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0.
Ilya Rozanov has seen bugs before, thank you very much. Even growing up comfortably in a colonial’s home in post-Soviet Moscow, he had gone outside! He has travelled all across North America, stayed in more hotels than any one person should ever have to; he is well-travelled, even if said travel rarely brings him outside of city centers. So, yes, he’s seen bugs.
There is a particular memory he holds very close to his heart of a moment spent at a park. Alexei was off scheming with his group of friends on the playground, but Ilya much preferred to sit on the grass by his mother’s side. It was summer, and his mom was having a good day.
“смотри, Илюша,” she had said. Look, Ilyusha. She held out her hands, cupped carefully around something, opening just enough for Ilya to see what she held. “это божья коровка!”
Cupped in her hands, crawling lazily over her skin, was a ladybug. Ilya had gazed at it with wide eyes, his small hands cupping his mother’s. “она такая маленькая.” She’s so small.
“ы хочешь подержать ее?” Do you want to hold her?
Ilya had shaken his head no, for many reasons. Its feet looked like they tickled. It was too easily crushed. He was sort of afraid it might bite. He was content to hold his mother’s hands while she held the ladybug, count its spots, and watch it explore the creases on her soft, thin hands.
The moment didn’t last forever, of course. The ladybug flew away, Ilya folded himself into his mother’s side, and eventually they went home.
So, yes. Ilya has seen bugs. But it’s been a very long time since he was anywhere near one.
~~•~~
1.
The cabin was usually pretty calm. The two hockey stars were a few days into their two weeks alone, and Shane still could barely believe he was allowed the domesticity. Quiet moments in the morning as the sun kissed Ilya’s cheekbones, the crackle of the fire mixed with the chirping of treefrogs and cicadas, the ever-present white noise of the water lapping against the shore. The cabin was always peaceful, of course, but it’s somehow even more perfect with Ilya there.
Which is why it startled Shane so bad when he heard a strangled, frightened scream from the bathroom first thing in the morning. Followed by lots of loud cursing and Russian - then silence.
Well, second thing. What else was there to do but covet each other’s bodies first thing in the morning?
In an instant, he’s out of bed, much more awake. Ilya had left him sluggish, hazy, basking in the afterglow. Since their first time together, Ilya had always liked to take a shower directly afterwards, and it was routine after so many years. Shane had never been pulled out of that comfortable, floaty mindset so fast.
He pushed the door to the en suite open, and it hit the wall with a dull thud. There stood Ilya, towel clinging to his waist for dear life, face pale. His back rested against the sink, and his eyes stared at the shower.
“Ilya?” Shane pressed his hand into Ilya’s shoulder, worry clamping in his gut. “What’s wrong?”
Ilya finally looked at him, his wide, bulging eyes almost panicked. “There is devil in your shower,” he stated, pointing an accusatory finger at the shower in question.
Shane’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?” He turned to inspect the so-called devil, but Ilya grabbed his wrist and pulled him into his chest. Shane huffed a laugh, bracing his hands on Ilya’s pecs to look him in the face. “Whatever it is, I can handle it, ok?”
Ilya looked skeptical, his eyes squinting as his lips worried their way into a pout. He loosened his hold enough for Shane to escape, but he certainly didn’t look happy about it.Shane shook his head in exasperation, moving across the small room to peek into the shower.
There was… certainly something in the shower. It didn’t particularly take Shane by surprise, seeing as his cabin sat in the middle of multiple acres of natural land, that there was a silverfish lazily crawling across the tile. And as much as he could appreciate Ilya’s reaction, he couldn’t find it in himself to share it.
Shane hadn’t been a particularly outdoorsy kid, as he was far too focused on hockey to spend much time learning about trees or bugs or animals. Nevertheless, his parents had insisted that he take part in Ottawa's local scout troupe and go on at least 3 camping trips a year with them. While they weren’t the focus of his childhood, he was accustomed to sleeping in a tent and knew which local snakes to stay away from.
Add in the fact that his parents stayed in a cottage on this very same lake for summers, and Shane is pretty desensitized to bugs.
Ilya, though…
Shane sneaks a peek behind him and barely manages not to laugh at Ilya’s face.
“What?” he demanded, his accent deepened from the fear. “There is devil in your shower and you laugh at me?”
Shane shook his head, grabbing some toilet paper. “It’s just a silverfish, Ilya. We’re in the woods, there are bugs.”
“Demon bugs that move like that?” Ilya waved his hands wildly, glaring cautiously at the bundle Shane held in his hand. “You will not try to pick it up.” He tried to sound commanding, but it leaned a little too close to begging for his dignity to stay intact.
Shane shrugged, leaning back into the shower and down to the floor. He scooped the thing swiftly, easily, the movement practiced: trap it, pinch it, lift it. He raised an eyebrow at Ilya as he stood. “You can take your shower now,” he laughed, leaving to toss the thing out the back door, back to nature where it belongs.
The shower doesn’t start for another 10 minutes, but Shane didn’t press the issue. Even if he wasn’t bothered by them anymore, he could admit that silverfish are pretty creepy.
~~•~~
2.
When Shane learned that Ilya had never been in a canoe, he was determined to change that.
When he was working with the architect to have the cabin built, he made sure he would have a dock and a boathouse, stocked with life vests, fishing tackle, oars, and a canoe, all of which he paid someone to upkeep. He hadn’t used any of it very often, but at least once a summer, Jackie and Hayden would come by, and Shane would stuff Ruby and Jade in perfectly sized life jackets and paddle them out to the middle of the lake.
So as Shane busied himself with flipping the canoe and pushing it into the water, he sent Ilya into the boathouse to grab two oars and two life jackets.
He had barely unhooked the straps keeping the canoe in place on the rack before Ilya all but sprinted out of the shed. “We do not need lifejackets,” he rushed, his face pale. “I can swim. You can swim. No need.”
Shane levelled him with an unimpressed stare. They had already had this conversation; Shane wasn’t letting them go out on the lake without the proper protocols. “Ilya, we’re wearing life jackets. I’ve explained why.”
Ilya just shook his head, crossing his arms tight over his chest.
Shane sighed, dropping his head. “You know, if Hayden’s kids can handle the boatshed, I thought a fully grown man would be able to suck it up.” He abandoned the canoe, shooting Ilya a half-hearted glare as he pulled open the door to the shed.
Despite his obvious fear, Ilya hovered just behind Shane’s shoulder as he made his way into the boathouse. He first grabbed the oars, leaning up against the wall, handing them to Ilya to hold. He then turned his attention to the life vests lying in a mildly organized heap in the far corner.
He knew he should get a wall-mounted rack for them, and in fact had been meaning to buy one for a few years. Plenty of critters liked to hide in the many small, damp caverns they created, but no one had been bothered enough by them for it to be an actual problem.
He saw where Ilya had attempted to pick up a life jacket and promptly dropped it, and he saw, through the opening in the front, the large wolf spider hiding inside.
He reached for the life jacket, and for the second time on this trip, Ilya grabbed his wrist. Shane raised an eyebrow.
“... It could bite you,” Ilya protested weakly. He looked between Shane and the offending spider, his shoulders tense.
Shane managed to hide a fond smile, nodding as if he were taking Ilya’s worry seriously. Which, he absolutely was! Mostly! “If it bit me,” he said softly, recalling the presentation he made about Ottawa's spiders in grade 9, “it would probably hurt, sure. Swell up a bit. But it wouldn’t be a reason to go to the hospital. Wolf spiders are harmless to humans.”
Ilya’s eyebrows shot up his forehead, his head tilting forward in disbelief. “It is harmless?” Ilya repeated. “You say it would hurt, it would swell, this is harmless to you?” He’s running his thumb over Shane’s knuckles, barely looking at Shane. As if the second he stops looking at the spider, it will launch itself at them.
Shane rolled his eyes, half exasperated and half fond, and placed a soft kiss on Ilya’s cheek. “It won’t even touch me, I promise.”
He removed himself from Ilya’s grasp, leaning down to pick up the life vest and shake it a few times. Sure enough, the spider dropped free from the thick padding, scurrying into a dark corner on the other side of the room. Shane picked up a second vest, giving it a similar shake, but nothing but dust and a few leaves fell off. “Happy?”
Ilya grumbled, all too happy to leave the infested shed and help Shane get the canoe in the water. Shane steered them up the shoreline and around a small island where they stopped to eat pre-packed sandwiches, then back again. Ilya managed to forget about the incident enough that he was able to enjoy himself, but he still haphazardly threw the lifejackets back into the shed instead of stepping inside, and he pointedly ignored the roll of Shane’s eyes as he did so.
Shane ordered a rack for the life jackets that night.
~~•~~
3.
Eating lunch on the deck quickly became a part of their routine. Burgers, hot dogs, reheated leftovers (because Shane is incapable of cutting a recipe in half) - no matter what they were eating, they would eat it in the afternoon sun overlooking the lake; a sanctuary found in a quiet, domestic moment.
When that sanctuary was interrupted, Ilya was not pleased.
“Shane, what the fuck is that!!” Ilya jumped, dropping his fork with a clatter.
On his plate, next to the grilled chicken and on top of the fresh strawberries, a wasp had landed. It didn’t seem to pay any mind to the panicked Russian being spewed at it, nibbling at the sweet fruit, dancing its abdomen lazily.
Shane startled, spooked by the clanging of dishware. He saw the wasp on Ilya’s plate, humming softly as he waved his hand near it, dislodging it from the strawberry.
Ilya stared at him as if he had just committed murder.
“Hollander, you want us to die? Do you have - what the fuck is it - Автоинжектор? Injector?”
“An EpiPen?” Shane guesses. “Are you allergic to bee stings?”
Ilya waved his hand in the dismissive way he does when he’s nervous, but got caught in the middle of the gesture by the wasp returning, flying past his face and landing back on his strawberries. He absolutely does not yelp - it was a manly cry.
Shane rolled his eyes, reaching towards Ilya’s plate, fearless. The wasp retreated but hovered as Shane picked up the strawberry, tossing it off the side of the deck, the wasp quickly diving after it. “There,” he hummed. “It’s gone.
Ilya looked unsure and slightly put out, eyeing the banister with suspicion. He seemed to work through his fear quickly - Quicker than he probably would have at the start of this vacation, Shane noted proudly - his apprehensive expression quickly dropping into a pout.
Shane sighed, dropping his head into his hands. “What now?”
Ilya sniffed, exaggerated and performative. “It stole my strawberry,” he whimpers, and he manages to not smile too wide when Shane laughs into his hands.
~~•~~
4.
After the fire of the first night, Shane and Ilya hadn’t spent much time outside after the sun went down. There were movies to watch cuddled on the couch, video games to play, and plenty of time spent in bed; though it was rare they actually slept.
So when Ilya emerged from the shower after not sleeping in bed, he was surprised to find that Shane wasn't where he had left him - he tended to be pretty boneless until Ilya coaxed him up. Ilya took just enough time to slip on a pair of sweatpants - whether they were originally his or Shane’s, he didn’t bother to remember - before searching for his missing boyfriend.
He didn’t take long to find. The sliding glass door to the patio had been left open, and Ilya could just about make out Shane, wearing gym shorts and a shirt that was most certainly Ilya’s, his hair still mussed from their escapades.
He slipped into the cool night air, the scent of pine and damp earth washing over him. He joined Shane at the rail, looking over the yard. It looked so different engulfed in darkness; the moon reflected off the near-still water of the lake, the gravel path to the dock was lit only by the small, solar-powered lamps staked into the ground, and the line between grass and forest seemed to shift every time Ilya looked away. He closed his eyes and listened to the symphony surrounding them: crickets, tree frogs, the water of the lake kissing the shore, and the owl he’d been hearing for the past 3 nights. No loons, thank goodness.
It was serene, and Ilya felt at peace. The feeling was only helped by the heat of Shane, standing so close to him that their arms brushed with every small shift.
Ilya broke the silence gently. “What are you thinking, Моя любовь?”
Shane hummed softly, leaning his shoulders into Ilya’s. “Watching the fireflies,” he explained, nodding towards the treeline. “It’s… calming. Always has been, since I was a kid.”
Ilya followed his gaze, curious to see what Shane was talking about. Sure enough, where a quick glance had him seeing only inky darkness, the extended search revealed the greenish-yellow blinking in the canopy. The patterns were slow, shifting, always similar but never the same. Ilya barely breathed, as if he was afraid he could blow out the light like a candle.
It looked like stars, a whole sky full, twinkling and dancing just for them. They looked, just a little bit, like Shane’s freckles.
“They are beautiful,” Ilya whispered, unable to take his eyes off the dance of light.
Shane nodded, his head falling onto Ilya’s shoulder softly. He took a breath and took comfort in the chill entering his body, trying to fill his lungs with this moment so he would never forget it.
Ilya wrapped an arm around Shane’s shoulders. He turned his face just enough to press a kiss into Shane’s hair. They revelled in the quiet moment, letting the peaceful darkness engulf them. They stood there until the damp chill reached their bones and their feet ached. The fireflies’ dance would continue without them, as would the movement of the lake and the shining of the moon.
Ilya rubbed his hand along Shane’s arm, gently, afraid to disturb the moment even as he moved to end it. “Let’s go inside, Моя любовь,” he mumbled. “You still have filth on you. Then we sleep.”
Shane nodded, pressing a chaste kiss into Ilya’s lips as he turned to head inside. Ilya was stuck staring, a warm stone settling in his gut. He realized, for the thousandth time in these two weeks alone, that he is hopelessly, utterly, devastatingly in love with this man.
He wonders if Shane even realizes that he carries Ilya’s heart with him.
They don’t end up sleeping for a few hours, even as they settle under the (freshly changed) sheets. They don’t make any advances, which - while once unheard of - has become a more regular occurrence. Ilya tucks Shane into his chest, one hand petting through hair, the other over those beautiful freckles.
This is real, he reminded himself. I get to have this.
~~•~~
5.
It had rained at the cottage.
It started sometime in the night. The soft patter on the bedroom windows woke Shane and Ilya slowly, the dim light permitting them to laze about in bed longer than Shane ever would allow normally.
It wasn’t a storm, not even close. The rain was peaceful, quiet, unbothered by wind or even a breeze. The cloud cover was thin, dousing the yard in soft lighting that was, somehow, simultaneously a greyish blue and a golden yellow.
Shane and Ilya ate their lunch looking out the great bay windows, initially to watch the rain fall over their slice of paradise. As time passed, though, so did the summer shower. The world lost its blue tint as the curtain of clouds parted to make room for the sun, and the landscape quite literally sparkled.
Ilya was caught off guard as Shane stood, taking both of their plates and setting them in the sink. He was even more surprised when Shane, instead of immediately washing them, turned to Ilya with a smile and jerked his head in that wordless way they communicated. Let’s go.
And, well. Ilya didn’t know where they were going. But he knew, in his soul, he would follow Shane anywhere.
They padded out the front door, Shane walking right past the sandals sitting by the front door, and Ilya following his lead.
Shane’s driveway was long and paved. The asphalt was wet, but warm, and Ilya found the rough texture surprisingly pleasant on the soles of his feet. He took a moment to take in every sensation; the thick humidity, the damp smell of pine, the birds calling in the trees, Shane-
What the hell is Shane doing?
Shane seemingly wandered, but his shoulders were set with purpose. His eyes scanned the ground, and every so often, he leaned down, picked something up, and tossed it into the forest.
Ilya gaped at him for a moment. “What,” he started, slowly, “Are you doing.”
Shane looked at him without turning, peeking through his lashes at Ilya. Between that and the half-embarrassed, half-amused grin, Ilya felt more in love than he maybe ever had.
“The worms.” Shane gestured to the ground as if he were making any sense at all. “When it rains, the worms get onto the pavement. If I leave them, they just get run over and make a mess. So…” He leaned down and picked up a worm from the driveway, holding it out in his hand.
Ilya was… baffled. More than baffled, but there was not a word in English or Russian that could encompass the dopey, fond confusion blooming in his chest, wholly unprepared for the scene in front of him.
The worm was pink and shiny, and wriggled in Shane’s hand. Ilya blinked. Shane threw the worm into the woods.
“This is your- your exciting hobby, then?” Ilya chirped through the shock. He watched with vague interest as Shane went back to his task. “You spend the afternoon after rain, what, saving worms?”
“Fuck off,” Shane huffed, but his smile was content. “I’m saving myself the hassle of hiring someone to powerwash the driveway.”
Shane had worked his way about 5 meters down the driveway now, his eyes scanning carefully. Ilya took slow, calculated strides towards him, tucking his hands in his pockets in an attempt to appear casual. He avoided looking at Shane, eyes sweeping across the dark asphalt. His gaze caught on a flash of pink, and a second later, Shane had scooped it up and tossed it to the side.
They continued like that for a few minutes, slowly strolling down the long driveway, Shane reaching down to dispose of worms every few steps.
It took a few minutes for Ilya to fully warm up to the activity and the idea of holding one of those things in his hands, if even for a second. Even still, when he saw pink near his foot, the opposite side of Shane, he acted mostly without thinking. He bent down and wrapped his fingers around the worm, like he had been watching Shane do- and promptly flinched back a couple steps.
“Ебать!!” He cursed, a shiver running up his spine. It was so cold, so wet, and he had felt it move.
Shane, very unhelpfully, burst out laughing.
“Oh, fuck off! How are you holding these things?” Ilya protested, shoving at Shane lightly.
“Do- Do you want me to get it?” Shane offered, wiping his grin on his sleeve - as if it could be wiped off.
“No,” Ilya pouted, approaching the worm once again. He leaned down and quickly, defiantly, wrapped his fingers around the worm and chucked it off to the side. It wasn’t as bad, now that the sensation wasn’t a shock, but it still wasn’t great. “Not even a big deal.”
“Sure,” Shane giggled, entirely unconvinced. Still, he dropped the issue, turning back to the task at hand.
They moved forward in silence, both leaning down to grab worms and discard them into the underbrush. At some point, they ended up reaching for the same worm, hands touching. Shane smiled, shy and maybe a bit mischievous, slipping his hand into Ilya’s as he grabbed the offending worm with his other hand.
Their hands stay linked as they walk, and it’s maybe a little gross with the worm slime between them, but Ilya couldn’t find it in himself to care. This, fingers locked with Shane Hollander, hands swinging between them as they slowly strolled barefoot down Shane’s ridiculously long driveway; it’s an intimacy Ilya has never been allowed, and he thought, for a moment, that he may be floating.
There is a sun in his chest, he thinks. For so long, he had only been able to peek at it behind the clouds, in fleeting moments between snow and rain and thunder. For the first time since he was a child, since he sat with his mother on the grass of a park, he felt that sun burning bright in his chest, the warmth reaching down to his toes.
He basks in it.
~~•~~
+1.
Over the course of their two weeks at the cottage, Ilya had gotten used to the idea of bugs. Mostly.
He hadn’t screamed at an insect in the shower since the first time, even if he still called in Shane to kick them out of the house. He was able to go into the boatshed for the fishing poles, although the fact that the life vests now hang on the wall helped his fear that something may be hiding in them. He was (nearly) neutral about wasps. Shane had even convinced him to hold a firefly in his hands one night!
So, yes. He was getting used to bugs, thanks to his woodsy boyfriend who navigated them without a care in the world.
Imagine his surprise when he heard Shane yelp from the kitchen.
He recognized the moment from his first few days at the cottage. The yelp, the clatter of something being dropped, the startled cursing. Ilya immediately stood from where he was dozing on the couch, eyes wide and panicked.
“Shane? Моя любовь, what is wrong?”
Shane stood on the other side of the island, hand to his chest and eyes wide, taking deep breaths. A spatula lay on the floor, forgotten. Ilya held his hands out, walking carefully to Shane.
Shane shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “Sorry- sorry. It’s just- There’s a- In the sink.” He shudders. His cheeks are flushed pink; he was clearly embarrassed by the reaction, but the shock and fear were currently winning.
Ilya raised a brow, his eyes flicking to the sink. “Is there a monster?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood, but Shane just winces.
“Might as well be,” he grumbled, burying his face in his hands. “It’s a centipede.”
Ilya blinked, thinking. He’d heard the word before, but it takes a moment to translate and register. “A bug?” he asked, his voice lined in disbelief. “You do not care about wasp or spider, I thought you were immune to bugs!”
“I don’t care about bugs!” Shane protested, running a hand through his hair. “This one just - freaks me out, ok?”
“Oh, but silver devils are fine?”
“They’re silverfish, Ilya, and yes, I can handle those.” He took a breath, shaking the last of his nerves out of his hands. “Just - give me a minute, I’ll be able to take it out in a minute, ok?”
Ilya shook his head, cupping the back of Shane’s neck and squeezing softly. “No, I will take care of it. I will rescue you this time, yes?”
Shane’s eyes snapped to Ilya’s, his mouth falling open. “You.. Are you sure? They’re… not great to look at.”
Ilya shrugged. “For you, cолнышка, I will do it. Can not be worse than the silverfish.”
Shane was still looking at him like he had grown a second head, but he didn’t care. He turned to the sink, steeling himself, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw.
The thing was about the size of Ilya’s thumb, which is far too large for anything that quick. Its body was long and thin, and it was surrounded by spindly legs that moved like waves. It flitted around the sink in serpentine motions, and Ilya felt a little ill watching it. Too many legs. Way too fast. So much worse than the silverfish.
“You okay?” Shane called out behind him, and Ilya waved his hand to quiet him. He fought the urge to crush the thing - it would be so easy to put it out of its misery and into the trash - but he knew that Shane wouldn’t want even this creature dead for the crime of being small and gross.
He took a breath and made a game plan. He was strong, but not strong enough to try and catch this thing with just a sheet of paper towel between them; he would be worried about it escaping, crawling onto his skin, all those legs crawling up his arm, into the sleeve of his shirt-
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.
He grabbed a cup and a cutting board from the cupboard - not one of the clear glasses, he didn’t want to look at this thing any more than necessary. He chose a tall mug with a handle that wouldn’t impede the seal between the rim and the bottom of the sink. He made sure it was one he hadn’t ever seen Shane drink from. They might just throw it directly into the trash after its task is done.
He stood over the sink, mug in one hand, cutting board in the other. He watched the centipede, figuring out its patterns like he would a puck on ice, so he could aim for where it would be and catch it quickly. He pushed down the unease in his gut, watching its many legs work.
When he couldn't take it anymore, he moved quickly, slamming the mug down into the sink and trapping the beast. With its wriggling out of sight, the task became much easier; slide the cutting board under the mug, lift the trap, out the glass door, flick it off the balcony.
As soon as the centipede was gone, both Ilya and Shane gave a sigh of relief. Ilya placed his tools on the island before wrapping Shane in his arms, the tension in his gut loosening further as Shane all but curled into his chest.
He heard a muffled “Thank you,” and he couldn't help but smile into Shane’s hair, rubbing his hands along Shane’s back.
“Anytime, cолнышка. But only those. You take care of all the other bugs, okay?”
Shane nodded, and Ilya swore he could feel him smiling against his shoulder. “Of course. Every other bug. I’ll handle them.”
“My saviour,” Ilya drawled, pinching Shane’s side softly. “What would I do without you?”
Shane pushed him away, laughing softly. “You’re such an asshole!” he chided, but there was love in his voice. Of course there was. Shane loves him, Ilya knew this now; he was more certain about it than he ever could have imagined.
He smirked, leaning forward into Shane’s space. “I want your asshole,” he purred, delighting in the way Shane recoils.
“Gross, Ilya!”
Ilya only laughed as the two dissolved into a playful wrestle.
He would face a hundred centipedes if it meant he could have this.