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"Mr. Hollander?"
Shane looks up at the nurse standing by the door. "That's me."
"Your husband is out of surgery and is doing just fine. He has a concussion, so we've got him some painkillers, but the doctor has cleared him for visitors, if you'd like to see him now?"
"Yes," he replies, standing immediately. "Absolutely."
She smiles. "Great. Just follow me."
Shane gathers his things and follows the nurse through the long corridor, trying his best to keep his attention ahead of him. He's never liked hospitals. They are always too cold, too sterile, filled with smells and sounds that make him uneasy. But he's gotten used to them over the years. Avoiding injury as a professional hockey player is impossible, especially after he married Ilya, who ends up in the hospital way too often for his liking.
"I just need to let you know, we put him on the new type of pain killer this time," the nurse says as they walk. "This one should be safer to mix with his medication, but he's having some...unexpected reactions to it."
"Is he okay?"
"Oh yeah, he's fine, he's just really loopy. He thought his thumb was missing three times because he kept putting his hand into a fist. It should wear off in a few hours." She stops in front of the door near the end of the hall. "Here we are."
Shane gives her a brief nod. "Great, thanks."
"No problem at all, just let us know if you need anything." And with that, he's on his own.
He takes a deep breath, hand hovering over the door handle. Even though it was only minor surgery to his shoulder and a concussion, it's still hard every time he has to see Ilya lying in a hospital bed.
He opens the door.
Ilya lights up immediately.
"Wow! Hi. The nurse said I had visitor. You are my visitor?" He's staring at Shane with his mouth hanging open as though he can't quite believe it.
"Uh, yeah."
"Wow. And you bring me flowers?"
"Sure did," Shane says, putting the potted plant of Asiatic lilies down on the table.
"They are lilies!" Ilya exclaims, sounding absolutely delighted as he makes grabby hands in the direction of the plant. "Let me smell."
Shane lifts the pot over to him so that he can sniff the flowers. Ilya's eyes slip closed as he does, a contented smile on his face.
"They are beautiful," he says, when Shane puts them back on the table. He then looks up at Shane, and winks. "Almost as beautiful as the man who brings them to me."
"How are you feeling?"
"Oh I feel great. Doctor says I am a very good patient. He gave me surgery so that my shoulder is not all fucked up." He raises an arm in the air, as if to show Shane that he's all better now. It's the wrong arm. "The nurse says that he put me on the good stuff after. For the pain. But that is stupid because I do not have any pain. I feel sooo goood."
And yep, he's on the good stuff for sure.
"Well I'm glad you feel good," Shane says, sitting down on the edge of the bed as Ilya smiles at him.
"I am even better now that I have a beautiful man here to take care of me.” He cocks his head to the side after a beat. “Oh. Hey. Are you single?"
Shane laughs. "No, I'm married."
Ilya's face falls immediately, and to Shane's horror, he starts crying.
"Whoa, hey, what's wrong?"
"Is not fair! I finally meet the most beautiful person I have ever seen and he is taken! I completely miss opportunity to-- hey, why are you laughing at me?"
"Ilya. I'm married to you."
His eyes widen. "What? Me?"
"Yeah."
"For real?"
"For real," Shane replies, wiggling his fingers to show off his wedding ring. "You have one too, see?" He takes Ilya's hand in his, tapping the wedding band on his finger while Ilya shakes his head at it in disbelief.
"Wow." He looks up at Shane, a new wave of tears pooling at the corner of his eyes. "You love me?"
"Of course I love you, Ilya. You're my husband."
"Wow," he repeats again. "Wow. I really married you?"
"Yeah. See, look." Shane leans in and very carefully presses a chaste kiss to his husband's lips. Ilya immediately melts against him.
"Wow," he murmurs as Shane pulls away just a few inches, barely able to contain himself from laughing again. God, he's going to make fun of Ilya so hard after this. "I hit the jackpot."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure we both did."
He tries to sit back up, but Ilya quickly wraps a hand around the back of his head, keeping him there. "Noooo. Stay. You need to kiss me more. I am your husband."
"Ilya, I don't want to hurt you--"
"Shhh. No. One more kiss. One more."
"Fine. One more." He kisses Ilya again, smiling at the dreamy sigh his husband makes against his mouth.
"Wow."
"Is that the only thing you know how to say now?"
"Yes. My head is too concussed for thinking. And I cannot do it anyway when I have very sexy husband to focus on instead. You have killed me. I am dead. You have killed me..." he trails off, brow furrowing as though he's looking for a word but can't quite find it.
"Shane?"
"Shane..." There's a brief pause as Ilya's brain seems to make the connection before his face breaks out into a grin. "Shane! Shaaaanee!"
Shane kisses him again to stop him from screaming his name for the entire hospital to hear.
"Yes. You have killed me, Shane. Hollander. My beautiful husband with his beautiful freckles. Mmm, I want to eat them."
"Pretty sure that's impossible, baby."
"No!" He kisses Shane's cheek with a big wet smack. "See? I eat them. They are mine now."
"Well if you keep doing that, I won't have any freckles left."
"What!?! No! I'm so sorry, Shane. Here, let me kiss you better."
And that's how Shane finds himself sloppily making out with his husband in a tiny hospital bed.
He knows that this is a bad idea, a terrible one really. He should put a stop to this immediately. They're in public, fuck's sake. Sure, they aren't hiding their relationship anymore, but this is still wildly inappropriate for a hospital. But Ilya has always been rather good at getting Shane involved in terrible ideas. And he's being so adorable-- making little gasps and sighs into Shane's mouth, smiling every time they part for air to breathlessly remark, "wow," before leaning back in for another kiss. It's a bit uncoordinated, a bit messy, but Shane can't resist him. Especially when Ilya keeps looking at him like he hung the moon.
It's only when he hears footsteps in the hallway that he remembers, yeah, they are still in a fucking hospital that Shane pulls away, ignoring the pitiful whine that Ilya makes in response.
“Nooo, Shane. Please, moya lyubov. My beautiful husband. Don't leave me.”
Shane rolls his eyes, even though he wants nothing more than to allow himself to be magnetized back to his husband's mouth. “We really should stop. The nurse could be back any minute.”
“She will not care. She will think, ‘wow, Ilya is so lucky, he gets to kiss beautiful husband. I wish I were him.’”
“I'm going to care if she catches us making out like teenagers.”
Ilya pouts. “But I want to kissss youuu.”
Shane presses one last quick peck to his mouth, making the pout disappear. “Later, okay? At home.”
“When will that be?”
“I don’t know yet. I have to talk to the doctor first and find out when you’re being discharged.”
“But I want to kiss you now.”
“How about I get you some food instead?” Shane suggests. “Are you hungry?”
“Hungry for you.”
“Ilya.”
“Ok fine. Yes, I am hungry.”
Fighting the urge to cringe, he adds, “there’s a McDonald's in the food court downstairs…”
All at once, Ilya seems to forget that he is grumpy from being denied kisses. “Oh! Yes! McDonald’s! Can I have a McGriddle?”
“Sure, I’ll order anything you want.”
“Wait, no! Two McGriddles,” Ilya amends, looking so damn proud of himself.
"Two McGriddles it is then." Shane presses a quick kiss to the top of his head before climbing off of him. "I'll be right back, okay?"
"Okay.”
Shane makes quick work of grabbing food, picking up two McGriddles with a hashbrown inside each like he knows his husband prefers, and then after a moment of contemplation, a chicken nugget Happy Meal as well, before heading back to Ilya's room.
"Shaaaane!" Ilya loudly exclaims the moment he walks in. "I missed you. Did you bring me McGriddles?"
"Right here," Shane replies, holding up the bag for him to see.
"And a Happy Meal! Whoa, best husband ever."
He tears into the bag, joyously pulling out a green plastic racecar from the Happy Meal box. "I have always wanted a race car like this."
"You have one," Shane tells him.
“Whoa, really?”
“Yeah, it’s orange.”
“Can I take you out for a date in it when we get home?”
“I don’t think you’ll be driving until your shoulder heals, baby.”
“Okay, then you drive.”
Unable to think of a way to let Ilya down that won’t make his very high husband upset, Shane just tells him, “maybe.”
But Ilya is already back to digging through his McDonald’s bag as though he forgot the entire conversation. He pulls out the box of chicken nuggets, shoving one in his mouth. Then suddenly he freezes. "Wait. Apple slices?” he cries, holding up the little baggie far away from his face like it’s going to bite him. “Betrayal! Everyone knows a Happy Meal is supposed to come with fries, Shane."
"You already have two hashbrowns," Shane points out. “Besides, these are good for you. You need nutrients to help you heal so you can take me out on that date.”
“Oh,” Ilya says, considering. “Yes. Okay. I will eat them for you.”
Shortly after he begins tearing into the food there’s a knock at the door and the doctor enters, holding a clipboard.
"Mr. Rozanov?"
Ilya says something through a mouthful of McGriddle that is probably meant to be a greeting.
"Ah, and you must be his husband," he says, turning to Shane.
"That's me."
Ilya makes another noise in response, still as unintelligible as the first, yet steeped in an undeniable note of fondness. Shane just smiles at him.
"I'm just going over Ilya's charts here,” the doctor says. “It looks like everything is in good shape. You can take him home as soon as he's ready, but there are just a few things I would like to go over with you first. I assume you're familiar with concussion protocols?"
"Too familiar," Shane replies flatly.
The doctor offers him a sympathetic look. "I'll make this brief then."
The next few minutes are spent going over the requirements for Ilya's recovery-- concussion protocols, his pain medication, when he can expect to start physical therapy for his shoulder.
Shane does his best to listen, but it becomes difficult after Ilya finishes the food and grabs his hand, making cooing noises while he plays with the ring on Shane's finger. The doctor finishes just as soon as Ilya starts kissing Shane's knuckles and gazing up at him with a besotted expression, one that Shane is pretty sure makes him flush all the way up to the tips of his ears.
"Alright then, Mr. Hollander," the doctor says at last. "You should be all set to take your husband home now. Just remember to keep an eye out for any of the symptoms I mentioned. If they progress in any way, I want you to bring him back here immediately."
"Understood," Shane tells him. "Thank you."
"No problem at all. Will you need any nurses to assist with him?"
"No, I've got it handled."
Thankfully, the doctor leaves before Ilya stops kissing Shane's hand in favor of traveling further up his arm.
"Ilya," he says, breathing an amused breath. "What are you doing?"
"Mmm. Thanking my beautiful husband who takes such good care of me. We go home now?"
"Yeah, baby. I'm going to take you home. But we need to get you dressed first, do you think you can stand up on your own, or do you need help?"
"You help me," Ilya replies, making grabby hands at him.
Getting Ilya out of the hospital gown and into his clothes he brought proves to be surprisingly difficult. Not because being high exactly impedes Ilya's ability to get dressed, but rather because instead of focusing on that, he instead uses this as an opportunity to openly grope Shane as many times as possible while murmuring slurred endearments in Russian.
Eventually, Shane just gives up on keeping Ilya off of him, and concedes to the fact that he will have to walk out to the car with his husband’s hand on his ass.
He makes the executive decision to have Ilya ride in the backseat in order to prevent any distractions while driving.
Ilya protests at first, once he realizes that Shane does not intend to join him in the backseat, but all it takes is a few kisses for him to melt against the seat and reluctantly part from Shane after the promise of more once they get home.
About halfway through the drive, he notices Ilya looking saggy.
"Tired?"
His husband just hums in reply, resting his head against the headrest. Shane finds himself tensing a little at the thought of how the motion of the car must jostle Ilya around with his concussion.
"Just hold on a little longer, Ilya. We're almost home."
It's a good thing Anya is with his parents right now. Otherwise the barking once they get in the door would surely make things worse. He's not looking forward to seeing his husband suffer once the painkillers wear off.
By the time they pull up in front of the house, Ilya is snoring softly, looking relaxed and adorable.
"Hey," Shane says, gently waking him with a hand on his shoulder. "We're home."
Ilya makes a sleepy little groan, turning his face away from Shane.
"I know, baby. Just bear with me a little longer, then you'll be so much more comfortable in our bed."
That seems to grab Ilya's attention, making him turn back and open his eyes halfway, all groggy. "Our bed?"
"Yeah, our bed. You wanna go there, right?"
"Mmm. Okay."
A few minutes later, Shane has wrangled him upstairs and tucked him into bed. He sets a series of alarms on his phone to remind him to wake Ilya up every two hours, and he presses a kiss to his husband's forehead before stepping back.
A hand on his wrist stops him.
"No," Ilya says with a pout, not bothering to open his eyes. "You stay."
Shane hadn't planned to stay. In fact, he has a 12-step plan already sitting on the kitchen counter, listing all the things he's going to do to take care of Ilya for the rest of the week. He's supposed to start meal prepping now.
But when he looks at his husband's face, bruised from the hit that injured him, yet so sleepy and relaxed and high out of his fucking mind, Shane can't make himself refuse.
"Okay," he says, climbing into bed next to him. "I'll stay."
A toothy grin spreads across Ilya's lips. "Yesssssss." He snuggles into the sheets as Shane settles around him, looking content and oh-so-pleased with himself. "Ty samyy luchshiy muzh na svete. YA tebya ochen' lyublyu." (You are the best husband ever. I love you so much.)
"YA tozhe tebya lyublyu," Shane replies, kissing him softly. (I love you too.)
All of a sudden, Ilya's eyes snap open.
"YOU SPEAK RUSSIAN TOO!?!”