Archive of Our Own

The Montreal Metros’ Saturday night game against the New York Admirals was scheduled to start at 7:00pm, but it wound up nearly 7:30pm before the first puck actually dropped. A certain amount of delay was to be expected, as the majority of the players and staff who made up the league weren’t exactly known for being the most punctual group of people, but this particular start time was unusually late, and it only marked the beginning of Shane’s long night.

In the end, the Metros won, which Shane supposed he couldn’t complain about. What he could complain about was how long it took them to do it. Three twenty minute periods, two twenty minute intermissions, an end-of-regulation break, five minutes of overtime, an end-of-OT break, a full three rounds of shootouts, and the game was finally over.

Shane was exhausted, even more so than usual, and wanted nothing more than to hit the showers after such a hard-fought battle. Unfortunately for him, he’d been the one to score the winning goal, so naturally, he was the star player the media was demanding to interview.

Hell, even if someone else had scored the winning goal, or if the Metros had lost the game entirely, the media still would’ve probably demanded an interview with him. He, Scott, and Ilya seemed to be some of the only three they ever wanted to talk to.

Of course, the reporter asked him all the typical questions: How do you think you played tonight? How do you feel your teammates played? What did you think of the other team? How are you feeling about your upcoming schedule? Any worries about your games against Rozanov in Boston next month? Are you planning on leading the Metros to the playoffs this year? Are you going to win another cup?

Shane provided obvious answers to her obvious questions, doing his best not to let his tone ever become too clipped. Somewhere in the mix though, he was asked a couple of personal questions, and those he made an effort to answer as vaguely as possible.

In light of the events that took place during last post-season’s MLH Cup Final, what are your thoughts on Scott Hunter?

In the wake of Scott coming out publicly, the media apparently took that to mean that everybody was now supposed to have an opinion about the man. Not about how he played. Not about how he led his team as their captain. Just about him and his… “alternative lifestyle”. They loved using that term. Shane found it utterly ridiculous.

Furthermore, the media seemed to think everybody should feel obligated to share said opinion at every given moment.

Shane made it clear he was supportive of Scott, but that’s all this lady was gonna get out of him. The rest of it wasn’t his business. It wasn’t hers or anybody else’s either. It was Scott’s business, and if the media wanted to know about Scott Hunter and his beau so badly, they should go and ask them. The couple’s opinions about themselves and their relationship should be the only ones that mattered.

The reporter’s other invasive question didn’t make Shane quite as prickly, but he still gave a guarded answer nonetheless.

What are your plans for your Christmas break?

The MLH always took an official holiday break that ran from December twenty-fourth through December twenty-sixth. No games were played over the course of those three days, as the league supposedly wanted to give their players a chance to spend time with their loved ones. Yeah, right. More like they didn’t want to have to compete with the NFL for viewership.

Still, it was a nice sentiment… Only for the league to turn it right back around again a week later, scheduling a majority of their teams with back-to-back games on New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day. So basically: “Merry Christmas! Fuck you!”

It was all very on-brand.

All he told the reporter was that he’d be spending Christmas with his family. He didn’t mention specific members, and he certainly didn’t mention where they would all be gathering, because again, that wasn’t anybody else’s business.

In reality, he and Ilya would be kicking back at the cottage over the next three days. They’d had so much fun there this past summer, and they knew that’s where they wanted to spend their break. His parents would come over to celebrate Christmas Day with them, but otherwise, they’d be completely alone on both Christmas Eve and the day after Christmas.

After the obligatory Christmas question, Shane was finally allowed to escape to the locker room. He stepped out of his stinky, sweaty gear, took a hot shower, and changed into his comfy, post-game loungewear.

He collected all of his belongings and made his way out to the team bus. He wasn’t outside for long, but the walk was still miserable. It had been cloudy, windy, and cold when they’d shown up to play, and it was cloudy, windy, and cold now. Nothing had changed, and if the latest forecast was anything to go by, nothing was going to change for the rest of the week. As he plopped down in his usual seat towards the front of the coach, he swore his damp hair was starting to frost at the tips.

Despite the long interview, despite the fact that he had literally been the last guy to get in the shower, he’d still somehow managed to be the first person on the bus. He hadn’t been expecting that.

He’d figured most of his teammates would’ve been waiting on him, but evidently, everybody else was dragging their feet. It’s like they didn’t want to go home or something! C’mon, guys! Please, pick up the pace here! I wanna get back to the hotel!

Once everybody had boarded, and of course it was J.J. who they were waiting on the longest, they were off. The Saturday night traffic was heavy, and they got stuck at a standstill for longer than Shane would’ve preferred, but what could he do? By the time they made it back to the hotel, it was nearly midnight.

Shane was in desperate need of something to eat. He never got hungry before, during, or directly after a game, his adrenaline was too high for that, but enough time had passed that he was starting to feel the effects. He hadn’t had anything to eat since his pre-game protein shake nearly six hours ago, and his growling stomach wasn’t happy about it.

When it came to eating, Shane always did his best to keep things healthy, but tonight was a special case. It was late, he and his teammates were coming off a huge win, and Christmas was right around the corner… so fuck it. Now was the time to celebrate!

Before anybody could spout ideas or take orders, it was made known to them that a staff member had taken it upon themselves to order pizza for the team. It was waiting for them, hot and ready, in one of the hotel’s event rooms.

The pizza boxes were piled high, and Shane vowed to find out whoever’d organized this and thank them thoroughly for it. Christmas had come early for the Montreal Metros.

Shane took a few modest slices of supreme pizza, because veggies were important… and a chocolate chip cookie, because what the hell, sugar was important too, and retreated to his room. His typical roommate Hayden joined him soon after, a comically large stack of meat lover’s pizza slices forming a mountain on his grease-stained paper plate.

“No way! There were cookies?! Where?!”

“On the table in one of the back corners. There was some other stuff too.”

“Shit.” There was an intense look of concentration on Hayden’s face as he debated going back or not. Eventually, difficult decision made, he set his plate down on the nightstand and strode towards the door. “I’ll be back.”

Shane hadn’t anticipated having any alone time tonight, but he’d never turn down the opportunity. He claimed his bed, the one nearest to the AC machine so he could use it as his own personal white noise machine, and shot Ilya a text.

Shane: I’m alone. Wanna call?

By way of answering, a facetime request from Ilya popped up.

Shane declined and explained himself over text.

Shane: Just a call. Hayden could come back at any minute.

Ilya: ☹️

Ilya made sure his emoji was sent and seen before calling. Shane picked up on the first ring, they exchanged greetings, Ilya insulted Hayden and cursed him for cutting in on his time with Shane, and they finally got to talking about the game.

“Boston would have won without needing to be in overtime. Would not have even taken three periods. We could beat dinosaur Scott Hunter in two periods. Refs would say mercy rule for elder abuse.”

“Alright, alright,” Shane laughed, knowing Ilya’s bragging was his own way of telling Shane he’d done a good job and that he was proud of him. “How’s the cottage?”

Ilya was already there, having arrived earlier in the day. Boston’s last game had been the night before, so thanks to his schedule, he’d wound up having an extended four day break, the lucky bastard. Poor Shane hadn’t been so fortunate.

“Is good, but also boring… and lonely.” Ilya sighed. “I wish you were here.”

“I know, me too, but I should be there before noon tomorrow. Early afternoon at the latest.”

“You should have told coach you are sick. You could have missed game and been here sooner,” Ilya said it as a joke. Both of them knew that neither of them would ever skip a game for any reason. They’d never fake being sick, and even if they were genuinely sick, they’d still play.

They talked more about the game, about Shane’s long ride back to the hotel and the pizza that was there for the team, and about their plans for the break, when Hayden got back. His new dessert plate was somehow even fuller than his pizza plate had been.

Shane wrapped things up hastily, cutting Ilya off as he’d been teasing some of the more x-rated gifts he’d gotten for Shane that they would not be unboxing while Yuna and David were still in attendance. “Uh, gotta go, Il-Lily. But we can still text.”

Shane ended the call and looked everywhere but at Hayden, who was giving him a knowing look.

Hayden turned the tv on and switched it over from a local news channel to a station showing a marathon of classic stop-motion Christmas specials. They kept the volume low, as neither really cared to pay attention. They were both too busy eating their food and texting their respective partners.

The clock was fast-approaching 1:00am when Shane texted that he’d be needing to go to bed soon. He wouldn’t be getting much sleep though. His flight was leaving at 6:15am, and he needed to make sure he gave himself plenty of time to get up, get ready, get to JFK, get through security, and get to his gate.

God, this is gonna suck. JFK was already one of the busiest airports in the United States. Adding holiday travel to the mix was sure to be a recipe for disaster.

Shane tried to think of the positives. At least it’s a short flight to Ottawa… and I don’t have to deal with any time zone changes or jet lag or crap like that… but I’ll still have to wait to get off the plane… and I’ll have to claim all my baggage… and I’ll have to shuttle to the parking lot they store my car in… and I’ll have to drive all the way to the cottage…

So much for thinking positive. Probably best if Shane didn’t think at all.

Oh well. It’ll all be worth it when I get to see Ilya again.

Ilya: Text me when you wake up.

Shane: ?

Ilya: Wake me up when you wake up. If I do not answer, keep texting me until I do.

Shane: Why?

Ilya’s text bubbles appeared and disappeared a few times before he finally found the words he wanted to use.

Ilya: In solidarity.

It was a sweet gesture, but…

Shane: You really don’t have to do that.

Ilya: Yes! I must! It’s only fair.

Shane: And just how do you plan on occupying your time?

Ilya: Oh, I don’t know. I am sure I will think of something. 😈

Shane failed to hide a small chuckle, and Hayden noticed, looking over. Shane quickly angled his phone screen away, even though there was no way Hayden would be able to see, let alone read, the small print.

Hayden gave up and went back to texting Jackie. “I’m telling you, man. You need to lock things down with this Boston Lily chick. You two’ve been texting forever. You just need to seal the deal before she moves on to the next eligible hockey player… like Rozanov. She could do it too. It’d be easy. He literally lives in the same city as her!”

Uh-huh, yeah, please don’t think any harder on that, Hayden.

Hayden’s face twisted in disgust. “Ugh, can you imagine dating a guy like that?”

I don’t even have to imagine it.

“What a nightmare.”

More like a dream come true. But Shane had to keep up appearances, so he halfheartedly agreed. “Yeah, a nightmare.”

With that, Shane ended his conversation with Hayden. He ended his conversation with Ilya too.

Shane: Good night. I love you.

Ilya: Good night, my Shane. I love you more! ❤️

Everything always had to be a competition.

Shane: ❤️

Shane finished his last bite of pizza, then pulled a crumbly chunk off the cookie he’d grabbed. He popped it into his mouth and tried to enjoy it, but he couldn’t get past the overly-sweet, artificial, preservative-laden, waxy-chocolate-chip containing, unappetizingly flavored cookie. He offered the rest of it up to Hayden who seemed to have no qualms with eating it.

He brushed his teeth and turned in for the night, Hayden following his lead once he’d traded his own “I love you”s and “good night”s with Jackie.

Shane was asleep as soon as he’d closed his eyes…

…Shane blinked and his phone’s alarm was going off. He rolled over with a groan, shutting it off and opening up his Messages app. Even with his phone’s brightness down all the way, he still had to squint.

Shane: Okay, I’m up.

A minute passed.

Shane: Ilya, I’m up.

Another minute.

Shane: Ilya!

Another minute, and Shane decided he wouldn’t send another text. He didn’t want to bother Ilya anymore, and there was no sense in both of them being miserably tired. Plus, he needed to get his butt in gear. Missing his flight would put a real damper on their plans.

Shane began getting ready as quietly as he could, not wanting to wake Hayden, who was still fast asleep. He’d booked an afternoon flight, and would be checking out of their hotel much later. Shane could’ve done the same, but he’d wanted to be able to spend as much time with Ilya as possible.

As Shane packed everything up, he noticed his phone screen lighting up on the nightstand. He checked it, and sure enough, it was Ilya, wide awake and obnoxious as ever.

Ilya: Good morning! How is morning wood?

Shane: 😑

Ilya: Mine is terrible too, but at least I get to do something about it. No stupid roommates to worry about.

Ilya: ✋🍆💦😩

Honestly, Shane hadn’t given much thought to his slumber lumber, but now?! And with the thought of Ilya stretched out on a king sized bed, pleasuring himself, living rent free in his head?! Shane shook his head, almost like he was trying to physically dispel the mental image.

Shane: Quit distracting me. I have a flight to catch.

Ilya: And I have a dick to stroke.

Shane rolled his eyes.

Shane: I’m ignoring that. TTYL.

Ilya didn’t respond right away, and Shane couldn’t allow himself to think too hard on why that was. He was on his way out the door, whispering a “Thanks, man. You too.” to a sleepy Hayden who’d just mumbled “Merry Christmas.” before falling back asleep, when Ilya texted.

Ilya: Let me know when you are on plane.

Shane: 👍

Outside, the sky was still set in a heavy overcast. It was still stupid windy and cold out too. At least the early hour and the crappy weather was keeping the journalists away.

The fancy hotel that the Metros were staying at provided a complimentary shuttle service that he and a few other guests were taking advantage of. None of the other occupants appeared to recognize him, and if they did, they didn’t care.

Just the way Shane liked it.

Perfect.

The airport was crowded, but not nearly as crowded as Shane knew it would be during peak departure and arrival times. He made it through security without any major hiccups, though the agent rifling through his stuff seemed unimpressed by the amount of skincare products he possessed.

He made his way to the appropriate waiting lounge nearest to his gate, sat down, and waited… and waited… and waited…

More and more people showed up, and eventually, they were called to board. On the plane, Shane shuffled down the thin aisle until he found his seat in first class. Once he was settled, he pulled out his phone.

Shane: On the plane.

Ilya: Good. Your giant dildo makes it through security okay?

Shane: Fuck off.

Ilya: Have safe flight! 😘

Shane: Thanks! 😘

Shane hoped it would be a safe flight. There was snow in the forecast, but hopefully he’d be able to get his flight in. He didn’t know what he was going to do if he couldn’t. That would ruin everything. Getting redirected somewhere else wouldn’t be much better either.

In the end, there was no need to worry. The plane took off easily, cruised at the right altitude smoothly, and touched down in the proper airport relatively cleanly. There was a minimal amount of turbulence throughout the flight, and while the landing might’ve been a bit shakier and slipperier than usual, both Shane and the plane were still in one piece. He’d call that a win.

Shane: In Ottawa. See you in 3 hours or so.

Ilya: 👍 Make it 2! I cannot wait any longer! I need to get my hands on you! 😈

Shane: You need to find a new emoji.

All the post-flight stuff Shane had been dreading earlier came to pass without incident, and it wasn’t long before he was in his boring, British, good-in-the-snow car, ready to start the final leg of his journey.

And to be frank, it was a good thing his car was good in the snow, because here, there was already a thick blanket of powdery snow on the ground. He had a feeling there was a thin layer of ice hidden beneath it too.

Like New York, Ottawa was also cloudy, windy, and cold, and Shane knew he was being a broken record, but goddamn if it wasn’t annoying. It was much colder than usual for this time of year too, and while it would be a White Christmas, that was commonplace here. The occurrence had lost much of its luster.

Shane knew it wasn’t right, but he found himself in a sour apple mood for the majority of his drive. He knew it would correct itself as soon as he saw Ilya, but after everything that had happened in the past twenty four hours, he’d kind of had it.

He was tired from the game the night before, tired from the early morning, tired from the flight, and tired from this drive. The airports had left him overstimulated and overwhelmed, and his nerve-endings felt frayed and frazzled, raw and exposed.

He knew Ilya would be the one, was the only one, who could put him back together again, but once they both got all the initial horniness out of their systems, Shane was planning on napping the day away. And if Ilya really had stayed up this entire time, and was in the same boat as Shane sleep-wise, he had a feeling they would both be in agreement.

Of course, Shane would never say no to indulging in some afternoon delight sessions sprinkled in along the way.

As Shane came to the end of the long, winding, gravel driveway, and pulled up to the front of the cottage, his spirits were immediately lifted. The cottage was covered in Christmas decorations. Ilya hadn’t mentioned anything, so he must have wanted it to be a surprise.

Consider Shane surprised.

Out in the middle of nowhere, the cottage was completely secluded, so it's not like the display was for showing off. These festive and fun decorations were strictly there for the enjoyment of Shane, Ilya, and the rest of the Hollander family.

Icicle lights hung from the gutters, swaying gently back and forth in the wind. Their soft, incandescent glow was pleasing to the eye, and less harsh on Shane’s senses than the LED lights that seemed to be taking over everywhere else in the world. Shane imagined the subtler choice was intentional on Ilya’s part, and he appreciated the gesture more than Ilya could probably ever know.

Multicolored lights covered Shane’s moose statue, and a wreath had been fastened around its neck. There were several light up deer set up around it, creating a makeshift herd of holiday critters.

There was a snowman whose hat and scarf had gotten blown off, but its stick arms and pebble eyes, buttons, and mouth were all still intact. There was an empty indentation on its face where the nose should be, and Shane had a feeling he knew what had happened to the carrot, judging by the hoof prints he saw scattered about in the snow.

Shane wasn’t quite sure how Ilya had managed to build such a large snowman, considering how cold it was outside and how dry and powdery the snow was, but leave it to Ilya to find a way.

He also wasn’t sure where Ilya had gotten everything from. Shane had never decorated his cottage before, so it’s not like there was anything stored anywhere. He couldn’t have gone out shopping, right? That would be too daring, too bold. Somebody could have recognized him and wondered what the hell he was doing out here during his holiday break.

He must have just ordered all of it online and had it delivered. Or brought it all himself? But how would he have done that? None of it would have been allowed on a plane. And even so, he had to have taken a cab out here from the airport. There’s no way he could have been carrying all this. Wait… had the cab driver recognized him and where he was taking him?!

Shane tried to turn his brain off and stop worrying so much about the logistics of everything. Instead, he focused on appreciating the results of all the hard work and effort Ilya had put in to spread some holiday cheer.

He stepped out of his car, and before he began unloading his luggage, he trudged through the snow towards the snowman. He carefully put its hat and scarf back on, knowing full well they’d just get blown off again, then went back for his suitcase.

The front door was unlocked, and Shane sincerely hoped Ilya had only just unlocked it, anticipating his arrival time. Safety was important.

Shane dropped his suitcase and called out, “I’m home!”

He didn’t hear anything back, but he wasn’t worried. Ilya was probably still busy decorating, considering the indoors were decked out too.

The tree was the first thing to catch Shane’s eye. It was artificial, but honestly, that’s what Shane preferred. He didn’t want to spend his three days off vacuuming up sticky, spiky pine needles. 

There was a glitzy star on top, more lights, tinsel, an assortment of ornaments, and a gold fringed, red skirt beneath it. The skirt was hardly noticeable, what with all the gifts and cards littered across it. Shane had his own assortment of gifts to add, but at this rate, he wasn’t sure if there’d be any room.

Garland was draped across every banister and it framed every window and doorway. The surface of every table and countertop was jam-packed with holiday themed figures, trinkets, and knickknacks.

The four stockings hanging from the fireplace had all been stuffed with goodies, and again, Shane was left wondering whether or not there’d be any room for his own additions.

Shane came into the kitchen and found two platters full of cookies. One was labeled “Good Cookies” with a bunch of smiley faces and cartoon arrows pointing in case the words weren’t enough. The other was labeled “Gross, Nasty, Healthy, Shane Cookies” with frowny faces and more arrows.

Shane tried one of each, and both of them were delicious. He had to admit the “Good Cookies” were better than the “Gross, Nasty, Healthy, Shane Cookies”, but both of them were far superior to last night’s disappointment.

Clearly, Ilya had found a way to keep himself very busy during his alone time here at the cottage. He must still be busy too, because Shane couldn’t find him anywhere.

Alright, Ilya. Come out, come out, wherever you are. Walking in a winter wonderland has been fun, but I’m dying to see you.

He wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen. He wasn’t in any of the guest bedrooms. He must be in their master bedroom.

Knowing how wildly spontaneous and romantic Ilya was, he was probably sprawled out naked on their bed, remote-controlled shades drawn to block out any light, poinsettia petals strewn about the room, gingerbread scented candles lit, and a fucking candy cane in his mouth. Some cheesy music was probably playing in the background like "Santa Baby" or “Baby, It’s Cold Outside”.

Shane opened the door to an undecorated master bedroom with no Ilya in sight.

“Ilya?”

Is he in the shower? No, he can’t be. I don’t hear any water running. But maybe he’s done and he’s just drying off? Shane checked the bathroom to no avail, and now he was officially starting to panic.

Where could he be?! If Shane hadn’t been so sleep deprived, the answer would’ve come to him a lot sooner. The sauna!

Shane had had an infrared electric hybrid sauna put in a few years back to help with detoxification and muscle relaxation. He’d shown it off when he’d taken Ilya on a house tour this past summer, but at that time, it had been too hot to consider spending any time in it. Cold as it was now, today would have been the perfect day to take it for a spin.

Shane’s cottage was their cottage, and he didn’t have a problem with Ilya reaping any of its benefits, but he wished he could’ve been around to explain the sauna’s controls to him before he’d used it. Most of it was all pretty simple, straightforward stuff, and Shane knew Ilya was more than capable of figuring things out for himself, but that didn’t stop Shane from feeling the need to hover.

Shane traveled to the opposite end of the cottage where the sauna was located, and sure enough, there he was. He’d finally found Ilya.

He was sitting inside the sauna, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs. He’d folded up a plush white towel and was using it to cover his eyes, effectively blocking out the sauna’s glaring red light.

At first glance, Shane was far too distracted by Ilya’s body to notice that something was amiss. Upon closer examination though, he realized it:

Ilya was asleep.

There was no doubt. His breathing was slow and deep, his head was tilted back, his mouth was slightly parted, and beneath the small towel, Shane knew his eyes had to be closed.

Shit!

Shane quickly turned the sauna off, glancing at the settings of the control panel as he did. This particular sauna started at 26 degrees Celsius and was capable of reaching all the way up to 90. Ilya had it set to 50, which wasn’t excessively dangerous, but it wasn’t anything to sneeze at either.

Shane pulled open the door and was immediately bombarded by a fiery wave of dry heat. It was then that he realized that even with the lights now off, there was still a bright, angry, red glow to Ilya’s skin.

He was covered in sweat, and if it was any consolation, at least that meant that he still had fluids left to lose. They’d be in much bigger trouble if his body no longer had anything to put out.

“Ilya?!” Shane yanked the towel off Ilya’s forehead, and thankfully, his eyes popped open right away. They were glassy and blood shot, searching wildly around the small room before eventually falling onto Shane.

“Chto?! Wha’?! Shane? What are-?”

At Ilya’s proof of life, it was almost funny how quickly Shane’s concern evaporated. Funnier still was how quickly it was replaced with irritation. He grabbed Ilya by his sweaty shoulders and hauled him to his feet. “Why the fuck were you sleeping in the sauna?! Do you have any idea how fucking dangerous that is?!”

Ilya didn’t give him an answer, he couldn’t with how much he was struggling just to gain his bearings and keep his feet underneath him. He clutched at Shane’s sweatless shoulders to keep himself from collapsing.

“Jesus Christ, Ilya. How long have you been in here?!”

“I don’t know… I come in after I text you.”

“That was nearly three hours ago! You’ve been in here for three fucking hours?!

That couldn’t be right. “No… no, I don’t think… Not… I have not been in here for that long… I do not think.” Maybe that was right.

Shane wasn’t sure what to believe. Regardless: “You’re only supposed to be in them for like 15-20 minutes at a time. 45 minutes max!” He didn’t know why he was bothering to explain. It’s not like Ilya was paying any attention to his lecture.

Shane lugged Ilya out, and with how close together they were, Ilya was basically breathing directly into Shane’s face. There was no mistaking the distinct scent of liquor. “You- Have you been drinking?!”

“...No.”

“Unbelievable,” Shane muttered. Knowing his earlier lecture had gone ignored, he wasn’t going to bother wasting time explaining the dangers of drinking alcohol before getting into a sauna.

“I pour… a little vodka in cereal bowl this morning.”

“In your cereal bowl?!”

“Yes, is very good. You should try. Vodka, milk, cinnamon coast hunch… brunch… cinnamon host… munch…”

Ilya was absolutely slaughtering Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and Shane wondered how worried he should be about that. He dragged Ilya towards the couch and helped him lay down when he spied an empty mug on the coffee table. He could smell the peppermint and see the cocoa stains from a mile away. “I don’t suppose you spiked your hot chocolate too?!”

“No… no… does not need… anything… and I drink that last night… while watching your game… You are such good hockey player.”

Shane ignored the sappy admission. He needed to stay angry. If he didn’t, Ilya would think he could get away with pulling stunts like this all the time.

It was rare that Ilya drank around him, so he must have done it this morning to get it all out of his system before Shane arrived. It’s not like Shane could blame him for wanting to cut loose and have some fun on his break, but it didn’t help their situation. “I can’t believe this is what I’m coming home to.” Shane grumbled, wanting Ilya to hear him but not really wanting him to hear him.

Ilya heard him, and to Shane’s horror, his face crumpled as he dissolved into tears. “I am sorry, Shane. I do not mean to fall asleep in sauna. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Rarely did Ilya cry like this, so Shane knew right away that he wasn’t in his right mind. He put his irritation aside and set to dealing with the problem before it could get any worse. “I’m not mad! I’m not mad, I swear, so please stop crying!” You can’t afford to lose any more fluids!

Ilya either didn’t hear Shane’s reassurances or he didn’t believe him, because the tears kept on flowing. “I ruin Christmas, and you hate me, and I am useless fuck up. Useless fuck up who always fucks everything up.”

God, he doesn’t actually think that, does he?! This is just the heat talking, right?! Shane took Ilya’s head in both hands and thumbed his tears away. He softened his voice. “Ilya, please. You didn’t ruin anything. I don’t hate you, I love you. You’re not a fuck up, and you don’t ever fuck anything up, so please, don’t cry.”

“I am… not crying.” Ilya insisted, crying. “Never in life have I cried. Russians do not do this.”

Shane’s earlier words must have finally broken through the heated haze of Ilya’s mind, because slowly, his tears rolled to a stop. At least… hopefully that’s what happened. Otherwise, it looked like he’d just cried out the last drops of moisture his body had to give.

Shane kept one cool hand on Ilya’s flushed face and used the other to pull out his phone and start googling the effects of being in a sauna for too long. The web listed the varying levels of heat exposure severity from dehydration to heat exhaustion to heatstroke.

Shane knew what dehydration was, so he looked into the differences between heat exhaustion and heatstroke. Based on what he read, Ilya didn’t appear to be exhibiting any signs of heatstroke… yet.

Granted, Ilya’s skin was still a bright red, but he was also still sweating. He wasn’t seizing or hallucinating or passing out. His speech seemed choppier than usual, but it wasn’t slurred.

Shane needed to get a baseline temperature just to be sure though, so he briefly left Ilya’s side to retrieve a thermometer from the medicine cabinet. He slipped it into Ilya’s mouth, under his tongue, and they waited for it to give a reading.

Ilya looked around, bored and confused, then started talking with the thermometer hanging out of his mouth. “What are we doing?”

The thermometer nearly fell out, so Shane quickly pushed it back into place. “We’re checking your temperature, so keep your mouth shut and don’t try to talk, okay?”

“Oh, okay.”

What did I just say?! The thermometer gave a final beep, and Shane held his breath before checking it.

39.1.

Shane referenced the parameters for heat exhaustion versus heatstroke.

“Am I dying?”

“No, so don’t even joke about that. WebMD says anything over 40 is considered heatstroke, which you’re not at, but you’re close to it, so I don’t know…” Shane wasn’t entirely convinced Ilya was in the clear, and Ilya’s life wasn’t something he’d ever be willing to risk. “I wonder if we need to get a more accurate form of measurement…”

Ilya looked at Shane.

Shane looked at Ilya.

Ilya kept looking at Shane, and his eyes suddenly widened when his overheated brain finally put two and two together. “Oh no! No no no no no no! We are not sticking anything up there! We never stick anything up there, and we are not starting that now! I am fine! I know if I am having stroke or not, and I am not! I already stroke earlier today!”

Clearly, Shane and Ilya were talking about two very different kinds of strokes.

Shane ceded, and decided they’d treat this as severe dehydration and heat exhaustion for the time being. They’d try to manage it themselves, but if things escalated, Shane wouldn’t hesitate to call for help. He was more worried about Ilya’s health than what it could mean for both of them if their secret got out.

As far as treatment went…

“Okay, so what do we do now? Should I fall asleep outside in snow? Do opposite of before to fix the problem?”

It was a good thing Shane was here, ‘cause that was a horrible idea. “Shut up. It says that we need to get you lots of fluids.” Shane darted off to the kitchen. He always kept a good stock of various sports drinks in his refrigerator for emergencies.

This wasn’t necessarily the emergency he’d had in mind when he’d created his stockpile, but still. He looked around for what he thought would be best and figured the Pedialyte was the way to go.

Shane returned to the couch with a suspiciously purple bottle in his hand. He unscrewed the cap before thrusting the drink into Ilya’s hands. “Here, it’s grape.” 

Ilya frowned. “I hate grape! You know this! Tastes nothing like real grape!” 

“Shut up. It’s the only Pedialyte flavor I had.”

“Ped-i-a-lyte? Pedialyte means is for babies, no?”

“Shut up. It’s good for everybody.” Not to mention, your childish behavior gives me the impression that Pedialyte would be the perfect drink for you right about now. “Go on, drink it.”

Ilya frowned once more before going in to give it a try. His grip on the bottle was poor, as his fingers weren’t cooperating with him at the moment, so Shane took over again and steadily held the plastic bottle to Ilya’s lips. He took a small, shaky sip.

Most of the drink wound up dribbling down Ilya’s chin, and the meager amount he managed to get into his mouth sat sticky on his tongue. He went to swallow, but the action caused everything in his throat to convulse. He fell into a coughing fit, half of the Pedialyte going down the wrong pipe.

“Shit. Let me-” Shane jumped into action, grabbing a wet towel and a straw in the time it took Ilya to recover. The implementation of the straw yielded much better results, and Shane wiped the sugary grape mess from Ilya’s chin, neck, and chest while he continued to nurse his Pedialyte.

Ilya kept complaining about the flavor, but sipped obediently at his fluid-replenishing, electrolyte-filled drink while Shane looked into what they should do next. All of the sources seemed to agree that removing as much clothing from the victim as possible was an important measure to take. Ilya was already wearing next to nothing, but Shane figured it couldn’t hurt to pull his boxers off.

He was sure Ilya would have something to say about that.

Sure enough, as soon as Shane started removing the article, Ilya gasped in surprise. “Oh! Shane, you know I am happy to see you too, but I-”

“Shut up. We’re not doing anything. I’m just taking these off to cool you down even faster.”

Ilya smirked. “You just want to see me be naked.”

“No, I just want to help.”

“Hmm, whatever you say.”

“Shut up.”

Shane kept reading through the care instructions as he walked away to toss Ilya’s underwear into the laundry room. He heard Ilya calling after him.

“Hey! You should take your clothes off too!”

Shane scoffed before muttering to himself. “Uh no, that’s not happening.”

“Come on, I want to see you!”

Shane called back. “Yeah, that line’s not gonna work this time!”

“Come on, Shane!” Ilya was whining when Shane returned. “I want a show! I know it will make me feel better, and is only fair.”

“Fair?”

“Yes, fair. I already strip tease for you.”

Shane’s brows shot up in disbelief. “Strip tease?! Is that what you’d call-”

“Yes, and so is your turn now!”

Shane didn’t bother to grace Ilya with another “shut up” in this instance, and Ilya finally gave up the fight when he saw he wasn’t getting anywhere. While Shane continued to read, Ilya redirected his attention to himself, stretching his arms out in front of him and studying them closely. It was the first time he’d really given notice to his burnt, overheated skin.

“I look like I have been baked… Baked like cookie in oven… Oh! Shane! Did you try special cookie?! I bake them just for you! Is sitting on counter in-”

“Yes, I tried a cookie!” Shane snapped. He couldn’t focus with all of Ilya’s background ramblings. It says to apply ice packs to-

“Was it right cookie? I wrote-”

“I tried one of each! Happy?!” -apply ice packs to the-

“Did you like?”

“Yes, they were delicious. Both of them were.” -to the neck, armpits, gr-

“Good. I make them with extra-”

“Ilya! Please! I can’t read if you’re-”

Ilya cut Shane off with a sudden loud gasp, his entire body tensing up. Shane’s heart leapt up into his throat. “Ilya?! What?! What is it?! What’s wrong?! You have to talk to me! Please!” Oh god! He’s having a fucking seizure! I need to call-

“Fuck! Shitshitshit. Shane. Help.”

Okay, he’s not having a seizure! He wouldn’t be able to talk if he was having a seizure! Crisis averted! Shane’s relief was short lived though, because Ilya was still in pain. He kept making aborted reaches towards his left leg, never getting very far before falling back against the couch.

Every muscle in his body was locked up tight, but his left calf looked worst of all. While the others were being held rigid, the muscles composing his calf were all rippling and writhing, jumping beneath his skin like a tangled knot of coiling snakes.

Shane pressed both hands firmly into the muscle and began working at the cramp.

“Motherf-” Ilya’s hands flew out to shove Shane away, but Shane wouldn’t be moved. He wasn’t going anywhere. “Christ, Shane! You are trying to kill-”

“Shut up! This is helping, trust me! I know it sucks, but it’ll get better in a minute.”

Ilya needed to dig his fingers into something, but he didn’t want to hurt Shane, so he scrabbled for a pillow, then opted to grab an entire couch cushion instead. He squeezed it to his chest and squished his face into it, muffling the vulgar Russian curses steadily streaming from his mouth.

Slowly, thankfully, the cramp began to abate. Ilya’s muscles relaxed incrementally until they went limp entirely. He slumped boneless against the couch, completely spent.

“Is it getting better?”

Ilya tossed the couch cushion aside before throwing his head back and groaning performatively, “No, is still bad. Very bad. Terrible. Ugh.”

Shane cracked a small smile, happy to see Ilya wasn’t suffering as much anymore. “Uh-huh, sure.”

“What?!” Ilya asked innocently. “If I say yes is good, then you will stop, and I do not want you to stop. This massage is very good… very sexy… very-”

“Aaand I’m done.” Shane lifted his hands away.

“No, wait! I think I am cramping again. Is my dick this time! I need-”

“Shut up.”

With the cramp taken care of, Shane went back to the more important matter of getting Ilya’s temperature down. He grabbed a handful of cloth ice packs he kept in the freezer and began laying them where the web had instructed.

Ilya actually sighed in relief, leaning into the ones placed against his neck. He was indifferent towards the ones Shane placed underneath his armpits. He gasped in pain again when Shane laid a few packs near his groin.

“Fuck!” Ilya shimmied away, knocking all of the ice packs out of place.

Shane impatiently put them all back. “Quit it! You need to stay still so these ice packs can work!”

Ilya did his best, but he couldn’t keep from fidgeting. “I do not think I am big fan of this… what they call it… ‘temperature play’,” he grumbled.

Shane had had enough. “Oh my god, Ilya, just shut up already! Stop it with all of this crazy, hypersexualized nonsense! You think this is how I wanted to spend our reunion?! We could be having sex right now, but you had to go and fall asleep in the sauna!”

Ilya lowered his gaze and his voice. “I already say I am sorry.”

“I know.” Shane closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know, I know, I know, and I swear I’m not actually mad… It really wasn’t your fault. I know you were just tired… we both are.”

“Yes, and you know what would help with that?” Ilya asked mischievously, shame forgotten.

Shane gave him a flat look. “Going to sleep?”

“Yes, but what would help with going to sleep?” Ilya waggled his eyebrows.

“Let’s get you fixed up first. Then we can have some fun, okay?”

“Okay.” Ilya agreed aloud, then silently made a promise to himself to stop with all of the unwanted advances and innuendos. Clearly, Shane was interested. They both were. But there was a time and a place, and thanks to Ilya, this wasn’t it. It could be soon though, his stupid body just had to get with the program!

Shane checked Ilya’s temperature again, and was glad to see it had dropped all the way down to 38. That was still technically on the cusp of being considered heat exhaustion though, so he still wanted them to be careful.

He asked all of the appropriate questions:

“Do you have a headache?”

“No.”

“Are you dizzy?”

“No.”

“Nauseous?”

“No.” Ilya was going to be a perfect patient from now on. No more trying to rile Shane up. “I feel fine. A little hot, but mostly fine.”

“Good.”

Shane helped Ilya finish the rest of his Pedialyte, then helped him to the bedroom. He was comforted by the fact that Ilya was much steadier on his feet now. Shane helped Ilya lay down on top of the comforter, then started stripping down to his boxers.

Ilya gave a tired smile. “Yay, I am finally getting reward for my good behavior.”

Shane chuckled. “Good behavior? I don’t know about that.”

They laid curled up, side by side, face to face, staring into each other’s eyes.

“My Shane is so beautiful,” Ilya whispered.

Shane looked away, having never been able to take a genuine compliment.

Ilya noticed the goosebumps that had broken out all over Shane’s skin. “You are cold?”

Shane shrugged. “A little. I’ll warm up soon though.”

“I could warm you up.”

“Ilya,” Shane warned.

“No, really. Come here.” Ilya opened his arms so Shane could lay on his chest. “What is saying…? Two birds, one stone, yes? Your cold skin will cool me down, and my hot skin will warm you up.”

That… actually sounded like a pretty enticing idea. The logic certainly wasn’t sound. Shane wasn’t actually cold enough to help cool Ilya down, but Shane couldn’t take it anymore. He’d missed Ilya. He needed him.

Unable to resist his lover any longer, Shane took him up on his invitation. Ilya was practically a human space heater at the moment, and Shane melted against his chest as Ilya’s warmth seeped into his skin. He could only hope Ilya’s body continued cooling itself down, ‘cause Shane wasn’t going to be any help at all.

“Better?”

Shane hummed, and it wasn’t long before he was fast asleep. Ilya followed suit shortly after. They could finally get to having some fun, and their break could officially begin, as soon as they both woke up.