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Danil Nicholas Hollander-Rozanov has thick, dark hair—just like his dad.
Ilya gently, carefully, traces a small patch of that hair, just above Danny’s petite ear. He can’t decide what his favourite part of his son is, and he’s thought about it a lot over the past seven and a half weeks, but his full head of hair is definitely one of them. Yuna mentioned in passing when they first brought Danny home, his hair would likely fall out. Ilya was horrified at the thought and much to Shane’s dismay, inspected his son’s head every day. But now, almost two months later, Danny’s hair doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.
Ilya is lying on the couch, with Danny sleeping peacefully on his chest. His baby-grow clad legs tucked up underneath him. Ilya’s other hand rests over his back. Born at a tiny 5lb 9oz, Ilya’s hand seems huge compared to Danny’s body. He’s growing fast, but he still feels so small when Ilya holds him. Ilya loves to hold his hand against Danny’s back, feel the rise and fall of their tiny miracle’s breaths.
“I have a surprise for you,” Shane says quietly, so close Ilya can feel his breaths against the shell of his ear. Shane presses a chaste kiss to Ilya’s cheek then straightens out.
Ilya looks up with a raised brow in question.
Shane pulls from behind his back a ball of fabric, it’s a muted sage green, thin and stretchy. Ilya has no idea what it is.
“You got me a blanket?” Ilya asks, amused and confused all in one.
Shane gives him a fondly exasperated look. “Put him down for a minute.”
Ilya makes a soft noise of protest—he hates putting Danny down. Ilya loves being close to him. He loves Shane, this he has always known, like he knows the sky is blue. But loving Danny the way he does—the way they both do—hit him like a freight train. It was overwhelming and all-consuming, and Ilya felt like his heart grew bigger like the stupid Christmas movie with the green monster Shane likes. Ilya knew he and Shane would love Danny, but how suddenly, and just how much was a shock to begin with.
He’s talked to Galina about it, because although he was beaming with pride, there was a thrumming of anxiety inside him that wouldn’t settle when they first brought Danny home.
Ilya had naively assumed Shane would be the neurotic one when they had kids. He’s neurotic and anxious about almost everything else in his life and Ilya loves it about him. What he was not expecting, was it would be him sleepless because he was worried if Danny was breathing. Ilya was the one panicking about the temperature and how many layers Danny needs. He was the one who was insistent on calling the paediatrician at every sniffle Danny made.
Galina made him steer the conversation back toward his own father and their relationship, the guilt he feels knowing the kind of father Alexei became and leaving his niece in Russia anyway, all the fears he has of becoming his father and brother. Ilya hated that session more than most. He came home and cried to Shane while they watched Danny sleep in his next-to-me crib. Shane was the big spoon that night, pressing kisses into the back of Ilya’s neck like whispered promises and assured him, he had no doubt Ilya was going to be the best dad.
“Just, trust me, ok?” Shane says, pressing another quick kiss to Ilya’s temple.
Ilya relents and places Danny into the bassinet they keep in the living room, so Anya doesn’t sniff him too much, with great care. “I know,” Ilya coos when the baby boy grunts, “Daddy is mean making us stop cuddling.”
By the time Ilya straightens up, Shane has made his way around the couch and is stood so close his knuckles brush Ilya’s ribs. It makes Ilya’s breath hitch.
“What is this, Hollander?” Ilya teases. He rarely calls Shane, Hollander, these days, but sometimes it’s fun. “I thought we were going to take Anya for walk.”
“We are,” Shane smiles. “But I thought we could do the small hike past the brook to that lookout.”
Ilya’s brows knit together. “We cannot do this, Shane, you know this.”
Even with the best, state-of-the-art, off-road stroller money could buy, their favourite hike near the cottage has been impossible. It wasn’t a particularly difficult route, it was long enough to tire Anya out, short enough Ilya didn’t feel he would be too concerned about being out with Danny, but the terrain was rocky and full of tree roots that made it impassible with the stroller.
Shane takes the fabric in his hands and lines it up in the middle of Ilya’s stomach. Shane leans in so close Ilya can smell his shampoo, tucking his arms around Ilya. Ilya sneaks a kiss to Shane’s cheek, feeling the way his cheekbone moves as he smiles. Shane brings the fabric up over Ilya’s shoulders and pulls back.
Ilya wants to ask questions, endlessly curious when it comes to his husband, but he’s also happy to let Shane do his thing.
When Shane’s concentrating, his tongue pokes out a little and he gets this expression on his face when he’s determined. It’s the same expression he had when they were first sleeping together, Shane figuring it all out and wanting to be perfect at everything for Ilya. Those first few blowjobs Shane gave him were accompanied by a seriousness and focus, only Shane Hollander could exhibit. Shane desperately wanted to be good—good at giving head but also good for Ilya. He still wears that expression of singular focus whenever he’s doing something new, and Ilya finds it endlessly endearing.
Ilya, amused, lets him fiddle and rearrange. When Shane passes the ends back through the piece resting against his front, Shane tugs.
“How’s that feel?” Shane asks.
“Tight, you are trying to strangle me? Or is this some new sex thing, because I don’t think we should do that around Danny.” He whispers that last part, just in case.
Shane huffs a laugh, “asshole,” he tells him fondly. “It’s a wrap,” Shane explains as he winds the ends of the fabric around Ilya’s torso again. “So you can wear Danny on the walk.”
“Wear him?” Ilya raises an eyebrow at his husband.
“Carry him,” Shane corrects himself. “On your chest, so your hands are free.” As if to make a point, Shane catches Ilya’s wrists and waves them around.
Something clicks in Ilya’s brain, and he realises what Shane is talking about.
“Like kangaroo? What is it called?” Ilya’s eyes brighten.
“A pouch? Yeah, kinda. More like a baby monkey, maybe.”
Shane tugs again and ties the ends of the wrap at Ilya’s front. He nods to himself, clearly satisfied with his handiwork. “Ok, are you ready?”
Shane picks Danny up and kisses his cheek, “hi baby boy.”
Danny’s little fingers stretch out and then curl back into fists. Ilya loves to slot his finger in Danny’s hand and feel the way he instinctively holds on. The first time Shane held him, Danny had done just that, and Shane had looked at his son with so much adoration, it made Ilya cry.
“Ok,” Shane guides him, “hold this part.”
Shane expertly places Danny into the wrap, snuggled up against Ilya’s chest. He explains his leg position and how he needs to be kissing distance from Ilya’s chin. He tells him all of the safety rules of carrying Danny in the wrap. Sometimes Ilya teases Shane about being so meticulous but he’s found when it comes to Danny, he never wants to tease Shane for reading about anything that will protect their baby. It’s one prediction he had right for them being parents, how fiercely protective they would both be. Ilya’s never had any doubt Shane would always do whatever he could to make sure their son was safe and happy.
Shane pulls the bottom of the wrap up over Danny’s back and then places a kiss to the top of his head.
“Good?” Shane asks.
“I’m scared to let go,” Ilya admits. He has one hand against Danny’s back, one under his bum and tries to keep his breathing calm.
Shane’s brows knit together for a moment as he thinks.
“Ok, sit,” Shane guides Ilya back to the sofa. When the back of his legs hit the pillowy cushions, he’s lowered into the seat by Shane’s steady hands. Shane uses his leg to open Ilya’s, giving him enough room to kneel in front of his husband. “I’m right here,” Shane says, pressing up against Danny’s back gently, enough to reassure Ilya but not enough to squish him. “Put your hands on me.”
“Shane, what did we say about dirty talk around the baby, hm?” Ilya flashes his husband a teasing smirk.
Shane rolls his eyes. “Let him go, Ilya.”
Ilya knows he has trouble letting Danny go. He sees it in the way he never wants to put him down. He sees it in the way his heart races when they leave him with Yuna and David, even if it’s only for an hour so they can do something boring and normal like go to the grocery store or take Anya out on a trail together. He knows he’ll hate Danny growing up because it also means he won’t need them as much as he does right now. His tiny baby that looks small in his hands is one day going to be fully grown. With every passing day, Danny learns something new, he holds his head up for longer than the day before, he laughs on purpose or sleeps for longer than he ever has. One day will be the last day Ilya can lie Danny’s torso on his forearm, the last day he’s small enough to be thrown up into the air to make him giggle, the last day he wants to cuddle. Ilya hopes Danny will always come to them, with whatever life throws at him, but one day it won’t because he needs them to help him.
Ilya wonders if his own father ever felt this pain, he certainly never felt the pride Ilya does, the love and devotion that Ilya can feel oozing from his pores at the mere thought of his son’s existence. Not because he achieved something, or won something, or is worth something. Danny is worth everything, for no reason at all. His simply existing is enough to make Ilya emotional.
“Ilya, he’s safe, I promise.” Shane’s voice cuts through the spiral of dark thoughts, pulling Ilya back from the brink of falling into that particular pit of despair.
“Ok,” Ilya nods, trying to convince himself Shane is right. He trusts Shane, implicitly, but the desire to hold onto his boy that little bit longer is strong.
Ilya takes a breath and moves his hands from Danny’s body, tracing Shane’s arms, feeling the gooseflesh follow the path of his fingertips up to Shane’s shoulders where he grips on for dear life.
“See,” Shane whispers, leaning back slightly. “He’s perfectly safe.”
Ilya takes stock of himself. His heart is hammering in his chest, right beneath Danny’s head. Danny doesn’t seem to mind or notice. His eyes remain closed and his little mouth, Shane’s perfect cupid’s bow, moves as he settles into the wrap and the warmth of Ilya’s body. Perfectly content in the instinct that his Papa will keep him safe.
Ilya takes a breath and he can feel Danny’s little fingers curling against his pectoral muscle, he can count each tiny digit digging in with impressive force. He tucks his chin to his chest and Danny’s head is right there, ready to receive all the kisses Ilya wants to comfort them both.
“How long can he stay here?”
Shane pushes himself up off the floor. “Not forever, obviously,” he tells him with a coy little smirk because Shane knows Ilya is going to be obsessed with baby wearing. “But he’s safe as long as his hips and neck are supported. I can send you the articles I read.”
“Do not tempt me with a good time while I’m wearing our son.” Ilya accepts Shane’s help to pull him to his feet.
“Fuck off.”
It’s a weird feeling, having a new weight strapped to his chest like this. He adjusts quickly to the change in balance. He wonders briefly if this must be what it’s like for pregnant women, he thinks he’ll ask Jackie later.
“Anya, come!” Shane calls, already heading to the hallway to get ready for their walk.
Ilya, Shane, Danny and Anya head out on their favourite trail in the late afternoon sun. Anya sniffs every inch of the trail, finding a stick that becomes an emotional support, and Ilya knows Shane will have to pry it off her before they head back into the house.
Ilya slips his hand into Shane’s as they walk, entwining their fingers and feeling the cool metal of Shane's wedding ring against his own, behind Anya on the path that winds up into the forest. They talk aimlessly from teammates, to Anya’s next groom, to the dinner they’re due to have with Hayden and Jackie next week for the Pikes to meet Danny, to a new stick Ilya wants to try.
They hike up to the viewpoint and sit for a while, giving Danny a bottle and changing his diaper right there in nature.
“Hey,” Shane says as he rubs Danny’s back after his bottle. Ilya turns away from the view to look at Shane, who’s smiling at him, warm and bright like the sun shining down on them. “I love our life together. I love you and Danny and Anya, so much.”
Ilya traces his finger over Danny’s chubby cheek, rounder from where his chin is rest in Shane’s palm. “Me too. I love this, and I love you too.”