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It's an entirely regular Tuesday in February when the news comes out.
It's TMZ, of course, because it's always fucking TMZ, dropping a grainy image of Shane and Ilya kissing on the deck, Ilya's hand sliding under Shane's shirt as Shane's hands grip his sides, clearly taken using a telescopic lens from somewhere on the other side of the lake to the cottage.
Part of Ilya is horrified, that their most private, most beloved place has been violated like this, and part of him is, he realizes very guiltily, relieved that this doesn't have to be a secret anymore.
The largest part of him, however, is scared.
Scared, because he's not got permanent residency yet, though the process has been going on for months.
Scared, because it means that Russia isn't safe for him at all anymore. He can never visit his Mama’s grave again.
But mostly, he's scared because Shane is on his own in Montréal, David and Yuna are on a cruise around the Caribbean that Ilya bought for their anniversary, and his fiancé isn't picking up his phone.
Ilya is pacing in the living room, trying to come up with a plan to get to Shane since his car - the only one he has, currently - is in the shop due to a snapped belt, and is sending texts that are becoming more and more panicked with each second that Shane doesn't respond, and his fucking intercom will not stop buzzing.
Bzz.
He calls Shane again and gets no answer.
Me: Возьми трубку, любимый.
Me: Shane, please. Tell me you're okay.
(Ilya knows he's not, but if he's talking to him, then at least he's not completely catatonic).
He doesn't have time for this, Shane needs him, he-
Bzzz.
Bzzzzzz.
Bzzzzzzzzz.
Who the fuck- he goes over to the door and answers. It’s probably a neighbor trying to cash in or something. "What."
"Fucking hell Rozanov, you couldn't have picked up sooner? I’m freezing my ass off out here."
Pike? What, why-? "Not much to freeze off, there. And why the fuck are you at my door?” And, just because he can, "don't make me tell Jackie you swore. You already owe ten dollars from playing Fortnite with Emma and Jade."
"For fu- Rozanov. Seriously. I was visiting my sister when we saw the news, and I know your car is in the shop, so I thought you might like a ride."
Hayden Pike, being thoughtful? If only this was the biggest shock of Ilya’s day. "If you are in the minivan, I think walking might be faster."
Hayden sighs. "No. It's the Toyota. GT86. Not quite your old Lambo, but- anyway. The car isn't important.”
“I would not be seen dead in your minivan.”
“Just get out here and get in the damn car.” A pause, and then Hayden's tone changes from irritation to concern. “Is Shane answering your texts? Cos he's sure as hell not answering mine."
Ilya doesn't bother responding, which he suspects Hayden will take as an answer anyway. "I'll be right out."
Ilya loses himself a little in his walk out towards the front, checking his phone but barely paying attention to if he's locked the door or not. When he gets out the front, Hayden is leaning against the car, toque pulled over his ears.
Such a stupid word, toque.
God, he hates French. So many useless fucking letters in words.
"How did you get into my neighborhood?" is the first thing Ilya asks when he gets downstairs. “It is gated.”
Hayden's right, it's fucking freezing, or rather it would be if he wasn't essentially numb to anything right now.
"Shane gave me your address years ago in case of emergencies. I figured this counts." Ilya can't argue with that, for once, so he nods. "And luckily, the guard recognized me."
"That must have been new for you."
"Dude. Seriously." Hayden just stares at him, exasperated.
Ilya sighs. He guesses Hayden is helping him out quite a lot right now, and, well, he's Shane's best friend. Today is the first time he thinks he might understand why. "Right. Sorry." He slides into the passenger seat. "Thank you… Hayden."
"You're welcome, Ilya." Hayden turns the key in the ignition, and then smirks. "I'm amazed you know that one in English. I've never heard you thank anyone before."
Ilya scoffs, because Irina Rozanova did not raise him without manners, even as Grigori Rozanov tried to teach him that men like them didn't have any use for such silly things. Thinking of his family makes his stomach clench in a way that makes him a little nauseous, though, and he forces the feeling down and focuses on annoying Pike. "I know many useful English words."
"I mean, you've lived in America for a decade and Canada for two, I'd hope so."
"I'm sure I know more than you."
"Whatever, man." Hayden leans over, plugs Shane's main Montréal address into the GPS he's got set up, and starts making his way up the ramp.
Ilya looks over at him, and he knows his face looks what Shane calls impish. “I have taught Shane useful words in Russian, too. Please, faster, harder, sir -”
“Oh come on, man, we're not even on the road yet.” Hayden sounds especially wound up, and Ilya can't help but smile slightly at how easy it is to get under his skin.
When they get to the entrance to the neighborhood, Ilya spots the guard on duty - Jason, who has a wife and two school age boys - and has Hayden roll down the windows.
"Thank you, Jason. For letting him in."
"No problem, Mr. Rozanov." Jason looks like he wants to say something else for a second, going back and forth in his head before he finally spits it out. "You know, one of my best friends from college is married to another dude. I was his best man." He smiles, faintly, and Ilya can't help but return it, briefly, before they both let it drop. "There's a load of reporters parked a couple of hundred meters away.”
блядь. Ilya’s stomach clenches again, the nausea returning in full force, and he swallows back bile. Reporters are not the people he should be dealing with right now, not while he's so… wound up. "Then an even bigger thank you."
"Sure they won't recognize you in this car?"
"You think I would be caught dead driving this thing?" Hayden splutters from the driver's seat, and Ilya smiles at Jason again. "I will be okay, thank you, Jason. Have a good rest of your evening."
Then Jason opens the gate, and they're gone.
Ilya only lets himself relax even slightly when they're on the outskirts of the city, heading towards the exit for Autoroute 40. He’s become strangely fond of this road, because once he's on it, he knows he's less than two hours away from his actual home - home has not been a place for Ilya for a long time.
Home is a person, and that person is Shane Hollander.
The car is silent, neither Ilya nor Hayden willing to break the silence.
He checks his phone, sees there still aren't any replies, forces himself not to send another one, and then looks out of the window, watching the lights fly past and the city he’s lived in for the past year as it vanishes in the rear view mirror.
It's quiet, only the sound of other cars and the tires on the road.
Then, Hayden clears his throat, and he almost jumps out of his skin.
“Нихуя себе, Pike!”
Hayden doesn't speak Russian, to Ilya's knowledge, but he understands anyway. "Shit, sorry."
Then, they make eye contact, and Ilya can't help but burst into giggles. It's only a couple of seconds later that Hayden does the same.
"You know, this is not what I expected I'd be doing on a random winter weeknight." Ilya hums, and they fall silent again for a couple of minutes. He checks his phone again, sends Shane another text as his stomach ties itself in ever more intricate knots (“baby, please - I'm on my way now, be there soon”) and stares out of the window, watching as the sign saying MONTRÉAL: 180 flies past.
Then, he takes a peek at the speedometer.
“You know, you could go faster, Pike.”
“I'm already at the speed limit.”
“Eh, speed limits are suggestions.”
“And I have four children, and a wife who I love, and I'd like to get us both to Montréal in one piece.” Even as he says it, Ilya watches the needle pick up by another ten kilometers.
It's not the shortest drive, so Ilya decides to play nice. Mostly. “How are my favorite Pikes?”
“Well, Jackie’s great, as always. She's started going to a Pilates class with a couple of the other WAGs and apparently it's a lot of fun - I think there’s more prosecco involved than she’s letting on but, whatever - she does most of the work with the kids, she deserves a break. And the twins are loving hockey - Emma wants to be in the NWHL, which I know she's told you.” Ilya nods, because she has, because she tells Uncle Ilya everything. “Amber's just started school, and she's become obsessed with nail polish.” Ilya looks over and can see the glitter on Hayden's own nails glinting in the yellow lights, and he holds back a grin. “And Arthur's currently obsessed with dinosaurs, and reptiles.”
“I have Scott Hunter's number. Maybe you can introduce him to a living dinosaur.”
Hayden snorts. “Yeah, Arthur's not so much into the hockey side of things-” Ilya can hear the slightest pang of regret in his tone, and he understands, because he knows how much Hayden struggles to connect with his quiet, perceptive son. “I'm not sure Hunter’ll impress him.” Then, he sighs. “Look, I know we don't, you know, get along, but… he really loves you. Like, really fucking loves you. And I know you love him. Christ, anyone who spends ten minutes in a room with you without cameras would know this. And I am sorry for punching you that time, really - I was being a dick-”
“Yes, you were.”
“For the love of God, please let me get this all out. Shit, where was I?”
“You were being a dick.”
Hayden's hands tighten on the steering wheel, and he takes a deep breath. “Right. Anyway. I am sorry. I made it harder for both of you, especially Shane, and I shouldn't have. And, look - Shane told me that he proposed to you last week, and all I could think was how he looked like he was absolutely fucking terrified about telling me, which is the last thing I want my best friend to be when he's talking to me about the person he wants to spend his life with. So. Look. I'm not saying we have to be all buddy-buddy, or like, ugh, BFFs, or anything, but… I'm here. And… I wanna do better. For him. And for the both of us, too.”
Ilya takes a moment to digest everything Hayden has said - not because the English is hard, but because it's the last thing he expected to come out of Hayden Pike’s mouth.
“Thank you.” That's twice in half an hour he's thanked the man for something. Wow. Therapy really is changing him. “I know I did not make things easy for you, to start - I was, ah -”
“Antagonistic, annoying, a dick?” There's no heat behind the words, and Ilya looks over to see Hayden smirking.
“Yes. All of those things. And you are a good friend to Shane, and to me. And I know I am… difficult, sometimes. To like. To get along with, too.”
“Not for Shane.”
That makes him smile, ever so slightly. “No, never for Shane.” Then he lets the corners of his mouth drop. “But anyway. I don't think that we are not friends, Hayden. Not exactly. But I also want to be better for him. For both of us.” Ilya sighs again, trying to decide if he’s going to mention this to Hayden, finally landing on ‘yes’. “Is part of why I am in therapy.”
“You're in therapy?” Ilya can hear how much Hayden is holding back in just those three words, but now is not the time.
“Yes, but is not important. You are a good friend, Hayden. We are lucky to have you.”
Hayden's left hand leaves the wheel, and he gently bumps Ilya's shoulder with his fist. “And he's lucky to have you, as much as I've not wanted to admit it.” Then, he sighs. “Fuck TMZ, though. Bastards. I'm sorry.”
“Why? Is not your fault.”
“I'm Canadian, we apologize for everything.”
He huffs. “I am familiar.” Then, his phone buzzes, and he picks it up.
It’s Shane, and Ilya is flooded with relief.
Jane ❤️: I am okay.
Me: I do not believe you. We are on A-40.
Jane ❤️: We?
Me: Hayden is with me. He is a good friend.
Ilya watches the speech bubbles come and go a couple of times.
Jane ❤️: He's the best. And you're right, I'm not okay. I'm fucking terrified, and I miss you, and I’m alone.
Me: We will not be long. Hayden is even going over the speed limit.
Jane ❤️: I am too upset to be worried about that right now. Just get here soon, please.
Me: We will, I promise. Не забывай, я тебя люблю.
Jane ❤️: Я люблю тебя ещё больше.
Me: Mой львёнок.
Jane ❤️: I am so scared, Ilya.
Me: It is scary. But remember.
Jane ❤️: Я смелый.
Me: You are brave.
Jane ❤️: Shit, Mom is calling, I can’t text - I’ll see you soon.
Thank God, Yuna’s on it. He feels bad that their holiday has been ruined by this, but it can’t be helped now. Shane has everything he needs.
And that's when he gets a text from David.
David 📰: How are you doing, champ?
Me: I am on my way to Montréal. Hayden is with me. I am okay.
Ilya groans, and scrubs his hand over his face.
Me: Okay. I am not okay, but I am worried about Shane more than me, so do not worry about me.
David 📰: Wow, Hayden? Not what I was expecting.
David 📰: And let us worry about you. God knows you deserve it.
Me: Thank you, David. I will be with him soon. Do not let this ruin your cruise.
David 📰: I couldn't care less about the cruise right now, son. We want to make sure my boys are okay. Yuna's got Shane, and I've got you.
Me: I don't know what is going to happen next. We will be benched, I am sure. But I do not know how long for.
David 📰: One day at a time. Where is Anya? Is she with you?
Me: Already at the pet hotel. I was supposed to have a game tomorrow.
He was supposed to be playing at home against Boston, then meeting up with Cliff and Connors for a beer after at Monk’s afterwards. The Centaurs will have to do without him, and so will his Boston guys.
David 📰: At least you know she's well cared for. Look after yourself, please. And make sure you both look after each other.
Me: We will, I promise.
David 📰: Good lad. Shane is talking to Yuna, and I'm going to get us both something to eat. Try not to kill Hayden, please. :)
Me: We have declared a truce.
David 📰: Excellent. Talk again soon. And expect a call from Yuna, but maybe not until you're with him.
David 📰: And it looks like watching those documentaries with me has taught you some fun new words. :)
Me: Thank you David. Talk soon.
Me: :)
He puts the phone down, and sighs. Everything is rushing back to him, especially as he denies a phone call from an unknown number. Then, there’s another. He bangs his head against the headrest in frustration twice.
“You alright, man? Wait, stupid question - no, don't look at me like that, dude. Have you heard from Shane?”
Ilya nods. “Yes, he is talking to Yuna on the phone.”
Hayden’s shoulders drop. “Good, that’s good. Means he's not completely imploded.”
Ilya looks the word up quickly, and repeats it to himself three times. It's a good word.
“No, he has not.” His phone buzzes again, but he ignores it. “I have spoken to David, too, and Yuna will be calling later.”
“Good.” Ilya's phone buzzes again, this time twice in succession, and Hayden laughs. “You can get that, you know.”
“I am not sure I want to.”
But he flips it over anyway.
Marly 🥵: Here for anything you need man.
Marly 🥵: You're the hot topic in the group chat btw
Marly 🥵: Good job on locking down Hollander, man. We're in awe.
Me: He locked me down, actually.
Me: But thank you, Marly. Means a lot.
Marly 🥵: Always, Rozy. And TMZ can go fuck themselves.
That makes him laugh, and Hayden turns to him. “What?”
“A friend. Marleau, in Boston. He said TMZ can go fuck themselves.”
“I know Marly. Well. Kind of. Never thought I'd have something in common with two Boston players. Well, one current and one former, and definitely not the pair of you. I might need to get him a drink next time we play against each other.”
“Marly is the best. Even if he did knock Shane out one time.” It had taken Ilya a long time to get over the urge to punch his best friend after that.
“Ah, yes.” He knows Hayden is remembering Shane lying motionless on the ice.
“You got good punches in, do not worry. I did not know you had it in you, Hayden.”
“Takes a lot for me to lose it like that.” He snorts. “Or just one rage-baiting Russian.”
“I shall try to not, erm, rage-bait you as often.”
“No, don't. Well, maybe a little. If you stopped, I'd assume you fucking hated me or something.”
“Yes, it is my love language. Is what I tell Shane.”
Hayden mutters something under his breath, before he looks at Ilya again, grinning. “Thought your love language was hickeys and wild sex, Roz.”
“Maybe with Shane. Why, is Jackie wanting some more fun in your bedroom? I, of course, am unavailable, but I know some people who are very discreet-”
“Fuck off, Roz.” When Hayden says it now, it lacks the annoyance, somehow becoming something almost fond.
Something in Ilya's chest flares with warmth. “Nah.”
Hayden snorts, and Ilya smiles.
Another half an hour on the road, and Ilya is starting to get antsy. He prefers driving for a reason - one of them being that he loves calling Shane his passenger princess and then watching as his fiance resists the urge to swat at him, but the main one is it gives him something to do, to focus on. Sitting still has never been one of Ilya’s strong points - something his father had tried and failed to correct - and right now, with the six thousand things cycling through his head in two languages, he’s really resisting the urge to poke the bear.
Ilya is really loath to admit it, but Hayden's car is actually quite nice. Not as fast as his old collection was, of course, but reliable.
Sensible.
Or at least he thinks, until there's a loud thumping noise and Hayden suddenly has to pull very hard on the steering to get the car into the emergency lane.
“Fuck. I think one of the tires went.”
Ilya almost, almost, says something snarky, but manages to hold it back. They need to get back on their way as fast as possible. “Have you got a spare?”
“Yes, a proper one.”
“Come on. We will sort it.”
Ilya climbs out and opens the trunk, quickly finding the spare and grabbing the tools he needs. Thankfully, Hayden seems prepared for any event - there's a whole toolkit, several changes of clothes, a bag of snacks, and a jack. God, he is such a dad.
But thankfully, Ilya knows his cars.
He's already on the floor next to the wheel, loosening the nuts, by the time Hayden comes and stands next to him, wrapping his jacket tighter around himself. “Man, you really know what you’re doing with cars, huh.”
“I know the basics.” He stops speaking while they get the car on the jack, before he gestures for Hayden to hand him the wrench. Ilya has settled a bit now, the adrenaline ebbing out of his system now he can do something with his hand that isn’t tap on the dashboard or his legs, so of course the cold is now seeping into his bones through the t-shirt and hoodie he's got on. He gets the wheel off fairly easily, and rolls it towards Hayden's waiting hands. “Pass me the spare.”
Hayden rolls it to him, and then Ilya very quickly gets it on, tightening the nuts and then going round to check the others for good measure.
He makes a note to tell Hayden that his steering is a little heavy on the left, and he might want to get all of his tires changed and his steering racked checked.
They're back in the car in less than twenty minutes.
While they both put their seatbelts back on, Hayden turns to him. “Thank God you were in the car, Roz. Not sure I’d have got that done so fast by myself.”
Ilya shrugs. “I spent a lot of time working on my cars in Boston.” He doesn't mention the years he'd spent hiding in a mechanic’s shop in Moscow, trying to stay as far away from his father as possible, learning everything he could about how to maintain cars. It hadn’t hurt that Anatoly had a very beautiful daughter, and a very handsome son, that he would watch from time to time. “No point in owning something if you cannot maintain it.”
“Good point, actually,” is how Hayden responds when he finally pulls back onto the road - he’s being extra cautious now, no more going over the limit apparently. “Maybe you could teach me a bit sometime.”
Something warm and not fully formed settles in Ilya’s chest. “I would show the twins and you at once. I'm sure Jade could help you if you struggled.”
“I'd be insulted, but she is crazy smart. Must get it from Jackie.”
Ilya snorts, then checks his phone when it buzzes again. Nothing more from Shane, or Cliff, or David, but the Cens chat is going off now instead, and he's got some messages from Troy.
Troy 🏳️🌈: Fuck man, I'm so sorry.
Troy 🏳️🌈: You should've had the chance to do this on your own terms. This wasn't fair.
Troy 🏳️🌈: Fuck TMZ.
There's a pause in messages.
Then:
Troy 🏳️🌈: Also is now a bad time to tell you I almost asked for Hollander's number
There is a flare of something ugly and possessive in Ilya’s chest before his sense of humor squashes it.
Me: I never would have given it to you. But thank you.
Troy 🏳️🌈: Always, Rozy.
Me: ❤️
Let's Go Cens 🏒 🐴
Bood ♨️: This sucks man - Cassie and I send our love. Let us know if you need anything.
Hazy 🦸♂️: Hell yeah, brother. Lisa is ready to bury a few bodies.
Haasy 👶: That might be too far, Wyatt.
Hazy 🦸♂️: She knows how to get rid of people quietly.
Me: Maybe just the photographer. And the writer of the article.
Hazy 🦸♂️: She says she's on it 🫡
Hazy 🦸♂️: Fuck TMZ
(Everyone reacted with 💯)
Nardy 🚶: Selena and I send our love.
Deeks 😎: So do Caitlin and I
Deeks 😎: But does this mean that we might get THE SHANE HOLLANDER at a barbecue
Bood ♨️: They just got outed man. Chill.
Deeks 😎: Yeah, ofc, sorry Rozy.
Holmes 🕵️♂️: This sucks, Roz. We've got your back.
Pointy 👉: Hell yeah we do. We love our Cap.
Haasy 👶: (audio message 0:05)
(Transcript: Scheisskerle, d TMZ chan sterbe, Hueresöhn, Fotzen - oh mischt, ich nim uf…sorry guys)
Troy 🏳️🌈: God damn Haasy swearing in German? Never thought I'd see the day.
Hazy 🦸♂️: Did you just Google all that too
Troy 🏳️🌈: …No comment. I plead the Fifth.
Pointy 👉: Bro you’re Canadian stop watching so much Law and Order
Me: Thank you all. I am on my way to Shane's with Hayden Pike.
(Everyone reacted with 😮)
Me: I know, I am more surprised than all of you.
(Everyone reacted with 😂)
Troy 🏳️🌈: No chance, Rozy. I just told Harris and he fell out of his chair.
Me: How is he doing?
Troy 🏳️🌈: He's okay. I've got You just get to your boyfriend, we'll handle the rest.
Me: Fiancé, actually.
(Everyone reacted with 😮, 🎉, ⁉️)
Hazy 🦸♂️: Leave it to Roz, huh.
Hazy 🦸♂️: Focus on yourself, man. And, well, your man.
Hazy 🦸♂️: We've got it sorted.
(Cap 👑 reacted with ❤️)
Hayden looks over again, clearly feeling the need to mother hen. Ilya doesn’t entirely hate it. “Everything good?”
“As much as it can be. My team is supportive, which is good.”
“Hmm.” Hayden doesn't say anything, doesn't take his eyes off the road.
Ilya knows exactly what he is thinking, and he doesn't push.
Whatever the Metros think about this is a problem for another day.
They fall back into comfortable silence once more, until they reach the turn-off they need to get to Shane's apartment, and then Ilya's nerves start to ramp back up again, fingers drumming against his now slightly-protesting knee.
His phone buzzes.
Shane ❤️: How far?
Me: 15 minutes. Sorry, we had a minor issue.
Shane ❤️: Issue?
Me: Had to change a tire. всё в порядке, малыш.
Shane ❤️: Okay, good. There are reporters on the front, by the way.
Somehow Ilya can hear the exhaustion even in the text.
Me: I will show Hayden the secret back route.
Shane ❤️: Thank you. До скорой встречи, Золотце.
Me: Not soon enough.
Shane ❤️: No, it's not.
Shane ❤️: But I will survive until you get here.
Me: I will tell Hayden to step on it.
He turns to Hayden. “We need to take the back entrance. Have you used it before?”
“No, I've always gone in the front.”
“I'll guide you, is not hard to find.”
“Okay.” A beat. “Are you really not going to make a joke about ‘back entrance’?”
“No.”
“But it's wide open.”
“Yeah, like your mo-”
Hayden stares straight ahead, not even risking seeing Ilya’s slightly manic smile. “I regret everything.”
The whole exchange forces the tension to drain slightly out of Ilya again, and when they get to Shane's neighborhood he directs Hayden to the hidden drive behind the house. It was part of what had made Shane so eager to buy the house - less change of people questioning who was coming or going.
Thankfully, the drive is clear of any reporters, and when they get up to the house, Hayden pulls into the open garage, right next to Shane's Jeep.
Hayden barely has the car in park before Ilya's out, tapping the code into the keypad by the door that leads into the main house.
“Shane!”
He storms into the house, texting at the same time.
Me: We are here. Where are you?
The reply is instantaneous - it seems Shane has heard him.
Shane ❤️: Gym.
As he walks through the house, he messages Hayden.
Me: Code for door is 2841. It is late, so stay. Please. Guest room on the third floor, and it has an ensuite. Shane will want you here in the morning.
Me: I think I might like you here, too.
Me: And again, thank you. You are a good friend. And a good dad.
6th Best Pike 🤢: Anytime, man. But is there any chance this changes my name in your phone?
Me: None. None at all.
6th Best Pike 🤢: Worth a shot.
World’s Okay-est Pike 🫣: See you both in the morning.
When Ilya reaches the gym, he finds Shane practically sprinting on the treadmill. He’s pouring with sweat, skin slick and shirt practically transparent, and Ilya can see the tension in his muscles from across the room.
When he gets to the treadmill, he looks at the numbers - incline of three percent, sixteen kilometers, time elapsed over an hour and a half, heart rate of 150. Judging by Shane's appearance, he's been going as fast as possible for the last fifteen minutes.
Oh.
“Shanya, любимый, I am here.”
He's not expecting Shane to practically collapse. He barely hits the stop button before falling into Ilya’s waiting arms, Shane's arms around Ilya's neck and his face buried in his shoulder.
Ilya will always be there to catch him when he falls.
“Fuck, I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Always, малыш.”
“Fuck. Ilya, this is bad. This is so, so bad. What the fuck are we gonna do?”
“I know, shh. Just hold onto me. I know, it is hard. But remember - we were going to do this soon anyway.”
“I know, but-”
He knows what Shane’s problem here is - it’s the lack of choice, the lack of control. They had a plan, and some third-rate reporter has torn that plan to shreds.
“Hush, Shanya. We will have time to be angry and to worry in the morning. For now, we should go to bed.”
“I assume you mean to sleep.”
“Any other night I would tire you out, but I think you have done that already, hmm? So yes, to sleep.” He presses a kiss into Shane's sweat-damp hair. “Do you want to shower first?”
Shane nods into his shoulder. “Yes, please.” He laughs, barely. “I feel kinda gross.”
Ilya smiles, kisses just below his ear. “Come. I will join you.”
They walk up the stairs to Shane's room, Ilya’s arm around Shane’s waist, heading straight for the ensuite. Ilya turns on the water before he strips Shane of his clothes, kissing each newly revealed strip of skin, before divesting of his own and pulling him gently under the stream of hot water. It’s a little warmer than Ilya prefers, but he’ll manage.
He runs his fingers through Shane's hair, massaging in the shampoo and feeling the knots in his stomach loosen as Shane’s head falls back against his shoulder, sighing into his touch.
The restlessness in his bones finally fades completely. Here he can do something. He can make Shane relax.
When they're done, he wraps Shane in one of the fluffy towels on the heated rail, drying him off gently before carrying him, bridal-style, to the bed. The fact that Shane doesn't give even a token protest tells Ilya everything he needs to know.
“Have you eaten, малыш?”
Shane shakes his head, just barely. “I had lunch. Haven't eaten since Farah called me and told me about the pictures. Couldn't.” They're in bed now, Shane curled up against Ilya's chest. “‘m sorry.”
“Is okay. I will make sure you are fed tomorrow. Hayden, too.”
Shane lifts his head up. “Hayd? He's still here?”
Ilya hums an affirmative, stroking Shane’s hair. “I told him he could stay. That he should stay, in fact. That you would want him here tomorrow.” He kisses Shane's forehead. “That I'd like him here, too.”
Shane smiles, then curls up even closer to him, like he could be lodged inside Ilya's ribcage, curled up around his heart, and it still wouldn't be close enough.
He is familiar with the feeling.
“Thank you, Ilya.”
“Hush. Try and get some sleep. We will be busy tomorrow.”
And they will.
But at least they'll be together to face it all.
Even if Hayden Pike is here, too.