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An odd look on his face.
That was the first thing Ilya Rozanov noticed when his lovely and infuriatingly handsome boyfriend Shane Hollander walked through the front door.
Not odd, but subtle. The kind of expression most people, including their teammates and friends, wouldn’t catch at first glance. But Ilya knew Shane the way he knew the Russian language: instinctively and fluently. He knew every flicker, every microexpression, every shift Shane couldn’t verbalize.
And right now? Shane looked…pleased.
Which, while objectively was a wonderful thing to be on the receiving end of, almost meant—historically speaking—that chaos brewed on the horizon.
“I know that look, Shane.” Ilya sprawled across the couch like a languid cat, with his dog Anya draped over his legs like she’d personally claimed him as a dog bed.
“Hello to you too, Ilya,” Shane greeted him with too much of a calmness that sent warning bells ringing in Ilya’s head. “And hello, Anya.”
Anya perked up at once, tail wagging as she let out a cheerful bark at the sight of her other human.
“No.” Ilya narrowed his eyes. “You cannot do that.”
“Do what?”
“You cannot change your tone when greeting our sweet Anya.”
“Why not?” Shane feigned innocence. “Is my tone wrong?”
“No, it’s fine.” Ilya sighed to hang on to the last fragile threads of his sanity. “But it is the tone you use when you already made a decision without talking to me.”
Anya, the cutie traitor that she was, abandoned Ilya without blinking and trotted over to Shane, who bent to gently pet her with one hand…
While the other stayed firmly tucked behind his back.
Ilya slowly sat up. “Shane…” His tone was filled with suspicion.
“Yes?”
“Are you hiding something?”
“I may have…” Shane exhaled to get his words together. “Adopted…a pet.”
A beat.
“What?!” Ilya launched himself off the couch so fast he nearly sent the vase on the coffee table crashing to its death. “You adopted a pet? Shane, моя любовь, why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve gone to the animal shelter with you. Anya needs a friend to play with! Look at her, she is begging you for one. God, what did you get? Another dog? Please tell me it’s a puppy.”
“Ilya…”
“What breed? No, wait, I want to guess.” Ilya giddily barreled on, hands flying with excitement as he paced around the living room. “Is it one of Harris’ dogs? I want the one that looks like Chiron. You know, the one with the big eyes and the…”
“Ilya,” Shane tried again, softer this time.
“What? Did you get that one? Tell me if you did, Shane, so I would forgive you for everything bad you have done to me.”
“Ilya,” Shane didn’t want to ruin Ilya’s happy mood, but he also had to tell him the truth. “It’s…not a dog.”
Ilya froze as if a bullet went straight to his heart. “Say it again.”
“It’s not a dog.”
Ilya blinked, recentering his entire emotional state in real time. “Okay. That’s fine. Is it a cat? I am not allergic and I do not like them very much, but I can adapt. I am flexible, is that the right word, I’m not sure. I will tell Anya to adapt and be nice too. For you. For us…”
“It’s not a cat.” Shane cut in quickly, before Ilya could spiral into another tangent.
“Shane…”
“And before you continue,” Shane added in a voice that gained a strange urgency. “it’s also not a rabbit. Or a fish. Or a hamster.”
Ilya’s eye twitched as the vivid idea of strangling Shane to coax the answer out of him flashed through his mind.
“What. Did. You. Adopt?” He punctuated his every word to make Shane realize that he was no longer playing around.
Shane averted his gaze to the floor.
“It’s a…bird.”
“Oh.” The stress in Ilya’s shoulders loosened a fraction. “A bird is not bad. Is it a parrot? The yellow one..the…uh…canary?”
“No.” Shane was now fully committed to avoiding eye contact. “It’s a…loon.”
Silence crashed down so hard that one could hear the faint drops of water from the faucet if they listened hard enough.
“A what?”
Slowly, Shane brought his hidden hand forward…
And revealed a little carrier.
Inside it, nestled in a gray blanket, was a long-necked, black-and-white loon.
The loon blinked at Ilya with its bright and beady red eyes.
Ilya stared right back. In a span of a minute, he cycled through all five stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance—and then circled right back to anger as his base instincts screamed at him to grab the creature and throw it back to whatever cursed lake Shane had plucked it from.
“No.”
“Okay, so I technically didn’t adopt it.” Shane reassured him, like it could somehow soften the blow. “But I found it near the lake. It couldn’t fly. One wing must be broken or something so I…brought him here.”
“So,” Ilya pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply like he was trying his best not to combust on the spot. “You, Shane Hollander, brought a wild Canadian wolf water bird into our cottage?”
“It’s technically my cottage,” Shane muttered to himself before making his voice a bit louder. “but I couldn’t just leave it there.”
“Shane, you could have called a bird expert!” Ilya incredulously shot back. “Someone with…equipment for this animal!”
The loon released a low, haunting call that echoed through the cottage as if it was reprimanding Ilya for raising his voice at Shane.
Ilya went completely still. “What the fuck was that?”
“It’s a loon call.” Shane said flatly. “It’s normal.”
“That sounded like a fucking wolf or a cottage ghost warning us about this bird.”
Anya barked as she circled Ilya’s ankles in visible distress, like she was deeply offended that this new “pet” did not resemble a dog in the slightest way.
The loon called again, louder and longer this time.
“Can we eat this bird?” Ilya dragged a hand down his face. “Because if yes, I’m going to kill it, cook it and then we could have it for dinner.”
“No, Ilya,” Shane said. “We cannot eat it. So, you’re not gonna kill it.”
“I’m gonna kill it for another reason, then.”
Shane stepped closer, like he always did when he felt Ilya being close to spiraling. “Hey. It just needs a few days. I already looked it up—we can keep it comfortable here, let it recover and then I’ll contact a wildlife rehabilitator and a veterinarian friend to come by at the end of the week.”
“A few days?” Ilya repeated, aghast. “Of being with that…beast?” He gestured wildly as the loon shifted in the box like it paid full rent.
“Hey.” Shane shifted even closer. “It’s only temporary.”
Ilya looked at him and he was only met with that quiet, stubborn softness that Shane wore so effortlessly and drastically had the ability to undo him every single time.
Fuck it.
“It’s not staying forever, okay?”
“No. Just until it’s better.”
“And,” Ilya raised a finger. “It’s staying in the bathroom. Not the living room or the kitchen and especially not the bedroom.”
Shane chuckled. “Okay.”
“And another thing,” Ilya thought about his next words. “If it screams or calls in the middle of the night, I’m moving out.”
“Fair game.”
A pause ensued before Ilya moved forward, arms stretched forward like he was approaching an explosive. “Give it to me.”
Shane blinked before opening the box, gently scooping the bird up and cradling it for a moment before handing it over to Ilya.
Ilya looked at it like it was a grenade that would detonate at any second.
“I still hate it.”
From the floor, Anya barked loudly in betrayal as she stared up at her favorite Russian human holding something that was very much not her.
The loon blinked and Ilya blinked back.
Anya ceased her barking and huffed as he trotted over to rest at Shane’s ankles.
Shane, on the other hand, simply smiled as he looked at Ilya, who was helping one very unfortunate loon settle into their temporary yet already chaotic reality.
Later that evening, the bathroom was transformed into something that vaguely resembled a lake.
“This is fucking ridiculous,” Ilya muttered, sleeves shoved up to his forearms as he lingered in the doorway, watching Shane kneel beside the tub like this was any normal evening.
“It’s temporary,” Shane gently reminded him while adjusting the water’s temperature. “So please calm down.”
Anya hovered at a respectful distance behind them, ears perked up and body tense as she stared at the loon like she was seriously trying to deduce the reason why this creature had invaded her home.
The loon, now slowly waddling around in the tub, stared back at her with its beady red eyes.
Anya barked sharply as she locked eyes with the loon.
“See?” Ilya pointed at her as she trotted forward while barking. “Even sweet Anya knows that loon being here is against rules of nature.”
“Anya.” Shane said softly, but his tone was no less commanding. “Easy, girl. It’s not going to hurt you.”
Anya barked again, a little louder as she stepped even closer, paws tapping against the tile.
The loon shifted, rustling its feathers and sending small ripples across the water that splashed lightly against the sides of the tub and onto the towels Shane had laid out earlier.
“Anya,” Shane said more firmly. “Quiet down.”
Anya huffed, clearly offended, but ceased her barks. She retreated a couple of steps and situated herself near the door like a reluctant guard, her brown gaze never leaving the bird.
The bathroom fell into a strange kind of silence, broken only by the soft lapping of water and the faint shuffle of feathers.
“It should be fine here for the night.” Shane pushed himself to his feet, reaching out to grab Ilya’s hand. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”
Ilya hesitated as he snuck a glance at the bird that had somehow upended their peaceful evening. “It’s not going to wake us up or anything, right?”
“It might, but let’s hope that it doesn’t.”
Ilya narrowed his eyes. “I still hate it.”
“Come on,” Shane leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. “Let’s get some sleep.”
And despite the absurdity of everything, Ilya let himself be pulled away, his fingers tightening around Shane’s as they left their makeshift lake behind.
Ilya thought that he was dreaming when he heard the haunting noise.
The sound weaved into his sleep like an unnatural spectre—hollow and echoing, too vast for the familiar walls of the cottage. It threaded through the dark like fog eerily rolling over a cold bay, distant and wrong.
He frowned, shifting under the covers and burying his face deeper into the pillow as if he could smother the sound out of existence.
Brief silence ensued for a moment, only for the haunting sound to come back louder.
Ilya’s eyes snapped open. “No.”
Another haunting call rang out, making him bolt upright.
“What the fuck was that?!”
“Ilya?” Shane stirred beside him, voice thick with sleep. “Mmm…what…”
“Did you hear that?” Ilya hissed, already tossing the covers aside. “Tell me you heard that sound. Please tell me that I’m not going crazy.”
“Ilya,” Shane mumbled as he squinted, still half-asleep. “What are you…”
Another call.
This time, it felt closer.
Ilya turned his head toward the door, dread creeping up his spine. “It’s in the walls, Shane.” His eyes scanned the threshold. “There’s something in the walls.”
Shane exhaled, unimpressed. “There’s nothing in the walls.”
“Then where is sound coming from?” Ilya demanded, voice rising despite himself. “Because that is not the sound of an ambulance or a fire truck. That is definitely not Anya. That is the sound people hear before they die in horror movies!”
Another long, wailing call bent through the quiet.
“Fucking shit!” Ilya grabbed Shane’s wrist and held it in a tight grip. “It’s calling something.”
“Calm down.” Shane scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to wake himself up. “The loon is not calling anything. That’s what they sound like.”
Ilya froze for a minute before slowly turning to look at Shane.
“The loon?”
Shane nodded.
“Godspodi,” Ilya collapsed backward onto the mattress before sitting back up in disbelief. “Oh my fucking God, I forgot about the stupid wolf bird.”
Shane blinked at him, confused. “How did you fucking forget about the bird?”
“I blocked it out for my own sake and survival.”
Right on cue, the loon let out another echoing call.
“That’s it.” Ilya snapped, dragging a hand through his curls. “I’m going to kill it.”
“You’re not going to kill it.” Shane swung his legs off the bed. “I’ll go check on it.”
Ilya grabbed his wrist again. “We go together.”
Shane no longer bothered to argue.
They both stepped out into the hallway, the wooden floor cool beneath their feet. The cottage was wrapped in shadows and quiet, except for the sound that lingered in the halls like a ghost that refused to leave.
Anya was already near the bathroom door when they arrived. She sat squarely in the middle of the floor, alert and ready, staring straight at the tub like she was guarding the gates of hell.
“See?” Ilya pointed at the dog. “Anya wants to kill the bird already.”
Shane reached past him to flick the bathroom light on. The sudden brightness revealed the loon floating in the bathtub, dark feathers slick against the water, red eyes sharp and awake.
It looked…completely at home.
The moment it spotted them, it let out another long call that bounced off the tiled walls and filled the small space with something ancient and eerie.
Anya whimpered before turning and scampering down the hallway.
“Shane,” Ilya whined. “Why is it making that noise?”
“That’s just what loons sound like.”
“Even at night?” Ilya demanded.
“Yep. Even at night.”
“Of course.” Ilya dropped his head onto Shane’s shoulder. “Of course, you brought home a nocturnal demon wolf bird.”
The loon called again, a softer sound but no less unsettling.
Shane laughed under his breath, the sound warm and grounding against the strangeness of the circumstances.
And somewhere between the chaos, the noise, and the utter absurdity of standing barefoot in their bathroom in the middle of the night with a wild bird floating around in their tub…
Ilya stayed beside Shane, held his boyfriend’s hand and didn’t dare to let go.
By morning, Ilya was running on exactly 3 hour and 17 minutes of sleep and pure, unfiltered spite.
He had gone back to bed at Shane’s insistence after the loon had, mercifully, ceased its calling into the void.
However, sleep didn’t come easily.
Mostly because of the two times the loon had answered his desperate, silent pleas for peace with another haunting call that reverberated through the cottage like a personal vendetta.
Which was how he found himself in the kitchen just after sunrise, hair sticking up in every possible direction, eyes half-lidded and unfocused as he stared at the coffee machine like it had wronged him on a deeply personal level.
The cottage was suspiciously quiet and Ilya didn’t trust the silence one bit.
Suddenly, as if summoned by his paranoia, a soft shuffle echoed from the hallway floor.
Ilya turned to find the loon there.
Not floating in the bathtub or contained in the box Shane had him in yesterday.
Just…standing in the hallway, its beady eyes laser-focused on Ilya.
“How the fuck did you get out of the tub?” Ilya muttered, voice rough with sleep and disbelief.
The loon blinked as it waddled forward.
“No! Blyad!” Ilya pointed at the animal like he was issuing a formal warning. “You stay in bathroom. Shane told you this, yes?”
The loon took another step.
“Fuck,” Ilya dragged a hand over his face. “If you bite me and I end up in the hospital, I’m hitting Shane in the head with hockey stick.”
The loon tilted its head, but it didn't leave.
Ilya let out a long exhale, the fight draining out of him all at once, replaced by bone-deep exhaustion and lack of sleep.
“You’re a fucking problem, you know that.”
The loon did not make a sound and just watched.
Ilya crouched down, reaching out a hesitant hand.
“Please don’t bite me.” Ilya brushed his fingers against the bird’s feathers, which was softer and warmer than he expected.
The loon shifted upon contact, but it didn’t retreat and, much to Ilya’s delight, it didn’t bite him.
“Oh.” Ilya gently smoothed his hand along its back. The loon let out a sound that almost resembled a soft coo.
Then, without preamble, he pushed himself back to his feet and shuffled toward the fridge, pulling it open and retrieving the container labeled For The Loon in Shane’s loopy handwriting.
When he turned back, the loon still watched him. He took out a piece of fish, immediately taking in the way the loon’s eyes sharpened at the sight of food.
“You like this, yes?” Ilya held the fish out.
The loon stepped forward, cautious but certain, sniffed the fish once before gently taking it in its beak.
“You’re still temporary.” Ilya’s words elicited another soft and almost pleased coo from the loon.
From the bedroom threshold, Shane leaned against the frame, taking in the scene unfolding before him—Ilya all disheveled and sleep-deprived, crouched on the kitchen floor, feeding the very creature he had threatened to kill less than twelve hours ago
The sight pulled something warm and familiar in his chest.
Because he had seen this very same thing during the day Ilya brought Anya home.
Like Ilya didn’t simply tolerate animals, he found them.
Or maybe they found him.
Shane smiled as he watched that same day replay all over again.
And for a brief, fleeting moment, the loon was exactly where it belonged.
“You know,” Shane casually started over breakfast. “It needs a name.”
Ilya nearly choked on his coffee. “It does not need a name, Shane. We do not name temporary pets.”
The loon made a soft sound, as if disagreeing with Ilya’s words.
Ilya glared at it. “Don’t fucking start.”
“I mean,” Shane huffed a quiet laugh, clearly enjoying himself far too much. “We can’t just keep calling it ‘the loon’.”
“Yes, we can. Look,” Ilya gestured lazily. “The loon is in the kitchen. The loon ruined my sleep. The loon kept screaming in the middle of night. See? It’s okay to not have a name.”
Shane smiled as he shifted his chair closer, the legs scraping softly against the floor. “Okay, I get your point, but if it did have a name…”
“Shane,” Ilya was already exhausted by the direction this conversation was going. “I love you, but no.”
“I was thinking something like…” Shane paused for pure effect. “Luna.”
Ilya took a sip of his coffee before slowly lowering his mug. “Luna?”
Shane nodded. “It means the moon. I read somewhere that it’s literally the name of the moon.”
Ilya turned his head to look at the loon, who blinked back at him like it was awaiting trial. Then he swiveled back to look at Shane. “It could also be short for lunatic.”
Shane blinked. “That is not…”
“Yes, it is.” Ilya was undeterred by Shane’s remark. “It screamed into the void at ungodly hours. It stared at me like it knew my family’s history. Lunatic is perfect.”
Shane leaned closer until he was fully in Ilya’s space, warmth and familiarity pressing in around him. “You’re fucking impossible.” he pressed a kiss to Ilya’s lips, tasting warmth and coffee.
“And you,” Ilya lowered his hand to pinch Shane in the side of his torso. “brought a haunted screaming bird into the cottage.”
Shane lightly brushed his fingers along Ilya’s jaw, grazing the rough patch of stubble. “Luna.” he softly repeated.
Ilya rolled his eyes, but he didn't fully retreat. “Lunatic.”
The loon let out a small sound of approval, as if agreeing with the name that had been bestowed to it.
Ilya pulled back enough to glare at both Shane and the bird.
“Oh fuck no.”
“Luna needs some sun,” Shane randomly declared one afternoon.
Which was exactly how Ilya found himself lying down on a towel by the lake, staring up at the sky and seemingly questioning every life decision that had led him to this moment.
“Unbelievable,” he readjusted the towel beneath him for the nth time. “I cannot believe we are having picnic for bird.”
“It’s the first time we’ve brought her out since getting her,” Shane reclined in the folding chair he dragged out, looking too content for Ilya’s liking. “She’s been cooped up in the house for days.”
“Luna looked happy haunting us from bathroom.”
Shane only rolled his eyes, wisely choosing not to take the bait.
A few feet away, Anya stationed herself like their personal security detail, posture alert and gaze locked onto the lake. Her ears twitched at the smallest sounds, tracking water ripples and gusts of wind, practically anything that moved like it might dare to approach her humans.
Luna waddled in the lake for the first few minutes before gliding forward with a surprising ease that didn’t exist days ago. Her movements were smoother than before. She dipped her head beneath the surface, disappearing for a second before emerging again, droplets scattering like glass shards in the sunlight.
Ilya watched her despite himself. Took in the way the water seemed to carry her, how she fit into it like she’d never belonged anywhere else.
A comfortable silence wrapped around them like a loving embrace, only broken by the gentle lap of water against the rocks mingling with the rustle of leaves overhead and Anya’s occasional soft huffs as she held her post.
The knock that they had been expecting for days came earlier than Ilya would’ve liked.
Not because of the hour, but because of what it meant.
At first, he didn’t want to admit it. Not out loud to Shane or even to himself.
But somewhere between the sleep-deprived nights, the muttered threats, and the reluctant mornings in the kitchen, he had started to bond with Luna.
“They’re here,” Shane set his cup of coffee aside and moved toward the door.
Ilya didn’t respond right away. He stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed and gaze fixed on Luna who was resting near the edge of the rug, completely unaware that something was about to change.
Across the living room, Anya curled up in her dog bed, chin resting on her paws, big brown eyes tracking everything with quiet suspicion.
“It’s fine.” Ilya mumbled to himself. “It’s temporary. That was agreement.”
Shane glanced at him with a soft expression, but didn’t say a word as he opened the door.
The wildlife rehabilitator—Mr. Theo Melrose—shook Shane’s hand as he stepped in. Behind him was Shane’s veterinarian friend Ms. Zara Torres. Both people had a calm aura and carried the kind of quiet confidence that somehow made sense in their field of work.
“Hey,” Ms. Torres greeted Shane, her voice light as her gaze landed on Luna. “So, I believe this is our patient.”
Luna cooed softly, and Ilya’s fingers twitched at his sides.
Mr. Melrose crouched softly as he approached Luna, who didn’t retreat and simply watched as the two strangers stepped closer.
“Uh, she’s been eating. Fish, mostly.” Ilya stepped forward before he could stop himself. “She’s also quiet during the day, but loud at night.”
Shane’s mouth twitched at the corners.
“That’s good for a young loon.” Ms. Torres said reassuringly. “Really good, actually.”
Ilya nodded once. “Okay, good.”
Both Shane and Ilya didn’t say anything else. They just watched as Mr. Melrose gathered Luna and wrapped her in a blanket to keep her warm before tucking her away in a bird carrier.
Luna let out another soft call, and Ilya exhaled quietly.
Shane exchanged a couple of pleasantries with them—gratitude, reassurances and promises that Luna would be cared for, healed and eventually released back into the wild, where she belonged
Before they knew it, both Mr. Melrose and Ms. Torres turned toward the door and Ilya remained rooted to his spot as Luna was eventually carried out of his sight.
Suddenly, the cottage felt…quieter than it had during the last few days.
“Well,” Ilya spoke after a beat, clapping his hands together. “Bird’s gone. Cottage is quiet again. I can finally sleep without waking up at 3AM.”
Shane leaned back against the door with his arms crossed, watching his boyfriend. “I thought you’d be happier.”
“I am happier.” Ilya said. “I’m…what is it…ecstatic. I feel free, Shane. Free from noisy lunatic bird.”
“Right.” Shane didn’t sound convinced.
“Yes.”
“Ilya…”
“I tolerated bird,” Ilya cut in as he pivoted to face Shane. “For you. That’s it.. I am perfectly happy with only having you and Anya with me.”
At the sound of her name, Anya perked up and barked cheerfully, tail thumping against her bed.
“Okay.” Shane pushed himself off the door and stepped closer. “I guess that explains why you gave Ms. Torres a full medical report on Luna without her asking for one.”
“I said what I saw.” Ilya huffed. “Basic observation.”
“And the feeding?”
“She needed to know that bird wasn’t hungry.”
“And the petting?”
Ilya hesitated. “I mean…it would be rude for me not to touch her, right?”
Shane softly laughed as he closed the distance. “Of course.”
“I mean it, Shane,” Ilya insisted, lifting his chin like the gesture would make his words even more convincing. “I did not get…attached to loon.”
“Obviously.” Shane wrapped his arms around Ilya’s waist.
“I didn’t.”
“I can tell.” Shane reached up, cupping his jaw, thumb brushing lightly along his cheek before he kissed him.
Ilya melted into the kiss, fingers curling into the collar of Shane’s linen shirt.
When they pulled back, they barely moved apart.
Shane tilted his head, the same teasing glint he had when he first got Luna returning to his brown eyes.
“So,” he started with a light tone. “What do you want me to adopt next?”
Ilya narrowed his eyes. “What?!”
“Maybe a beaver?” Shane suggested far too casually. “How about a moose?”
Ilya stared at him for a moment before rolling his eyes so hard that they almost reached the back of his skull. “Fucking unbelievable.”
“I’m just planning ahead.” There wasn’t an ounce of regret in Shane’s smile or tone.
Ilya huffed before he grabbed Shane by the collar and pulled his boyfriend flush against him.
And instead of answering verbally, he peppered quick kisses across Shane’s lips, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, his jaw—all designed to completely shut him up.
Shane laughed into it, hands instinctively settling at the curve of Ilya’s waist.
“Ilya…uhh,” Shane suppressed a moan that fought to escape his lips. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Is okay.” Ilya muttered against his lips, already kissing him again.
“A beaver?” Shane tried again, slightly breathless.
Another kiss.
“How about a moose?”
Another kiss with an additional and intentional nibble to the jaw.
“Ilya, fuck…”
“Stop talking,” Ilya pressed one last kiss to his mouth before pulling back to look at him. “Unless you want me to adopt something bigger than bird. A Siberian lynx. Or actual wolf.”
Shane grinned, eyes bright with challenge. “You wouldn’t.”
Ilya arched a brow. “Try me.”
Shane laughed as he leaned in for another softer kiss.
And when they finally separated, neither of them truly moved away.
Their fingers stayed intertwined as they drifted toward the couch, relishing in the familiar and easy rhythm of each other.
Ilya sat back first, tugging Shane down with him until he was draped across his chest, one arm slipping loosely around his waist.
Shane tucked himself close, swiveling his head to press another soft kiss to Ilya’s jaw. “It was fun having Luna around for a few days, right?”
“If you mean fun like it’s fun to wake up in middle of night because of wild bird screaming, then yes, Shane, it was very fun.”
Shane giggled. “You’re exaggerating.”
“I am not.”
“It was not that bad.”
“Bird has haunted call,” Ilya insisted, one hand coming up to gesture lazily in the air. “Haunted, Shane. I almost thought that our cottage was being visited by ghost.”
Shane’s giggles broke into a full and unrestrained fit of laughter. “But you survived.”
“Barely.” Ilya tipped his head back against the couch. “We are not adopting wild birds again. Even temporary.”
“No.” Shane agreed.
“No wolf birds. No beavers. No…what other animal you find near the lake.”
Shane snorted. “Not even a moose?”
Ilya gave him a flat look. “No moose.”
“Too bad.”
“I would break up with you.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“I would think about it.”
“Mmm…sure.” Shane crooned before kissing him on the lips again.
No teasing. No biting edge. Just warmth and love.
Ilya melted into it without hesitation, his hand tightening at the back of Shane’s neck, holding him there a second longer before letting the kiss fade into something quieter.
They unconsciously shifted together, limbs tangling more comfortably, Shane’s head coming to rest against Ilya’s chest as Ilya’s arms wrapped more securely around him, grounding and steady.
From across the living room, Anya watched from her bed, chin resting on her paws, dark eyes half-lidded but attentive. Her tail thumped once against the cushion, slow and contented.
Ilya’s hand drifted absently through Shane’s hair. “She’s enough.”
Shane didn’t have to ask who he was referring to. He snuck a glance toward Anya, then back up at Ilya with a soft expression.
“Yeah,” he said. “She is.”
Ilya hummed, eyes slipping close. “The three of us is enough. You, me and Anya.”
Shane smiled, pressing one last kiss to Ilya’s chest before fully settling in against his boyfriend.
The cottage was quiet. No more echoes or haunting loon calls disrupting their peace.
Just the rhythm of their shared breathing and the faint rustle of Anya’s tail against the cushion.
And truthfully, those were all the sounds that were needed to fill in the gaps of the silence.