Chapter Text
The summers were favored amongst the Hollanov marriage. May was Shane's birthday, June was Ilyas, July was their wedding anniversary, and overall their summers spent together were great.
A stress-free zone at the cottage just able to soak up each other's company. Not that they weren't practically attached at the hip during the season with the Centaurs. But alas, the summers were cherished.
Ilya was preparing Shane's morning smoothie, alongside pancakes, bacon, sausage, cut up fruit, coffee black for his lover, and a cup with a hefty amount of coffee creamer and sugar for himself.
He could see Shane from the kitchen window, doing Yoga on the back deck with Anya doing laps around him while barking happily. Ilya felt absolutely serene during times like this, enraptured with love for his husband.
His focus darted back to the pancake batter he was currently mixing, making sure to set away some of it with significantly less chocolate chips than his own. Because as much as Shane's relationship with food had improved since previous seasons, he didn't want to push it.
“Morning.” Shane greeted with a lazy smile as he wrapped his arms around Ilya's waist, Anya nuzzling up against his knee, kindly asking for pets.
“Доброе утро, мой любимый тостер.” Ilya turned around to cup Shane's face in his hands, he currently had his ‘confused translation’ face as Ilya would call it.
“Toaster? God you're weird.”
“Hmm. yes but you're so smart my love." Ilya breathed out in between the kisses he was painting his husband's neck with.
Their blissful moment together was interrupted by Ilya's phone ringing, startling both of them. It was a number Ilya didn't recognize. But something felt different, like he should pick up the phone, even with his husband glaring at him already preparing his speech about how dangerous it was to pick up spam calls. Especially as such a public figure as himself.
Alas, Ilya answers the call. And is greeted by…Russian? He could've sworn the phone number said Ontario or something.
The voice on the other line sounded somewhat jumpy and hysterical, like she was worried Ilya would hang up the phone at any moment.
☏
Прошу прощения, а с кем я разговариваю?
My apologies but who am I speaking with?
Виктория, ну Виктория Розанова. Мне жаль, если ты не помнишь-
Viktoriya, well Viktoriya Rozanov. Im sorry if you don't remem-
Вика! Черт, откуда ты звонишь? Ты в Канаде? С тобой всё в порядке?
Vika! fuck where are you calling from? Are you in Canada? Are you okay?
═══════
Ilya was sure he had attempted to hide the terror in his vice. Or at least maybe in the expression on his face, but he hadn't done a very great job. As his husband was currently staring at him with a fervid terrified look spread across his face.
"Who's calling?" mouthed Shane, who had distanced himself from Ilya's face to get a better look at his expression.
Ilya turned his speaker away from where his phone had been propped up between his shoulder and ear as he had flipped pancakes.
"Niece. I'll explain soon."
"Wait. Your brother's daughter? How does she have your number? What happened? And.. wait…strawberry?."
"Yes now please just go walk Anya, you're scaring her and ill explain everything when you get back okay?" Please Shane."