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The heat that had settled over Ottawa by noon felt stifling, heavy and humid enough that the air shimmered in the distance and every movement felt like an impossible task.
Shane was already stretched out in the shady corner of the patio with a book in his hands and a large glass of ice water sitting on the side table beside him. He wore his usual linen shorts and an old Centaurs t-shirt he had stolen from Ilya, pale legs stretched out and carefully kept out of the direct sunlight.
Across the yard, both Ilya and Luca were in swim trunks and absolutely thriving.
“Come sit in the sun with us,” Ilya called, sprawled dramatically across one of the lounge chairs like a lizard on a rock.
“No,” Shane answered immediately, without even looking up from his book, “And neither should you, to be honest.”
Luca snorted softly from where he was crouched beside a cooler, “You ask him that every fifteen minutes like the answer is going to change.”
“One day, he will realise sunshine is good for the soul.”
“One day,” Shane retorted dryly, “you’re both going to get heatstroke.”
Ilya waved him off, “I do not get heatstroke. Russians do not do this.”
“That is not how biology works, Ilya.”
Luca laughed under his breath, but then walked over to Shane and accepted the bottle of sunscreen from him before returning to Ilya.
“Make sure he doesn’t run,” Shane called after Luca, who let out another laugh.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let him get away this time.”
“I do not need this. I do not burn,” Ilya glared at the bottle like it had personally offended him.
“You absolutely burn.”
“I tan,” Ilya argued.
“You turned pink after ten minutes at the lake last month,” Luca shook his head, and patted Ilya’s leg so he would turn around for him.
Shane lowered his book just enough to look over the top of it, “Make sure you get his shoulders. He gets whiny when those burn.”
“Hey!” Ilya protested.
“And his nose,” Shane added, unfazed.
Ilya made an offended noise but accepted his fate anyway, grumbling under his breath in Russian while Luca laughed and squirted some of it into his hand.
The backyard smelled like fresh-cut grass and chlorine from the small inflatable kiddie pool Ilya had insisted on buying despite all three of them being fully grown adults and Shane telling him how ridiculous it was.
Sometime later, Shane could hear the faint clatter of Luca moving around inside drifting through the kitchen window that was cracked open. When Luca emerged again, he was carrying a pitcher and three mismatched glasses filled with ice on a tray.
“Homemade iced tea,” he proudly announced, setting down the tray on their small outdoor table and beginning to pour them all a glass.
Ilya sat upright immediately, grinning from ear to ear, because he loved Luca’s homemade iced teas and lemonades.
Shane accepted his glass with visible relief, pressing the cool surface briefly against the side of his neck before taking a long drink and letting out a contented sigh, “This is perfect, thank you.”
Luca smiled at the praise and happily leaned down to accept a kiss from Shane, while Ilya drained nearly half of his glass in one go.
For about twenty minutes, things stayed blissfully calm. Then Shane noticed the look on Ilya’s face.
“No,” he said immediately.
Luca blinked, looking over at Ilya and then back at Shane, “What?”
But it was too late. Ilya had already disappeared around the side of the house where their small shed was located.
Shane slowly lowered his book, “He’s getting the water guns.”
Moments later, Ilya reappeared armed with two oversized neon-coloured water guns and the expression of someone moments away from committing a crime.
Luca burst out laughing, “Oh no.”
“Oh, absolutely yes.”
The first spray of water caught Luca across the chest before he could dodge, and he yelped in surprise before snatching the second gun directly out of Ilya’s hands.
Then the backyard dissolved into chaos.
They chased each other through the grass barefoot and shrieking with laughter, Luca surprisingly fast as he darted around patio furniture while Ilya tried to catch up, mindful not to accidentally aim at Shane in the process. At one point, Luca managed to hit Ilya directly in the face and nearly collapsed laughing at the betrayed expression he received in return.
Shane watched the whole thing from his spot in the shade with deep scepticism and occasional commentary.
“You’re both acting like twelve-year-olds.”
“You love us!” Luca shouted back.
“I tolerate you!” Shane shook his head but smiled to himself as he kept watching their shenanigans.
Ilya eventually caught Luca around the waist near the flowerbeds, both of them slipping dangerously in the wet grass while Luca laughed loud enough to startle birds out of a nearby tree.
And somehow – somehow – neither of them seemed remotely bothered by the suffocating heat.
By late afternoon, they had finally exhausted themselves enough to stop moving.
Shane glanced up from his book again to find them spread out together on the large blanket they’d dragged onto the lawn earlier.
Both of them were shirtless now, damp skin still glistening slightly from water and sweat alike. Luca was bonelessly lying on Ilya’s chest, with Ilya lazily resting on his back, his fingers absently tracing up and down Luca’s spine.
They looked disgustingly comfortable and content.
Shane stared at them in quiet horror. It was at least thirty-two degrees, and the humidity was unbearable.
They were literally sweating against each other.
And yet Luca looked blissful, eyes half closed against the sun, while Ilya tilted his head enough to press a sleepy kiss into his damp curls.
Unhinged behaviour, honestly.
A few minutes later, Shane realised neither of them was moving at all.
He looked closer.
“Oh my god,” he muttered softly.
They had actually fallen asleep like that.
Luca’s cheek was squished against Ilya’s chest, curls sticking damply to his forehead, while Ilya dozed with one arm securely wrapped around Luca’s waist, even while unconscious. Every so often, a gentle breeze washed over them, eliciting soft sighs in response.
Shane watched them for a long moment, something warm and fond quietly settling in his chest.
Ridiculous. Both of them.
His expression softened into a small smile anyway.
Carefully setting his book aside, he pushed himself to his feet and headed toward the grill on the other side of the patio. The metal was still warm from the sun as he opened it up and started getting dinner ready.
Behind him, the yard stayed peaceful while his boyfriends were sleeping the rest of the afternoon away.
He knew exactly how this would go. In another half hour, they’d wake up overheated, starving, tangled around each other, and start asking about dinner.
Shane smiled to himself as the grill started heating up.
Some things would never change, but he wouldn’t want it any other way.