Chapter Text
Ilya gets injured on the ice while playing his last game for Boston. A skate slices his thigh during a scrum and blood is quickly pooling on the ice. Shane is in the audience trying to keep a low profile. He's on his feet immediately, switching his gaze from what's happening on the ice to the big screen above him that is magnifying the scene for the crowd. He sees Ilya gripping his thigh while blood pulses out onto the ice. Cliff is with Ilya when he starts asking for Jane.
"Marley, tell Jane. My phone is in my locker. Text Jane and let her know I am ok."
Cliff nods, "Yeah, of course. I'll tell her." He looks down as Ilya's thigh and goes a bit white. "Brother that is a lot of blood."
Ilya looks down now and sees his blood pooling rather quickly below him. Fuck. He looks towards Shane's seat and sees him on his feet. He looks down again and sees the pool getting bigger.
"Fuck, ok Marley, time to get really cool really quickly. It's Shane. Jane is Shane Hollander. We are together. He’s here, please get him, Marley, I am losing blood.”
Cliff, to his credit, doesn't ask questions and skates away in search of Shane Hollander. What the fuck. Ilya is all but surrounded by players and refs.
At the sight of all that blood, Shane is nearly running down the stairs of the stadium when Cliff spots him. He races over as Shane jumps the boards. Shane holds onto Cliff’s arm to stay on his feet across the ice, then slams to his knees and slides into place next to Ilya. He pulls off Ilya’s gloves and helmet and holds his hands. “Hey! I’m here! I’m here. You’re gonna be ok. Just stay with me, ok?” Shane starts barking orders at the players around them. “We need a tourniquet! Where are the fucking medics?! He’s bleeding out!” Cliff tears off his jersey and sinks to his knees, pressing the cloth as hard as he can to Ilya’s thigh.
“FUCK! Marleau that fucking hurts!”
Shane squeezes Ilya’s hand tighter and nods at Cliff with a quiet, “Thank you,” as the medics arrive on the ice to treat Ilya. They part the crowd of hockey players.
“Ok, guys back the fuck up! We need room to work!” The outer circle of players and refs move back as instructed.
Ilya looks up at Shane with fear in his eyes. He holds on tighter to Shane’s hands and shakes his head.
“Please don’t go.”
Shane stares down the medic, “Get a tourniquet on his leg and Cliff will leave but not a fucking second sooner.”
The other medic, a woman, starts going through their medical equipment bags and kneels next to Cliff. The loud one, a man, nods at Shane.
“That’s fair. And other than holding his hand, what are you doing to help, Mr. Hollander?”
Shane glances down at Ilya’s pale and frightened face. He briefly takes stock of what just happened. He’s on the ice holding Ilya Rozanov’s hand. He's in his regular clothes at a game he’s not playing in. He steels himself and meets the medic's eyes again. Fuck it.
“I’m his boyfriend. I guess I’m here for moral support. Give me something useful to do and I’ll do it. But I’m not going anywhere.”
Shane looks down at Ilya. He shrugs his shoulders and smiles tightly. He watches as Ilya goes from shocked to awed to joyous and finally to overwhelmed. His eyes are glassy and he swallows roughly.
“Have I lost too much blood, or did you just tell someone you are my boyfriend?”
Shane scoffs and smiles down at him, “A little bit of both. Just stay awake, ok?”
The male medic nods, “Well that shut me up! My name's Jason, that lovely lady is Jen." He points to the other smaller female medic. "Mr. Hollander, stay where you are, I’m going to check his vitals. OK with everyone?” He unwraps a stethoscope from around his neck and starts putting it on.
Shane and Ilya both nod. Jen speaks up now, “Mr. Rozanov, this won’t feel great but it’s gonna save your life so scream if you need to, just know I'm not going to stop doing it, ok?”
Ilya scoffs, "What, no safe word?" Jen grins and then looks at Cliff seriously, “You keep pressure until I tell you I’m done, got it?” Cliff also nods.
They’re all being very polite boys and Ilya starts to crack a joke about it when Jen tightens down the tourniquet on his upper thigh. He yells out in a mixture of Russian and English curse words and squeezes Shane’s hands enough to bruise. Shane winces and grunts out, “Ouch ok fuck!” Ilya looks at him and grits his teeth, “Oh this hurts you, Shane?! I am so sorry. I will hold Marley’s hand next time I almost die on the ice!” Shane takes a deep breath and glares down at him, "So glad you still have your sense of humor, Rozanov."
“All done Mr. Marleau, you can let go. Ok, Ilya, you did great!” Ilya groans, "Ok, thank you, so happy for me," he says sarcastically.
Cliff removes his jersey from the wound and averts his eyes to what’s below. He drops the jersey on the ice and shimmies over behind Shane to look at Ilya.
“Hey brother, you’re gonna be ok. I didn’t look too hard but I think the bleeding is a lot less.”
Jen pipes up again, “He’s right, the bleeding is under control for now. Looks like Mr. Marleau might have saved your life.”
Ilya releases Shane’s hand to reach out to Marleau. He takes Ilya’s outstretched hand after wiping his on his pants, clearing away most of the blood. Cliff shakes his head before Ilya can say anything, “No thank yous, Rozy. You’d do it for me.”
Ilya nods and his eyes flick back between Cliff and Shane, who is watching this exchange with very blurry vision all of a sudden. Cliff grins and bumps a shoulder against Shane’s.
“Nice to meet you, Jane. You’ve had this guy blushing at his phone for years.”
Ilya scoffs, “Russians do not blush, Marley, you know this.”
“Sure, brother. Must have been the heat. In the dead of winter. In an ice rink.”
With that, he releases Ilya’s hand and gets to his feet. Shane looks up at him, “Marleau, I- Thank you. Really.”
Cliffs nods, skating backwards towards the other players across the ice. “No need, Hollzy! Let’s call it even, hey? I break your collarbone, but I save your boyfriend’s life. Debt repaid?” Shane smiles shyly, “Clean slate!”
He turns back to Ilya, still smiling. His stomach drops at what he sees. Ilya is even paler, and his grip on Shane’s hand is weaker. He's sweating and shivering. Shane grips his hand tighter. “Ilya? Hey! Ilya!” Ilya smiles weakly and slurs his words a bit, “M’ok… Shane… fuck. I am tired.”
Jen and Jason rush into action pushing Shane backwards. His hand slips from Ilya’s. “Ok Mr. Rozanov, the bleeding has stopped but you’ve lost quite a bit of blood, which is why you’re so sleepy right now. I need you to stay awake for me, ok?” It looked like they were about to carry him out themselves just as the ambulance crew showed up with a stretcher on the ice.
“Thank fuck,” Jason says. He looks at Jen. “You good, Jen?” She grips Ilya’s ankles, narrowly avoiding the sharp blades. “One sec, hey! Boyfriend?” Shane stares at her, his brain not fully functioning and definitely not used to that word in reference to himself.
“Can you help with the skates? There’s enough blood on the ice as it is.” Shane blinks and stutters, “F-fuck, sorry. Yeah, here.” He moves to Ilya’s feet and removes his skates, leaving them where they land on the ice.
“Thanks! Ok, Jason. Ready on 3.”
“1, 2, and 3!”
The medics and the ambulance crew quickly slide the backboard under him as they roll him, keeping his body in a straight line. They strap Ilya in and fit him in a collar to stabilize his neck. He’s lifted and placed gently on the stretcher. Shane rises and goes to his side. Ilya is thankfully still conscious and reaches out. “Shane?” Shane grabs his hand and places a kiss on his knuckles. “Yeah, hey, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” Ilya closes his eyes and hums happily.
Jen not so gently pats Ilya on his chest, “Hey! Eyes open, Rozanov! No sleeping, ok? You’re very pretty but this isn’t Sleeping Beauty. Your prince can’t wake you with a kiss.” Ilya snickers softly. He opens his eyes and meets Shane’s worried gaze. “I am not the pretty one. Shane is pretty. Beautiful freckles.” Jen smiles and nods. “Yessir. I see. Stay awake and look at those freckles. Count them for me?” Shane blushes.
“Too late. I have been counting them since we were nineteen. 52, give or take.” He sighs. “There are more during the summer.” Shane breathes out a quiet half sob and squeezes Ilya’s hand tighter. The crew begin moving him off the ice at a steady pace, and Shane stays right next to him. He sniffs and wipes his eyes with his free hand, steeling himself for the public that suddenly seems to come back into focus.
Right. An entire stadium of people who can see them right now. An entire stadium and tv cameras who just watched him kiss Ilya’s hand after rushing to his side while he bled out on the ice. He knows the cameras caught everything. He’s sure mics and lip readers will have everything they said blasted across TVs everywhere. The Internet will be ablaze with rumors and opinions from anyone and everyone.
He surprises himself with how little he cares.
He was terrified of this exact scenario for so many years. He knows it’s still far from ideal. Ilya still has a Russian passport, and hockey is… well, it’s hockey. If you don’t fit inside a certain box, you could be ostracized or harassed or worse. They could lose their careers. They could be hurt. But at this moment Ilya is hurt and Shane can’t find it in himself to care about anything but keeping him safe.
The stadium is shockingly quiet as they move across the ice towards the exit. Even with the blood pounding in his ears, he starts to hear scattered clapping coming from the Bears' bench. He looks to see Cliff standing with Ilya’s teammates, all of them looking somber and clapping. Soon the stadium joins them, all 15,000 or so of them applauding loudly now. The roar of the applause makes Shane duck his head, as if he could get low enough that it wouldn’t feel so overwhelming. Amid the applause he hears a chant starting. “Roz-a-nov! Roz-a-nov! Roz-a-nov!” The whole stadium is on its feet, chanting Ilya’s name. This was his last game, after all. They were all here to send their captain off.
“Shane!” Ilya’s voice calls to him. Shane leans in, “Ilya? Can you hear them? They’re chanting your name!” Ilya smiles weakly. “Yes, they love me, of course. Raise my hand? I’m so tired but I need to say goodbye.” Shane goes to grab Ilya’s arm higher up, but Ilya doesn’t let his hand go.
“No. Both of us. Hold my hand.”
Shane’s surprise must show on his face because Ilya grins.
“Is very romantic, yes? You tell medics I am your boyfriend, I show the world I am yours.”
“Not everything is a competition, Rozanov.”
“Yes. But I am almost dying so I win. Hold my hand and wave, please."
Shane can’t bring himself to roll his eyes because Ilya doesn’t realize just how close he is to death. So, he just nods. He threads their fingers together and gives Ilya’s hand a quick squeeze before raising them in the air. He waves with his free hand at the crowd, and they respond with what almost feels like a physical wall of noise.
“What a way to go, huh? Last game with Boston. Almost last game of my life.” Ilya is grinning fully, now.
Shane lowers their hands as they reach the tunnel, the roar of the stadium muffled. “Hey, you’re gonna be fine. You just need some stitches and blood and you’ll be fine, ok?” Ilya tries to nod but can’t with the collar on, so he just says, “Ok” in that very particular way he says it. Like it means ‘okay’ and ‘no’ and ‘sure, why not?’ all at the same time.
They reach the ambulance and they start loading Ilya on.
Jason addresses the ambulance crew, “OK guys, lights and sirens, quick as you can. 15 cm laceration to the left thigh. Possible lacerated femoral artery. Tourniquet applied at 17:34. Looked like at least a liter of blood on the ice. Patient is tachy and slightly hypotensive.”
A liter. At least a liter. Shit. Shane climbs on after the crew and sits next to Ilya. Jason waves from outside the ambulance, "Take good care of him, Mr. Hollander. We'll follow you guys there, ok?" Shane nods, "Thank you so much." He looks to Jen, standing behind Jason, "Thank you." She waves and says, "Just part of my job, Mr. Hollander. Good luck." She cranes her head and speaks loud enough for Ilya to hear, "Keep counting those freckles, Mr. Rozanov!" Ilya gives a thumbs up.
"52!"
The ride to the hospital is quick. They rush him into the trauma bay and surround him. It looks like a medical pit crew. Shane stands back with a nurse who says as much.
"They're gonna swarm him kind of like a pit crew, Mr. Hollander. It's just to check him all over. They're gonna cut off his clothes and stuff so they can see everything. Then, if he needs imaging, they may take some x-rays or wheel him over to the scanner. He's in good hands." Shane just takes a deep breath and nods, folding his arms across his chest in an effort to calm himself and give his hands something to do. He watches as Ilya's vitals pop up on the screen. He hears words like 'tachycardic' and 'hypovolemic' and chews on the inside of his cheek. His phone has been vibrating in his pocket for a while, and he finally feels like he can look at it. It's his mom, of course. He answers.
"Mom?"
"Shane! Oh my god, we saw everything. Is he ok? Where are you?"
"He's um, he's ok right now. They said he lost a lot of blood. I think a skate sliced him on the thigh. Marleau slowed the bleeding. They said he saved his life."
"Oh, Shane." He hears her take a deep breath on the other end of the line. "That's good, oh what a good man he is! I need to send him something after all this. Flowers or food or...I don't know. Nothing seems like enough."
Shane sniffles and scoffs, "Right? He said we're even, said he saved my boyfriend's life, so he's forgiven for my collarbone."
Yuna is quiet for a moment. Shane fills the silence.
"I don't know what's out there yet, but I told them. They wanted me to move and I-," He falters and takes a deep breath before continuing, "I couldn't leave him. So, I told them I was his boyfriend and I wasn't going anywhere. I know this wasn't the plan, but I just couldn't pretend anymore, mom. He was so scared and he said, 'Please don't go,' mom, I-" He sucks in a sob before it can leave his throat.
"Oh, sweetie. You did what you had to. We will deal with the bullshit later. Once we know he's going to be ok- and Shane, he will be ok- but once we know for sure, we'll deal with everything else, ok?"
"Ok." Shane takes in another deep breath and steadies himself. He's been watching Ilya the whole time. What looks like a doctor is inspecting his wound with a headlight. "Ok, um, they're looking him over now. We're at the hospital. I'll let you know what happens as soon as I know."
"Ok, sweetie, we're here. We're ready to book a flight, just say the word."
"Ok, love you guys."
"We love you, too, Shane. Both of you. Give him a kiss from me when you can."
"Ok, mom. Talk to you soon."
"Bye, baby."
Shane puts his phone back in his pocket without checking any other notifications. They can wait. The assumed doctor finishes looking at Ilya and walks over to Shane.
"Hi, Mr. Hollander, right? Are you with Mr. Rozanov?"
"Yeah, I'm his, um, I'm his boyfriend? I know that's not technically family, but he actually doesn't have any so I'm the closest he's got right now and he has a best friend named Svet-" The man holds up his hand to stop him.
"Mr. Hollander, you don't need to be nervous. I'm a big Boston fan but I'm a doctor first, ok? Anything I learn about Mr. Rozanov is privileged information and I will never share it. As long as he consents to giving you information-he did, by the way, very enthusiastically-I can talk to you, ok?"
Shane breaths out a sigh of relief and nods.
"Ok, so, I'm Dr. Long. I'm the vascular surgeon on call. They called me to look at the wound on his leg. From what I can see, he's had his femoral artery nicked. Right now the tourniquet on his leg is keeping him from hemorrhaging. It doesn't look to be completely severed, or cut through, so that's good news. But, this will require surgery. We're going to take him up to surgery now so that we can sew that artery closed and stop the bleeding. There are risks with any surgery but this is a pretty minor one, all things considered. The major risks are bleeding and infection, especially since we know it was a dirty skate that caused the injury. We'll clean up the wound really well, sew everything closed and admit him to the floor. He'll be here for a couple days for observation. Do you have any questions?"
Shane shakes his head. "I feel like I should have a lot more, but I don't think my brains really working. Um, do you think he'll be able to skate after all of this is healed?" Of course, hockey is what Shane's brain goes to in crisis.
Dr Long nods enthusiastically.
"Absolutely. He didn't break any bones, and this is just soft tissue. I'm sure his team doctor will have his own ideas about healing but from my point of view, he'll be just fine. Almost like nothing happened."
Shane's shoulders drop a bit in relief. He's going to be ok. Like nothing happened.
"Ok. Wow, that's...wow, that's great. Can I see him before he goes to surgery?"
"Yep, we'll be heading up in about five minutes. Come on, I promised him I'd bring you over myself. He threatened me if I didn't follow through."
Shane scoffs and follows the doctor to Ilya's bedside. "That sounds like him."
"Mr. Rozanov, I'm back as promised with 'your Shane'."
"Shane??" Ilya raises an arm that now contains an IV hooked up to a bag of blood. Shane reaches out to hold his hand and moves to where Ilya can see him since he's still stuck in the collar.
Dr Long looks to Shane, "We're going to scan his neck after surgery, so he's got to keep that on until we do. Sorry."
Shane nods and looks at Ilya.
"Hey, I'm still here. I heard you threatened the surgeon."
"Yes, but he made good so we are ok now."
Shane grins. Ilya smiles back.
"I'll let you guys say your 'see you laters.' Mr. Rozanov I'll see you upstairs."
"Yes, doc. See you. Wash your hands, drink a coffee. This body belongs to number one hockey player in the league. You must be on your game so I can be on mine, yes?"
Dr Long chuckles and looks to Shane with raised eyebrows, "Yes sir. Take care, Mr. Hollander. We'll update you during and after surgery and get you guys reunited as soon as we can."
Shane says his thanks and turns back to Ilya. He assesses his face like he'll find gold if he searches hard enough.
"Hey. You ok?"
Ilya shrugs awkwardly in the collar, "I am ok. Blood is making me feel better. This thing on my neck is fucking annoying, though. My leg is fucking killing me."
"Shit, hold on, I'll get the nurse."
Ilya whines and holds on tighter, "No, no, Shaaane. Stay, please."
Shane shushes him and leans over him more.
"Ok, I'm here."
They look at each other in loaded silence for a few moments. Both of them are fighting back tears.
Ilya breaks the silence first. His voice is unsteady and softer.
"That was fucking scary, huh?"
Shane nods as he lets some tears fall and lets out a wet laugh.
"Really fucking scary, Ilya. I'm so sorry you had to do this with me...except we weren't... I mean, fuck, we weren't out now either but at least we know we love each other."
Ilya frowns and rubs his thumb along the top of Shane's hand.
"I love you, Shane, so much. I knew I loved you then, too. I am really annoyed I had to get hurt to be your boyfriend to the world but am also...relieved?"
Shane sniffles and shakes his head, "You really didn't need to slice your leg open, Ilya. We were going to tell people eventually."
"Hey," he reaches up his hand to wipe some tears away on Shane's cheek. "I know. We had a plan. Plan got fucked. So, we make a new plan."
"Yeah, new plan for now is keep you alive. That's all that matters."
"Done. Next?"
"Ilya, you're about to go up to emergency surgery so you don't bleed to death. It's not done."
"Ok, plan 'keep Ilya alive: happening now' but mostly done. Next?"
Shane rolls his eyes and wipes his face on the back of his hand.
"Fine, ok next I guess is deal with the fallout of all of this."
"You talk to Yuna?"
"Yes."
"Then done."
"Ilya..."
"Is Yuna! And, you have Farrah, yes? Between the two of them, is done. Next?"
Shane sighs, accepting that Ilya will declare whatever reasonable answer Shane has as being "done." So, he goes for sappy.
"Ok, next is love you forever."
"Done."
"Ilya!"
"Shane! Is done for me! I love you forever. I will marry you now if we had minister."
Shane can't help but let out a sob now. He crumbles against the railing of Ilya's stretcher.
"Fuck. I'm sorry, Shane. Come here? Please? I cannot move, please come here."
A nurse who had been minding her business in the corner at the work station quickly moves over to the stretcher and presses the yellow handle to lower the side rail, allowing Shane full access to Ilya. He melts into him, laying his head gently on his chest as he cries. She steps back to her corner of the room and Ilya is sure he hears some sniffles coming from her, too.
"Please don't cry, моя любовь. I am ok, I promise. Just some stitches and I will be fine. We have forever together, ok?" His hands card through Shane's hair, the only method of comforting Shane that's available to him.
Shane sniffs and wipes his eyes. He realizes he's practically laying on top of his injured boyfriend literally in the trauma bay of an Emergency Department and he rights himself, checking to make sure nothing on Ilya was messed up.
"Sorry, I'm ok."
Ilya grabs his hand and pulls him back.
"You don't have to be, ok? This was scary. But you are brave, yes?"
"Ilya, you're the one who almost died. You're brave."
"Yes, very brave, very handsome. But only brave because I have you." He squeezes Shane's hand and pulls on his arm again.
"Now, kiss me, please, your brave and handsome boyfriend is about to go into emergency surgery."
Shane leans in without much thought as to consequences or people talking, or the nurse in the corner of the room, because 'fuck it', and kisses Ilya.
Shane keeps the kiss gentle, scared of hurting him. Ilya quickly deepens it, his hand sliding to the back of Shane's head, pulling him in and slipping his tongue past Shane's lips as he gasps. Shane can't help but follow his lead, his hands bunching in the hospital gown at Ilya's chest as he pours all of his fear and love into the kiss. A cough from the corner of the room reminds them where they are and Shane slowly pulls back, releasing Ilya's hospital gown. He glances at the nurse and smiles tightly and busies himself fixing Ilya's gown. Ilya grins like he just won the lottery while Shane's cheeks turn red.
"Party Pooper," Ilya shoots towards the nurse.
"Sorry! Time to go, Mr. Rozanov. Looks like you got your goodbye kiss in!" She smirks and turns to Shane. "I'll take you up to the Surgical Waiting Room, Mr. Hollander." Someone in scrubs that say Transport on the sleeve starts prepping Ilya's stretcher to move.
Shane nods and squeezes Ilya's hand one last time.
"Oh!" the nurse says. "Hold on, he has a necklace, right? Let's get that off, can't have it on during surgery." She reaches gingerly around the collar on Ilya's neck, unclasps the gold necklace and hands it to Shane. He pockets it and brushes a hand on Ilya's shoulder as the transport person starts moving him out of the trauma bay.
"I love you. I'll see you after. You're brave."
"I love you, Shane! Keep that thought, yes? The one before the party pooper! And ask doctor about sex after surgery!" He all but yells down the hallway.
Shane blushes even harder as they wheel him off down the hall.
The nurse, Sandy, as Shane sees from her badge, grins when Shane turns to look at her. She looks to be in her fifties. Short, blonde hair, rosy cheeks. She shakes her head and starts off down another hallway.
"You lucky bastard. Follow me, Mr. Hollander. Can I call you Shane?"
Shane raises an eyebrow and follows after her. "Yeah, Shane is fine."
"Shane, I'm going to remind you that I am a medical professional and anything you tell me is kept in the strictest, I mean strictest of confidence."
Shane nods. "Ok..."
She looks around and stage whispers, "Tell me everything! You don't have to, I'm sorry. You really don't. But if you want to... it's about a 10 minute walk if we go real slow and I love secrets. And, I know where to get the best coffee."
Shane smiles and breathes a real sigh of relief. Ilya will be fine. Sandy can't tell anyone anything. He lets himself be proud of his boyfriend and leans in closer as they amble down the mostly empty hallway.
"Ok, well, do you want the long version or the short version?"
"Baby, tell me the long version and don't skip the dirty parts!"
He laughs a real laugh and starts from the beginning. "Ok, so, we met at the World Juniors in 2008..."
--------------------------------------------
After Sandy brought Shane to Surgical Waiting and gave him the best hug he's had in a while, Shane finally looked at his phone. He updated Hayden and Cliff. He called his mom and filled her in. His parents wanted to come to Boston while Shane took care of post-op Ilya but Shane insisted they stay. Everything was going to be in shambles with their outing. He needed his mom in her comfort zone to help deal with it all. They agreed reluctantly and made Shane promise to keep them updated on everything.
"I mean it, Shane. If that boy so much as needs a Tylenol you let me know. And please get some rest. It sounds like the doctors are really positive he's going to be fine. You can't pour from an empty cup, baby."
"Yeah, mom, I know. I'll sleep once he's out of surgery and in his room."
"Ok, and eat something, too!"
"Promise."
Now that everyone was updated, he let himself look at the news. "Hollander Jumps Boards to Save Rozanov as He Bleeds on Boston Ice!" "Rozanov in critical condition! BOYFRIEND Shane Hollander by his side!" Shane rolls his eyes. Fuck. He sees a video of himself telling the medic Jason very clearly that he was Ilya's boyfriend and he wasn't going anywhere. Where he thought he'd feel embarrassment, he feels pride. In a crisis he chose what was most important. Turns out it wasn't hockey. It was Ilya.
He swipes away the news and sets his phone down. He stretches his arms above his head and then rubs his eyes. They feel tight and dry after all of his tears. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out Ilya's necklace. He rubs his finger and thumb over the orthodox cross. He plays with the chain, wrapping it around his fingers. He smiles. He pulls out his phone and calls his mom.
It rings once and she answers.
"Is he ok? Are you ok?"
Shane smiles wider.
"We're fine, mom. No news yet."
"Oh, ok, well good. What's up, then?"
"I think I would like you to come down."
"Oh baby of course! You boys need all the support you can get. We'll be there."
"No, I mean...I mean yes, I would love the support but I want you to be here to help me pick something out."
"Oh, like...what? What are we picking out?"
"A ring."
Shane can only hear a crash and his mom cursing while his dad is saying "What? What?!" in the background.