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"Come on, won't you let me see your outfit?" Ilya's voice is a soft purr from behind the closed dressing room door.
"No, you're scheduled on the carpet before me. You will see me when I get out." Shane replies, forcing himself to keep still as the make up is applied to his face.
"I'm your husband, this is not fair." Ilya whines and Shane can almost see his pout.
"It is fair, now go or you will be in trouble for being late." Shane answers, trying not to pull a face over how sticky his face feels.
There's soft grumbling before Ilya turns and leaves. It makes Shane take a slow deep breath.
Now all he had to do was get on the red carpet.
There's only one word for the met gala. That word is chaos.
Shane stands where he is directed, trying not to flinch as the cameras flash all around him. It's disorientating but also exciting. He poses as directed, proud of his look.
And maybe even prouder when he spies his husband watching him in the crowd, his jaw almost hanging open and his eyes dark.
Oh who was he kidding? He does feel smug about that.
Once inside, Shane thinks it will be fun to sit with Ilya and torment him all night. But to his horror, when he arrives to go to his table, he is told that he cannot sit with him.
"But I'm his husband?"
"Sorry, its the rules. You're split up so you can network."
It sounds like hell to Shane. Even more so when he's sat next to a Kardashian and has no idea who she is. Plus the makeup is starting to irritate him. Quite a lot, and because that is irritating him, everything else is getting to him too.
He tries to listen to…is her name Kerry? Talking about a racing driver or something, but its going over his head. He ignores her disgusted look when he sneaks his phone out of his pocket to text Rose in a panic.
Who the fuck is Kerry Kardashian?
He's watching Rose type back when he hears Ilya's voice above him.
"I'm sorry, Kim. But would you mind if I swapped with you? I'm sat next to Bad Bunny." Ilya smiles winningly and it somehow convinces Kim (so thats her name!) to move.
"You're breaking the rules." Shane tells Ilya dryly as he sits next to him.
"So are you, phones aren't allowed in here, put it away before you get in trouble." Ilya tells him.
Shane sighs and does as he is told, looking rather uncomfortable.
"You look beautiful." Ilya tells him softly, his tone gentle and warm, "your freckles are popping with the make up."
"Thank you." Shane ducks his head at his words and only opens them again when he feels Ilya's hand on his chin, guiding his head up.
He's surprised when he sees that Ilya has make up wipes open on his lap, and even more so when Ilya begins to reach out with a wipe to clean the make up off his face.
"I packed them in my bag when I realised you might get make up done." Ilya explains as he wipes the make up off with a careful hand, being so gentle. "The make up was incredible on you, but I know how it feels on your skin."
"Thank you." Shane tells him gently, pausing when he notices the celebrities staring at them. "You know everyone is looking right?"
"Let them, I don't care if I'm breaking rules. Your comfort comes first." Ilya answers, carefully removing the last of the make up.
Shane falls even harder in love with him. "I hate what you've done to your curls."
Ilya gives him a secret smile and then gently kisses his nose. "So do I."
"This is boring." Ilya groans, tiping his head back with a sigh.
"Sssh." Shane tries to pretend he's having fun, but he's clearly not.
"I'm going for a smoke, do you want to come with me?"
"You're not allowed to smoke here and you know I hate it." Shane replies, shaking his head.
"I'll let you call Rose if you follow me into the bathroom."
Shane is up from his seat in a heartbeat.
That's how Shane finds himself taking selfies with Ilya in the bathroom while Ilya smokes. It's not ideal and Shane hates it, but its better than sitting on that stuffy table being bored out of his mind.
Sadly it also is the reason that a security guard catches Ilya smoking in the bathroom and it ends with the two of them being asked to leave.
Shane finds himself in the same dressing room again, but this time gladly removing the outfit with Ilya helping him.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Ilya asks as he grabs a bathrobe hanging on the rack in the room.
"The seams have been rubbing me all night and the outfit feels too tight. I am very sure I'd rather wear only a bathrobe." Shane tells him, voice firm.
"It's just very bold for you, you'd be naked under it." Ilya cannot help but sweep his eyes over the outfit, having spent the entire night tortured by glimpses of Shane's bare chest.
"You can take it straight off when we get home." Shane promises, throwing on the bathrobe once he's undressed and securing it tightly.
"My brave Shane," Ilya purrs out, gently cupping his face. "So pretty, so handsome, all mine."
Shane melts like putty in his hold, tilting his head to lean into his hand. "So are you, so fucking handsome."
Ilya leans in to kiss him, slow and sweet and Shane melts into his touch, his little vocal purring stim happening at his affection. He feels Ilya smiling against his lips, it's so perfect.
"Come on," Ilya whispers, voice soft and adoring. "Lets go back to the hotel."
Shane nods, taking his hand and letting Ilya lead him out of the dressing room.
If he snaps at a reporter as they leave that he is wearing nothing under the robe, he doesn't care. But Ilya is very very proud. Even if they are both banned from any future met galas.