Chapter Text
Ilya feels a gentle press of lips against the back of his neck, drawing him from the half slumber he was in.
“Ilya, are you awake?” He hears Shane whisper.
Ilya lifts a hand to rub his face. He rolls over and nods, his nose brushing against Shane. “Yes, barely.” he murmurs.
“Sorry, you’re tired. You should go to sleep.”
“No, no. Is okay. What do you need, moya lyubov?” He blinks his tired eyes open, looking into the dark, wet eyes of his lover.
“I’ve just been thinking,” he murmurs. “About kids.”
Ilya pauses for a beat. “And?”
“I want to have them. With you.” He tucks his hand up underneath his chin. “Sometime soon, probably.”
“Oh.”
“I mean, I know you love kids. You’re amazing with them. A-and we’re both at a perfect age for kids. There’s literally no better time than now to conceive.”
“Are you sure? Is not a small thing,” his voice is small, slightly muffled by his pillow.
“I know. But I've been thinking about it, and I… I want that. With you. But only if you want that too. I don’t want to force kids on you if you don’t want them too,” he rushes to add on at the end.
“I want that with you too. But are you sure? It has pretty big impact on your body.”
“I-I know. And I’m still a little scared of the idea. But I really want a baby. I want a baby with you. So…”
“I mean…” Ilya starts slowly. The thought is forming slowly in his sleep-addled mind. “Is not the only option, no?”
“What, like surrogacy or adoption? I have no problems with either of those options, but I really want a baby that’s ours. Like, that we made.”
“Yes, and we can have that, without you having to carry. I could.”
That seems to stun Shane silent. “You… you’d do that?”
“Yes.”
Because, yeah. He’d do anything Shane asks. He’d do anything to make Shane happy, and keep him comfortable. And the idea isn’t awful. Carrying Shane’s baby? Something they made together, something that is part of both of them? He likes that. He… he wants that.
“Oh.”
“Listen,” Ilya leans forward and brushes his lips against Shane’s. “Is late. We’re both tired. We talk more in the morning, when we’re both awake and ready to have such serious talk, yeah?”
Shane exhales a small puff of air, nodding softly. “That’s a good idea. We’ll talk more in the morning.” Shane kisses him softly, one last time. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Ilya watches as Shane’s eyes flutter shut, making sure he’s asleep. Once he’s sure, he rolls onto his back, making sure to not pull too far from Shane. He stares up at the ceiling.
It’s funny, really. He knows he wants kids, but it was something playing second fiddle. If Shane didn’t want them, that’d be okay. But knowing Shane wants that too?
He wasn’t going to be able to stop thinking about it.
He wants Shane’s baby. He wants to carry Shane’s baby. And logically, he should be more nervous about it, but he’s not. He’s more than willing to give up hockey for a season, maybe two, to have a baby. He doesn’t need hockey the same way that Shane does. It’s a job, not a lifeline. He could handle the havoc it will wreak on his body in a way that would be difficult for Shane. He doesn’t need the same level of control over his body.
Even if he didn’t love the idea, which he kind of does, he’d do it just to keep Shane comfortable.
So, t ohim, it’s decided.
He’s going to have Shane’s baby.
***
It’s going much better than Ilya had thought.
They don’t switch roles very often, but Ilya really is enjoying himself. Most of the time it’s soft, gentle, but sometimes, when Ilya gets the itch, he’s more than willing to ride Shane into the mattress.
It’s fun.
Shane is feeding him smoothies in the mornings, fruits and veggies that will supposedly help, and he already has him taking supplements which are doing wonders for his usually fragile nails. They fuck all the time. It’s bound to happen soon.
And honestly? Ilya kind of forgot.
Not really, but still. It becomes routine, rather than the forethought it was before.
Ilya stretches as he wakes up, and immediately regrets it. His calf tightens up into quite possibly the worst cramp in his life, and all he can do is roll onto his stomach and try to wait it off. He lets out a wheezed breath and gets out of bed. He shakes his leg out and saunters into the kitchen.
Shane’s head perks up when he sees him. “Hey, baby.”
“Hello,” Ilya wraps himself around Shane’s back, mashing his face into his neck. He hears Anya’s little footsteps from the direction of the living room, where she had probably been sleeping after her and Shane’s morning run.
“Mm, did you sleep okay? You seem tired.”
“I thought I did. Maybe I didn’t.”
“Hmm,” Shane kisses Ilya’s cheek. “There’s some fruit in the fridge, if you’d like it.”
Ilya nods and reluctantly pulls away from Shane to sit down on the barstools, Anya curling up at his feet. Ugh, he needs to piss. He leans into his palm, his eyes fluttering shut. He must’ve fallen asleep again for a moment, because when he opens his eyes, there’s a bowl of fruit and a fork in front of him.
“You feeling okay?” Ilya feels the back of Shane’s hand on his forehead.
“Mm, yes, da. I feel fine.”
Shane looks at him, clearly worried and not quite believing him, but he doesn’t push it. He just sits down next to him with his own fruit bowl. Ilya slowly eats his fruit.
He feels a little off through the rest of the day. He insists that, yes, he’s okay. He doesn’t need to worry.
And it goes like this for the next couple days. Ilya feeling a little off, but not enough to be worrying. He’s just a little tired. There’s a low level nausea that sets in just after breakfast and tends to go away by the late afternoon, but it's nothing too bad. He probably just needs to drink more water. That’s what Shane would probably say.
It doesn’t really click until he throws up at the smell of the broccoli Shane is steaming for dinner.
He wrinkles his nose, about to complain, when the low-level nausea launches up into an extreme, and he has to shove away from the counter to run to the bathroom.
“Ilya?!” Shane’s startled voice echoes from the other room as Ilya crashes in front of the toilet and retches. He hears footsteps coming towards him. “Shit- you’re okay, let it out.” He rubs a soothing hand over Ilya’s shoulders.
Ilya can’t even respond. He’s too busy emptying his stomach.
Once the nausea finally subsides, he pushes back against the wall behind him, and then he feels his nose dripping. He grabs some toilet paper to wipe his nose. He groans at the red.
“Fucking hell,” he groans, holding the tissue to his nose. Anya, who Ilya hadn’t even heard come in, curls up next to him, her head resting on his thigh.
Shane gets him a glass of water and sinks down next to him. “I think it might be time to take a test.” He says softly.
Ilya nods minutely. He swaps out his toilet paper and pinches the bridge of his nose hard in an attempt to stop the bleeding. “I think you’re right,” he mumbles.
And he is. Really, there’s no other answer. He’s tired all the time, his bladder hates him, and just the smell of broccoli made him throw up hard enough to make his nose bleed. Those things don’t just happen in a vacuum. Not all together, at least.
But at the same time, he’s scared. What if he isn’t? What if he was getting his hopes up for nothing? Or, even more terrifying, what if he is pregnant?
There’s only one way to know for sure.
Ilya stays where he is until he’s certain that he’s done throwing up. Thankfully, by the time he’s sure, his nose has also stopped bleeding. Shane ducks out of the room to throw away the broccoli. Ilya makes sure to have him put it into a container so they can give some to Anya and the rest to the ducks. He helps Ilya up off of the floor and walks with him, Anya weaving between their legs. The windows are open, clearing out the smell. Ilya sends Shane a thankful look.
It’s a quiet dinner. Neither of them say much, both too in their heads to have a proper conversation. Once the plates are in the sink, Shane wraps his arms around Ilya, pulling them chest to chest.
“You think you’re ready?” He asks, his voice soft.
Ilya nods. “I think so. I will take test, then we look together. Yes?”
Shane kisses him softly, reassuringly. “Yeah, of course.”
Ilya presses their lips together one last time before pulling away. They walk to their en suite bathroom hand in hand, Shane sitting on the mattress while Ilya steps into the bathroom. He makes quick work of taking the tests, then sits next to Shane on their bed.
“Now we wait,” he exhales deeply as he leans against Shane’s shoulder.
Shane wraps his arm around him and presses a kiss to his hair. “Are you as nervous as I am?”
“More nervous, probably.”
Shane huffs out a laugh. Not much sound, but Ilya can feel it against his hair. “Yeah, probably.” He kisses his head again. “Whatever the tests say, I want you to remember that I love you, and I will be right by your side no matter what.”
Ilya smiles. “I know.”
What feels like both a lifetime and an instant at the same time later, the timer Ilya had set on his phone goes off. It’s time to look. He takes a deep breath and steps into the bathroom, his husband at his side. He hesitates only for a moment, his shaking hand pausing before flipping the first test.
Two lines.
His breath catches in his throat, and he flips the remaining two.
A plus sign.
“Pregnant.”
He's pregnant. He's having a baby with the love of his life.
He can't hold himself back from launhing himself at Shane. He kisses all over his face; tiny, frantic kisses that are accompanied by the slight taste of salt from the tears that are starting to flow down his cheeks.
"Ya tebya lyublyu," he murmurs before a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
"Ya tebya lyublyu," before a kiss to the other side.
"Ya tebya lyublyu," and he finally kisses his husband's lips. Soft, a little desperate, and a lot more salty than before.
"I love you too," Ilya can feel Shane smiling into the kiss. It's almost enough to break it, but they somehow stay attached by the lips. "Thank you for giving this to me."
"Always."