Work Text:
"I've noticed..."
"What?" Shane snapped his head in Ilya's direction. His scared eyes left nothing to the imagination.
"Calm down, silly boy." Ilya laughed. "I've noticed you prefer fewer lights. You squint your eyes a lot when we are on the rink"
"Oh," Ilya noticed the smallest things he didn't even imagine he was paying attention to. Like the fact that he only drank ginger ale and the way he liked to fold his clothes very neatly before starting every activity of his life. Order was important to him; it eased his anxiety. "It's...yeah, I have very sensitive eyes, and when I get home I just want to relax and be more Shane than Hollander"
Ilya was looking at him like he understood, like he could see through his words, his eyes, and his skin. It was a torment and a relief to be on the receiving end of that kind and understanding look. He wanted to run and hug Ilya in the exact same proportion.
The truth is, he felt seen with Ilya; he felt free to be himself, to be as weird as he pleased, and that level of comfort was special to him because thaitsn't common in his life. Despite what the whole hockey world might think, Shane Hollander was lonely. Not because of a lack of people wanting to be close to him, there was plenty of that. He just didn't make connections as easily as other people around him. His world consisted mostly of his parents, Hayden, and...Oh, Illya.
He hadn't thought of it this way till now. Suddenly, Illya was everywhere, and he was scared of what that meant.
"You can...do that with me if you want. You can be Shane with me." Illya said, looking deeply into his eyes. The russian man had soul-piercing eyes, one look and Shane could even forget his name if he let himself go deep enough.
"Thank you...Illya," Shane whispered his name while looking down, too afraid to stare at those eyes. He liked the way it rolled off his tongue so naturally, as it belonged there.
Illya touched his chin very lightly to make Shane look at him, and when he looked up to the face he loved since he was eighteen, he saw only softness, nothing of the weirded out stare he had imagined. Maybe here, in their bubble, they could be Shane and Illya, no last names, no hockey, no fear.
“Do you have ginger ale?” Shane asked.
Illya must have found him very amusing for some reason because he laughed loudly, his head going back and exposing his beautiful neck, “Yeah, I do…I have a lot on the fridge.”
“Seriously?” Shane's eyes lit up. Shane would only drink ginger ale if he could; it was his comfort drink. When he was feeling brave, he drank a beer or two, but it was mostly when he felt some liquid courage was needed.
Illya nodded and smiled at him, the corners of his mouth going up involuntarily. That look he only ever saw directed at him, the one that gave him hope. Of something. Anything that Illya was willing to give to him.
Shane went to the kitchen, smiling the whole way. When he opened the fridge, he noticed that it was fully stocked and freakishly organized. Just the way he liked.
“Wow!” He exclaimed.
“Is it up to your standards, Mr.Shane?”
“Shut up, Rozanov!” Shane said, not being able to hold his smile in.
Shane took a can of ginger ale and went to Ilya’s exaggeratedly large sofa. Ginger ale tasted like home and his childhood. It reminded him of when he was a kid and refused to drink anything else. Everything else tasted wrong, and ginger ale was like the liquid made by the Gods themselves. He was feeling comfortable in a way he hadn't in a long time while being away from his home.
Shane was feeling the delayed sleep getting to him. Illya's skin was warm and comfy. He didn't mean to cuddle the russian man, but Shane, in his sleepy state, had the tendency to lose his most anxious traits when he was truly feeling safe. It was just a one-time thing. He was sure one cuddle session would be enough.
“Feeling comfy there?”
“Hmm…yeah. I like it”
Illya smiled.
“What do you like, Hollander?”
“When you do exactly that.”
“What?” Illya started touching Shane’s hair very lightly to see his reaction. Shane got even closer, sighing softly.
“When you ask me stuff and how you never force me to do or be anything…It’s nice.”
“Who does that to you?” Illya frowned.
“Everyone.” Shane’s eyes were closed, but it was still so visible how saying that hurt him.
“I’m sorry, Shane…that’s no way to live.”
“You get used to it.”
“You shouldn’t…and God knows I should follow my own advice too, but you deserve better.”
Shane felt like crying. No one had ever said these things to him before.
“Thank you, Ilya,” Shane whispered in a sleepy voice while he squeezed Illya’s body. Ilya was caressing his arm with one hand and his hair with the other. His hands were warm and comforting on his skin, soothing the pain of a life of pretending, even if just for a moment. Shane whispered in a sleepy voice while he squeezed Illya’s body. Shane wished he could say more, be more eloquent, and have the conversations he knew he wanted to, but he knew he wasn’t ready, and for the first time in a long time, Shane felt it was ok to do things according to his own rhythm. To let his body dictate his actions without fighting so hard against it. In his experience, when it came to this type of affection with anyone else, he always wanted to run away and crawl away from his own skin. His body was in perpetual tension. His muscles were always ready to exit when human interaction was way too much.
Not now. Not while being embraced by Ilya’s arms.
He felt serene.
He has always been quiet, but not by choice, as everyone assumed; he just didn’t know how to navigate the world as effortlessly as everyone seemed to know how to do. His silence was hurtful at times; there were so many times he wished he could be just like his peers, but he knew deep down he wasn’t. With his family and Hayden, his general behavior didn't feel as weird; he could breathe properly when he was with them. And as much as it felt scary, it was nice to feel the same very rare feeling with Ilya too.
He felt safe.
It might not last, but in that moment, he wanted to pretend only he and Illya existed and his very calculated world was protected.
Respected.
Safe.
And even cherished.