Archive of Our Own

1.

Ilya wouldn’t say he has always been the most observant. He’s almost always been fairly good at reading Shane, but that’s a practiced skill. Other things, his perceptiveness has always varied. But since becoming a father, something has changed. Having a daughter means being on constant alert — ensuring she’s safe, her needs are met, she’s looked after. It’s eased up a bit as she’s gotten older, because she’s capable of making those needs known now, but he’s still better at noticing things.

Which is why the force with which his daughter shuts the front door as she returns home from school instantly puts him on high alert. She doesn't slam it, but it's enough for him to notice that something is off.

His thumb freezes on his phone screen mid-scroll. 

“Malyshka (Babygirl)?” he calls. Mina’s feet freeze. He can’t see her, but he’s certain she’s in front of the stairs, about to go up them. Normally, she would come into the kitchen, which was attached to the living room, and get a snack, which would turn into her ignoring her homework in favor of affectionately bothering Ilya. 

A solid ten seconds of silence pass, and his daughter has not appeared. If their stairs weren’t so creaky, she likely would’ve tried to sneak away.

“Come here, please,” he says.

Soft footsteps pad towards the living room. When she rounds the corner, her face is purposely blank. It’s an expression that Ilya has seen on Shane countless times. It means that something is wrong, and she probably should talk about it, even if she may not particularly want to.

“How was school?” he asks innocently, studying her reactions with care.

Her shoulders are tense. “Fine.”

“Yes?” he asks. “Which classes did you have today?” They have something called a block schedule, which means each day alternates between odd and even period classes.

Her eyes flick away. “It was an odd day, so English, Calculus, Gym, and Photography.” Her voice just barely hesitates when she says Calculus, meaning whatever she’s upset about probably happened in that class. Ilya knows she hates it. Hell, he hates it, too, just from the times he’s watched Shane help her with homework.

“Ah,” he nods. “You had math test recently, yes? How was it?”

Her jaw clenches, which tells Ilya she’s close to breaking. She’ll either shut him down and make an excuse to leave, or she’ll crack and tell him what’s wrong. He’ll accept either, but he sincerely hopes for the latter. “Uh, yeah. Two days ago. It was fine. We’ll get the results back next week.”

“Ah, good, good,” he says. “Anything else happen today, then?”

Slowly, her eyes trail back to him. He tries to make himself seem reassuring and caring, giving her a small smile, and it must work because her lower lip just barely begins to tremble, and her eyes fill with tears. Ilya sits up, concern washing over him. “Malyshka,” he says softly, holding a hand out. “Come, come. What is wrong?”

Mina’s bag falls to the ground with a thump, and she crosses the room, her tears spilling over. Ilya pats the couch beside him, and she instantly falls onto the cushion, leaning into him. His arm curls around her shoulders. “What is wrong, my baby?” he asks again.

Mina sniffles, wiping her tears away as more fall. “Jake broke up with me. In Calculus. Like, we finished working on our assignment, and he just looks at me and says that we’re over because he has a thing for Sarah.”

Ilya blinks, trying to rack his brain for a Sarah. He never knew he would become so privy to a bunch of teenage girl gossip in his retirement, but he’s heard all of it. “Wait… is that the one that said your dress for fall dance was ugly?”

“Yes!” Mina exclaims through another sob. “She’s such a— she’s so mean.”

“I will kill this Jake,” Ilya decides. Her shoulders shake as she continues to cry, and Ilya sighs softly. “Come here, sweetheart.”

He sits back, directing her legs over his thighs so that he can wrap her up in a little ball, shielding her from the world. “I am so sorry, my sweet girl,” he murmurs. “Is okay. I have you.” He holds her to his chest, one arm curled around her back, the other around the tops of her shins.

His heart aches in his chest at the sound of her sobbing and sniffles. He hates this. His perfect baby should never have to feel heartbreak, even if it’s a thing that every human experiences. He wishes he could shelter her from every kind of pain, as unrealistic as that may be.

“You will be okay, my baby,” he whispers. She lifts her head, wiping her fingers across her cheeks again. Her mascara is now smudged just a bit beneath her eyes. 

“I feel so stupid,” she says weakly. “Crying over a boy. This is so stupid.”

Ilya hums softly. “Is not stupid,” he says. “You know, your dad has made me cry before.”

Mina frowns, sniffling hard as she blinks at Ilya. Her lashes stick together in dark spikes, almost reminding Ilya of Shane. “Really?” she asks, her voice thick.

“Yes,” Ilya nods. “And sadly, I have made him cry, too. Sometimes, people hurt the people they care about. Is usually an accident, but it happens. What matters is how they apologize, and how they change so that they never hurt you like that again.”

“I don’t think Jake can apologize for this,” she whispers, looking down at her fingers. Her nails are painted dark purple — the same shade as Ilya’s toenails, because she wanted them to match. 

“Then he is not the right boy for you,” Ilya says. “The right person will listen when they hurt you, and they will make sure you never hurt like that again. If someone does not care enough to make sure they listen, you look them in the eyes and you say go fuck yourself.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of Mina. Ilya grins at the sound of it. “What will you tell them? Let me hear it,” he says. She sniffles again and looks up through her lashes, her eyes already seeming a little brighter.

“I tell them to go fuck themself,” she repeats, smiling softly.

“Very good, malyshka. Do not tell your dad I let you say that, though,” he whispers, making her laugh again. Her smile doesn’t last long, but at least her tears seem to be gone.

“Class is going to be so weird now,” she groans. “This sucks. Is it too late to drop out?”

“Mm, yes,” Ilya nods. “But you will go in and you will pretend they do not matter. You will remember that you are better than them, because you are good and because you care about people. And because you are not a person that breaks up with someone in fucking Calculus, like that is so horrible.”

“Right?” she exclaims, gesturing uselessly at the air. “God, I should’ve listened to Alexis when she said don’t date a guy with a J name.”

“A what?” 

“Like, a name that starts with J. Jacob, Jason, Jack, Jake, Joe. Apparently, it’s, like, universally known that they all suck, or something.”

“Interesting,” Ilya says. “I will not allow any J name boys to come near you. Is same for girls?”

“No, I think it’s just guys.” As far as Ilya knows, his daughter isn’t even into girls, but hey, it can't hurt to check who to be on the lookout for. 

Ilya stores this away in his ever-growing mental folder of teenage girl information, alongside YouTube drama videos, countless pop stars, and sports romance books. He carefully swipes his thumb beneath one of her eyes, then the other, trying not to smudge her mascara further. Then he dries her cheeks, grinning at her freckles. 

“You will be okay, Meanie Beanie.”

Mina snorts. “Oh, my God, do not bring that nickname back.”

“Why not? Is so cute.”

“Maybe when I was, like, six.”

Ilya softens. It’s impossible to think about how she was six years old eleven years ago. “Sometimes you are still that little to me,” he admits softly. “I am both so excited for you to grow up, and so scared. I miss my little beanie, yes?”

Mina curls back up to his chest, tucking her head under his chin. Ilya wraps his arms all the way around her again. “Thank you, Papa,” she whispers. He kisses her head.

“You’re welcome, malyshka. Ya tebya lyubyu (I love you).”

She echoes the words back just as the front door opens again. Shane’s familiar footsteps walk down the hall, and when he rounds the corner holding a reusable grocery bag that looks heavy enough to break the straps, he grins at the sight of them. And then he seems to notice whatever remnants of Mina’s sadness remain, his brows furrowing. “Hey,” he says cautiously. “Everything okay?”

Ilya grins. “We are just talking about how boys are sooo dumb.”

Shane hums shortly. “Oh. You should’ve come to me. I have lots of experience with dumb boys.”

He heads to the kitchen as Ilya calls out, “What do you mean boys? More than one? What other dumb boys do you know, Shane? Should only be one.”

The way Mina presses her face into Ilya’s shirt to smother her laughter probably gets wet mascara on the fabric, but he doesn’t care. He holds her closer anyway, until she tells him to let go.

2.

Shane is trying really, really hard to keep it together. Mina is only seven minutes over her allotted evening screen time, and if it weren’t for the way her fingers are flying over her keyboard and her jaw was tense, he would’ve told her to get off the phone by now. 

Ilya was too busy on the phone with David, confirming secret plans for Yuna’s birthday, to notice that it was now 7:08 pm, otherwise he would’ve been the first to say something, regardless of their daughter’s mood. Shane’s eyes glaze uselessly over the words in his book, intermittently flicking back to the clock. When it hits ten after, Shane caves, taking off his glasses. 

“It’s past seven, bug,” he says. “You have two hours of homework time.”

Mina’s dark eyes flick over in his direction for a split second, her thumbs still typing as she does. She sinks further into the couch, ignoring him. Shane blinks. “Mina.”

“Just give me a minute,” she snaps. 

Shane’s fingers tighten on his book. Out of him and Ilya, Shane tends to be the one who’s a bit stricter, but he still hates putting his foot down sometimes. But he can’t help it — they have rules for a reason, and Mina is usually pretty good at abiding by them. Clearly, whatever is happening on her phone is bothering her, and maybe if he were Ilya, he could ask the right questions to get to the bottom of it, but he doesn’t understand the workings of teenage girl brains the way his husband does. 

He could let it be and give her another few minutes, but he has a feeling whatever is going on is probably not something that’s going to be over anytime soon. Plus, if she’s so upset, it would probably be best for her to step away for a bit anyway. And she seriously does need to do her homework. 

“It’s already past seven,” he says, trying not to sound irritated. 

“Yep,” she nods once. 

Shane waits. “Your screen time ends from seven to nine.”

“I said give me a minute,” she huffs again. 

It’s been a minute since she first told Shane to give her a minute, but that feels redundant to point out. He stares at her as she types. Another thirty seconds pass. 

“You have homework.”

“Jesus, Dad, I know,” she snaps. This time, it’s loud enough for Ilya to notice. He obviously begins saying goodbye to David, but Shane subtly waves him off. He can do this. 

“Your math grade will drop if you keep missing homework, and you’re already well over your time limit,” he says. There. Reminding her what’s important and of the rules, and his tone is easy and firm. He killed that. 

Mina shoots up off the couch. “Oh, my God!” she says hotly, her voice rising. “Not all of us are as neurotic and uptight about schedules and shit as you! Sometimes, there are things more important than books, or whatever.”

Her footsteps carry through the house as she stomps away, heading up the stairs. Shane looks blankly at the spot she just vacated. Okay, so maybe he did not kill that. He shuts his book just as Ilya steps up behind the couch, bending down to get closer to Shane’s eye level. “Are you okay?” he asks softly. 

Shane shifts in place, something akin to shame washing over him. He just got yelled at by a 17-year-old. How had he fucked that up so badly to not only fail at calming her down, but actually make her anger worse? He wasn’t even sure what exactly he’d done. Maybe he’d been a little annoying about the screen time, but he had reason to be.  

Shane tilts his head back when Ilya runs a hand through his hair. “Was I too… much?” he asks. “I don’t…” He trails off, frowning. 

“No, solnyshko (sunshine),” Ilya says, kissing his forehead. “You were fine. She is being a brat.”

“She’s just upset about something.”

“Does not give her reason to yell at you,” Ilya says firmly. He stands. “I will talk to her.”

Shane reaches over the back of the couch, grabbing Ilya’s wrist. “No, let her calm down first,” he says, trying to be reasonable after he was the cause of her outburst. 

“Ah, no,” Ilya says. Now that he’s made sure Shane is okay, Shane can see that Ilya is angry. He gently shakes his wrist free of Shane’s grip. “No one speaks to my husband this way.”

—

Ilya ascends the stairs softly, trying to rein in his anger. Considering his daughter is already mad, they will just butt heads if he goes in there matching that energy. But he needs her to know that behavior, no matter what is going on, is unacceptable. Especially towards her own father.

He knocks twice before cracking the door open. “I am coming in,” he says, though he waits for a response. He is coming in, but this is still her space, and he will not barge in with zero respect. She doesn’t answer, so he says, “Mina.”

“Fine!” she says, scoffing. Ilya pushes the door open, stepping in and shutting it behind him. She’s cross-legged on her bed, pink headphones around her neck. Ilya feels like he’s facing off with himself, looking at her defiant glare.  

“I see you are not in the mood, so you will just listen and I will talk,” he says firmly, daring her to object. She waves her hand, urging him on. 

“You are allowed to be angry, or in bad mood, or whatever this is. Is normal, you are human,” Ilya says. “But you are not allowed to take it out on someone else like that. You are not allowed to yell at your father.”

“He was being crazy,” she says, flinging her arm towards the door like she’s gesturing towards Shane. “I’m dealing with something, obviously, and he’s talking about homework!”

“Yes, because you are high school student who has time in her day for homework,” Ilya shoots back. “But even if there is something more important going on, you use your words, malyshka.”

“I did!”

“No, you snap at your dad and say give me a minute. That is rude, and it does not tell him what is going on that may be more important than homework.”

“Obviously, it was more important—“

“Maybe,” Ilya interrupts, “but we are not mind readers. If you are upset or dealing with something, you say I’m in a bad mood and I need some time before homework. Or you say this is very important, can I have a little more time to deal with this? You do not call your dad mean words because he is reminding you of rules that you agree to.”

At that, some of the fire in Mina’s gaze dies. Ilya softens with it. “Just because you are mad does not mean you can hurt people. You know this,” he says.

“Yeah,” Mina grumbles softly. Guilt clouds her features, but Ilya can see that she’s still moody from whatever is going on inside that phone of hers. She takes off her headphones, moving to get up. “I’ll say sorry.”

“Ah, not yet,” Ilya says before she’s even out of bed. “You will calm down first. You hurt your dad, and he deserves good apology. So stay here, finish dealing with whatever is going on if that will help you calm down. You are lucky I am not taking your phone and making you do homework, but I do not think that will help. But by eight o’clock, you will start your homework.”

Mina frowns, looking down at her phone. “No, here,” she says, rolling her eyes and handing it over. “Having this isn’t— I’m only going to stay angry if I keep checking it.”

Ilya slips it into his pocket, resisting the urge to question her. He will later, but he wants her focus to be on calming down for now. At least until Shane gets his apology. “Okay,” Ilya says. “Just relax then. Come down when you are ready to say sorry. Make sure it is good apology, malyshka. This is my husband that you are hurting.”

Mina nods, sitting back in her bed with her arms crossed over her chest. Ilya leaves her then, pausing outside of her bedroom door and taking a slow breath. He thinks he did okay in there. He didn’t raise his voice. She never looked scared of him, which is always something he watches closely for when they argue. He doesn’t think he’s the type to seem physically threatening since retirement — the only people who ever really feared him were players on the ice who mainly knew his persona — and obviously he would never hurt or try to scare her. But Ilya can’t erase the years of fear he felt when he faced his own father. Even though Ilya is so different from that man, he never wants to see that look in his daughter’s eyes, even when he has to be strict. 

Shane is still on the sofa, his eyes snapping to Ilya when he returns to the living room. He’s chewing on his thumbnail, an obvious sign of stress. Ilya sinks into the couch beside him and pulls his hand away from his mouth. “Stop that, solnyshko.”

“Is she okay?” 

“She will be fine,” he says softly. “Once she is calm, she will come say sorry.”

“She doesn’t have to—“ Shane cuts himself off when Ilya tilts his head. They both know Mina does need to apologize. Even if Shane had been pushy or nagging, it still wasn’t okay for Mina to lash out the way she did, and they both know this. 

“Okay,” Shane concedes, leaning into Ilya’s chest. Ilya wraps his arm around Shane’s shoulder, kissing his head. 

“Are you okay?” he asks softly. 

Shane hesitates. “I don’t know,” he whispers. “I know that I’m… uptight about certain things. I don’t know how to not be. I’m not trying to, like, control her.”

“Sweetheart, please,” Ilya shakes his head. “You were reminding her about homework time that she agreed to. She should have listened, or told you in a better way that something on her phone was important. You are not controlling her.”

Shane exhales slowly. “Okay,” he whispers after a while. Ilya swipes the remote from the cushion beside them and turns on some boring house-hunting show that Shane likes. They get through almost an entire episode when Ilya just barely hears the stairs creak. He turns the volume down just as Mina enters the living room. Ilya’s lips almost twitch into a smile. 

She’s playing dirty, wearing a Centaurs hoodie with a big 24 on the back beneath Shane’s last name. She comes to a stop in front of them, her fingers twisting together. Her eyes only briefly meet Shane’s, before they flit away again. 

“I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier,” she says softly. “That… wasn’t cool of me.”

Shane sits up straighter. “It’s okay, honey.”

But Mina shakes her head, her lips twitching downwards. “No, it was really mean. You didn’t deserve it, and I’m sorry.” She glances at Ilya, then back to Shane. “I should’ve just explained that I was dealing with something. I’m sorry.”

Shane shifts away from Ilya, who mourns the warmth immediately. “Come sit,” Shane says, patting the new space between them. Mina squishes herself between her fathers, leaning against Shane.

“M’sorry, dad,” she murmurs, so softly that Ilya barely hears it. 

“It’s okay,” Shane says again. “I’m not mad. We’ll communicate better next time, okay?”

Mina nods, and Ilya watches as Shane wraps her up in a tight hug, kissing her dark hair. Over her head, his eyes lock with Ilya’s. 

“And I did my homework,” Mina says. “Well, half. I looked at the Calc stuff and decided to wait to torture myself.”

“I can help you with it, if you want,” Shane says. 

“Yeah,” Mina whispers. “I wanted to ask, but I wasn’t sure if…”

Shane kisses her head again. “I’ll always help you, bug.”

Ilya picks up her hand from where it’s resting on her dark blue sweatpants, massaging her palm. “Wanna tell us why your phone was blowing up in my pocket until I muted it?”

Mina sighs. “Alexis has a new boyfriend and she keeps ditching me for him,” she says softly. “And I’m trying to tell her that it’s making me upset and angry, but she doesn’t care.”

“Why do you think she doesn’t care?” Shane asks. They’ve met Alexis countless times, and she’s a good friend to their daughter, so it’s surprising to hear that she doesn’t care about Mina’s feelings. 

“Well, she basically flat out said it. She said I’ll understand when I fall in love, which is bullshi— I mean, which is stupid, considering she’s been with this guy for, like, a month. It’s so irritating,” Mina rolls her eyes. She looks so much like Shane when she does that. “Like, I get you’re happy and that’s great but… you don’t have to ditch me over and over again. She was saying she doesn’t even know if she wants to come to the cottage this summer, because they might go to the beach! That’s, like, six months away!”

Ilya frowns. “Maybe is time to take a step back, malyshka. Give yourself some space, if she is not being a good friend.”

Mina huffs. “But that’s not fair,” she whines. “She was mine first. And her boyfriend isn’t even hot enough for her anyways, so.”

Ilya snorts, and Shane smacks his shoulder. “If she’s really your friend, maybe some space will make her realize you’re serious about how upset you are,” Shane tells her. “If she still doesn't care when she sees how she’s hurting you, maybe she’s not that good of a friend.”

Mina’s arms cross over her chest, and her lips press together tightly in frustration. Ilya can’t help but grin softly. 

“What are you smiling about?” Shane asks. Two pairs of dark eyes blink at him.

He just shakes his head. “You look like your dad when you make that face,” he says fondly. “I just love both of you very much.” 

Mina does her classic teenage girl eye roll, but she’s wearing the same melty smile as Shane, who reaches over to smooth his thumb over Ilya’s cheek. Ilya leans over and kisses Mina’s head, then kisses Shane’s mouth. “Go get your horrible math homework,” he tells her, “and we will help you.”

Mina lifts an eyebrow as she stands from the couch. “You mean dad will help while you pretend to supervise?”

“Yes, this is what I said.”

3.

Above anything, Ilya Rozanov is a fucking menace. He loves to be an annoying, irritating man who affectionately bothers the people he loves. Shane has been a victim of this their entire lives, even before they were technically together. Before he knew he loved Shane, he still loved to bother him — Shane was an easy target, sue him.

It took him a while to feel completely comfortable enough around Shane’s parents to annoy them properly, but he doesn’t hesitate now. He wouldn’t say that he loves Hayden Pike by any means, but he thoroughly enjoys bothering the shit out of him. Svetlana has also been a victim of Ilya’s irritating tendencies her entire life, though she’s just as annoying, actually.

But his favorite person to bother, by a landslide, is his daughter. Mina is so similar to Shane in the sense that she gets riled up so easily. Ilya, of course, knows what buttons to push, but she makes it so easy to push them.

He feels a little bit like a hunter creeping up on his prey, the way he tiptoes through the living room. She’s facing away from him, on a barstool at the island, her head in one hand as she stares at her laptop. She must be distracted because she doesn’t even turn when he missteps and the floor creaks quietly.

When he's right behind her, Ilya sticks his fingers into her sides suddenly, causing her to jump out of her skin. “Jesus Christ, Papa,” she says, her eyes wide and her hand on her chest. Ilya cackles, rounding the island.

“What are you doing?” he asks, nodding towards the laptop. It’s pink and covered in stickers, naturally.

“Trying to plan Alexis’s birthday weekend,” she sighs. “It’s… a lot.”

“Ah, what is the plan? Strippers, clubs, getting blackout drunk?” 

Her eyes flick up to his, unamused. “Hilarious,” she deadpans. “I’m not supposed to be the only one planning this, but…” She scoffs, flicking her hand off to the side as if to say whatever.

“Mm, I could help plan,” Ilya grins, knowing she’ll shoot that down instantly.

“No, thank you,” she says, shooting him down instantly. 

Ilya pouts playfully. “But me and Alexis are, like, besties,” he teases. “We love to, like, go shopping and talk about boys. Oh, my God, am I right, girl?”

Mina blinks at him. She has this expression that she stole right off of Shane’s face that’s almost a glare, but with less heat behind it. Blatantly unimpressed, very tired of Ilya’s shit. It’s his favorite expression because it means he’s doing his job right.

“You’re killing me,” she says, shaking her head. She sighs, turning her attention back to her laptop. 

“Malyshka, I would never kill you,” he says, his lips turning into an exaggerated frown. “I can not go to jail for murder. I cannot leave your dad as single parent, this would be so cruel.” 

Her eyes shut for a few seconds, but she seems determined to ignore him. Which, of course, means Ilya needs to step it up. He rounds the island again and falls onto the stool beside her, his arm pressing against hers. “And if I kill you, then obviously my bestie Alexis would not want to be my bestie anymore, and then I could not help you plan her birthday,” he says, leaning annoyingly close. “What are we doing with the girls?”

Mina takes a measured breath. “I am trying to plan out which vintage stores we should go to,” she says. There are at least three tabs open on the screen, and the notes app. God, she’s so much like Shane.

“Alexis is just as boring as Shane,” Ilya moans, dropping his head onto Mina’s shoulder. “Where are the clubs? Where are the bars? What about the—”

“Oh, my God, Papa,” she says, shaking him off her shoulder. “You are really not helping.”

There’s a note of frustration in her voice that catches Ilya’s attention, and he pulls everything back. She presses her palms over her face. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” she says immediately. “I’m just— I’m so overwhelmed, and this isn’t helping.”

In an instant, Ilya drops this act. “I am sorry, malyshka,” he says softly, running a hand up and down her back. “I was just teasing, I did not mean to make you more upset.”

“I know, I know,” she says, dropping her hands. “Like, any other time, it would be fine, or whatever. But I’m just… so stressed, and… yeah.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, leaning close to drop a small kiss to her shoulder. His eyes flick back to the screen. It is a lot going on, but admittedly, he is surprised that this seems to be enough to work her up so much. Normally, she loves planning. When they went on vacation to Rome last year, she’d taken over the entire itinerary and planned it out to the minute. And she’d loved every second of doing it. A simple birthday party should be nothing, which makes Ilya think…

“Is there anything else going on, sweetheart?” he asks. “Is it only this party that is making you stressed?” 

Her eyes flick towards him for a split second. Ah, he thinks. There is more going on.

“Well, our other friends aren’t really helping,” she says weakly. “So, it’s kind of all on me.”

“Mm, okay,” he says. “But you are Alexis’s best friend, so you are best person for this, no? And you love planning.”

“Yeah,” she whispers. She fiddles idly with her hoodie string.

“Is there something else?” he presses softly.

He watches her face closely. She chews on her bottom lip, her eyes scanning over her screen uselessly. He sits patiently, waiting for her to either dismiss his concerns for now or spill everything. After a moment, she slides her laptop back, shutting it halfway, before her body turns towards Ilya.

As soon as she looks at him, there’s something akin to fear that flickers through her eyes. She takes a slow breath, her gaze dropping to her fingers. “Um,” she whispers, her voice a little shaky. “I’ve been thinking lately, and I’m, uh…”

She pauses again. Ilya bumps her knee with his own gently. “Is just me, sweetheart,” he says softly. She nods immediately, like she knows this. 

“I think— well, no I know— or, I guess I’m pretty sure that I’m…” Her eyes flutter shut for a second before she looks at Ilya. Her voice is just barely audible when she says, “I’m… bisexual.”

At first, Ilya is so blinded by relief that he doesn’t even actually register the meaning of her words. He was so worried that she was going to say something horrible or upsetting. “Oh,” he murmurs. He blinks a few times. “That’s— baby, this is okay. You were… scared to tell me this? Of course, this is okay.”

She swallows roughly, her cheeks turning the barest shade of pink. “No, I mean… I knew it would be okay, I guess,” she says, clearing her throat. “But I guess I was just scared about, like… what it means for me, and actually saying it out loud. And I knew you’d be okay with it, but I thought, maybe, you might still… see me differently?”

Ilya’s lips twitch into a frown, and he reaches for her hands, holding both of hers between his. “You are my girl,” he says softly. “The most important thing in the world to me. Nothing will ever change this. Tell me you know this.”

She hesitates for just a second. “I know,” she says. “I know.”

“All I will ever care about your future partner is that they make you happy and treat you good,” he says seriously. “And maybe that they are not boy with a J name, but I can look past this if they are good boy.”

Mina huffs a tiny laugh. “I don’t know why I was so scared,” she shakes her head. “I guess my brain kept thinking of the worst scenarios, even if I knew they were crazy.”

“I am glad you told me, sweetheart. I am very proud of you,” he says, squeezing her hands. “Is this all that was bothering you?”

She shrugs lightly. “Mostly, yes,” she says. “I mean there’s school, and still some friend drama, and, like, other stuff with Alexis, but yeah. That was the big thing, I guess.”

“Then I am sorry you felt like you had to hide this, malyshka,” he says. “Of course, you are still my baby. This will never change.”

She smiles softly, nodding once. “Love you, Papa,” she whispers.

“Love you, my girl,” he whispers back. “And this means that we will get to annoy your dad by talking about girls.”

At that, the last of her tension melts away as she laughs for real. “I’ll talk about girls with you, and boys with him,” she says. “I mean, we already talk about boys anyway, so nothing new.”

Ilya narrows his eyes suspiciously. “You mean that you talk about boys, and he listens, yes?” Ilya asks.

“Right,” she says. “Well, mostly. Yeah.”

“Mostly.”

“I mean, there was that barista at Starbucks that he thought was hot…”

“What barista?” Ilya asks, sitting up straight. “Why would he think barista is hot when he has very rich, sexy husband? When was this? What Starbucks?”

Mina shrugs innocently. “The one on 7th Street, I think,” she says. “He had blue eyes—”

“I have blue eyes!”

Mina raises an eyebrow. “Your eyes are, like, hazel,” she says. “Like greeny-brown.”

“Yes, green is basically the same as blue, so I have blue eyes,” he says.

“Right, right,” Mina nods slowly. “And I think he had curly hair…”

“I have that! Why does he need to think someone else is hot when is basically same as me?” Ilya whines, frowning. 

“Well, this guy had dark hair—”

“I will dye my hair.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Mina rolls her eyes, smiling. “Anyway, um. Thanks for… you know.”

“Being proud of you?” Ilya supplies, batting his lashes annoyingly. “Loving you so, so much?”

“Yeah, that.”

Ilya grins, standing up to press a kiss to her head. “Of course, malyshka. That will never change.

Bonus (3.5)

“You know what your daughter says to me today?”

Shane looks up from his phone. He’s already tucked under the covers, responding to a text from Rose about her visiting next month. Ilya stands beside their bed in nothing but boxers, his hands on his hips. His body has softened slightly since retirement — they both still work out, but not to the degree they used to. His body is still toned, but the muscle isn’t as defined as all those years ago. In Shane’s eyes, he’s hotter than ever.

“What did she say?” Shane asks, setting his phone on his nightstand.

“She says that you found a Starbucks barista hot.”

Shane’s brows furrow. When the hell did he say that? He doesn’t even remember the last time they’ve been to Starbucks. “Huh?” he asks, shaking his head lightly.

“Apparently, you thought pretty boy with curly hair who makes bad coffee was just so very beautiful, even though you have even more beautiful, sexy husband at home.”

Shane smothers a laugh. He has no idea who Mina was talking about, which leads him to believe that she was lying to mess with Ilya. And well, who is Shane Hollander-Rozanov if not someone who loves to mess with his husband?

“No, I think she was lying,” Shane says simply. Ilya’s shoulders drop in relief, and he begins to crawl into bed, blabbing about how he knew Shane wouldn’t find a barista attractive. He waits until Ilya is comfortable before saying, “I think the guy worked at Tim’s, not Starbucks.”

Ilya freezes, his eyes snapping to Shane’s.

“So there was a hot barista?”

“Technically, Mina said he was hot.”

“And you did not agree because you have sexy husband at home, yes?” Ilya presses. Shane is purposefully silent, pretending to look sheepish.

“Shane,” Ilya whines. “Am I not enough for you? You have millionaire husband, and you want some boring guy who makes decent coffee?”

“Of course, I don’t want him,” Shane says softly. “That’s why I said no when he asked for my phone number.”

Ilya sits up so fast, the bed shudders beneath them. “He what?” Ilya spits. “You never told me this? Which Tim’s? What the fuck, Hollander? Who was this man? What is his name?”

Shane can barely contain his laugh. “Poor baby,” Shane hums. “He was my type, too, you know. Blond hair, pretty eyes…”

Ilya’s eyes, the prettiest eyes Shane has ever seen, narrow at him. “Wait,” he says. “Mina said he had dark hair.”

Oh, shit. Shane pretends to think, trying to keep the bit going. “Ahh, maybe there was a guy at Starbucks, too.”

“You are liar!” Ilya exclaims, shoving Shane lightly. “Oh, my God, you are big liar who is trying to make me jealous! That is evil, Shane.”

Shane cackles, finally giving it up. He leans closer to Ilya, sliding his hand over his husband’s chest. “Sorry, baby, you’re just so easy sometimes,” he says softly, grinning. “You’re the hottest person I’ve ever seen, you know.”

Ilya pretends to pout. “And the most beautiful and the sexiest?”

“And the most beautiful and the sexiest,” Shane agrees. “Only one for me, baby.”

Ilya relaxes, leaning in for a kiss. “Good,” he murmurs. “Otherwise Tim’s would be hiring after I have to go kill someone.”

Shane snorts, pulling Ilya closer. By the time they’re done, he’s made sure that Ilya has no doubts about how hot Shane finds him.

4.

Mina Hollander-Rozanov had never stood a chance when it came to time management. Shane was never late, obviously, and he’d trained the tardiness out of Ilya years ago. It was something he was very proud of, actually. So Mina is someone who was not only on time for everything, but usually early.

Which is why, at 7:15 on a Tuesday morning, Shane is shocked that she’s not downstairs yet. Usually, by now, they’re having breakfast together while Ilya sleeps peacefully for at least another two hours. In her entire year of driving herself to school, she’s been late exactly once, and that was because Ilya had been the one to misplace her keys when he’d taken her car into an auto shop the previous day. 

Shane debates leaving it be. She's grown up, and it wasn’t impossible that she was just running a bit behind. But it’s just so unlike her, and he doesn’t even hear any rushed shuffling above him, that by 7:20, he stands from the kitchen island and ascends the stairs. There’s silence on the other side of her bedroom door.

“Meens,” he calls softly as he knocks. No response. Slowly, he opens the door, peeking in cautiously. She’s nothing but a lump beneath blankets, her phone face down on the nightstand beside her. Shane leaves the door cracked as he walks closer. He expects her to be asleep, but she’s staring off into space with half-open eyes, barely blinking. She doesn’t even move her gaze to him until he’s right there, leaning down to rub her shoulder.

“Hey, honey,” he says softly. “You feeling okay?” Her eyes come into focus, and she blinks twice, quickly. 

“Shit,” she murmurs. And then she remembers that it’s her father in front of her — not the one that secretly allows her to swear, even though Ilya knows that Shane hates it. “I mean— sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he says, unworried about that. He sits on the edge of her bed, carefully tucking her dark hair behind her ear. “Are you sick? It’s almost 7:30.”

Her eyes flutter shut, and she exhales a sigh of defeat. “Um, okay,” she mumbles. “I can— I’ll get up. Just, um… give me a minute.”

“Hey, no,” Shane says, stilling her as soon as she begins to move, like she means to get up. “If you’re not feeling okay, you can skip school, bug. I just meant that I was surprised you weren’t up yet, since you normally would be. Do you wanna stay home?”

She hesitates, her eyes only meeting Shane’s for a second. There’s a fuzziness to them, like she’s having trouble keeping her attention on him. The only other person Shane has seen that look in is…

Oh.

“M’not sick,” she whispers, shaking her head. “I mean, not like… I don’t know. I just feel…”

Shane waits patiently, feeling like he knows what’s coming next. Empty. Drained. Exhausted. He expects this because this is always how Ilya describes his bad days. In the last few weeks, they’ve had a few private discussions about the possibility of Mina having depression, because there have been little signs here and there. Wanting to hang out with her dads less, struggling to focus on homework, less interest in seeing her friends, spacing out. Shane had hoped it was something else, maybe just a mood she was going through or some friend drama that was affecting her. But he'd been suspicious, given the signs, which meant they had been on the lookout.

But he’s never seen her like this. 

“Just, like… bleh,” she finishes softly. “I don’t know.”

The ineloquence of it causes Shane to smile briefly. Yes, he’s heard Ilya describe it like that, too. 

“Okay,” Shane says. He smoothes a hand over her hair. “Can I lay with you?”

She looks at him. “Don’t you run at 7:30?” she whispers. 

“Maybe we can both take it easy today.”

She hesitates and then nods. Shane pulls her covers back and lies beside her, easing her into his arms so that he can hold her to his chest. She relaxes into his touch instantly, her cheek pressing over his heart. Shane rubs up and down her back slowly. 

“How long have you been feeling this way?” he asks after a moment. He and Ilya have only noticed a change in her within the last couple of weeks, but he dreads to think she’s been suffering longer. 

“I don’t know,” she mumbles. “Not long, maybe. I can’t really pinpoint it.”

“Okay,” Shane says. He works through what to say next, not wanting to come on too strong. But he wants to know more — he needs to, if he’s going to make sure she’s okay. 

“Are you just feeling, like… tired? Drained? Maybe, um… empty, kind of?”

Mina seems to freeze up a bit. “Maybe, yeah,” she says, her voice weaker. 

“Kind of, maybe, like Papa sometimes?”

Her face turns, like she can hide in his chest. “Maybe,” she says, the word muffled. Shane holds in a sigh, not wanting her to misconstrue it as disappointment — he was hoping for almost anything but this. He knows how much Ilya has struggled his entire life, and he’d hoped his daughter would never feel the same. He knows it’s not something she can help, and at least they have the experience and resources to help her, but still. He so badly wanted to never see her struggle the way Ilya has his whole life.

“We’ve noticed recently that you’ve been a bit… off,” Shane admits. “We were wondering if that’s what it was.”

Mina pulls her head back to look at him. His heart aches at the sight of her, eyes slightly glassy and lips turned into a frown. She’s changed so much over the years, growing into someone who only manages to get more beautiful by the day. Her freckles have begun to develop a bit more as they move into Spring, the sun bringing them out the same way it does with Shane’s. Shane never understood Ilya’s craze about the little speckles on his cheeks, but he gets it now. He’s obsessed with his daughter’s. He loves that they make her look even more like him.

“You guys never said anything,” she says, her brows furrowed slightly. 

Shane reaches up and uses his thumb to smooth out the little scrunch between her eyebrows. “We were waiting to see if it would pass, like if it was just a mood you were going through,” he says. “Or to see if you would come talk to us about it. We were gonna give it until about the end of the month before bringing it up.”

“Mm.” Something else flits across her expression. Shane thinks it might be… guilt? “How did Papa notice?”

He hums softly. “Well, I noticed first,” he says. “And then I told him. But I thought you seemed a bit distant. You didn’t want to watch the Bachelor, so. Figured something must be going on if you’re tuned out of that. After that, it was just little things.”

Mina studies him. “You’ve never… had it, right?”

Something about her avoiding the actual word depression seems like something else they should address, but they’d have to return to that later. “No,” Shane says simply. “But I've loved your Papa since I was your age, so I notice everything about him. I know when he has bad days before he tells me. Sometimes I can even predict them based on how he acts in the days before them. I know when his depression gets worse, and I usually need to give him a little push to book an extra therapy appointment, or something.

“So I just know how to spot the signs in someone I love,” Shane finishes. “Once I pointed it out, he agreed with me that it might be what you were going through, but sometimes, teenagers just deal with stress in different ways, so we were keeping an eye on you to see what it could be.”

“Feeling a bit like a bug under a microscope,” she mumbles. Shane smiles.

“A very cute bug being looked at by two scientists who care very much about the bug,” he says. “If we had been more certain, we would’ve said something sooner, but we didn’t want to jump to conclusions.”

“Yeah,” she whispers. “Makes sense.”

Shane wraps her up in a tight hug again, dropping a kiss onto her head. “Do you want to bring this up to Papa, or do you want me to?” he asks softly. “Either way, he needs to know. He’ll be the better person to help you.”

“You’re doing a good job already,” Mina says, warming Shane’s heart. He kisses her head again. 

“That’s good to hear,” he says. After a moment of silence, he gently presses on with, “Doesn’t answer my question, though, bug.”

She squishes her face into Shane’s chest again. When she was little, she would say that this was her hiding place. Sometimes she would even crawl underneath his hoodie to smash her face into the fabric of his shirt, as if the world couldn’t see her that way. He frowns, rubbing her back and waiting for a response.

“Don’t want him to feel bad,” is what finally comes. “Or, like… guilty.”

Shane hums. He knows his husband well, and he kind of already knows what she means by that, but he asks anyway so he can hear it in her words. “Why would he feel guilty?”

“Because he gets, like, protective. You know,” she says. “And I thought, maybe, if I ended up having… you know, depression, he might blame himself somehow or think he should’ve done more to stop it. Even though we all know it doesn’t work like that.”

“Yeah,” Shane agrees after a moment. “He might feel like that, because we both just want to shield you from everything bad, even if we know we can’t. But, even if he does have some misplaced guilt, he’ll still be the best one to help you figure out how you want to go about this. Even though he couldn’t prevent this, he’ll still be able to help you understand it and get support for it.”

She’s quiet for a while, and Shane just breathes with her. He would think she was asleep if it weren’t for the way her hand was fiddling with the hem of his shirt at the base of his spine. He can imagine how daunting this must be to confront, and considering Ilya is a fully grown adult who still sometimes struggles, it must be a hard implication for her that she may deal with this into her adult life.

“Can you tell him?” she finally asks. “I know he won’t actually be, like, upset with me, or whatever, but I’m still… scared.”

“Yeah, bug, I’ll tell him,” Shane says instantly. He knows that the fear she’s feeling is only there because she doesn’t want to let him down. He knows this because Ilya has felt that same fear towards Shane before, and they’ve had to work past that lingering shame that has no business being there. “I hope you know, though, he’s not going to be disappointed with you. I’m not either. If anything, I’m very proud that you’re not keeping this a secret and you’re willing to talk about it at all.”

Another long moment of silence. And then, a very soft, “Yeah?”

“Yes, honey,” Shane says, squeezing her in a tighter hug. “I know it’s a hard thing to talk about, but I’m proud of you for doing it. All we want is to help you. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Can I just lay with you for a bit?” Shane asks. “You know Papa is totally dead to the world before 10am, anyway.”

Mina exhales a tiny laugh. “Yeah,” she nods. “Thank you, dad.”

“You’re welcome, bug.”

They don’t talk much more as Shane lies there for almost an hour. Mina fiddles with the hem of his shirt; Shane fiddles with a lock of her hair. Only when her hand has been limp and her breathing has been even for over twenty minutes, does he carefully pull out of her embrace. Luckily, she’s just as heavy a sleeper as Ilya, so she doesn’t flinch.

It’s not even 9 am when Shane enters his and Ilya’s room. Predictably, Ilya is snoring. Shane rolls his eyes fondly as he crawls over his side of the bed, disturbing the perfectly made comforter that he straightened out a few hours ago. He shakes his husband roughly, because he knows anything lighter won’t wake him. Ilya’s eyes snap open, blinking as he blearily focuses on Shane.

“Bozhe,” he mutters, his voice thick with sleep. “What is this? What time is it?”

“Jesus, dude, it’s almost 9 am.”

“Okay, dude,” Ilya shoots back, rubbing his eyes. 

“When you’re actually coherent, we need to talk.”

“Oh,” Ilya hums. “You are waking me up at crack of dawn to divorce me. Very evil.”

“About our kid, Ilya,” Shane says, too distressed to really laugh at the joke. “It’s important, so… get up.”

“Yes, okay,” he says, his voice instantly sobering. He pushes himself up and rubs his face for a few seconds. He inhales deeply, his shoulders rising with the breath, and then sighs. He already sounds more awake when he asks, “What is going on?”

“Well, she’s staying home from school today.”

The last bit of sleepiness clears from Ilya’s eyes as he focuses on Shane. “She is sick?”

“Not exactly,” Shane says. “She was running late this morning, so I went and checked on her. And she was just kind of… laying there. Super zoned out, not even realizing the time, barely moving…”

He trails off when recognition settles over Ilya’s expression. “Like me,” he says softly.

“Like your bad days, yeah,” Shane agrees. “So I laid with her for a bit and we talked. She said she’s feeling, you know, drained. Bleh, as she put it. And she has been for a little bit now.”

“Did she say how long?”

“Not too long,” Shane shakes his head. “Maybe only a little longer than we’ve realized, but I think we noticed soon enough. But when she wakes up again, I think you should talk to her about therapy, and stuff. How it’s helped you, maybe how it’s not as scary as it might seem. See where she’s at with wanting to try it, you know.”

“Yes, okay,” Ilya nods. “I should wait for her to come to me, no?”

Shane tilts his head side to side, humming. “I think you should bring it up,” he says quietly. “She didn’t say it in so many words, but she’s worried about disappointing you. Both of us, I think, but mostly you when it comes to this.”

It’s as though Shane can see the heartbreak on Ilya’s face at the idea that their daughter could ever disappoint them. “I would never be—”

“I know, I know,” Shane says quickly, taking his hand. “I told her that, but you tend to beat yourself up more when you have no control over protecting her from something. And I think she knows that and didn’t want you to, like, blame yourself.”

Ilya hums shortly, not even bothering to argue with Shane about this. “I will talk to her,” he says softly. His eyes shut, and Shane shifts closer so that he can wrap his arm around his husband’s waist and tuck his face into Ilya’s neck. He feels Ilya sigh, leaning his jaw against Shane’s head.

“I hoped it was just a mood, or something,” he murmurs. “I do not want her to know this feeling.”

“I know,” Shane agrees softly. “Me neither. I wish I could shield both of you from that feeling.”

“Mm,” Ilya hums. “Yes, now I know how you have felt all these years, seeing me this way.”

“Yeah,” Shane admits, his voice barely audible. He turns his head to kiss Ilya’s shoulder. “But we’ll get her help, the same way we did for you. She will be okay.”

“Yes,” Ilya agrees. He nudges Shane’s head with his chin so that Shane looks up at him. “Do I get special treatment of you laying in bed with me, too?”

Shane smiles softly. Mina is definitely going to be asleep for a while, and even if she isn’t, they’ll still be right here waiting for her. “Yeah,” Shane says, tilting his head up for a short kiss. “Come here.”

5.

Shane hums to himself as he seasons the fish in front of him, his eyes flicking to the clock again. Ilya was meant to be home from Bood’s about ten minutes ago, but apparently, there was a major accident on the highway, causing four lanes of traffic to merge into one. In theory, he says he should be home in about fifteen minutes, but it won’t be soon enough to catch Mina before she leaves.

Shane can hear her frantic footsteps coming down the stairs, though he has no idea why she’s rushing; she still has about ten minutes before needing to head out. He glances over at her, smiling. “Hey, bug,” he says, sliding the tray of salmon away. “You look nice. You ready?”

“Um,” she says softly. Her voice is a little shaky, instantly causing Shane to abandon his dinner prep. Now that he really looks at her, he sees the obvious panic in her eyes and the slight shakiness of her hands. She blinks rapidly, like she’s fighting tears. “I’m kind of freaking out, actually.”

Shane crosses the kitchen, worried. “Why, honey?” he asks, placing his hands on her upper arms and rubbing gently.

“Uh, because I’m going on a date with Alexis, and I’m so freaking nervous, I feel like I’m literally going to explode,” she says, her words coming out so fast, they’re tripping over each other. “What if everything is, like, totally awkward? Or what if she realizes she doesn’t actually like me, and she just wants to be friends, but then I don’t know how to just be friends with her because I’m, like, basically already in love with her? Or what if she just decides it’s too weird at all, and then we aren’t even friends anymore?”

Tears prick at her lash line, and Shane squeezes her arms. “Okay, okay, I need you to take a breath for me, Mina,” he says calmly. Fuck, he wishes Ilya were here. He’s so much better at this… teenager stuff. Shane barely knew how to handle teenager stuff when he was a teenager.

Luckily, he does know a thing or two about handling a little anxiety. “Take a breath,” he instructs again, inhaling deeply as if to show her how. “In, out. You’re okay, honey.”

“I’m so nervous, dad,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Like… I’m so scared of messing this up. She’s my best friend, you know? I can’t— I don’t know what I’ll do if everything blows up.”

“Stop thinking about what could happen for just a second, okay?” he says. “Right now, the only thing you need to do is look at me, and breathe.”

Mina blinks a couple of times, her dark eyes focusing on his. Right now, she’s got a little bit of eyeliner at the outer corners. Wings, he knows they’re called. She drew them on Shane’s eyes once a few years ago, and Ilya went crazy for it. There’s also highlighter on her cheekbones, dusted over some blush. For all the teenage girl stuff Shane doesn’t understand, he makes up for it in his newfound knowledge of makeup after Mina went through a huge phase of watching tutorials on YouTube. Shane had found them oddly therapeutic, and he liked doing whatever she wanted if it meant spending time with her, so they’d watched a ton together.

Her shoulders rise slowly as she breathes in, holds it for a few seconds, and then exhales. 

“Good,” Shane says. “Tell me what the worst case scenario is.”

Mina chews on her lower lip — it messes up her lipstick, but Shane chooses not to add to her stress by pointing that out yet. “Things go badly and we aren’t friends anymore,” she says sadly, her brows furrowing.

“Okay. Even if things are maybe a bit awkward, or if you don’t feel the connection you’re hoping for, would you still want to stay friends?”

“Of course,” she says. “Wouldn’t it be… weird, though?”

“Maybe at first, but you guys can get through anything,” Shane says with a small shrug, like it’s not even a concern. “You guys have been friends for years, and you’ve only argued, what? Twice? And every time, you’ve come back stronger than before. You know how to communicate with her, it’s why you’re friends.”

Slowly, Mina nods, like that makes sense. “Yeah. Okay, yeah.”

“And honestly, I don’t think Alexis has an awkward bone in her body,” Shane says, startling a laugh out of her. He grins. “Like, the first time I met her, she hugged me and called me Hollzy, and she did it so confidently, I wasn’t even that weirded out by it.”

She laughs again, nodding. “She’s so stupid,” Mina says fondly. “But you’re right.”

“So it’s okay to be nervous, but I have a feeling that nothing is going to feel awkward. That’s, like, not even in her blood,” Shane says. Mina is still smiling when she nods again.

“Yeah,” she whispers. “Hopefully.”

She bites her lower lip, her fingers curling like she wants to fidget with something. Shane takes her hands in his, squeezing away the shakiness. “Wanna know something?” he asks.

“Hm?”

“The first time Papa and I went on a date, like a real, public date, we were already engaged,” Shane says, a smile pulling at his lips. “And I was so fucking nervous.”

Mina blinks, looking a bit confused, even as she smiles. “Really?”

“Like, we were getting ready in the same house, and I went into the bathroom to call Aunt Rose and tell her that I was literally freaking out. Because it was a date, so that must mean it was, like, a thing. You know?”

“Yeah,” Mina says softly. “I know.”

“And Rose said that I was being an idiot, which was super unhelpful.”

“Sounds like something she’d say,” Mina chuckles. “So what happened? On the date?”

Shane tilts his head. “We went to a nice restaurant. Nice enough that people actually had enough tact to not stare at us, which was nice. And… new,” he says, his eyes crinkling at the memory of that foreign feeling. “We sat down and we… talked, like we normally do. Joked like we normally do. Played footsies under the table like we normally do.”

“Gross,” Mina teases, but she’s smiling softly.

“I think it took me about, mm, three minutes to stop being nervous,” Shane says, his voice gentle. “Because I realized very quickly that, even though we were on a date and that was new for us, he was just… him. He was still my fiance. Still my best friend.” He raises his eyebrows pointedly at those last two words. A subtle reminder that Alexis is still just her best friend, even if there’s a new context to their relationship. Mina flushes slightly, but nods.

“It’s normal to be nervous,” Shane says, “but I don’t think you have any reason to worry. And you know what? Alexis is probably just as nervous, too. Wanna know why I think that?”

“Why?”

“Because later that night, after that date with your Papa, I told him that I was nervous, as silly as it might’ve been, and he said he had been, too.” Shane smiles as he shakes his head. “And if he was nervous about me, chances are that Alexis is just as nervous about you.”

“Maybe,” Mina says softly. “But… you’re right, I think. She’s just Alexis. We’ll— it’ll be fine.”

“It’ll be better than fine,” Shane assures her. “You’re going to have so much fun.”

Her smile grows as she nods. “How much longer til Papa gets here?” she asks, looking at the clock. “I only have maybe three minutes before I’ll be late.”

Shane sighs ruefully, letting go of Mina’s hands to pick up his phone and check Ilya’s location. “Still about ten minutes,” he says. “He’s out of traffic now, but not even in the neighbourhood yet.”

“Dang,” Mina frowns. “Devastating I don’t get any dating advice from the infamous Ilya Rozanov.”

“He’ll probably just shoot you a text when he gets home,” Shane shrugs. Then he frowns. “Hey, you got dating advice from Shane Hollander?”

“Love you so, soooo much, Dad,” she says placatingly, “but I fear if I’m dating a girl, you aren’t the first person I’d come to for dating advice.”

“Technically, I’ve had more girlfriends than him,” Shane says. “He’s had a total of zero, you know.”

“Fair,” Mina tilts her head, “but you’re also, like, super gay.”

Shane opens his mouth, like he means to argue, but he’s got enough self-awareness at this age. “Okay, yeah,” he agrees. “That’s also fair.”

Mina snorts, stepping closer to hug him. “But thank you,” she says softly. “You helped a lot.”

“Good,” Shane murmurs, kissing the top of her head. He pulls back and reaches up to swipe his thumb along the side of her lower lip, fixing her makeup. “There. Go have fun. Tell us how it goes later.”

“Oh, I’m sure Papa will want all the details.” Mina rolls her eyes fondly. “He’s such a gossip, it’s horrible.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t have to tell him anything you don’t want to. And I’ll make sure he knows that,” Shane says, knowing Ilya’s excitement later might feel a bit like pressure. “See you in a few hours.”

“Love you!” Mina calls. Shane echoes the words, and a few seconds later, the front door shuts behind her. Shane leans against the counter, exhaling softly.

“Jesus,” he huffs softly, smiling. This obviously isn’t Mina’s first relationship, but the last guy was kind of shit and never really took her on a proper date, so this was still technically her first ever date, and it was with a girl. And he gets to be the one who helps prepare her for it.

In the best way possible, Shane can’t believe his life. He spent so much time in hiding, so much time loving Ilya in secret, that having a life this wonderful felt like an impossible dream. And now, it’s just… his reality. He gets to wake up every day to this.

He goes back to prepping dinner, preheating the oven, and seasoning some vegetables. Just over ten minutes later, Shane is washing his hands as the front door opens again. Before he even sees Ilya, he hears him whine, “I missed herrrr.”

Shane chuckles, turning his head just in time to see him round the corner with a small pout on his face. “Stupid, evil traffic,” he complains. He steps up behind Shane, curling his arms around his waist. “Was she nervous?”

“Like, bordering-on-anxiety-attack kind of nervous,” Shane says, drying his hands. Ilya hums sadly.

“Ah, malyshka,” he says. Turning around, Shane curls his arms around Ilya’s shoulders. “What did you say to her?” Ilya asks.

Shane smiles. “Well, I told her how you were super nervous before our first official date,” he says. “Like, so nervous, it was kind of embarrassing. Told her how you called Sveta, freaking out. The whole thing.”

Ilya narrows his eyes, fighting a smile. “Right, right,” he says slowly. “This is weird, because I remember that it was you who was very nervous. And you called Rose.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I think so, yes,” Ilya says. “She was okay, though? Mina?”

“Yeah,” Shane nods. “I calmed her down. She’s good.”

“Good.” Ilya grins, leaning in and giving Shane a gentle kiss. And then another. And then another, this one deeper and slower, with obvious intention for more. So, just to mess with him, Shane pulls back.

“How was Bood?” he asks. 

Ilya raises an eyebrow. “We have empty house, and—” he turns to check the timer on the oven, “—eighteen minutes before dinner, and you want to… talk about Bood?”

Shane tilts his head, blinking up at Ilya. “Oh,” he says innocently. “Was there something else you wanted to do?”

Ilya’s grin is predatory. “No,” he says. “There is someone I want to do.”

—

It’s not even nine o’clock when the front door opens. Shane is all but using Ilya as a mattress as they lie on the sofa together, watching the overtime period of a Boston vs Tampa game, and beneath him, Ilya perks up excitedly. Shane grins.

“Malyshkaaaa,” Ilya calls out. Mina walks into view, already rolling her eyes with a smile.

“Hi, Papa,” she says before tilting her head to match Shane’s orientation. “You guys know you won’t, like, spontaneously combust if you’re not touching, right?”

“Can’t take any chances,” Shane shrugs, staying exactly where he is.

“Stop bullying us for being gay,” Ilya says, waving a hand in her direction. “You are stalling. Tell me everything, how was it?”

Mina glances down at her pink socks, and Shane is positive she’s blushing. “It was… really good,” she says quietly. She looks up and her eyes catch Shane’s. “You were right. It was, like… totally normal.”

“Good, bug,” he says, grinning. He props himself up on one elbow so she’s no longer sideways. 

“Since when are you bad at gossiping?” Ilya whines. “Just like your dad, ugh. Tell me more.”

“Ilya,” Shane nudges him, rolling his eyes. 

“No, he’s fine,” Mina snorts. “We went bowling. I kicked her butt, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Ilya agrees. 

“And then there’s that little arcade in the bowling alley, so we played there,” she says, her grin widening. She reaches into the tote bag slung over her shoulder and pulls out a fuzzy little raccoon. “She’s weirdly good at those claw machines, so she won me this.”

“He’s so cute,” Shane says. 

“She has a matching one,” Mina says. “That she also won, because I’m horrible at those games.”

“Skill issue,” Ilya tuts. “I am great.”

Shane looks at him. “You’ve never won me anything.”

“Next time, I will win you all of the prizes,” he promises, booping Shane’s nose with his finger. 

“Gross,” Mina comments. “And then we stopped for milkshakes on the way home, hung out and talked in the car for a bit while we drank them. And then I took her home.”

“Very cute, bug,” Shane says, smiling. “I’m glad you had fun.”

She grins, wide enough to show her teeth. “Thanks,” she says softly. 

“Ah, hello?” Ilya interjects. “You are forgetting most important part. Did you kiss her or what?”

In an instant, Mina’s face is red. “Jesus, Papa,” she says, already beginning to back out of the room. “No. I mean, I’m not— shut up, I’m not telling you anything about that.”

Her feet stomp up the stairs, and Shane smothers his smile as he lies back down on Ilya’s chest. They’re quiet for all of three seconds before Ilya whispers, “Did you see how red she got? They totally kissed.”

“Oh, hush,” Shane says, laughing softly. “You’re gonna embarrass her if you do that again.”

Besides, he thinks, it was obvious they kissed. Her lipstick was smudged. Not that he mentions this to Ilya. 

“Pssh, nothing embarrassing about this,” Ilya says, rubbing Shane’s back. “Is just very cute. I am being supportive.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to gossip, baby.”

“Boring,” he says. They fall back into silence, aside from occasional comments about the game, until Ilya’s hand pauses on his back. “You know what this means?”

“That Florida needs a better left winger? Yeah,” Shane scoffs. 

“No, Hollander. Mina and Alexis. They cannot share bedroom at the cottage this summer.”

Shane lifts his head. “Why?”

“They are dating.”

Shane blinks. “Okay.”

“It is inappropriate!”

“She’s almost eighteen,” Shane says slowly. “And I really don’t think you get to have a say in what teenagers are allowed to do behind closed doors.”

Ilya’s jaw drops in offense. “What does that mean? Are you calling baby me a whore?”

“Oh, my God,” Shane rolls his eyes. But he doesn’t deny it, because… well.

“Oh, like you were so much better, seducing me at seventeen.”

“Seventeen?” Shane exclaims. “We didn’t hook up until we were nineteen?”

“Yes, but at seventeen, you come to me saying hi for the first time with these big, brown eyes and sexy freckles, telling me I cannot smoke here and that I am such an amazing player to watch,” Ilya says, like it’s obvious that Shane had ulterior motives even then. “You were trying to seduce me. We know this.”

“Right,” Shane nods slowly. “So it’s my fault that you were easy.”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Sure,” Shane says, not even bothering to argue. If anything, Ilya had been trying to seduce Shane, looking at him like that with that horrible cigarette hanging from his lips. “Anyway, we’ll talk to Mina and cross that bridge when we get there, yeah?”

Ilya grumbles, vaguely in agreement, and Shane drops a kiss to the center of his chest before laying his head back down. 

+1.

The car is silent and tense. Shane thinks that if either of them speaks, it will set off the inevitable bomb that they've just barely been keeping at bay. Ilya is doing worse than he is, but only barely. Shane’s been masking emotions since he knew how to, and granted, around his family, he’s always been able to let that slip. But for once, he’s holding strong. Ilya, on the other hand, is gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, and Shane knows that a single word about what they’re doing will cause his husband to burst into tears. 

Honestly, though, it’s fair. Because they’re only ten minutes away from Mina’s dorm room, where they’ll be dropping off half of her stuff for her first year of college. Mina is in her own car, right behind them, with the other half of her stuff. Within a few hours, they’ll be headed home, and their daughter will remain in Montreal. Two hours away from them. For at least the next month, before she’s set to visit again for David’s birthday. 

Shane glances over at Ilya. His jaw is tight, and his eyes are set on the road. It’s not that Shane doesn’t want to say something, because he does, he just has no idea how to bring up that they need to keep it together for Mina. 

She’s excited about college. She has a partial scholarship for her excellence in photography — not that money matters, obviously. She was mostly just happy about the scholarship because it felt like proof that she was good at the thing she was passionate about. 

Shane worries that if they make this day too much about their fears of letting their baby go, it’ll dampen her mood. 

“So,” Shane says conversationally. “Is there any incentive I can promise you to keep you from crying today?”

“No.”

Shane sighs softly. He gets it. Really, he does. The chances of him crying are incredibly high, too. But they have to at least try.

“Okay, is there anything I can promise you that will at least make you try to not cry?”

His fingers shift on the wheel. “I doubt it,” he says after a moment. “But I am open to offers.”

Shane chuckles softly, but his smile doesn’t last long. He reaches over and peels one of Ilya’s hands off of the wheel, lacing their fingers together and resting them on his husband’s thigh. “This isn’t about us,” he whispers. 

“I know,” Ilya says, his voice already sounding a bit thick. “I know this. I just…” he trails off, and when he inhales, Shane can hear that it’s shaky. Yeah, that’s how he feels, too.

“I know.” He brings Ilya’s hand up to his lips. He smiles against his knuckles. “We could get a dog.”

Ilya’s eyes snap over for the briefest second. “Do not joke, Hollander.”

After Anya passed when Mina was only a few years old, they’d never gotten another. At first, it was because Mina was a toddler, which was chaos in and of itself. And then they were running her around to hockey practice, then gymnastics, then dance, then every art class under the sun. Plus, after retirement, they’d taken on bigger roles at the Irina Foundation, finally allowing Shane’s mom to retire completely. They’d just felt too busy for a puppy. 

When Mina got older, they’d toyed with the idea, but it had just never felt like the right time, considering Mina still had a busy schedule that they weren’t willing to push aside. But now…

“We’ll talk about it later, but only if you can wait until we’re on our way home before crying,” Shane says, squeezing his hand. 

Ilya takes a deep breath. “Okay. Yes. I will try.”

Shane kisses his knuckles again. “We got this.”

They pull up to the parking lot near her dorm only minutes before Mina does. She’s bouncing on her toes when she gets out of her car. “That felt like a million years,” she says, stretching dramatically. 

“Get used to it,” Shane says. “You’ll be making the drive back and forth for the next four years.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waves him off. They carry boxes and bags into the brick building and into the small room with two beds, two dressers, and two desks. It takes several trips, because as small as this room is, their daughter managed to pack up just short of everything in her entire room. 

Shane helps her sort her clothes into her tiny closet and dresser — a feat only his organizational skills could handle, given how much she brought. Ilya helps with her books, decor, and bedding. For the first time in her life, the poor girl has to share a bathroom, which she is just devastated about. But she has it better than some of the other dorm buildings, since she’s only sharing with Alexis, and two other unknown girls who are directly next to them. 

“When’s Lex getting here again?” Shane asks as he hangs up one of her thicker sweaters.

“Not until, like, eight,” Mina rolls her eyes. “She’s got family in town that won’t let her go without having dinner with them, so we’ll probably unpack most of her stuff tomorrow.”

Sharing a dorm room with her girlfriend is probably the other reason Mina is so excited about college, but Shane refuses to tease her about that. Or let Ilya tease her, which Shane can tell he’s thinking about now, given the way his eyes sparkle. 

“Nice,” Shane says. “Call us whenever she’s settled so we can say hi.”

It takes only about three hours with all three of them working diligently, but now the empty boxes are folded up to be discarded, and then there’s nothing else they can do. 

“Do you have all of your textbooks?” Shane asks, looking over the stack of them. 

“Yep. Even the ones that are available online.”

“You never know when the internet could go out!” he defends. “And you grabbed that new laptop charger I got you? The long one.”

“Yep,” Mina nods. There’s a slow smile growing across her face, like she’s enjoying watching her dad pretend he’s not freaking out. But, like, Shane definitely isn’t freaking out. He’s just being thorough. 

“And you got all your shower stuff, right?” he asks. “In the little caddy thing? You probably shouldn’t leave it in the shower until you really know the other girls, you know.”

“I know, dad. It’s all here, and it’ll stay in my room.”

“Good, good.” He thinks. “You have all the folders and stuff for school, too, right? Are you sure you have enough for all the courses? I mean, I can always order you more if you end up needing some.”

“Dad.”

“I have your new address, obviously, so if you need anything else, just let me know and I’ll order it. Or, I mean, you can order it, I guess.”

Mina’s hands close over his upper arms, and he blinks at her. “I’ll be okay, you know,” she says softly. He blinks again and again. Slowly, he exhales.

“I know,” he says gently. “Sorry, yes. I know. I’m just… making sure.”

“I know,” she says fondly. “But I have everything, and if I forgot anything, I’ll figure it out. If I left anything at home, I’ll get it next month. I’ll be okay.”

Shane’s arms loop around her and crush her to his chest. He doesn’t cry, he doesn’t. But his heart still races at the horrible thought of ever having to let her go. “I’m so proud of you,” he says, the words smushed against the top of her head. “You got this. And we’re only a phone call away if you ever need anything. Okay?”

“Okay,” she says, squeezing him just as tightly. 

Somewhere behind them, there’s the quietest sniffle. Mina lifts her head with a laugh. “Papa,” she whines, pulling back from Shane to hold her arms out to Ilya. 

“I am not crying,” he says before anyone can speak. His eyes are red, and the tears haven’t technically fallen yet, but they’re there, stuck in his lash line. Shane can’t look at him too closely, or he’ll probably tear up, too. Ilya steps in and hugs their daughter in the same way Shane had, squishing her to his chest and almost consuming her. 

“Moy malyshka (My babygirl),” he murmurs.

“I’m going to be okay, Papa,” she says to him. Shane’s nails dig into his palm at the sight of her calming Ilya — he sees now why Ilya almost began crying at the sight of her and Shane. 

“Yes, I know this,” he says. “But we are here even if you are not okay. If you need help or support, if you want to talk, if you need us to come for any reason, you say the word, yes? I want to hear you say it.”

“If I need you, I’ll call you,” she says. “Promise.”

“Okay,” Ilya whispers. “And even if you are okay, you still call us at least once a week. Just to talk, yes?”

Mina leans back a bit, smiling. “Once a week? Please, try once a day, Rozanov.”

“I was trying to be relaxed and chill.”

Mina laughs. “I’ll call you guys when I’m sad, when I’m happy, when I’m bored, when I’m angry, when I’m drunk, when I’m frustrated, when I just feel like bothering you,” she says, listing every emotion possible. “If I can’t call, I’ll text. You guys will be soooo sick of me.”

Shane steps closer and runs a hand over her hair. His tone is blatantly joking when he says, “I’ll just pass you to him when I get sick of you, and then he’ll toss you back to me. Two against one, kid. You’ll get sick of us first.”

She’s still in Ilya’s arms, but she tilts her head back to see Shane. Her eyes are warm when she says, “Impossible.”

Shane kisses her forehead. Then he looks up at his husband, who seems to already be dreading Shane’s next words. “Ready to go, baby?”

Ilya deflates a little bit, but they knew this was coming. They knew they would be leaving alone today. “Yes,” he says, in a tone that sounds a lot like he’s saying no.

“Here, help us take all these empty boxes to the car, bug,” Shane says, forcing himself to be brave for a few more minutes. They take all of the broken-down cardboard to Ilya’s car, shoving it in the back to be dropped off at the recycling center on the way home. And then it’s time to say goodbye. 

Shane hugs her first, pressing a million tiny kisses to the top of her head. “I love you so much, my baby,” he whispers, afraid that if he’s any louder, his voice will give him away. “So, so much. More than anything.”

“I love you, Dad,” she says back. He squeezes her once before letting go. Instantly, Ilya is pulling her into his arms. Shane hears bits and pieces of what he’s saying to her, some of it in Russian. 

Shane leans against the car, watching them. His heart swells. He is so, so fucking lucky. To have this family that loves him, that loves each other. He would live through the heartache and yearning a million times over if this were the outcome every time. Over Mina’s head, Ilya glances up at Shane, and his eyes are teary again. Shane smiles sadly, subtly nodding towards the car. They can’t hold her forever, as much as he wishes they could. 

Ilya places one last, obnoxiously loud kiss on her head before pulling away. 

“I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow at the latest,” she says, already backing away. “Thank you for everything. I love you.”

“Love you, bug,” Shane says at the same time Ilya says, “Ya tebya lyubyu.”

Mina gives them one last smile before turning and jogging back up to her dorm building. Right before she enters, she waves at them and blows a few kisses, which her fathers obviously return. When she’s inside and out of sight, Ilya’s forehead drops to Shane’s shoulder. 

“I hate this,” he murmurs.

“I know,” Shane agrees. Now that Mina is gone, his tears spill over. Only when he sniffles does Ilya look up, just as sad. He chuckles softly, standing straight to cup Shane’s face and thumb away his tears. Shane leans into the touch. “We should go,” he murmurs. 

“Yes,” Ilya says softly. “We have dog names to think of. And empty house to make use of.” 

“Please don’t make jokes about the house being empty, I’m not ready yet.”

“Ah, fuck, you are right,” Ilya says, some kind of half-laugh, half-sob escaping. “Okay, this is very ugly, let’s go.”

They get back into the car, their hands finding each other immediately. Before Ilya puts the car in reverse, Shane leans over the center console. “Hey,” he murmurs. 

Ilya’s eyes lock onto his, a soft smile curling his lips. “Hey,” Ilya echoes. 

“I love you,” Shane whispers. “And I love our life.”

Ilya takes one hand off the wheel and presses a knuckle beneath Shane’s chin, leaning in to kiss him. “I love it, too.”

—

Mina zips through the hall of her dorm, dodging the handful of other people who are moving in. “‘Scuse me, sorry,” she says, shuffling by. She closes herself in her room, avoiding even looking at the window. The blinds are closed, but she knows that if she peeks through them, she would be able to see her dads in the parking lot. Pulling her phone from her pocket, she doesn’t think twice before hitting Alexis’s contact and calling. 

“Hiya,” Alexis answers. “We’re eating dinner in, like, thirty minutes and then I’m fuckin’ freeee. Car’s all packed, though. What’s up?”

Mina opens her mouth, but nothing comes out for a second. Silent tears slide down her cheeks on their own accord. Finally, she whispers, “My dads just left.”

“Yeah?” Her voice softens, obviously catching Mina’s sad tone. “Do you owe me ten bucks, or what?”

Mina laughs wetly. “You were right. Only Papa cried. Dad was close, though.”

“Knew it,” Alexis sings fondly. “Roz is such a sucker.” A short pause. “And how are you feeling?”

Finally, Mina glances at the window. She wonders if they’re still out there. “I already miss them,” she whispers. “So fucking much. I knew they would cry. I didn’t think I would.”

“Oh, baby,” Alexis says, her voice going all soft in the way it always does when it’s just for Mina. “Wait until they get home, then FaceTime them. If you do it too soon, they’ll probably just turn around.”

“Trust me, I know,” Mina laughs. She wipes under her eyes. “I’ll be fine. I know. I’m just… it’s weird, you know?”

“Yeah,” Alexis agrees. “I mean, I can imagine. Me personally, I am dying to get out of this house and I think it’ll take me at least a few hours before I start missing my mom. Your dads, though… I get why you miss them. They’re great.”

“They’re so great,” Mina whispers, nodding. She glances around. “This room feels tiny, by the way.”

“Yeah, well, you probably brought everything you own.”

“Almost.”

“Should’ve had your dads push the beds together for us,” Alexis teases. “Would’ve been much easier than when we have to do it later.”

“Papa would've had a heart attack at the implication, and then probably made some horrible sex joke about him and Dad,” Mina laughs. “I like my sanity how it is, thanks.”

“Lame,” Alexis says, but it’s soft. “I’ll see you in a few hours, okay? And then we’ll be fricking living together, HR.”

The nickname makes Mina’s smile wobble at the subtle reminder of her dads. It’s her last initials; Hollander-Rozanov. 

“I can’t wait,” Mina says. They say their goodbyes, and Mina holds her phone to her chest as she walks further into her room. Right there on her desk is a framed photo of her with her dads, one that Papa had snuck into her luggage as a surprise. She smiles at it. 

She’s got this. And they believe in her so much that Mina hardly even feels that nervous about this new chapter. But maybe the reason she doesn’t feel all that scared is because she knows that no matter what, they’re right there with her.