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“Mom?”
Yuna freezes, eyes darting down to her coffee cup. Yes, it’s past the halfway point, so no, her brain shouldn't be struggling with this.
“What in the world-”
David’s soft shock is a balm to her sanity, bolstering her strength enough to turn and look. Because that was Shane’s voice, but it was a soft, higher tone that she hadn’t heard in years-
“Oh my.”
She can’t help it. There’s Shane, her baby, only he looks like a baby. Tousled hair, one hand rubbing sleepily at his face, he looks like he’s eight years old again. His other hand is hidden from her, held out at an awkward angle around the corner of the kitchen.
“Uhm. Mom, I found a boy in my room?” Shane says, clearly confused. “I think we’re friends, but- Are we having a sleepover? I never had a sleepover before, but-”
“Ah, no. Is not true-” comes a soft voice from around the corner. “Tell them-”
“They’re not gonna yell at you.” Shane grumps. “You tell them.”
Yuna’s heart is going to explode. She’s going to die, here, in her living room, at the table her mother-in-law insisted they take as a wedding gift that she’s secretly hated for years.
Because the ‘boy’ that Shane found in his room can’t be anyone other than her son’s husband, Ilya. And sure, Ilya’s looks could be boyish and mischievous at times, but this little angel looked downright cherubic.
“Well I’ll be.” David says, taking another drink of his coffee. Nothing phases this man, though it’s a quality that makes her want to strangle him on occasion.
“Hi.” Ilya says, awkwardly waving with the hand that’s not locked in Shane’s own. “Is not true, what Shane said. We are not ‘friends’.”
Sleepy as he is, it’s still immediately obvious that Shane has taken those words to heart; his little shoulders sag in disappointment, and he tries to pull his hand free from Ilya’s.
Ilya’s grip tightens, and he yanks Shane closer, her son fumbling a little in surprise as he’s pulled into a one armed hug.
“Is sleepover, so we must be best friends.” Ilya announces.
Yuna’s breath catches at the look on Shane’s face. He’s staring at Ilya, adoring him, and it would absolutely be a Kodak moment if she didn’t already have a half dozen pictures of him with the same look as an adult.
“Best friends?” Shane asks quietly, and Ilya gives him an affronted look. Putting his palm on Shane’s forehead and brushing his shaggy bangs out of the way, Ilya nods impatiently at Shane.
“Da. Yes. Duh.”
David’s chuckle is so fond it makes Yuna’s heart warm just hearing it.
“Yep, those are my boys. You two want some breakfast?”
“Do you have cereal?” Ilya asks immediately, tugging Shane into the dining room, his eyes bright and innocent in a way Yuna’s never seen on the grown Ilya.
“We do. You sit, I’ll get some bowls put together.” Yuna says decisively, swigging down the last of her coffee and standing up. Jabbing her finger at David’s side of the table, she adds, “You. Get the camera. After breakfast, we’re going to the park.”
“The park!” Ilya cries, and his curls actually bounce as he hops up and down in excitement. “Shane! We’re going to the park!”
Yuna makes her way into the kitchen proper and begins to prepare two bowls of cereal. Whatever twist the universe is working on her sons to make them children again is hopefully temporary, but she’s not going to waste a single second.
“To play?” Shane asks, confused and far too solemn for his age; just like he’d been the first time around.
“What? Yes? Of course we will play, what are you thinking parks are for?” Ilya demands, turning and grabbing at Shane’s face with both hands.
“Watching? I don’t- um. The other kids don’t-”
Shane’s voice peters off, and Yuna catches him looking helplessly over at David.
“Shane hasn’t had anyone to play with at the park before. He doesn’t have any brothers or sisters.” David offers; they both know that Ilya has a brother back in Russia. It’s a safe angle to approach the delicate subject of Shane having a hard time with children his own age.
“Oh.” Ilya nods, as if this makes perfect sense. “Is okie. I will show you how to play. We will play tag, and lava monsters, and what’s on your shirt.”
Shane’s little frown is the cutest thing Yuna has ever seen. It only barely escaped being framed on the wall with all the other photos of Shane after he’d begged and pleaded with her to take them down.
“What do you mean, what’s on my shirt?” Shane asks, looking down at his chest.
“Zing!” Ilya cries, running his finger up Shane’s chest and tweaking his nose. “Got you!”
Shane’s frown turns into a confused smile at Ilya’s obvious glee, and he gives David another questioning look.
“He got you good.” David shrugs. “You’ll have to try and get him back later.”
Shane nods, taking this, as he does everything and did even as a boy, very seriously.
“Okay.”
“Do you have chocolate ones? I like the way it makes the milk tasty.” Ilya asks, appearing at Yuna’s elbow like some kind of mischievous sprite.
“I have raisin bran-” she begins, watching Ilya’s face morph with disgust, though he tries to hide it when he catches her looking. “-and of course I have chocolate cereal.”
It was Ilya’s favorite as an adult, too. Shane, ever mindful of his sugar intake, preferred the raisin bran.
“Go wash your hands, boys.” Yuna orders. “Shane, show Ilya where the nail brush is.”
Shane makes to leave the dining room, not even questioning how she knows Ilya's name. Ilya darts after him, quickly snatching up his hand again.
“What do you figure this is all about? You think it’s the YouTube?” David asks as she sets the bowls of cereal down at the table.
“No, that’s the one with videos, remember?” Yuna shakes her head. “This is probably Etsy Witches. Or some other weird twist of fate.”
“Etsy. Hm.” David hums, returning to his newspaper; as if his son and son-in-law being turned into children again is nothing out of the ordinary.
“Let’s just get through the park trip first, and see how things go.” she reasons, and David nods appropriately, used to her planning out loud to work through things.
Down the hall, the sound of an aborted squeal echoes, cutting off into twin sets of high pitched giggles. Two pairs of feet come racing down the hall as the boys burst back into the dining room; grinning wildly and knocking into each other as they go.
“Boys! No rough housing. Eat your breakfast.”
Ilya’s cheeky grin and Shane’s curbed smile shine up at her.
David finally sets his paper down.
“I’ll go find the camera.”