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Ilya wrapped his arms tightly around Shane’s waist, pulling him back, as he tried to get out of bed.
“No, Shane, don’t leave me,” Ilya groaned dramatically. Shane laughed, trying to wriggle out of the embrace. “I really need to do my skincare. It’ll be quick, I promise.” “It’s never quick when you do your skincare.” But Shane had no mercy on him. He kissed Ilya’s adorable little frown and jumped to his feet.
Ilya fell back onto the bed with a sigh. He was feeling extra clingy today, even though it was a weekend and he’d been in bed with Shane for hours. It was so unfair that he had to share their precious time with lotion and whatever stuff Shane put on his face.
So, he got up and followed his husband to the ensuite bathroom. Because he couldn’t bear a few minutes without him. But also, because he enjoyed annoying Shane a little too much. He leaned against the door frame, across from the sink, where Shane had already lined up his products. How the hell did he fit all these liquids on his tiny little face?
As Shane went to grab another bottle, he noticed Ilya. “What?” he smiled. Ilya pushed himself off the door frame, slowly coming over. A mischievous grin appeared on his face as he crept up behind Shane in the mirror. “I want to watch,” he whispered against Shane’s ear, nuzzling into his neck. “Can you not be left alone for one second? I can’t concentrate.” “Oh, and why is that?” Ilya smirked, hooking his chin over Shane’s shoulder.
But Shane didn’t engage in it. He gently shrugged Ilya off. “Seriously, I want to get this done. I know I’ll be too tired later, and I can’t go to bed with dirty skin.” For a moment, Ilya lingered, considering whether he should push further or not. “Okay, no problem.” He sat down on the toilet, resting his chin on his hands. “I’ll just watch from here then.”
Shane sighed, but Ilya could see his fond expression in the mirror. Then he went to a woven basket on the shelf and took out a fluffy blue headband. He pulled it over his head and pushed the glossy black strands of hair out of his face. God, Ilya loved his boring, meticulous husband. He couldn’t help but grin stupidly. Sometimes he couldn’t even comprehend how he got here.
How could he, out of all people, be so goddamn lucky to share a bathroom with Shane Hollander, watching him do his borderline obsessive little routines. His 18-year-old self would’ve never believed that someday he would get all excited about watching his husband put shimmering cream on his face.
Ilya watched Shane methodically go through every step, his hands moving as if they’d never done anything else. Finally, he pulled off his headband and grabbed his hairbrush. He moved it through his hair, making it even more perfect and glossy than it had already looked with a few strands out of place. Ilya felt the urge to run his hands through it and ruin it again. Shane stepped a little closer to the mirror, examining his skin.
Ilya got up and stepped behind him, grabbing his waist. “Shane, there is not one pore on your face anymore. What are you looking at?” Shane turned around in his arms, giving him a gentle kiss on the lips. “I just like how it looks all smooth and clean. You should try it too.”
“Are you saying I have bad skin?” Ilya asked, acting offended. “You know, your skin is a little dry.” Shane brushed his thumb over Ilya’s cheek. “And it’s really relaxing.” And because he could never refuse anything to his precious husband, Ilya caved. “Okay. But do not make it too long.” Seeing Shane practically beam at him as he moved to sit down on the edge of the bathtub made it worth it.
Ilya watched as Shane grabbed one of the bottles, which he had already carefully closed, from the sink. It had a purple pump dispenser on top and held a yellowish liquid. Shane put it down next to Ilya and brushed through his curls with one hand.
“I almost forgot…” his husband mumbled more to himself than to Ilya. Then he went to the little basket on the shelf again and grabbed another hairband, a black one that was even fluffier than the one Shane had used before.
“Shane, this is ridiculous, you don’t have to give me whole SPA treatment,” Ilya complained. But the band was on his head quicker than he could stop it, pushing his curls out of his face. ”Close your eyes,” Shane instructed as he pumped two small loads of the ominous liquid onto each of Ilya’s cheeks and started to tenderly massage it into his skin. “This is an oil cleanser,” he explained while working over Ilya’s forehead, nose, and chin in small circles.
“Like cooking oil?” Ilya asked sheepishly, knowing damn well that it was nothing like that. But he loved it when his husband explained things to him, liked listening to his soft voice and the teacher-like tone.
“Of course not. It is made specifically for skin. This, for example, is made from argan oil.” Shane’s gaze softened as he got a little carried away, rubbing the product in. Warmth spread across Ilya’s face, making him close his eyes in bliss. After what seemed like an eternity, he stopped Shane’s hand with his own. “Shane, how long do you need to massage this in? I think it's enough by now, yes?”
He smiled at his husband’s dazed expression. Shane immediately snapped out of his trance, and Ilya regretted saying something at all. “Oh, yes. You’re right. We can wash it off now.”
After Ilya had washed his face, Shane picked a tube and squeezed a clear gel into his hand. He added a little water and proceeded to rub his hands together quickly, making the gel foam. “This is a foam cleanser.” he elaborates, as he spreads it on Ilya’s face, massaging it in again.
“Shane, you just cleaned my face with the oil thing. Why do you need to clean it again? This makes no sense.” Instead of getting defensive, Shane calmly says, “It’s a different kind of cleanser. The first one, the one with the oil, removes oil-based dirt, like sunscreen, without stripping your skin of its own moisture.”
Ilya smirked and slapped Shane’s ass lightly. “You should do stripping. I’ve dreamed of it since you folded your clothes so neatly the first time we met.” Shane laughed, but Ilya could see him blushing under his beautiful freckles. “No, in this case, stripping means it cleans your skin without removing the moisture.” Ilya was well aware, but he wanted to hear Shane’s earnest little explanation anyway.
“Yes, so, my skin is clean already.” “Not completely. It is extremely important to double cleanse,” Shane said. Yes, so very important. His husband would probably die if he didn’t do it every day.
“The oil prepares the skin by breaking down some of the dirt, but the foam actually cleanses your skin from things like sweat.” “It’s okay, you can just say that you like touching my face,” Ilya smirked.
After a few seconds, he hummed: “Hmm, I like this one. Feels like soap.” “Ilya Rozanov-Hollander! You’re not using actual soap on your face, are you?” Shane’s eyes had gone wide. “No, of course not. You trained me better than that,” Ilya tried to calm him down.
Except he totally did use soap to for his face. Why wouldn’t he? Shane let out a breath. “Okay, good. Because that would completely destroy your skin barrier. Now let’s wash this off.” After thoroughly rinsing Ilya’s face, Shane poured a clear liquid onto a cotton pad, handing Ilya the bottle to hold. While Shane tapped it into his skin, he studied the label that read “Naturie – skin conditioner”.
He spotted a small white sticker with black writing at the bottom. There was no way. “Shane! Do not tell me this cost almost thirty dollars. What is this, is it magic?” “It’s not even an expensive one,” Shane laughed. “It’s actually a great value for the price.” “But it’s just water in a bottle! Why the fuck does water in a bottle cost thirty dollars? You can get it from the tap!” “You don’t want to know what the rest of my skincare costs,” Shane laughed even more. “I really don’t.” “But it’s not water. It’s to re-hydrate your skin after cleansing, so that it takes the products better.”
“Who even thinks of things like this?” Ilya asked, shaking the bottle. It still looked like water to him. “My grandma knew a lot about it. She’s the one who brought me products from Japan every time I saw her when I was young. She sat me down when I was around twelve and introduced me to a whole new world.” “You miss her a lot, don’t you?”
Ilya knew Shane had loved his grandma. He talked about her a lot, and his grandmother’s death had been hard on him a few years ago. “I do. Sometimes I miss her more, sometimes less. But honoring what she taught me lets me feel connected to her.” “Thank you for sharing her knowledge with me,” Ilya said and kissed his husband’s nose.
He looked at the products lined up at the sink. Still a few to go. “Where is the funny green stuff you put on your face? The one that makes you look like a zombie. I can’t see it,” he tried to lighten the mood again.
“Oh, yeah. That’s my face mask. I don’t do it every day though. “Well, I want it.” “Sure, we can do that. But I thought you wanted to make it quick? You’d have to leave that on for at least ten minutes,” Shane raised an eyebrow. “If we do this, I want to do it right,” Ilya shrugged. His husband smiled at him as if he had just won a prize.
After Ilya had settled back onto the bathtub, Shane grabbed a fluffy brush and a large jar filled with the green mask. “It’s an aloe vera mask. It’s great for dry skin like yours.”
Ilya grinned. “Mister dermatologist.” “Wow, dermatologist. Your English is really improving.” Ilya’s grin turned smug, secretly blushing at the praise.
He quickly turned down his face and ran his fingers over the brush in Shane’s hand. It was even softer than it looked. “Oh, I like this. It’s like baby cat.” He stroked his husband’s hair with his other hand and added: “Just like you, kotyonok.”
Shane gazed down on him dopily, then tickled Ilya’s nose with the tip of the brush, giggling as Ilya flinched. “Okay, let’s put this on,” he said, dipping the brush into the jar and spreading the cooling gel over Ilya’s face. He was so gentle with it, dragging the brush deliberately.
The texture was cooling, and Ilya could feel his skin relaxing with every drag. Shane scrunched his eyebrows, adorable little wrinkles appear on his nose. Ilya loved watching his husband’s face when he was fully concentrated on something. Even if it was the smallest thing, Shane always looked like there was nothing more important than getting it done.
“If you want, we can lie down on the bed while you have it on.” Ilya was already getting up as Shane pulled him back by his hand. “But only if you promise not to throw a tantrum when the timer goes off,” he added, smiling. “You know I would never.” “You always do.”
For the fifteen minutes until the alarm went off, neither of them spoke a word. Ilya lay on his back, his eyes dutifully closed, fully committed to letting the aloe vera absorb. Shane was cuddled onto his side, nuzzling his face into Ilya’s neck, careful not to get the mask on himself.
Their breathing was peaceful and synchronized, and Ilya never wanted to leave this moment again.
Then Shane's phone started ringing. He grumbled but sat himself up. “No, Shane, please, only five more minutes. Please,” Ilya begged, his voice sounding sleepy already. He grabbed Shane’s wrist and tried to pull him back down, with little success. “You promised me not to complain.” “I promised nothing,” Ilya pouted, but got up and trotted back into the bathroom. Tiredness had set in after the break in bed, and he felt very relaxed and lightheaded from all the pats his face had gotten in the last hour.
Shane finished his work by applying a serum and a moisturizer.
Ilya barely held himself up anymore. He was just leaning against his husband’s warm body, letting him massage in a silky cream. Then Shane kissed his cheek and turned him lightly towards the mirror.
“All done.” He pressed the side of his face to Ilya’s. Ilya’s eyes softened when they met Shane’s in the mirror. “Now my skin is perfect, just like yours.” “Well, it takes more than once for that.” “Maybe we can do it again.” “Oh, so you liked it?” Shane smirked. “You were right, it was very relaxing.” Ilya yawned. “Okay, let’s get you to bed,” his husband said, an amused smile on his face.
A few days later, Ilya went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. “Shane!” he screamed. “Why are there a thousand bottles with my name on them?”