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Shane wasn't certain when it started to bother him.
It hadn't been during that first summer together, he was sure. Back then, he was just grateful that his parents took the news of his relationship with Ilya so well. He'd spent the entire off season giddy with relief as he watched his boyfriend, who longed for a family so badly, bond with his parents over unhealthy food and planning for a future they were all set on working toward together.
"You boys want to go on a hike tomorrow?" David had asked while they sat around dinner at the cottage. "What do you say, Ilya? There's a trail that runs through the forest and goes to another lake, it's just beautiful in the morning."
Ilya had grinned at David with a look Shane had seen precious few times and nodded happily at the suggestion.
It wasn't during their first Christmas together either, when Shane was just thrilled to have all of his favorite people under one roof for his favorite holiday. He'd gotten to wake Ilya up for his first Canadian Christmas with a sloppy blowjob before making him an overly sugared latte and snuggling up on the couch as they went around opening presents as a family. Later, he got to see Ilya's face the first time he opened a Christmas Cracker and wore a little paper crown through dinner.
"I hope I get a purple crown, Shane! Is my favorite color, you know." Ilya had winked at him in a way that had Shane blushing. He hoped his parents didn't notice.
Not that they would know what Ilya was referencing even if they did. A question that was asked long ago in a hotel room they both remembered fondly, but wouldn't be answered for years. "What. Color?"
Dad had opened his Christmas Cracker to find a purple crown. "Here, Ilya. I'll trade with you, I like yellow better anyway."
Maybe it was their second summer together that Shane really started to notice it. He was still so, so happy to have his loved ones all together, but the novelty of it was starting to wear off and maybe that's why, when his family was all together for the second summer in a row, he realized Dad was saying Ilya's name incorrectly.
"Your new home is beautiful, Ilya."
"Ilya, have you met anyone from the Centaurs yet?"
"Look at the new puzzle I got for us to work on, Ilya! Might be a doozy, it has a lot of sky pieces."
"Do you like borscht, Ilya? I thought I might try my hand at making it if you do. Maybe you could help me?"
Shane had waited until he and Ilya were alone, snuggled together in bed at Ilya's new Ottawa home, to bring it up.
"Does that bother you?" he asked, tracing a finger across Ilya's pec and around one nipple idly.
"What? You touching my nipples? Is good," Ilya mumbled, his breaths soft and even in Shane's hair.
Shane huffed a laugh. "No, I mean when my dad says your name like that. Ilya. Does it bother you?"
Ilya didn't say anything for a moment, then his arm squeezed Shane lightly and he relaxed back into the mattress. "David is fine, Shane. It's not a problem."
●●●
Over a year later, it still rankled him.
Shane had spent years alongside JJ as his name was mispronounced by American fans and commentators, had seen the way it got JJ's hackles up even as he pretended publicly that it didn't bother him.
"It's a respect thing," JJ had said to Shane once, after a press release where at least three reporters had called him boy-zee-ow. "It's not even hard to say, they just don't care to try! Tabarnak!"
The thing was, it wasn't like Dad treated Ilya poorly or carelessly besides this one thing. He still had Ilya over for dinner on nights when both Shane and Yuna were out of town. He often invited Ilya to go fishing with him, something Shane hated with a passion and was glad to not be invited along to. Dad always made sure to have Ilya's favorite ice cream on hand, just in case Ilya stopped by to say hi and wanted a bowl. Shane had even seen a few snippets of texts between Ilya and Dad: usually a short little "what time do you fly back?" or "do you want us to take Anya while you're in Toronto?" but sometimes they sent memes back and forth, or recipes they thought eachother would like, or talked about an article in the New Yorker that caught their interest, or even just sent silly-faced selfies back and forth (Shane didn't really understand that last one, but he wasn't going to question it.)
So it wasn't like Dad disliked Ilya. Sometimes Shane thought he was maybe even closer to Ilya than he was to Shane. Which gave Shane one theory left to work with.
Dad had always been kind and soft-spoken, gentle in a way that Mom wasn't. They were a good match together and balanced eachother well. Also unlike Mom, Dad wasn't the most adept with social situations—something Shane had unfortunately inherited—and it wasn't uncommon for Dad to commit a faux pas or two. Like unknowingly mispronouncing the name of his kid's partner for two and a half years.
So maybe it was just that. And maybe Ilya knew it, because every time Shane had mentioned it over the years, Ilya would say "it's not a problem" or "I don't mind either way" or one time, "David could call me Vinni-Pukh for all I care! He is good to us, Shane. Stop worrying."
Shane did not stop worrying. Ilya had a history with family treating him badly, far worse than saying his name wrong, and Shane knew Ilya's expectations for how family should treat him were severely skewed, his cocky brashness a thick mask to hide his struggling self-esteem. Of course Ilya wouldn't breathe a word of Dad's mistake when "Ilya" was followed by "there's a new show out I think we should watch together!"
Good thing Ilya had Shane.
●●●
Leaving Montreal and signing with Ottawa had been one of the most difficult and relieving decisions Shane had ever made. The transition was rough, combined with being suddenly outed to the world and planning a wedding at the same time, but now that they'd been married for a few months and the new season was starting, things finally felt settled. Right in a way they hadn't ever before. Shane was in Ottawa, his hometown, living and playing with his husband, on a team that was more accepting and friendly than Shane ever could have imagined existed in the MLH.
On the first Monday after he'd officially moved in with Ilya, Shane was surprised to find Ilya getting dressed to leave the house.
"Where are you going?"
Ilya paused mid-way through pulling on a pair of dark wash jeans. "It's Monday, Shane."
"Okay...?"
"Family dinner night. You know this. Yuna and David are expecting us soon, so you should probably get changed too."
Shane, in fact, had not known this. He'd known Ilya spent a lot of time at his parents house, watching games and having dinner and whatnot, but he hadn't realized they had a set day of the week for it, and it warmed something inside him to know how deeply his parents had welcomed Ilya into their lives.
They both got dressed quickly and made the trip to Shane's parents' house with Anya in tow, unable to leave her home alone for more than an hour without Ilya feeling guilty for it. ("She will be so lonely, Shane! Look at her, why do you want to break her little heart like that?")
For dinner, Dad made one of Shane's favorites: roasted chicken with Brussels sprouts and seasoned farro on the side. It was well within Shane's diet but tasty enough to please even Ilya, who was kind of a junkfood addict.
When everyone's plates were mostly cleared and they sat around the table sipping their drinks, Dad sat back in his chair. "There's a new M. Night Shyamalan movie out. I was thinking we could watch it if you guys want."
"What's it about?" Shane asked.
"The trailer just showed a bunch of people stuck on a beach, getting old really quickly. It looks silly but it might be fun."
"Don't let him trick you boys, he's been dying to watch it all week but has been saving it for tonight," Mom teased.
"Yuna!"
"Well!"
Ilya grinned. "This sounds fun! I like M. Night Shyamalan." He stilled and stared into the distance before whispering, "'I see dead people!'"
Shane laughed. "Yeah, okay. Let's give it a try."
"First I should take Anya out to do her business," Ilya said, glaring playfully at Shane as if daring him to comment on the prudish phrasing Ilya always insisted on. ("She is a lady, Shane! I cannot tell everyone her private business!")
Shane rolled his eyes. God, he loved this man.
"And maybe we can also have ice cream during the movie? Cookies and cream?" Ilya asked hopefully.
Dad slapped the table and stood. "You got it. Cookies and cream for Ilya. Chocolate for you, hon, of course. Shane, you want any?"
"I'm good, but I'll help you serve it up," Shane stood to follow Dad into the kitchen. This was his chance, Shane decided. They didn't a lot of time alone together anymore, and they wouldn't have long now, but it didn't have to be a big conversation, he just needed to let Dad know, once and for all, how to say Ilya's name.
He pulled out bowls and spoons as Dad gathered the ice cream container from the freezer and found the scooper in the dishwasher.
"Dad, I need to talk to you about something," Shane blurted from across the kitchen island.
"Sure. What's up, bud?" Dad asked, scooping hearty portions of ice cream into each bowl with a little smile on his face.
"You're... God, this is awkward. Okay. Sorry."
Dad paused and set down the ice cream scooper, his full attention now on Shane. "What's wrong?"
Shane took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and on the exhale he blurted, "Ilya's too nice to say anything, but you're saying his name wrong. It's Ilya, not Ilya."
Dad's eyebrows slowly rose to the middle of his forehead and he nodded slightly. "Did he tell you that?"
"Well... no. With his family history, he would never say anything. He's just glad you guys like him at all. But I thought you'd want to know."
Dad picked the scooper up and portioned out the last bowl, then put the ice cream away. He handed one bowl to Shane, cookies and cream for Ilya. "Ilya is the Russian pronunciation, Shane. I'm not saying it wrong, everyone else is. Ilya is just too polite to say it." Then he smiled, grabbed the other two bowls, and left the kitchen.
●●●
Shane didn't remember watching the movie. He remembered following Dad into the living room, feeling a little dazed, and handing Ilya (Ilya?) his ice cream before taking a seat on the couch. But he didn't remember anything about the movie.
He felt like an idiot. No, idiot was too kind. He felt like an asshole. He'd been saying his husband's—his husband's—name wrong for over a decade. His name! And he'd been so annoyed with Dad over it too. Come to find out he was the one he should've been annoyed with.
Shane waited until they'd parked in their garage back home before saying anything. He stayed in the car, not even bothering to unbuckle his seat belt, hands still on the steering wheel. "Why didn't you tell me I was saying your name wrong?"
"What?" Ilya asked from the passenger seat, his eyebrows sky-high. "What are you talking about?"
"I told my dad he was mispronouncing your name and he basically said, 'no you are!' Why didn't you tell me? I feel like the worst husband in the world right now! Your name! Your fucking name, Ilya! Fuck! Ilya. I meant Ilya." Shane was breathing hard, and he couldn't quite bring himself to look at Ilya—Ilya. "We are literally married and I don't even know how to say your name?!"
"Shane, Shane, hey hey hey," Ilya soothed, his fingers sliding into Shane's hair softly. "Breathe, sweetheart. Is ok, I promise."
"It's not okay!" Shane spit out, then took another breath and continued a little more calmly, "I just keep thinking, like, what if you'd been calling me 'Sean' our whole relationship? That would feel awful. I'm so sorry, Ilya."
"No, Shane, is not the same at all. Ilya is not really wrong, is just North American way to say it."
Shane finally looked at him fully. "What?"
Ilya shrugged. "Ilya is Russian pronunciation, yes. But Ilya is English way to say it. For me, I think of Ilya in Cyrillic and Ilya in English. It's not like if I called you 'Sean,' it's like when I am speaking Russian and call you Shane instead of Shane."
"Shane? I never noticed you say it differently when you're speaking Russian..."
"Yes, see. Is same same. Nothing to worry about, yes?"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, of course. If it bothered me I would have told you a long time ago. Now let's go inside, hmm?"
"Okay." Shane smiled at him a little unsteadily. "I love you, Ilya."
Ilya leaned over the center console and stole a quick kiss. "I love you too, Shane."
Shane blinked. "Wait, why does that sound exactly the same as when you say Jane?"
Ilya laughed.