Chapter Text
Shane Hollander wakes up at 6:21am the night after the NHL Awards and concludes that he must still be dreaming.
Next to him, Ilya Rozanov looks fast asleep, his mouth slightly open. A tiny, light snore escapes every two or three exhales.
He feels crushingly hungover – no surprises there – but his body always wakes him up early after a night of drinking. He doesn’t mind being awake right now though, since it means that he gets to see Rozanov looking so sweet and innocent next to him.
He lifts his hand to brush an errant curl away from Ilya’s eye when he sees it.
A fucking ring.
Based on how the rest of him is feeling, he knows that he and Rozanov fucked last night, that the hazy memory of hands and lips and tongues is real.
But the ring… that’s not part of the memory.
Heart in his throat, he looks to Ilya’s left hand for confirmation that the ring is for him — who else could it be for? – but there’s nothing there. Shane snatches Ilya’s hand to check it over, panicked.
“Is on the other hand, Hollander,” Ilya says, voice thick with sleep. “In Russia, is right hand. I tell you this last night.” He lifts his other hand and wags his fingers at Shane.
Shane could weep with relief, though it quickly turns back to panic when he realizes that no, being married to Ilya Rozanov is actually not a great turn of events. It is, in fact, one of the worst things that could have happened.
“Oh, fuck, what did we do?” he whispers in horror, and hides his face in his hands. But he can feel the ring on his hand, heavy somehow, and he pulls his face away to inspect it again.
It looks fairly generic, as far as wedding rings go. Part of him distantly wonders what kind of ring Ilya would’ve picked if they hadn’t been in Vegas, if this had been planned and real, but he tries to squash that daydream down.
“You asked me to make you honest man, how can I refuse?” Ilya tells him with a smirk.
“I did not ask you to fucking marry me in Vegas last night, Rozanov,” Shane snaps.
“Close enough, I think. We need new rings though, this one is cheap and ugly. We can do better.”
“We’re not getting new rings, Ilya! We’re getting a fucking… annulment! Immediately. We cannot… This can’t...”
“What, is so terrible to marry sexy, talented hockey player? You know many women are very desperate for this, you are lucky to have me.”
“Don’t be an asshole, this is serious! Someone’s gonna find out,” Shane says in a rush. He starts to run his hands over his face, but then he’s reminded of the ring again and he grabs at it frantically, simultaneously wanting to yank it off but also to never see Ilya without it again. “This is the worst day of my life, holy shit what are we going to do, I--”
Ilya grabs Shane’s hands to still them, and brings Shane’s left hand up to his lips for a soft, tender kiss.
“Breathe, Shane. It is not end of world. Just take a breath, okay?” He kisses Shane’s left hand again, and then his right. “So we are married. Is okay – I can be good husband. I’m sure you can too.”
“Ilya, we’re not doing this. No one can know about this. About us.”
“Okay, so they won’t. Is easy. We don’t tell anyone, just like before accidental marriage.”
“But there are—” Shane searches for the word, his head throbbing as he gets more worked up and his hangover kicks in even harder —“legal ramifications!”
“Too big of words for not even seven o’clock,” Ilya grumbles.
“I have to go,” Shane says, and he scrambles out of the bed, out of Ilya’s warm hands, and begins shoving his clothes back on.
“Hollander,” Ilya says.
Shane grabs his jacket and doesn’t even finish putting his shoes on before he runs out of the hotel room.
_/ \_
Shane makes it back to his hotel room, disheveled and nearly hyperventilating, then does the only thing he can think of.
He calls his mother.
Luckily, she’s a couple time zones ahead of him back in Ottawa, so it’s not quite as ungodly early for her as it is for Shane, but it’s still early for him to be calling her out of the blue, especially after an awards show night.
She picks up after the fifth ring, right before the voicemail.
“Shane? Honey, are you alright?”
“Mom, I fucked up,” Shane chokes out. “I’m… I don’t know what to do, I’m…”
“Okay, is anyone hurt or in physical danger?”
“No.”
“Good. So… what’s going on?”
“I...” Shane’s not sure if he can get the words out. What is he even going to tell her? I accidentally married my rival-turned-fuck-buddy who I may actually have real feelings for but I’ve ruined any chance of that now by saying that waking up married to him was the worst day of my life?
No, he’s going to need to be strategic.
He’s about to tell his mother that he’s made a colossal fuck-up; he doesn’t need to add coming out or the Ilya of it all to the situation.
“I think I got married to someone last night.”
There’s a sharp noise through the phone that could have been a laugh or a gasp, Shane isn’t sure.
“To whom?”
“Uh...” he can’t tell her. He can’t.
“Shane, you don’t even know her name?” his mother scolds.
“No, I do, I do, fuck!” Shane swipes his hand over his face again, cursing again as the ring brushes across his skin. “It’s Lily. The name.”
He can’t quite bring himself to say her, compounding the lie feels worse somehow, worse than this whole nightmare scenario.
“Okay, and does Lily have a last name? Or is she Lily Hollander, now?” His mother asks. She seems to have gotten over the initial shock and is now moving into judging. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. But Shane, really, what on earth possessed you?”
“I’m sorry, Mom. Really, I don’t… I don’t know how this happened.”
“I knew I should have come with you.”
“I don’t need a chaperone, Mom.”
“Clearly you do! You got drunk married, Shane!” There’s a pause, and Shane can see his mother pinching the bridge of her nose as she fights down her emotions to turn on her problem-solving mode. “Okay, let me call the lawyer – I’ll be discreet of course – to see what implications this has for you. You’re not American or even a resident, so maybe we can get around some of the paperwork at least. I assume Lily is an American?”
Oh shit, Shane realizes. Neither of them are US citizens. Ilya of course has residency, but maybe this whole marriage is void anyway, since it was in Nevada?
“No, actually, Lily isn’t American. Does that mean it’s… Are we okay?”
“I’m not a lawyer, Shane, I don’t know for sure, but I’m guessing it helps. Whoever officiated clearly didn’t bother checking your IDs very well, so that seems like good grounds for… something. Alright, I’m going to call the lawyer. Don’t talk to anyone about this – no texts or anything. As long as nothing gets out, we can clean this up quietly, alright?”
“Yeah, that’s… good. I’ll tell Lily too.”
“Is she there with you now?”
“No, I uh, stepped out. To call you. It was… overwhelming. Too much.”
“Go talk to her, make sure she’s on the same page. We’ll obviously need to have her sign an NDA, so maybe go figure out what her last name is while you’re at it.”
The panic creeps back up into Shane’s throat. If his mom forces the NDA thing, there’s no way he’s going to be able to avoid her finding out about Ilya.
“Yeah, okay,” Shane manages.
“Shane," his mom says sternly. "Talk to Lily, and then eat something, and for the love of everything, hydrate. I can hear how parched you are through the phone. I’ll call you back when I have some news.”
“Thanks, Mom. Really, I’m… I’m so, so sorry. I can’t...”
“It’s going to be okay, Shane.”
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, Shane. God, did you tell Lily you loved her before you proposed? No, don’t answer that. I’m sorry. I love you.”
She hangs up the phone, and Shane collapses back onto the bed.
He barely has a moment to collect his thoughts when his phone buzzes in his hand.
Lily: Are you coming back, or am I going to have to start knocking on every door until I find your room?
Fuck.
Jane: Give me 5.
_/ \_
Seven minutes later, Shane has dragged himself back down the hall and up a flight of stairs to Ilya’s room. He's managed to splash some water on his face and chug half a Gatorade from the mini bar, but he still feels like shit.
His knuckles barely touch the door when it swings open, and Ilya drags him inside. He closes it quickly behind them, turning the deadbolt as if that could stop Shane from fleeing again.
“Sit,” Ilya commands.
Shane crumples onto the side of the bed.
“What did you tell her?” Ilya asks.
“Tell who?”
“Your mother. I know you called her. You are mama’s boy, is who you go to for help. What does she say?”
Shane bristles at being called a mama’s boy, but he can’t entirely deny it. He decides to let it slide for now. “She thinks maybe… the wedding isn’t real. Because we’re not US citizens.”
Ilya’s eyebrows shoot up. “We are idiots. Of course, American wedding does not matter for Canadian and Russian.”
“She wants you to sign an NDA.”
“You tell her it’s me?”
“No, of course not, I’m not a fucking idiot,” Shane snaps. Current evidence may point to the contrary, but Ilya needs to give him some credit. “I uh, said your name is Lily. She gave me shit for not seeming to know your last name, but I couldn’t think of anything on the spot.”
“But when she requests NDA she will see.”
“Technically it only has to go through a lawyer, she doesn’t need to see the paperwork—”
“She will know.”
“We don’t need an NDA, okay? I trust you. I know you’re not gonna like, sell me out to the tabloids or whatever.”
“She will insist.”
“Well. We’ll figure something out, okay?”
“I will change my name to Lily No-Name just to sign NDA for your mother,” Ilya teases.
“Fuck off,” Shane says, but he feels a little lighter.
Maybe they’ll be okay.
Ilya joins him on the bed, sitting on the edge but wrapping an arm around Shane and pulling his head down to Ilya’s shoulder. Shane lets him pull him into a comfortable position, lets Ilya kiss his temple.
He lays down on the bed, tugging Ilya down too, and they just lay there, half holding each other, breathing in each other’s warmth and closeness. Shane reaches for Ilya’s hand – his right one – and fusses with the ring there.
“Where did these rings even come from?” Shane asks. “Do you remember?”
“Looks like vending machine.”
_/ \_
Shane startles awake to a phone call vibrating on his phone. He takes a moment to get his bearings – he’s still on the bed with Ilya, in Ilya’s hotel room. His arm is numb from the awkward position they fell asleep in, but he isn’t bothered.
He’s too slow to answer the phone, so it goes to a missed call, and he sees that he has 3 missed calls all from his mother.
“Fuck.”
Ilya stirs next to him as he sits up and hits redial.
His mother picks up on the first ring.
“There you are!” she says. “I was beginning to worry Lily had kidnapped you or something.”
“No, uh, all good. Just… tired. Was taking a bit of a nap.”
“Did it go alright talking to Lily about everything?”
“Yeah, uh, all good. I mean, we agree that we can’t like. Be married. Neither of us will talk.”
“I agree, a random woman you met in Vegas is not exactly wife material. Was she at the awards ceremony or something? Oh, Shane, she’s not someone else’s WAG, is she?”
“No, no, definitely not a WAG,” Shane says.
Ilya barely stifles his laugh. Shane smacks him in the chest.
“Alright, so the lawyer was helpful, but had more questions for you. Don’t worry, I wrote everything down and so you can just tell me the answers and I’ll report back to them. So first up, do you have an actual, legal marriage certificate, or is it a fake piece of paper just for Vegas sham weddings?”
“Uh, how would I know if it’s real or not?”
“It should have a state seal, both of your signatures, probably watermarked paper to prevent forgery… Does it look official, Shane?”
Shane reaches over to the bedside table and examines the certificate. It looks pretty real to him: their full names are printed out neatly, and their signatures (and of course, Ilya put #81 next to his name, like a fool) are on the dotted lines. There’s a seal and a license number.
“It looks… pretty real. There’s a license number. Oh, shit. Can that be tracked back to us?”
His mom sighs. “Damn, I was hoping you wouldn’t have the real one. Alright, the lawyers asked that you take a picture of it and send it to them so they can get Lily’s name for the NDA and they’ll help us fill out the annulment paperwork.”
Yeah, he was not going to be sending this to anyone. Not over a cell phone picture, certainly.
“Where do we get the annulment papers?” Shane asks, trying to divert.
“The lawyers will fill it out, you’ll just have to sign it and have Lily sign it, then you’ll turn it into the courthouse. It has to be done quickly though, Shane, or else you’ll have to file for divorce. And since I assume you didn’t have Lily sign a prenup, you’d have to go to court over it. So let’s not dilly dally with this.”
Shane lets out a bitter laugh. He can see the headlines now: Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov report for Nevada Divorce Court Hearing.
“We’ll take care of it,” Shane promises.
Ilya is looking at him with a strange expression on his face that Shane can’t quite place. When Ilya notices Shane staring, he schools his features, and the intensity softens into something else.
Shane reaches out for Ilya’s hand, and Ilya kisses his ring finger briefly before pulling his hands away and getting off the bed.
Yuna is still talking, but Shane tunes her out once she starts going on about how stunned she is that Shane got himself into this mess. She needs to get it out of her system, so he lets her. He deserves the ridicule anyway, he figures.
Shane’s gaze follows Ilya as he strips off his sweats and heads to the shower. Ilya throws a pointed look at Shane before disappearing into the bathroom.
Shane tunes back in just in time to hear his mother asking him if Shane wants to tell his dad, or if she should.
Shane is not exactly interested in rehashing this whole situation right now, but he also feels bad making his mom do it. “I’ll talk to Dad,” Shane says, “just let me grab a quick shower first. I’ll call him.”
They hang up, and Shane gets up off the bed to join Ilya in the shower.
They’re already married, so he figures it can’t hurt.
_/ \_
Showered, clean and sated, Shane decides it’s time to face the music.
“I uh, need to call my dad,” he tells Ilya. “My mom offered to tell him for me, but I feel bad. So I need to call him. I can go back to my room, if you want.”
“No, is better for you to stay. It’s later morning now, more people out in halls and such. Stay here, we let things settle outside before.”
“Right, yeah. I’ll keep it quick, yeah?” Shane says. A thought occurs to him. “Do you have anyone you need to… talk to?”
“About our marriage? Yes, you’re right, I forget I have to tell TMZ and ESPN.”
“No, asshole, I mean like, friends or family. Or I guess, maybe not family. But anyone? Maybe your own lawyer?”
“I trust your lawyer advice. Is fine.”
Shane knows he’s avoiding the question, but he’s also relieved that Ilya isn’t rushing to tell some girl that he’s off the market.
As soon as the thought occurs, though, Shane realizes that’s not even what this means. They’re Vegas-married, but they’re going to annul it, and even if they don’t, nothing can change about their arrangement.
Shane gets up off the bed and wanders to the windows, giving himself a bit of distance from Ilya. It will be easier to talk to his dad without Ilya’s antics.
His dad picks up almost immediately.
“Hey, Shane,” he says, his voice tense but in a way that Shane knows means he's trying to act normal.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Your mother says something… happened. That you need to tell me about.”
“Yeah.”
His dad doesn’t push, just waits. Shane sighs.
“I uh, had too much to drink. And I … I got married to someone. Lily,” Shane’s heart is racing, he knows he has to get it all out or he’s going to really panic. “But we’re going to get it annulled, we’re taking care of it.”
“Oh, Shane,” his dad says, and the disappointment is palpable through the phone.
“I know, Dad, I’m sorry.”
“Well, at least no one is pregnant,” his dad says after a long pause. Shane has to laugh.
“No, no one is pregnant,” he repeats aloud, so Ilya can hear. Ilya laughs too, a sort of strangled, high-pitched laugh as he tries to keep quiet.
It’s not quiet enough.
“Is that Lily with you?” his dad asks.
“Yeah,” Shane admits. “We’re kind of holed up in the hotel trying to sort things out.”
“I’m glad she didn’t just… run for the hills. Or for the tabloids.”
“Yeah, mom was already talking NDAs, but… I trust Lily. I know this isn’t good, but it’s … not all bad.”
“Did you two know each other well before this?” his dad asks, and it feels like such a loaded question.
They knew each other well in so many ways, but Shane can’t help but think that they don’t actually know each other in certain ways, certain ways that really matter. They’re not exactly open with their emotions, and they basically only talk about hockey and sex.
Not that Shane minds that – he doesn’t really do much besides play hockey, and he’s definitely not complaining about the sex. Still, what can he possibly tell his dad that isn’t a complete lie, but doesn’t give too much away?
“Yeah, we knew each other before. Not well enough that we should’ve gotten married though.”
“Well, I should hope not, since you never mentioned anyone to your mom and me. If you do plan to marry someone, Shane, I’d hope we at least get to meet her first.”
“I know, I fucked up, I’m sorry.”
“Well, no one’s injured, no one’s pregnant, and no one broke the law. So not the worst kind of fuck up.”
“Speaking of laws,” Shane says, desperate to get away from the more emotional turn of the conversation, “when I talked to Mom earlier, she mentioned it might be less scary than we thought, since we’re in the States and um, neither of us is a US citizen. So it might be okay? Or as okay as it can be.”
“Oh, where is Lily from?” his dad asks.
Is saying Russian too obvious? There’s plenty of Russians in and around NHL hockey, so it’s not like it would immediately point to Rozanov. Hiding behind the façade of "Lily" being a woman, Shane decides it’s okay. Russia is a huge country. It’s fine.
“Lily is from Russia,” Shane says, and looks at Ilya on the bed now, who has clearly been watching Shane intently the entire phone call. He looks a little startled that Shane has divulged this, but Shane isn’t sure what else he could have said.
He makes a helpless gesture like what was I supposed to say? that he hopes Ilya understands.
Shane realizes his dad has been talking while he attempted his telepathic communication, and tries to focus back in.
“Sorry, what was that?” he asks. “I was distracted for a minute.”
“It’s alright, son. You take care of the paperwork, I’m sure your mother is already barreling through it. From what I hear, annulments are time-sensitive. Give us a call when it’s all cleared up, will you?”
“Yeah, I’ll keep you posted. We’ll take care of it,” Shane assures him again.
They say their goodbyes, and Ilya gets up off the bed to meet him by the windows.
As soon as the call ends, Ilya is on him, hugging him fiercely, stroking his hair.
Shane is surprised, but then he registers the tears falling down his cheeks, and lets himself melt into Ilya’s embrace.
They hold each other for a couple minutes, before Shane pulls back a bit, just enough to look Ilya in the face. He takes a deep breath, sniffling a bit, and gives Ilya’s arms a squeeze.
“Alright, let’s figure out this annulment shit.”
_/ \_
Shane’s mother texts almost nonstop: little tidbits of information she learns from the lawyers, asking more about Lily’s legal information, why has Shane not sent the photo of the marriage certificate yet, have they figured out how to get to the town hall to submit the annulment papers, do they have access to a printer?
Shane has to ignore it, because it’s too much. He leaves his phone on the bed, and he and Ilya set up at the small table. They’re both reading a bunch of confusing legal information. Even Shane is confused, so he knows Ilya must really be struggling with the English legalese.
“This is a nightmare,” Shane says.
“You mean the paperwork? Yes,” Ilya agrees. “This website makes it look like we don’t even qualify for annulment. Unless we have ‘want of understanding’? What is this.”
Shane gives the article a cursory glance, but his eyes glaze over. Maybe he should just call the lawyers himself.
“I don’t know, maybe… maybe we should talk to a lawyer directly? It would make my mom happy because she’ll know we’re doing something, but also I can maybe be a little more… direct. Explaining what’s going on.”
Shane’s less worried about filling out the paperwork than he is about submitting the paperwork. It says it has to be turned in in person. How the hell are they going to get to the courthouse without people finding out?
They can’t go separately to try to divert attention. It would be suspicious enough for one of them to be seen – at least Ilya has the reputation of being such a player that he could probably play it for a joke if the media caught wind. But Shane? He would be dragged over the coals, and that would be the best case scenario, that no one saw them together.
The article Ilya has pulled up says there is no time limit, so he supposes they could wait a little bit and then try to fly back to Vegas once the NHL Awards weekend is over and the area is a lot less hockey-focused. He’s about to tell Ilya this plan when something catches his eye in his own article.
He’s been trying to figure out if Canada will recognize his Nevada marriage since neither of them is a US citizen. Most of what he’s found focuses on if one spouse is American and the other is Canadian, but what he sees makes a spark of hope ignites in his chest.
“Ilya,” he says, and the use of his first name makes Ilya look up sharply. “I think we might… This says that Canada will recognize a foreign marriage certificate, but that it has to be registered separately with Canada. What if I just don’t register it?”
“But then we are still married in US.”
“Sure, but neither of us are citizens.”
“I am resident, though.”
“Does that… does that matter for this?”
“No idea,” Ilya admits. “But for Russia, at least, we know it will not be recognized.”
“Did you find that somewhere?” Shane asks.
“Shane, is gay marriage. Russia will not recognize this,” Ilya says, as though it’s completely obvious. Shane supposes it is.
“Right. My bad.”
“So Russia will never hear about my very sexy husband. Is their loss, really.”
“Why don’t I call my lawyer to see if we can get away with just… not registering with Canada. And then that page you have there, it says there’s no time limit. So we just… wait for a better time. When we can come back here and submit it quietly, without so many hockey people around. It’ll still be a little tricky, but Vegas isn’t a huge hockey town.”
Ilya hums quietly. “So we leave marriage, but you don’t tell Canada and I obviously don’t tell Russia. This seems… safe. Now all we need to do is call off Yuna Hollander and her quest for NDA.”
Shane groans.
_/ \_
They order room service for a late breakfast, and then Shane gets in touch with his lawyer's office directly. He’s really only spoken with them with his mother present too: contract negotiations, sponsorship agreements, sometimes minor real estate questions. He’s feeling more than a little nervous.
Shane presses the call button and his free hand taps anxiously on the table. Ilya reaches out to cover Shane’s hand with his own, and the familiar weight of it soothes Shane enough that he no longer feels like throwing up when the call connects.
“Shane, thanks for giving me a call,” says Sofia Gonzalez. Sofia is one of the office staff for his lawyer’s firm; Shane thinks she may be a paralegal, but she often answers the phones too, so he’s not sure.
“Thought it might be easier than going through my mom the whole time,” Shane says, aiming for some levity.
“Yes. Yuna filled me in on the broad strokes, but said you haven’t shared much about your new spouse,” Sofia says. “Is that why you’re calling?”
“Yeah,” Shane says. He decides to switch the phone to speaker so that Ilya can hear too. He knows that Sofia – hell, the whole firm – knows a bit about hockey. It’s part of why they work with this firm. But it also means the risk for recognizing who “Lily” is is even higher. Shane trusts that Ilya won’t speak, not until they both feel safe that Sofia won’t tell anyone the real details.
“So um, I told my mom about… Lily. But things are a little more complicated, because of … who Lily is.”
“Ah, so Lily wants you to sign an NDA, too?” Sofia asks.
“No? No, I don’t think so.” Ilya shakes his head to confirm. “But she is… Well I want to ask if the whole… attorney-client confidentiality thing extends to you not telling my mom about this?”
“It certainly can,” Sofia says carefully. “Unless it would impact things that are of direct concern to her.”
“It’s not that I’m never going to tell her,” Shane says quickly, trying to smooth things over. “It’s just, I didn’t want to spring this on her on top of the whole Vegas wedding thing. It’s nothing like, dangerous. Or illegal. Or bad!”
Even to his own ears, he sounds defensive and a little crazy. He winces, but Ilya squeezes his hand in reassurance.
“Okay,” Sofia says. “This can remain between us.”
“Lily is… a man.”
“Ah.” Sofia says. “So Lily is a pseudonym.”
“Yes.”
Sofia pauses, then says, “Alright. So are there safety concerns for you or for ‘Lily’ on top of the marriage issue?”
“Nothing… imminent. But neither of us is ready to come out. Hockey isn’t exactly a great place to be openly gay,” Shane says. “And for Lily, it could be more complicated. She – well, he’s Russian.”
Shane can hear Sofia’s wince. “Got it. So even more reason to keep this very quiet.”
“Exactly. So basically, from what we’ve figured out, if neither of us tries to register this marriage anywhere, then Canada and definitely Russia will never know.”
“As long as it stays out of the press, yes,” Sofia agrees. “You would not be married in Canada without getting a marriage license in Canada.”
“Great. And it seems like the state of Nevada doesn’t have a time limit to annul a marriage. So we thought maybe we should wait a bit – at least until this huge hockey event is done here, so we’re not seen at the courthouse together.”
There’s some clicking and typing before Sofia responds. “Yes, I can confirm that there’s no time limit.”
“Okay, great. So, really, this is … this is okay. We’re going to be alright.”
“From a legal standpoint, yes, I don’t see any major concerns here. Though an NDA is still a good idea.”
“Neither of us is going to talk,” Shane says. “It would be… it would end both of our careers.”
Ilya makes a strangled noise and glares at Shane. He hadn’t said anything about both of them being in hockey until now. Did he just make a huge mistake?
“Shane,” Sofia says carefully. “Is ‘Lily’… also a hockey player?”
“He pleads fifth amendment,” Ilya says.
“You watch too much TV,” Shane chastises. “That’s an American thing.”
Sofia stifles a laugh. “I’m taking that as a yes. Well ‘Lily’, since you’re listening, I would also recommend that you reach out to your own legal team about this. It may be a good idea to speak with both of your agents, too; have some sort of contingency plan in case anything leaks. And I really think you should both sign NDAs.”
“These lawyers, they love their NDA. So much,” Ilya complains.
“They’re an important legal tool,” Sofia says. “Especially when secrecy is important. Shane, you know your mother isn’t going to rest until we have one. I don’t care how much you love each other.”
Ilya and Shane both freeze, their eyes meeting when they hear the word “love”. They’re married, sort of, but they’ve never… That’s never been what this is. Is it?
Now isn’t the time.
Shoving down the fluttering in his stomach, Shane finds his composure. “Fine, but you can’t show it to my mother. It’ll have his legal name on it. I can’t… That’s not how I want her to find out. About any of this.”
Sofia agrees to email the NDA to Shane directly, and that she will confirm with Yuna only that the NDA has been signed and received.
“I need a name, Shane,” Sofia says gently. “To prepare the documents.”
Shane closes his eyes, bracing to say it aloud.
Ilya beats him to it.
“Ilya Rozanov.”
_/ \_
The NDA is a standard form, modified to specify what exactly Ilya is agreeing not to disclose. It feels like such a bleak paper, asking him to legally commit to not talking about something that could be even worse for him than it would be for Shane if this ever got out.
Once it’s signed and sent off, it’s still only 1pm. They can still hear people milling around in the halls, so they figure they have more time to kill.
“You know,” Ilya says, “since we are married, this makes it our honeymoon, no?”
“Being stuck in a hotel room is not a honeymoon,” Shane argues.
“Not with that attitude,” Ilya smirks, and he reaches out to tug at Shane’s waistband. “I can make it very good honeymoon.”
“Is that right?” Shane smiles, letting Ilya pull him closer and reaches out to run his hands along Ilya’s chest.
“Clothes off. Now,” Ilya says. And who is Shane to deny his husband?