But so could you, and we’re both here.”
Shane shook his head. “We’re a mess, Ilya.”
The panic settled into his brain again. He wasn’t sure if he meant to say his first name out loud, or if it had just slipped out.
For a moment, Ilya didn’t say anything, not even one of his typical joking remarks. He just stared at Shane like he was trying to determine whether he had heard correctly. The teasing smile he’d been wearing a second ago had vanished entirely.
Then, Ilya’s eyes flitted between Shane’s eyes and his lips before leaning in.
“I like mess,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.
“Ilya-“ Shane began, but was pulled into a searing kiss.
When they broke apart, the other man was smiling when he said, “Say that again, Shane.”
Oh, god. Did he like the sound of him saying his name as much as Shane did right now?
“Ilya,” he sighed.
His breath caught in his throat when their lips met again. They switched angles a few times, making the kiss deeper.
When they let go this time, Shane couldn’t help but curl his lips into an open-mouthed grin.
Ilya laughed softly at the sight of it before tugging him closer again.
Hours later, well after the sun had set, and Ilya was showering, and Shane was in the middle of putting his clothes back on, his phone started vibrating.
With a rush of energy, Shane picked it up. His eyes widened when he noticed the caller ID: Hayden. Inwardly, he groaned. He did not want to do this now. Yet, if he didn’t pick up, his friend was going to keep calling and texting him.
He answered the call and pressed the device to his ear.
“Hayden?” He asked. “What’s up?”
“Where are you?” His friend questioned. “It’s 10 pm.”
“It- what?” Shane’s posture went rigid as he checked the time on his phone.
10:02 pm.
Shit.
“We have a 10:30 curfew,” Hayden reminded him.
Shane scrambled to put on the rest of his clothes, lifting a foot for a sock.
“Boston Lily really mess you up this much?”
“Shut up,” he huffed, sitting down to finish his task.
“Are you going to be back in time or not?”
It was at this moment that Ilya wandered back into the space, towel around his waist. Steam drifted into the room. The Raider frowned, looking at the state Shane was in.
“Uh,” he said, not really sure how he’d answer. “Call you back?”
“Shane-“
He hit the hang-up button before he had another chance to think.
“Who was that?” Ilya asked as he approached.
“Hayden,” he replied, leaning back and putting his weight on his hands behind him. “Reminding me of curfew.”
“Oh.” He stopped and shifted his weight. His face fell, and Shane felt a twinge of guilt. “So, you’re leaving?”
“Um-“ Shane glanced at the sock still in his hand.
“You could stay,” Ilya said as he sat down beside him. “I, er, bought you a toothbrush.”
“You what??” He turned his head to better face him, confusion taking over his expression.
The man shrugged. “Is disposable.”
Shane blinked a few times as he digested the information. “You. Bought me. A disposable toothbrush.”
“Yes,” he nodded. "It was practical.”
“You planned for me to stay?”
Had he really gone out of his way in order for him to stay over at his house? When he didn’t have to? The idea sat in his chest, warm and unsettling all at once.
“Obviously.”
“Ilya-“
“Shane,” he said pointedly. “Would not be end of the world if you stayed. We’re going to the same place tomorrow anyways. Tonight is perfect.”
It was true, Montreal arrived here early today for the game with Boston tomorrow. Neither of them had flights or buses to catch early in the morning. There was just a game in the afternoon.
“Besides,” Ilya continued, rubbing the back of his neck. “Would be nice to wake up next to each other, no?” He watched him carefully, like he was trying very hard not to look like he was waiting for an answer.
Shane glanced down at his phone again. Then he looked back at Ilya. Ilya, who had apparently gone shopping and bought him a disposable toothbrush. The man really did like him, didn't he? Well, so did Shane.
He exhaled slowly and opened his phone again. He texted Hayden: ‘Won’t be back till morning. Cover for me?’
His friend’s reply was instant: ‘Fine, but you owe me.’
After he set the device down, Ilya nudged him.
“So?” He asked.
“Guess you have me for a few more hours,” Shane admitted.
Ilya smiled widely.
“Now, where’s this toothbrush?”