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Ilya has enjoyed being Shane’s boyfriend for a while. Although they haven’t gone public yet, the feeling of officially being part of Shane’s life is better than imagined.
It’s always those little domestic things that remind him, “Hey, you’re in a relationship now.”
They’re going to have dinner with a manager of a local teen sport organization. Unfortunately, Shane has an ad shooting in the afternoon, so he will just show up at the restaurant instead of driving with him. While Ilya was imagining how hot his boyfriend would be on camera, he got a quick call from Shane asking him to bring his chopsticks to the restaurant.
No more explanation. Shane hung up as a voice approached him in the background.
Okay. Fine. He will let everyone know Shane is his one day.
Before that, Ilya has to get the chopsticks. It sounds weird to bring your own utensils to a restaurant, but since it’s Shane…maybe it makes sense? His boyfriend has some special rituals and Ilya finds them cute. Just like anyone else would consider it weird to fold clothes before making out. But fuck, that’s adorable. The non-boring side of the boring Shane.
Since the dinner will be at an Asian fusion restaurant, maybe they will have some “creative” chopsticks that piss Japanese people off? Shane probably wants to use regular chopsticks, so he needs to bring his own. Umm, it sounds legit.
“Hey, could you bring the blue ones?” Shane texts him.
“Sure” Ilya texts back while opening the drawer in the kitchen. “wow you have a lot”
Ilya doesn’t quite understand why his not-so-sociable baby has like 10 pair of chopsticks while it’s clear that he doesn’t invite anyone else than his parents and Ilya to his cottage.
“They are for different usages.”
How? Ilya is really not familiar with Japanese culture. Different chopsticks for different food? But they look the same except for colors.
“Using blue when you’re in blue mood?”
“No. They are not random colors. The sky blue one is medicated.”
“You put medicine in? Fancy” Ilya brings them to his nose to sniff but he can’t smell anything.
“Not me. It’s the manufacturer!”
“Same” Who’s the genius putting medicine in chopsticks? That means you can have some treatment or maybe consume some vitamins while eating? Never heard of this technique but he knows Japan has a lot of inventions for daily life hack.
There won’t just be chopsticks at the restaurant, yes? The thought flashes through his mind while he is tossing the sticks into his bag. Being a fusion restaurant means it caters to everyone. There will be forks, knives, spoons, and whatever.
Confident. No problem. Search how to use chopsticks as many non-Asian.
Just in case there’s that teeny tiny possibility he actually has to use them, it’s better to avoid making a fool of himself.
He handles a stick on the ice every single day. How hard could it be to use two smaller ones at a dinner table? He taps on a 1.5-minute tutorial, thinking it’ll be a quick win… only to end up spending 1.5 hours perfecting his grip.
Shane’s going to be so impressed when he sees me using these LIKE A PRO, Ilya thinks, grinning at the imaginary scenario.
He heads to the restaurant, armed with Shane’s chopsticks and his brand-new skill. What a nice day.
He arrives about 15 minutes early but Shane has already been there.
“Hollander.” The urge to kiss his boyfriend right then and there is hard to suppress, but he manages. He slides into the seat next to Shane, his fingers lingering teasingly against Shane’s thigh under the table.
Shane shoots him a warning look but doesn't actually push him away. “Rozanov, this is a huge opportunity to collaborate with local orgs. Our first real step. We can’t screw this up.”
“Relax, we won’t,” Ilya replies, putting on his most innocent face.
“I’m a little nervous.” Shane’s eyes sweep the room before he finally finds Ilya’s hand and laces their fingers together.
“Hey, you’ll be fine. I even brought your medicated chopsticks. Does that help?”
“Oh, yeah.” Shane clears his throat. “Shit, my voice is cracking.”
“Here, drink some water.” Ilya fills Shane’s glass. “But seriously, why do you need your own chopsticks?”
“I must’ve talked too much this afternoon. My mouth is so dry. It’d be awful to meet our future partners with cracked, dehydrated lips for the first time.”
“So… chopsticks stop your lips from getting dry?” Ilya hands over the small canvas bag, his face a picture of pure confusion.
“Of course they do.” Shane takes the bag, but his expression quickly mirrors Ilya’s. “Wait, why are these so long and thin?” Shane feels the shape through the fabric. “Oh, no way…”
“What?”
“Ilya.” Shane pulls the items out. “I need CHAP-STICK, not chopsticks! My god. My bad.” He lets his head hit the table with a frustrated thud.
“Chopstick? chopsticks? What’s the difference? I don’t get it!”
Shane lifts his head, quickly pulls up his phone, and shoves the screen toward Ilya.
“This is ChapStick. It’s lip balm.” He swipes through some photos.
“Then why don’t you just call it lip balm?”
“Because it’s a famous brand! People just say chapstick to mean lip balm. And mine are literally from the brand ChapStick. Haven’t you heard the name in all the years you’ve lived in the States?”
“No! I only use Vaseline!”
“Okay, okay. I’m not actually mad. It’s my fault for not being clear. Sorry.”
“Hey, it’s fine.” It’s totally not fine that he can’t hug the freckled boy in public to comfort him though. “But why did you make it sound like I needed to bring a bunch of them?”
“Because I need the two blue ones! The dark blue one is for extra moisture, and the light blue one is the medicated one I mentioned. I find they work best when I layer them together.”
“Way too complicated.”
“Wait… so you actually believe there is such a thing as medicated CHOPSTICKS? Like, how would a utensil even be medicated?”
“I don’t know! Japan always makes cool stuff so I thought it’s possible.”
“Umm. Thanks for the vote of confidence in Japanese engineering. Unfortunately, medicated utensils don't exist as far as I know. I guess I’ll just stick to drinking more water.”
“I can make it up to you.”
“How?”
“Come on.” Ilya drags Shane out of the restaurant and toward his car.
“I don’t think we have time to buy a chapstick, Ilya.”
“Who said we’re going to buy anything? Forget that stupid stuff. I have something that works faster and better.”
He pushes Shane into the back seat, crawls in after him, and slams the door shut. Before Shane can even sit up properly, Ilya pins him against the seat and crushes their lips together. Caught completely off guard, Shane freezes for a second, but then he begins to respond.
Ilya slows the pace, gently sucking on Shane’s upper lip and using his tongue to moisturize every inch of it before turning his attention to the lower lip. When they finally pull apart, Shane’s lips look glazed and flushed. Ilya can promise they taste better than any donut or cake he’s ever had.
“Satisfied with the service, sir?”
“Fuck off,” Shane pants.
“That’s no way to talk to the man who just rescued your lips.” Ilya leans in close to Shane’s ear and whispers,“ Russian brand is the best. Fuck ChapStick.”
“I can’t believe you just did it 3 minutes before our dinner with the manager.”
“Your lips look fresh now,” Ilya shrugs, completely unbothered.
Thanks to Ilya, Shane barely remembers what they eat or even what they talk about that night. Fortunately, it’s an informal meetup, so he doesn’t miss any crucial details.
In the end, Shane decides that a boyfriend who brings chopsticks to a restaurant, believing in some magical medicine without question, is actually pretty cute. He thinks he’s starting to get used to this new life and he absolutely loves it.