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The Hollander-Rozanov household are in the midst of their nightly routine. Both of them tucked up in bed, Shane very responsibly reading his book to unwind while Ilya — to Shane's dismay — is doomscrolling on his phone.
Then a noise coming from Ilya made Shane look up from his book. "Are you crying?"
"No," Ilya grumbled.
Shane returned to his book, then he heard it again. “You are crying!” He put the book away and turned to Ilya, concerned.
“I'm not!" Ilya clearly sniffled.
“Why are you crying?” Shane asked as he wiped a tear from Ilya's cheek.
Ilya groaned and showed Shane his phone where a video was playing, consisting of pictures of them.
"I don't get it. Is it a sad video?"
“No it's just..." Ilya groaned again. "They used to make fan edits of us before. As rivals. Now there are pictures and videos of us in love on the internet, and people love it, and make stupid edits like this, like we are Bedward or something—"
“Who is Bedward?”
Ilya glared at Shane, “from Twilight?”
“Never seen it. There's a character called Bedward?”
Ilya gasped, “you are so uncultured, Hollander.”
Shane rolled his eyes. “Back to why you are crying, please.”
Ilya sighed, “it just… it makes me happy. Is what I wanted for so long, people to know how much I love you.”
“So it's happy tears?”
Ilya grinned, “yes, is happy tears.”
Shane looked down at Ilya's phone where the video was on its third replay. And he had to admit, seeing all of these images floating by was heartwarming. Their first photoshoot as a couple, the photo Harris posted on the Centaurs Instagram for valentine's day, a wedding photo, a clip of Ilya at a press conference flashing his wedding ring while correcting a journalist by saying “it's Hollander-Rozanov now, actually.”
Shane's eyes also started welling up, but…
“Hey.” Ilya pulled Shane's face up to meet his. “Now you are crying, but is not happy tears. What is it?”
“I'm sorry…”
Ilya stared at Shane confused, “why sorry?”
“That I kept this away from you for all this time. I should have—”
“No, no, no, is not your fault! And it doesn't matter, we are here now.”
“But I wasted so much—"
“We did, not you. I could have told you, I didn't. Listen, is not your fault, okay?”
“Okay…”
“And we are very happy now, yes?”
“Yes…”
"Hm, that does not sound very convincing. We are very happy now, yes?" Ilya repeated while squishing Shane's cheeks together with his thumb and finger.
"Yes, very happy." Shane could not help but smile.
“Okay, good. Now go back to your boring book," Ilya ordered as he playfully pushed Shane's head away.
“It's not—”
“Yeah, yeah.”
After a couple of minutes Ilya noticed Shane had picked up his phone instead of his book.
“I thought being on your phone before bed was bad for sleep?” Ilya mocked.
“Bedward is a relationship name for Bella and Edward," Shane said, still engrossed in his phone.
“Yes.”
“Did you know we have one? Hollanov.”
“Are you discovering the internet, Hollander?” Ilya grinned.
“I have been on Instagram before," Shane muttered. "What does ‘at the same damn time’ mean?"
“What?”
“That's what it says, and it's just pictures of us.”
Ilya chuckled, “it means they want us... at the same damn time.”
Shane still looked confused for a moment, then it clicked, "oh… oh… oh. No thank you.”
“Comment that.”
“No!”
“What? Is polite.”
“Fuck! Shit! Fuck!” Shane suddenly exclaimed and threw his phone halfway across the bed.
“What is happening?”
“I accidentally liked it! Fuck!”
Ilya laughed, “calm down! Just unlike it!”
“How?” Shane yelled in full panic mode.
“You are not serious? Just click the heart again!”
“No, you are messing with me? Will that make me like it twice or something?” Shane asked with a desperately pleading look at Ilya.
Ilya gasped, “oh my god, Shane. Are you actually serious? I think I need to sign you up for those internet courses for old people.”
“I just haven't had to unlike something before…” Shane huffed as he retrieved his phone.
"Why are you on Instagram anyway? That is where millennials get their TikToks."
"I don't have TikTok, and I am a millennial."
"Sucks to be you."
"So are you!" Shane snapped.
"No," Ilya protested, "in spirit I am gen Z."
"That's not how that works!"
"Is for me."
Shane rolled his eyes and went back to scrolling.
“Some of these videos are just of us before, like our faceoffs, the kiss on the ice, press conferences. Yikes… my accident.”
“Wow, you are digging deep, Hollander." Ilya glanced over at Shane's phone and then back to his own. "Yes, some very smart teen girls made those videos before we were out.”
“You saw all this? Back then?”
“Shane, I am chronically online. Of course,” Ilya scoffed.
“Why did you never tell me?”
“Didn't want to scare you.”
Ilya didn't take his eyes off of his phone at first, but then he looked up, “no, Shane, not again!”
Too late, Shane's eyes were already welling up again. “I'm really sorry. I… I should have been able to tell. I mean I kind of could tell there was something but then when you said it was nothing I—”
“See, if is anyone's fault is mine, yes? Look, I have always been shit at talking, is something I'm working on. You know this.”
“But—”
Ilya exhaled. “If you apologize one more time I will punish you.”
Shane smirked through the tears, and did not skip a beat, “I'm sor—”
“Ah,” Ilya interrupted, waving a finger in Shane's face, “not in a way you will like.”
Shane narrowed his eyes dubiously.
After a little consideration Ilya grinned, “every time you say sorry, you have to post thirst trap on Instagram.”
“I will not!”
“Well, then don't say sorry.”
“Won't that be just as much punishment for you? You spent like two hours in the comment section of my Men's Health shoot.”
“No, I like it. I am itching for a fight.”
Shane sighed. “Okay, maybe it wasn't just my fault. But… I still should have been able to tell that something was wrong. That you weren't on the same page as me.”
“You are not a mind reader.”
“You can always tell when something is wrong with me.”
“I mean, yes.”
“Like earlier, you saw me cry and knew it wasn't happy tears. How? How can you tell the difference?”
Ilya shrugged, “I don't know, is just different.”
“See, I'm dumb. I can't even see whether you're happy or sad.”
Ilya grabbed Shane by the chin and growled “hey, you do not call my husband dumb."
“I'm sorry,” Shane blurted out automatically.
Ilya's eyes lit up and a menacing grin slowly formed on his face.
In turn, terror came over Shane's. “No! No, that does not count! You basically asked for that one!”
Ilya shrugged, “I don't make the rules, Hollander.”
“You literally do!”
“True. Okay, time for thirst trap,” Ilya said, pointing his phone at Shane while ripping the sheets off of him.
“Ilya!”
“Mmm, maybe flex a little?”
"Ilya!"
"You are right, the glasses are probably too sexy for Instagram, should maybe take them off for this."
“You are not posting a picture of me in bed!” Shane protested as he pulled the sheets back up.
“Fine, you can use picture from my 'sexy husband' folder.”
“You don't have a 'sexy husband' folder.”
Ilya looked at Shane blankly, “yes, I do. I also have ‘sleeping husband’ folder, ‘grumpy husband’ folder and ‘the cutest man alive’ folder.”
“No you don't,” Shane said in disbelief as he grabbed Ilya's phone. “What the fuck, you do!”
“What? You are surprised I am obsessed with you?”
Shane scowled at Ilya. "Why does ‘grumpy husband’ have the most photos?”
“Maybe ask your face," Ilya scowled back. "But to be fair, all those photos could also go in ‘the cutest man alive’. Some are even ‘sexy husband’ contenders.”
Shane rolled his eyes as Ilya snatched his phone back.
“Here, do this one” Ilya said, showing a rare topless mirror picture Shane had taken for Ilya at the gym.
“Ilya, no, I would like to be clothed!”
“Fine, boring. This one.”
“I said clothed!”
“Come on! The shadow is covering half of your body. And you have a shirt on!”
“Barely. Is this from our honeymoon?”
“Yes. Ah, you are so sexy, Hollander. With your little chain and your little earring.”
“I look sweaty and gross.”
"Sweaty and sexy. Actually, looking at your face, it could also go in ‘grumpy husband’ folder.”
“I'm not grumpy, the sun is in my eyes.”
“I mean, I was with you, was both probably. Okay, I sent it to you. Caption it ‘feeling cute, might delete later’ please.”
“I can delete it later?”
“Sure… if you want... after it's already been saved like a hundred times...”
“Okay, it's posted. Happy?” Shane grumbled.
"Why has Bood already commented 'Rozanov made you do this, didn't he?'"
"Because you did!"
Ilya scoffed, "Sorry, Rose commented 'baby, are you sure you're gay?' with a winky face!"
"She is obviously joking!"
"I don't care if you are a girl, I will still fight you" Ilya read aloud as he typed.
"Barrett just texted me asking if I got hacked."
Ilya tutted, "Rose replied 'so easily baited, Roz. Obviously this is your doing. Slow night? Felt like going to war?' What is it with these people? Like you can't be a little wild and crazy from time to time."
"Yes, because that sounds so much like me," Shane snorted.
Ilya looked up from the comment section and noticed Shane was still troubled. "What are you thinking?"
Shane sighed defeatedly, "I don't know... I just... I do feel dumb... a lot. Like there is so much I should understand, that other people understand, but I just don't. It just makes me feel like a shit husband."
"You are not dumb," Ilya sternly repeated. Then he contemplated for a moment before he plucked up the courage to ask "have you ever thought that maybe you're… autistic?”
Shane stared at Ilya in surprise, “have you?”
“I mean, yes, maybe, possibly.”
“Why would you think that?” Shane asked, seemingly more curious than upset to Ilya's relief.
Ilya shrugged, “there are some reasons.”
“Well? What are they?”
“Well, it would explain why is hard to read people. You also take things very literally, sometimes you don't know when I am joking.”
“Maybe your jokes just aren't funny…”
“My jokes are always funny. Also you are obsessed with routine. Everything is routine.”
“That's normal, isn't it? It's healthy.”
“If I use the upstairs bathroom before you in the morning you yell at me.”
“You always snooze for like 30 minutes anyway.”
“Yes, to not mess with your routine.”
"Really?"
“Yes. I mean, I don't mind, I like sleep," Ilya shrugged. But even food is routine, structured.”
“I am an athlete, it's normal for athletes to have a structured diet.”
Ilya chuckled.
“What?”
“That is also a thing.”
“What is?”
“You want to always be normal. Everything is always normal.”
“But that is—”
Ilya groaned, “come on, Shane. Please don't say it is normal to want to be normal.”
“That was not what I was going to say,” Shane muttered. “How is that an autistic thing anyway?”
“Is called masking. Is when you try to be like everybody else, to not seem different or stand out.”
Shane pressed his lips together.
“You are really trying hard not to say that is normal, aren't you?”
“But it is, isn't it?”
“Yes, to a degree, maybe. But like... you prefer wearing comfy clothes but still hired a stylist because and I quote 'you wanted to look like all the other hockey players.'"
"I don't think that's what I said."
Ilya waved it off. "It was something like that."
"That's not how it works, if you quote something it needs to be verbatim, otherwise it's not a quote."
Ilya glared at Shane.
Shane rolled his eyes. "Okay, yes, fine, I can hear myself... Continue."
"When out with friends you put a lot of effort in, have hard time relaxing, then you are really tired when you come home. You also order beer when I know damn well that you would rather have a ginger ale.”
“Is it noticeable?" Shane asked concerned.
“I mean, yes, to me. Because I get to see both. Probably not to other people," Ilya reassured. "Not that you should give a fuck what people think."
Ilya glanced down at his phone. "Sorry, one moment. Someone commented you are their favourite twink."
"Ilya..."
"Shane is obviously a jock, have you seen his trophies? And his rock hard body? Actually, don't look at his body, he is my jock."
"You are unbelievable..."
"And there is a lot of people who can't breathe and/or are frothing at the mouth. I will have to tell them to seek medical assistance."
"No you do not."
Ilya put the phone down. “Also, when we play a game you spend like an hour studying the rules then yell at anyone who don't follow them exactly.”
“So does my mom!”
“Mmm, yes, right…” Ilya remarked, brows raised. “Ah, and you chew on everything. Like your hoodie strings.”
“Okay?”
“Is stimming possibly.”
“Which is...?”
“Sensory stimulation, used for regulating. And when you are stressed you want me to suffocate you.”
“No I don't!”
“You make me lay on you, I am heavy, I suffocate you.”
“I just like the pressure…”
“Yes, is called deep pressure therapy. Is good to regulate nervous system.”
Shane stared at Ilya, dumbfounded. “The English words you decide to learn amazes me.”
“Hey, racist!”
“You google translated ‘constitution' the other day.”
“Like that is normal word.”
“And what was it in Russian?"
“...konstitutsiya, very different.”
“Right..." Shane sneered. "Where have you learned all this anyway?”
‘TikTok...”
“You are diagnosing me with TikTok?”
“I also fact check!”
Ilya glanced back down at his phone. “Hold on, someone just commented they would ride you like horse.”
“Ilya, please no—”
“Excuse me, my husband is a human being…”
“Oh…”
“...who is himself very good at riding.”
“There he is... Harris is going to make you delete every single comment.”
Ilya waved it off, “no point, has probably been screenshotted like ten times."
Shane froze, "so my accidental like?"
"No, no, is probably fine," Ilya lied through his teeth, as if a screenshot of it had not come up on his feed at least three times already.
Ilya glanced at Shane and could see how his mind was racing. Because another thing about Shane was, that whether he wanted to or not, he wore every thought and emotion on his face.
Ilya took that face in his hands. “Hey, listen, autistic or not, your brain is perfect. It makes you extremely passionate and knowledgeable about the things you love. It is why you are still best hockey player in the league and the reason the Metros managed to win their Stanley Cups after years of failing. And if you tell the team I said this I will deny it, but it is the reason the Centaurs will win many more."
As he spoke, Ilya started tracing a finger across Shane's forehead, from one temple to the other. "Your brain makes you honest and genuine, there are no mind games or bullshit, just you, which is not very common trait. And sure, you don't know how to read me sometimes, but that only makes me better. It means I have to put effort into also being open and honest, with myself as much as with you. And look, I complain a lot and I will keep complaining, but you bringing structure to my chaos is I guess better for me too."
Ilya sighed lovingly as he always does after looking into his husbands eyes for too long. "Your brain also makes you incredibly fucking charming. It is why I fell in love with you.”
"Only my brain?" Shane teased.
"Mmm, your freckles and your rocking body drew me in, your brain got me hooked for life." Then Ilya sighed again, "and fuck, those eyes."
"What? My eyes are autistic too now, are they?" Shane snorted.
"No, just breathtaking," Ilya mumbled fondly.
Shane's cheeks started to flush underneath his freckles.
"Although... did I mention eye contact, you are not a big fan of that..."
"Oh, shut up!" Shane chuckled. Then he murmured, "I am a fan of eye contact with you," as he, perhaps to prove a point, gazed at Ilya with the softest eyes. Those eyes that always made Ilya the one to break eye contact, in fear he might drown if he didn't.
Ilya smirked, "and aren't I so lucky."
Shane smiled as his breathtaking and engulfing eyes were welling up once more.
Ilya smiled back as he caressed Shane's cheek. “Happy tears now, yes?”
Shane nodded. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” Ilya said and kissed Shane slowly. "Are you okay? Did I freak you out?"
"No, I'm okay. I'm not sure what to do with it all, but..."
"You don't have to do anything if you don't want to. You could find out, get an assessment. But it's totally up to you. Just know that you are not dumb, or a shit husband. You are the best husband. Sometimes number two, when I am the best."
Shane grinned, "okay, I'll take that."
They shared another kiss before Ilya resumed his doomscrolling and Shane returned to his book.
Or so Ilya thought, then he got a notification that made him gasp, “Shane Hollander-Rozanov! Did you just reply with a gif of you in a cowboy hat?”
Shane giggled, “seemed fitting.”
“Harris is going to kill me.”
“Why you?”
“I have created a monster! Is great picture though. I need to find it. Is going into ‘the cutest man alive’ folder, or maybe ‘sexy husband’ folder. Hmm, this is hard decision.”
Shane put his phone away and rolled over to look at Ilya with a sly smile. "Should I leave you to your difficult deliberations or would you perhaps like me to demonstrate my riding skills?”
Shane barely had time to finish his sentence before Ilya's phone was thrown onto the floor, and Shane hoisted up onto Ilya's lap.
“Do you still have that cowboy hat?” Ilya asked with a glint in his eye. "You know cause seeing it in action would probably help in the decision making process."
Then all of a sudden “woop woop, that's da sound of da police” started blaring from the floor.
“Is that… your phone ringing?”
Ilya groaned, “ignore it, is just Harris.”