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"That is objectively the most ridiculous thing to eat for breakfast. Your Russian heart will explode from all the cholesterol, and I'll be left behind a widower at the tender age of thirty-two."
Ilya grinned at Shane around a mouthful of food. "First of all, it's 1pm. We're officially in lunch territory. Yes, yes," he added with a wave, "it's my fault that we're late." He winked across the table without an ounce of remorse.
Shane felt himself blush furiously as he remembered what exactly they had been up to the entire morning. His body still ached pleasantly.
"And second," Ilya continued, "you should try this — it's fantastic!"
His breakfast poutine had come with steak, peppers, onions, three different kinds of cheese, over-easy eggs, chipotle hollandaise, and guacamole. On top of that, he had ordered extra bacon, sweet sausage, chorizo, and pulled pork — basically every variety of meat the diner had on the menu.
"Ilya. They had to serve this… this culinary monstrosity in an extra large bowl! And if that wasn't enough to clue you in, they took a picture of you with your absurd order!"
"Yes, because I'm famous and cool and they love me. Good publicity for the diner, you know."
"I'm famous, too!" Shane pouted in mock annoyance.
"You ordered salmon bagel and salad. That killed your cred. But they are nice people here and let you be in the picture anyway." Ilya held his chocolate milkshake out to Shane. "Want a sip? To help against boring?"
"You're unbelievable." Shane chose not to mention that he only ordered the salmon bagel because they were in the off-season, otherwise it would have been salad with chicken breasts. "Just eat your cholesterol bomb."
"You're bossy," Ilya griped, shoving another forkful into his mouth.
Shane followed his lead and elegantly speared a cucumber. He let his mind wander for a moment, savoring the rich taste of the blue cheese dressing.
"What's so funny?"
Shane caught Ilya side-eyeing him and realized that he was smiling. "Oh, it's nothing."
"You're cracking up over nothing, Hollander? Should I be worried?"
"Well, it's not nothing. I just thought about how I brought Jessica to a diner very much like this one when we went on our first date."
Ilya's face split in a wide grin. "Oh, I wanna hear! Tell me more about baby Shane going on his first date ever!"
"Shut up! I wasn't baby Shane, I was seventeen!" Shane's cheeks bloomed with a fresh blush, which he knew would only make Ilya tease him more.
"I'm sorry, moy pomidor." Ilya schooled his face into an earnest expression, which he had visible difficulty maintaining. The corners of his lips betrayed him, twitching up. "That is, of course, a very respectable age. Please, tell me where wise seventeen-year-old Shane Hollander took his fair lady Jessica on a romantic rendezvous."
Shane squirmed for a moment, but he knew the look on Ilya's face. His husband was not letting this go.
"Fine," he sighed dramatically. "I brought flowers, picked her up at five, we had dinner, went to the movies, then I brought her back home. It was really nothing spectacular. I had honestly no idea what I was doing." The memory felt so far away that it could have been somebody else's. A different life.
Ilya looked at him with a giddy grin. "Did you have sex that night?"
"What? No!"
"Why not?"
"God, Ilya! We were just two kids on our very first date! I didn't even kiss her on the mouth when I brought her back home! What kind of dates did you go on when you were seventeen?"
"The kind that involved sex, obviously."
Shane couldn't stop himself from groaning. "Obviously. What was I even thinking?" He smiled affectionately at his husband. "I'm curious, though. What do young Russians do on dates?"
Ilya took a sip of his milkshake. "Pretty much the same as Canadians, I suppose."
"Where did you go on your first date ever?"
Ilya's smile faltered in a way that didn't make sense to Shane. He stabbed his hollandaise-covered fries, popped them in his mouth, and chewed listlessly. Which in itself was a bad sign; Ilya loved fries.
"Hey." Shane tried to catch his husband's gaze. "Did I say something wrong?" He put a hand over Ilya's where it rested on the table.
Ilya swallowed, then looked up at Shane with a sigh. "No, it's okay." He hesitated. "I just — I don't think I've ever been on the kind of date you went on."
Shane stared at his husband, dumbfounded. "You're kidding, right?"
Ilya pulled his hand away. "Forget it."
"Hey. It's okay. I'm not making fun of you!" Shane reached out and cupped Ilya's cheek. "Really. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to tell."
They both returned to their food for the moment. Shane waited. He knew that this kind of no-pressure approach usually led to Ilya opening up.
Sure enough, Ilya put his fork down and leaned back in his seat. "It's true. I've never been on a date."
"We've gone on plenty of dates," Shane reminded him.
"Yes, but we were already a couple then. I've never been on a date with someone I was just getting to know."
"But you had other dates, right? The ones with all the sex?" Shane couldn't quite refrain from a little teasing.
Ilya shot him a dirty look — which, fair enough, Shane deserved. "They weren't dates, exactly. Things just… happened."
"In my experience, they didn't." Then again, Shane had never gone out of his way looking for trouble.
Ilya absentmindedly stirred his milkshake with a straw, lost in his thoughts for a moment.
"Come on a date with me," Shane blurted out, surprising even himself.
Ilya held up his hand and wiggled his fingers, letting the sunlight catch on his wedding ring. "Hollander, we're married, in case you've forgotten. That ship has sunk."
Shane burst out laughing. "God, I hope not!"
"Huh?"
"The saying is "that ship has sailed". Sunk is for when something has failed spectacularly. I kind of think we haven't, don't you?"
Ilya's whole face lit up with a warm smile. "No, we really haven't."
"So go on a first date with me. We pretend that we have just met, ask each other questions, and get to know each other. Would you like that?"
Ilya cocked his head, considering Shane's offer. "Where would you take me?"
"I'm not ruining the surprise! But it will be someplace nice, promise!" Shane was already mentally going through his favorite restaurants in Ottawa, trying to think of one they hadn't tried together yet.
They paid for their food and stepped out of the diner into the afternoon sun. A rare free day together lay before them, with zero plans and endless opportunities. They linked arms and started walking back home.
"Just for the record: we have finally found something sex-related where I'm ahead of you," Shane said, bumping Ilya's shoulder lightly with his own.
"A date without sex?" Ilya laughed. "Sure, Hollander, you can have that one."
"No, a first date with someone you like."
"That doesn't count."
"It does, and you know it."
"Fine," Ilya grumbled, "it counts." They separated briefly to step around a fresh puddle and met on the other side again. "Will you bring me flowers for our first date?"
Two days later, they sat in a cozy booth in Shane's favorite steakhouse.
"So tell me," Ilya said as the waiter brought their drinks, "is there an English word for two guys who have been hooking up for years, then fell in love, then got outed, and then went on a first date two years into their marriage?"
"Hmmmm… How about, weird?"
"I think we can come up with something better." Ilya twirled one of his curls around his finger. "So, Shawn, what do you do for a living?"
"Uh, it's Shane, actually."
Ilya shot him a playful smile. "Oops, that's awkward."
"It's okay." Shane took a sip of his Chianti. "I play hockey for the Centaurs."
Ilya made huge eyes at him. "Oh, wow! Like a hockey superstar?"
Shane considered his answer for a second. "No, just a regular hockey player."
"Are you good?"
"I'm alright. Pays the bills, you know?"
They locked eyes and burst out laughing the next moment.
"Wait, wait," Ilya wheezed, trying to catch his breath. "I can be serious about this first date thing. Just — " He took a deep breath and blew it out through his mouth. "Okay. Serious now. Ask me something."
"Where are you from, Ilya?"
"Noticed my accent, have you?"
"Your English is excellent, but — yes, I noticed."
Ilya held Shane's eyes without blinking. "I'm Estonian."
Huh? Shane almost said something, but quickly remembered that they had agreed to pretend that this was their first date and they didn't know anything about each other.
"I have never met anyone from Estonia."
"We Estonians are very fun guys."
"And what do you do, Ilya from Estonia?"
"I'm a personal trainer."
"Really?"
"Yes. I make big tough guys cry big fat tears in the gym. Is fun."
Their steaks arrived, and Shane poured them more wine. He wondered briefly if he should ask Ilya about his answers, but then decided to keep up their premise.
The rest of the dinner passed in light conversation. They traded easy questions about hobbies, books, movies - just two guys on a first date getting to know each other.
"Would you like some dessert?" Shane asked.
Ilya's brows shot up in surprise. "Dessert? Really?"
Shane beamed back at him. "I finished my asparagus, so I've earned it!"
"Uh, sure. Just — I thought you might be on a performance diet or something. Some athletes do that crazy shit, you know?"
"I'm a wild one." Shane winked suggestively, enjoying the effect it had on Ilya. "Besides, it's off-season."
After dinner, they walked along the Rideau Canal, arms linked, enjoying the balmy summer breeze and the nighttime city. Shane marveled at how easy and comfortable he felt, being outside with Ilya in public, walking so close together that their shoulders touched. It hadn't been that long ago that he'd thought those things would not be possible, at least not for a long time.
In a sudden surge of emotion, he squeezed Ilya's arm. "Thank you for agreeing to go on a date with me. I'm glad we did this."
"So am I. Thank you for asking me." Ilya paused briefly. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"You took Jessica to the movies, but not me. Why?"
Shane gave a quiet chuckle. "You know what would have happened if we were in a dark movie theater for that long."
"Hm… I really don't." It would have been a lot more convincing if Ilya hadn't been grinning.
Shane decided to play along. "If you must know, I wouldn't have been able to keep my hands off you. That might've been a bit much for our first date, don't you think?"
Ilya stopped and turned to face Shane. "I wouldn't have minded."
Lit from behind by the street lamps, Ilya looked like he had a halo around him, while his eyes remained dark and mysterious. Shane was momentarily caught off guard by this reminder of how beautiful his husband was. "Neither would I, but I promised you a first date experience, so—"
"Shane. I would really like to kiss you."
Shane brought up one hand and brushed back a curl behind Ilya's ear. "Yeah, same." His hand lingered on Ilya's cheek as they drew closer together until their breaths mingled. And despite all the hookups in the never-ending hotel rooms, despite the years of driving between Montréal and Ottawa, despite the blissful familiarity of marriage — in this moment before their lips touched, Shane Hollander had butterflies in his stomach.
The kiss was just a soft brush of lips, tender and innocent in a way that made Shane's chest ache. It was perfect.
"Wow… Just like I imagined," he whispered as they broke apart.
"Are you going to swoon?" Little sparks of mischief danced in Ilya's eyes. "Don't worry, I'm strong enough to catch you."
"I think I'm fine." Shane huffed out a little laugh, then added in a softer voice, "You're a really good kisser."
"I have a very skilled tongue. Just one of my many talents."
"Modesty is clearly not one of them," Shane swatted him lightly as they both giggled.
"Can I ask you something else?" Ilya said as they started walking again.
"Sure."
"Earlier, you said you're just a regular hockey player. Why?"
"Oh, you know how it is," Shane kept his tone light. "It's our first date. I wanted you to like me for me, not for my fame and money."
"You know I never cared about that, right?"
"I know, Ilya," he sighed. "I'm grateful for everything I have. I really am. Sometimes I just wish I could go back to the time before all the expectations, when I played hockey purely for the fun of the game." They walked in silence for a while before Shane spoke up again. "Earlier, you said you're Estonian. Why?"
"Hollander…" Like every time this topic came up, Ilya sounded tired.
"I mean, I know why." Shane was painfully aware that it had been increasingly difficult for Ilya to identify with Russia in the past few years. "But is it that bad that you'd rather people not know where you're from?"
Ilya was silent for a moment. "It makes things awkward with people who've just met me. I say I'm Russian, and they jump to conclusions. For them, I'm an unknown variable, an undefined threat. And I get that. They don't know how much I hate everything that's been happening. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to prove that I'm not like that when I meet someone new."
Shane knew there wasn't much he could do, but it didn't stop him from wishing he could somehow help. "For what it's worth, you don't have to prove anything to me."
"Well, this is me." Ilya turned around on the porch of their house to face Shane. "It was sweet of you to give me a ride."
"Of course. A gentleman always makes sure his date gets home safe." Shane's lips twitched at the amused look on Ilya's face. "Is it a good time to evaluate how the date went? Do I have a chance at a second date?"
"Hmmm…" Ilya cocked his head, imitating deep thought. "Yes, I think so, probably," he answered, using their insider line. "Although," he added with a sly smirk, "your chances would have been even better if you had brought me flowers."
"Ah. About that — " Shane held up a cardboard box he'd hidden in the car. He opened it and produced a cactus in a cheery orange pot. "This is for you."
Ilya stared at the plant in confusion. "It's a cactus. I thought you were going to give me flowers?"
"Well," Shane said, thoroughly enjoying Ilya's bewilderment, "a cactus can bloom if you take good care of it."
"So you're giving me botany project?"
"Don't tell me you're afraid of a little commitment to your new spiky friend."
Ilya took the pot from Shane's hands and studied it, frowning. "Is it a Canadian thing?"
"No, it's a Shane-and-Ilya thing. I just thought about what you were like when we first met."
Ilya blinked at him like an owl that had been rudely awoken in the middle of the day. "I was a cactus?"
"Yes, a little. You were prickly and aloof. A little unapproachable. It took me a while to see past that and realize that you, too, needed water and sun and care to bloom."
"That is maybe the sappiest thing I've ever heard."
"Oh yeah?" Shane grinned and took a step closer. "What is the Russian word for cactus?"
"It's the same as in English. Why?"
Shane took another step; their chests were almost touching now. "Ty moy samyy lyubimyy kaktus."
Ilya snaked his free hand around Shane's waist and drew him closer. "Did you just call me your favorite cactus in Russian?"
Ilya's lips were only an inch away now. Shane could smell mousse au chocolat on his breath. "Yes, I believe I did."
He'd fully intended to make it a sweet, respectful goodnight kiss. That plan crumbled when Ilya sighed happily and let his tongue trace Shane's lips. They tasted and explored, lingering in the moment, giddy with excitement when they pulled apart.
"Wow, you didn't oversell it: you do have a talented tongue." If Ilya could be shameless, so could Shane.
"I'll gladly show you more on our second date."
"Sounds like a plan! I had a great night, Ilya."
"Yes, same."
"Well, then." Shane smiled and took a few steps back. "Goodnight, Ilya. Sleep well!"
He turned around and started walking away, hands tucked into his pockets. He only made it a few paces before Ilya called out after him.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Shane turned around, grinning. "Oh, I just wanted to stay in my role and give you a proper end of the first date. I was going to walk around for a bit and then come home."
Ilya held the front door open. "Hollander, get in!"
"See?" Ilya stroked Shane's bare thigh under the sheets. "I told you, you can't ruin a good date with good sex."
"Mhmm." Shane's brain was still too fuzzy to think of a suitable counterargument.
"Soooo," Ilya drawled after a while, "was this date better than the one with Jessica?"
"Oh my god, Ilya!" Shane pushed him playfully. "I'm gay. We're married. You can't possibly be jealous!"
"I want to know how I did." Ilya's pout was audible in his voice.
"Give it a rest, will you?"
"Fine," Ilya replied with a petulant huff.
Shane let him squirm, smirking the entire time before finally saying, "It was the best."