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    Summary

    “Should we maybe go to bed?”

    Ilya straightened up a little, drew back so he could see Shane’s face. “I need to ask you something,” he said. His breath smelled like lemons and sugar, underneath the smoke. It meant someone had let LaPointe buy lemon drops for everyone even though no one but him liked them. But Ilya was a good captain, and despite most evidence to the contrary, a good friend, which meant it was likely he’d taken more than a few. “I know is late, but this is very important.”

    Shane leaned forward and indulged in a quick kiss, the barest press of his mouth against Ilya’s. “Of course.”

    And so Ilya said, with all the gravitas he could muster, “Will you grill me a cheese?”

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