Archive of Our Own

“Shane…” Ilya said gently for the second time, not wanting to startle his husband who had not said a word in the last 10 minutes of their car ride over to Boods. 

Shane still didn’t respond though, his fingers drumming loudly across his knee cap incessantly, gaze drawn to the world outside as it flashed by in a whirl of gold, evidence of the sky around them beginning its descent towards twilight.

Anya was the only one making noise, happily panting loudly and breathing directly into Ilya’s ear from where she sat perched right behind him, always an easy one to please with a car trip and the prospect of an outing— and tidbits snuck under the table. 

“Sweetheart.” He said, reaching out to place a hand over the dancing fingers. Shane’s hand stilled as he jolted in surprise at the contact, Ilya managing finally to pull him out of his thoughts. “Why do you look like you’re on the verge of a panic attack?”

Shane rotated and squeezed the hand Ilya had a hold over, scrubbing his free one roughly through his hair with a groan. “I don’t know.”

“Okay.” Ilya said slowly, eyebrows raised as he waited for Shane to finish the thought. He often needed to be given the space to speak, to come to conclusions in his own time, to not be pushed too prematurely.

“I’m just…” He sighed, sounding a little too defeated for Ilya’s liking. “What if they don’t like me?”

Silence fell over the car, Anya even taking the opportunity to withdraw her tongue for a brief respite. And then Ilya laughed, outright cackling at the absurdity of the thought. 

“Oh Malysh. You may be very smart on ice, very good hockey player, but you are also very stupid sometimes.” He wiped at a tear in his eye, trying to give the road and their short drive the concentration it required, despite wanting to pull up and draw his silly, beautiful husband into his arms. 

“Jeez, thanks” Shane grumbled drily and snatched his hand back, sinking it instead into Anya's fur as she moved over to him, nudging him with her nose. 

“Why do you think they won’t like you?” Ilya shook his head in amazement before thinking better of his question. “Actually, no, do not answer this. Shane, they are going to love you. They already love you. They were at our wedding, no? They love love!”

“I know!” Shane threw up his arms in frustration, usually a strong sign that he’d reached his point of overflow. “I know it’s silly. I just can’t shake the feeling that they won’t. That i’ll be too awkward, too weird. Won’t get their jokes, or will say the wrong thing and offend someone. Or they will find my food habits weird. And I know it’s stupid. I just get stuck in my head you know.”

“Yes,” Ilya took his hand once more, drawing it over to his mouth to kiss softly. “I know.”

Shane sighed, long and drawn out, like the wind was finally draining out of his sails as he sunk down into the passenger seat a little further, the bowl of salad on his lap balancing precariously. 

“You didn’t see me when I first started in Montreal,” it came out quiet and laced with mostly shame, but a tinge of sadness as well. “Not the first time I've been told I was weird, for the things I said, or maybe made a fuss about.” 

Ilya's heart broke, hearing how Shane, his Shane, had been treated back then. “Maybe I was not in locker room, but do not forget that I knew you before they did, and I did not think this.”

“Ilya,” Shane fixed him with a withering look. “You call me weird almost every day.”

Ilya shrugged, a dopey look gracing his face easily. “Yes, but I say it with my heart. You are weird maybe, but you are not weird.”

That finally made Shane laugh, a light chuckle escape his perfectly pink lips that filled the cabin of the car with a warmth Ilya would choose to drink up forever.

“You’re an idiot.” Shane shook his head, but Ilya could hear the smile in his words and he chanced a glance across to catch the love on his husband’s face. 

“This team is good Shane,” he said. “You will see. Besides you have already met the rookies no? I’m sure they are obsessed with you already.”

Much to Ilya’s protest, Shane had already started with the Centaurs and attended the rookie training camps this past week, despite Wiebe telling him he absolutely did not have to, and that he could 100% just turn up for the normal training camp the following week with the rest of the team. 

Of course, Shane being Shane had found this a ludicrous idea, and stated that he was a new member of the team and should be attending everything that all new team members do. 

So, Ilya had lost his final week with his husband before the season kicked off. Lost all the last moments to lie in the sun and read and swim and fuck eachother senseless with zero time restraints.
Instead he’d been a dutiful husband, kissed him goodbye at the door and sent him off to babysit the rookies so he could spend his days in a forced sense of productivity, completing important life admin tasks for them both, meal prepping (which was a whole thing in itself to meet Shane’s standards) and being ready to massage whatever aches and pains Shane might come home with from the rink after pushing himself far beyond what he ought to have for a rookie training camp. 

It had been an equally tiring week for Ilya in the end. 

Thankfully, Boodram had declared the Friday night as a whole team BBQ, the first one of the year before they all started back on Monday for regular training camp. One last hurrah.

And Shane, having not been bothered by the small, desperate to please, gaggle of rookies through the week, was more terrified of attending his first whole team event with all the vets. 

Ilya held his hand the rest of the way, and silently blessed Anya as she stayed close to Shane, resting her head on his shoulder. 

He parked right next to Harris’s truck and shut the car off, Anya immediately forgetting everything she’d been doing and pressing her face up against the window to be let out. 

Ilya squeezed his hand and went to pull away but Shane dragged him back, holding him hostage in the front seat. 

“You won’t leave me, right?” His brows were pinched in anxiety, his voice uncharacteristically small. 

“Well, we did just get married, so I thought I might give it another year perhaps, at least.” Ilya considered. 

Shane glared at him, dark eyes glazing over with brewing intensity. 

“No malysh, I will not leave you. Put me on leash like Anya, I will stay with you all night,” Ilya soothed his highly strung husband. “And if by some chance we do get separated, just say you need to remind me of something and come find me. Or escape to the bathroom and send me text yes?”

“I’ll use our code word okay?” 

“Yes okay, whatever you need,” Ilya appeased him. “Now breathe with me for a second. Inhale…… exhale….”

“Okay.” Shane exhaled deeply with him, letting himself be pulled into Ilya's breathing space. “Okay thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Ilya leant in to press a kiss against his still creased forehead. “Now let’s go, Bood makes the best food ever, you’re going to love it.” That set off a whole new wave of anxiety across Shane’s face and Ilya scrambled to regain control again. “I promise you there will be many things you can eat, and if there isn’t, you just tell me and we will find you something. This salad that you made perhaps, that you did not need to make. You just eat it all like the good little bird you are. We can put some of Bood's grilled chicken on it.”

“Fuck,” Shane clenched his eyes shut. “I’m sorry I'm such a mess.”

“It’s okay, you’re my mess.”

Shane huffed out a laugh, rolling his eyes as he finally released Ilya’s hand and undid his seat buckle. “Oh wait.”

Ilya paused, door half open, Anya starting to whine as they were not moving fast enough.

“Please, for the love of god, do not say that you are by my side because I have you on a leash.”

Ilya snorted. “Please, they all know you walk me like dog.”

“Ilya.” Shane warned, distress clearly set into his expression once more. 

“That’s okay,” Ilya shrugged like the good little menace he was. “I will just tell them instead about the toy we used last night, I have good review, will make good story for around the firepit no?”

“Fuck, no! No sex talk…like, at all!” 

“Fine, fine,” Ilya jumped down and finally let Anya out, the Australian Shepherd immediately running off to find Chiron. “I speak of nothing but hockey and Anya and good, normal, very boring things like…new curtains and going to dentist.”

“Yes, tell them how scared you were to get your teeth checked.” Shane replied as he met him round the front of the car, all bite having now been replaced with a soft edge of fondness. He still clutched the bowl of salad he’d insisted on making, despite Ilya telling him Bood and Cassie sorted all food, close to him like a lifeline. 

“I do not like needles and sharp things near my gums, I do not think this is unreasonable.” Ilya looped his arm around Shane’s back and held him close, pressing a kiss into his neck as they walked up to the house.

The sky above them was a swirl of pinks and oranges now, deepening by the second as a haze of lilac gracefully swept in. The evening orchestra of insects had already begun, waltzing loudly in between bursts of laughter from their teammates in the distance. The smell of the bbq had been picked up by the light breeze, wafting towards them, enticing them forwards with the promise of a variety of charring meats. 

“Mmmm,” Ilya inhaled deeply, opening the front door and ushering him inside, people yelling out to them immediately. “Let’s do this.”

* 

Shane felt like a bit of an idiot. 

Ilya had been right, of course he had. The Ottawa Centaurs were a team full of good people. People who were kind and open and accepting. They loved Ilya, the respect for their captain obvious everywhere you turned. And they welcomed Shane with open, ready arms. 

He already knew Wyatt from the camps and had heard so much about the others already that he felt like he knew them too. But that hadn’t stopped him from catastrophising in his head that they would be put off by his presence. 

He knows he’s not a straight forward person to get along with. He’d heard it enough in his life to understand that he wasn’t the easiest person sometimes, and honestly some days he wonders how Ilya puts up with him…and loves him the way he does.

And yet he does, so maybe he’s not all bad? 

But tonight was going well, and he’d managed to relax, Ilya a steady presence by his side as they conversed with their team members. 

Their team members

God, Shane still wanted to pinch himself sometimes when he remembered that he and Ilya would finally get to play on the same team. 

Shane caught Ilya’s eye then, like his husband knew he was thinking of him, the sea blue pools gazing softly at him in question, and smiled at him with a nod. He was okay, this was all okay. 

Ilya winked in reply, clearly pleased at his response as he piled a mountain of red meat on his plate as well as a healthy serving of potato salad and bread. Shane didn’t dare comment on the complete lack of green on his plate, instead returning to the selection of salads before him as he tried to figure out what was going to be good. 

Cassie sidled up next to him, placing down a tray of grilled vegetables. “Doing okay?” She asked quietly. “Ilya mentioned you were a bit more strict about what you will and won’t eat than this lot.”

“I…” Shane blushed, embarrassed to be causing a fuss for their hosts.

“No, no it’s okay.” Cassie shook her head. “I just meant that we added some more vegetables and hearty salads to the line up, and between you and me I've been dying to do this for ages, and the other boys should be following suit, so please don’t worry. I was able to try out a few new recipes.”

“This is a very impressive spread, thank you.” Shane smiled at her gratefully. “I don’t know how you will get them to eat it though, I have a hard enough time hiding vegetables in our dinners at home so Ilya doesn’t realise.”

“He is basically a toddler.” Cassie laughed brightly, eyes twinkling with fondness. “But the boys know I don't do leftovers in my fridge, so I guess they will just have to eat it all before the night is out.”

“Smart woman.” 

“Yes.” She merely squeezed his arm. “If you try the satay salad, let me know what you think— It's from a new cookbook I just got.”

“You got it. Ilya weirdly loves leaving food reviews, i’ll get him to write you one too.” He grinned and Cassie laughed again, leaving him to it. 

Shane loaded some grilled chicken onto his plate and the satay salad Cassie had mentioned because it actually looked really good, as well as a few other vegetables and even some of the silly salad he’d made. It all looked okay and he was feeling less stressed, and more hungry by the second. 

He ducked back outside where the team and their partners were spread out across the deck and backyard, several of the younger members and rookies lounging on the grass, illuminated by the firepit and neatly strung festoon lights across the yard. 

Ilya waved at him from his seat at the large wooden table, signalling to the spare seat beside him. 

Troy, Harris, Wyatt, Lisa, Zane and now Cassie were already seated around the table, tucking into their dinner. 

Mumford and Sons drifted in and out as some of the younger team members threw around a portable speaker in the yard. Anya and Chiron danced around them, ears perked up in the hopes of fallen food…or weak hockey players who cannot resist a pleading puppy. 

“Do not give them food, children.” Ilya yelled out as Shane finally sat down, fork at the ready to dig in. He smiled up at Shane then. “Good?”

Shane reached down with his free hand to squeeze Ilya’s thigh, letting it stay there and dance across his knee. “Yeah, I'm good…promise.”

Ilya beamed and leant back, hand slinking over the back of Shane's chair as the table settled into a steady roll of conversation about the season, and the things they’d gotten up to over the summer. 

Shane found himself joining in easily, especially with the hockey chat, and sharing snippets of their honeymoon to Spain. He even made a joke at one point that had the table cracking up (he felt a little proud at that one). Safe to say, Shane really was a massive idiot for having worried so much about this. But that was just one of the fun things his brain liked to torment him with sometimes. 

Dinner had been finished for a while and the plates had all been scraped and stacked neatly in the middle of the table for later, when Harris disappeared and remerged from the kitchen with a large apple pie. 

“Holy shit Harris,” Ilya’s eyes grew round with desire. “It looks like pie you bake in Disney movie.”

And Shane wouldn't disagree with that. It was quite an impressive baked good: perfectly golden brown and shiny with an artistically woven top, all speckled with what Shane assumed was raw sugar. 

Harris ducked his head, cheeks flushing a pleasant pink at the compliment. Shane liked Harris a lot, immediately put at ease by how kind and chatty he was. He was very adorable actually, and Troy gazed at him like he hung the moon. It was sweet. 

“Quick, let’s cut it before the kids see.” Zane handed over a knife, eyes darting over to where the younger team members were running around now playing fetch with the dogs in the yard.

“Don’t worry,” Troy winced as Chiron barrelled rolled Haas to the ground and was currently licking his face, refusing to let him up. “He made a whole second one, it’s in the kitchen when they want it.”

“I didn’t want anyone to miss out.” Harris shrugged, biting his lip as he expertly sliced up the pie and started portioning it out onto small plates that Cassie had produced. 

The plates were handed around and Shane hadn’t even thought to say no when one landed right in front of him. 

“Uhh..” He began. Apple pie was not a part of his diet, in any way, shape, or form

“It’s really good Shane,” Ilya swallowed a large mouthful and nudged him gently. “Harris is an amazing baker. Is worth it, I promise you…besides, the season hasn’t started yet.”

Shane rolled his eyes. His season had started this week, and Ilya knew that. But, he supposed he was trying to be better about allowing himself to have these things occasionally. 

And yet again, his stupidly handsome husband was right. The pie was incredible. Buttery, flaky pastry and a delicious tart and not too sweet filling. 

“Ohlkbfksbahds..” he moaned around a mouthful and Ilya shot him a devious look. 

“Shane, not at the dinner table.”

“Fuck off.” he mumbled around his mouthful of apple and swallowed, mouth immediately watering for more. “Why don't I eat more apples, these are amazing.”

“You do not eat a lot of things, I think we would be here forever if we tried to figure out the why.” Ilya replied with equal levels of fondness and sass. 

“Drover farm apples,” Harris ignored Ilya. “You just yell if you ever want some.”

“Yeah,” Shane smiled gratefully. “Thanks Harris. This is really wonderful.”

Soon the pie was gone and the chat turned to the season ahead, and who everyone predicted to do well. Shane was doing his best to pay attention, but his throat was starting to annoy him, feeling all sticky, like the apple pie filling was still coating his windpipe. 

He cleared his throat a few times, and reached for Ilya’s glass of seltzer, having realized he never got himself a drink with dinner. His throat felt thick, like something just wouldn’t go down. 

He coughed a few more times in an attempt to clear it all out again, earning him a questioning glance from his husband. 

Something just felt a bit off though, like he’d burnt his mouth somehow, or like the cinnamon from the apple mix was suddenly too spicy, and he was unable to swallow it down. The tightness had him forcing himself to take a deep breath and another sip of Ilya’s drink. 

“Okay?” Ilya leant in, hand on his thigh. 

“Yeah,” Shane said, flashing him a smile in response as he rose. “Sorry, something just stuck in my throat weirdly, I'm just going to get some water.”

Ilya nodded and let him go, but Shane could feel his eyes on him, tracking him with concern as he moved away. 

Shane made his way back inside, the glass door shutting out the hubbub of noise from his teammates, the sudden quiet a brief relief. He crossed to the kitchen and swiped a bottle of water from the fridge. It was only as he attempted to unscrew the cap that he realised how much his hands were shaking, and how hard swallowing had suddenly become.

And breathing….breathing was also starting to feel like something far more challenging than it should have ever been. 

Shane had never really had to think too hard about breathing before— it was just something you did. And yet here he was, suddenly finding it hard to inhale, gasping with every attempted intake, his breath sounding like a thin wheeze as he braced himself against the sink. The water bottle slipped from his hands and burst open and Shane watched his chest heaving too quickly to be right, as the water spread slowly across the kitchen counter, soaking everything it came in contact with.

The only thing he could think as he clawed at the skin upon his throat, was that something was terribly, terribly wrong with him. 

“Shane?”

He barely heard it over the ringing now flooding his ears, but Ilya was standing at the door, watching him carefully. 

“Il…ya” He wheezed, and Ilya lurched forward, barely making it in time to catch Shane as he slid down to the floor. 

“Sweetheart, what’s happening, is it panic attack?” Ilya looked horrified, his hands clamoring to press into Shane’s chest in an attempt to ground him. 

Shane shook his head, tears springing to his eyes as his throat continued to close in. 

“You’re not breathing right.” Ilya said, suddenly noticing the panicked way Shane attempted to inhale, and Shane wanted to just kiss away all the worry in his voice. “Fuck.”

“I…” Shane gasped, the sound all raspy and weak as he inhaled, or rather attempted to, the edges of his vision starting to darken and spin with dizziness as he gazed up at Ilya’s beautiful eyes. 

Maybe this is how he was going to die, unable to breathe and clawing at his throat on Zane Boodram's kitchen floor.

Well… at least he was in Ilya’s arms. 

*

“Help!” Ilya called out, forcing the loud, captain tone with everything that was in him, when in fact he felt like his life was crumbling away right in front of him. 

His life…his heart. Shane, whose whole chest was heaving in an attempt to inhale, his eyes wide with fear as they gripped Ilya to his core, his face pale except a flush of red across his neck. 

“Help!” he roared again, his eyes unable to leave the dark ones before him, unable to dare blink in that moment in case he missed something. “Just try and breathe…” Shane whimpered in response. “I know…i know sweetheart. You can do it.”

Lisa rounded the corner of the kitchen and Ilya had to forcibly hold back a growl as she nudged him out of the way, giving her better access to Shane. He could see the others hanging back, giving them room but being close enough in case they needed more help. 

“Wyatt, get the medkit from the car. Ilya…Ilya just hold him steady.” She commanded, dropping to the tiles beside him, checking Shane's airway and breathing quickly before feeling for his pulse. Wyatt flew out the door without having to be told twice. “Did he eat something he’s allergic to?”

Ilya knew Lisa had spoken to him. He literally saw her mouth move and heard something like words fly at him, but all he could do was just stare at her, his brain stumbling over the sight of his husband not breathing. 

“Ilya!” Lisa insisted, sharper this time— commanding but not unkind. “Is he allergic to anything?”

“No,” Ilya shook his head roughly, finally getting himself together enough to remember all the right English words so he could give her something useful. “He is not allergic to anything, as far as I am aware. He has never mentioned...No.”

Shane wheezed and tried to say something, his hand still grasping  at his throat as he writhed on the floor. Tears were slowly leaking down his cheeks and he just looked…terrified. 

And god it just killed Ilya.

“Shane, did you get bitten by anything?”

Shane’s whole body shuddered and Ilya let out an involuntary cry as he reached out to try and soothe him. He shook his head though, unable to speak through his closing throat. 

“He didn’t mention that he had.” Ilya added quickly. 

“Okay, that’s okay,” She nodded, her tone kind but firm. “Shane, you're definitely having anaphylaxis right now. Your throat is swelling, which is why you’re finding it so hard to breathe.. I’m going to administer epinephrine, and it should start helping quickly.”

Wyatt emerged a moment later with a portable medical kit and Lisa immediately unzipped it, hands unwavering as she found the EpiPen, a steady calm set into her face that Ilya didn't think he’d ever understand about health professionals. 

“This may hurt,” she grimaced and she pushed the hem of Shane’s shorts up to expose smooth skin as she connected the pen with the lateral section of his thigh.  

A click and a groan filled the next few seconds, silence wrapping around them as they waited for Shane’s laboured breathing to slow down to something more manageable. Once the dose had been administered, Lisa sat back on her heels and watched him, eyes training over his body as 

His next breath came easier. Not easy though, No Ilya still thinks the sound of his ragged breath was horrible, but it was easier. The horrible strangled wheeze had softened slightly, and Shane's shoulders dropped a fraction as he settled back against the cabinet. 

Ilya almost sagged with relief. 

Lisa didn’t let him settle for long though, easing Shane forward so she could listen to his breathing, the stethoscope running across his back in a practiced motion for a few minutes. Ilya moved forward immediately to let Shane sink his head into his chest, hating how he felt so weary and boneless. 

“Better?” She asked him and Shane nodded, though it was weaker than Ilya liked seeing. Lisa looked about as convinced as he did. 

But after 5 minutes and his breathing still coming out far rougher than it should have, Lisa declared she was going to have to administer another dose, Ilya could no longer keep the tears at bay. They skated down his cheeks as Shane took the second dose with another groan, but far less panic this time, almost like he was just defeated now, unable to process what was ever happening around him.

And Ilya just felt entirely helpless as he just held onto his husband…who was now starting to shake. 

“What?” He pulled back slightly in alarm as Shane shook so violently, as if he was having a seizure. “What is happening? His heart is going crazy too.”

“Adrenalin.” Lisa explained. “I know it's scary, but it’s a normal side effect. He’s going to feel pretty unwell a little longer, but he can at least breathe now. We do need to call an ambulance though, but maybe Wyatt has already.” She glanced around trying to find her husband, the goalie indeed on the phone already, his brows furrowed in concern before he passed it over to her.

Ilya barely heard anymore as he gathered Shane into his arms, his husband's hand trembling so horribly as they weakly grasped at Ilya’s own. The others moved around him, made phone calls, discussed their next move, but he heard none of it. 

“Il…Ilya.” Shane croaked out, leaning heavily into Ilya's strong frame.

“Shh..” Ilya tried to soothe him, petting through his hair as he tried to ignore the feel of Shane’s heart still pounding too harshly, or the tacky feel of his still pale skin. “Rest now, save your energy.”

Shane exhaled and sunk even further into his embrace as he focused whatever energy he had on actively breathing, like it was something he was still having to think hard about. He was still trembling enough to make Ilya feel cold all over with fear, like there was still something very wrong. But Lisa seemed happy with the progress, so Ilya just continued to hold him, fear gripping him tightly enough that he never wanted to let him go again— never wanted to ever hear those sounds coming from his husband ever again.

“What happened?” Shane asked after a while, sounding far more weak and exhausted than Ilya had ever heard him before. 

“You…” Ilya swallowed down his emotions. “You had an allergic reaction to something.”

Shane sighed, like he’d been completely hollowed out, nothing left to give. 

Ilya glanced up at a commotion by the entrance to the kitchen, seeing Lisa now talking to two paramedics, relaying what she needed to for them to do their job. 

“Am I okay?” Shane asked, and Ilya didn’t like the tinge of confusion in his voice. 

“You will be,” Ilya kissed his clammy forehead and swiped roughly at his eyes as he moved to let the paramedics have the access they needed. 

*

Shane felt like he’d been strung out on the ice and run over by a zamboni…ten times over. 

He doesn't think he felt this bad even after breaking his collarbone and getting the concussions all those years ago. 

He felt fine now, albeit exhausted and like he needed to just sleep for several days to feel human again, but fine nonetheless. 

Apparently though, two doses of adrenaline and an unknown allergic reaction earns you an overnight stay in the hospital no matter how many times you tell them you’re fine. 

His arrival at the Emergency department was a blinding whir of daunting doctors and their questions about what he’d eaten or if he’d been exposed to something unknown, pricks in his arm, masks over his nose, an overwhelming number of faces, and in amongst it all, Ilya’s grounding blue eyes, always there to tether him to something real that he could hold onto. 

He thinks Ilya must have answered most of the questions in the end for him, because Shane barely remembers being coherent enough to have been even remotely useful. He feels like he’d been on a carousel, spinning out of control and waiting for the ride to come to a halt so he could work out which way was up. 

They must have been able to narrow it down enough though, because someone had come several hours ago to draw blood to run some specific tests to measure something …anti-somethings…against particular allergens. 

Every 20 minutes or so now a nurse would drift through and check his vitals, ask several questions about how he was feeling and if he was having any trouble breathing, or feeling any discomfort. And then they’d drift back out just as quickly and tell him to rest. 

The emergency department was a loud, rapidly moving beast though and he was doing anything but resting right now, even though he wanted so desperately to close his eyes and sleep. It was just all too bright for him, in every sense of the word. 

A snuffle came from his left and Shane glanced over to see Ilya, body curled over the side of his hospital bed like a prawn, hair a ruffled mess of golden curls, his face set into an uneasy sleep. 

His hand was in Shane’s though, holding him steady, grounding him, keeping him close. 

His mouth hung open slightly, trailing a line of saliva across the scratchy white sheets and Shane couldn’t help but smile, grateful not for the first time that night that he still got to have this. 

Overall, the entire event was still feeling a little bit like a blur, but even so, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to shake the feeling of impending death from his memory. Seeing everything narrow in the way it did, being unable to take a breath, seeing the fear reflected on Ilya's pained face, and the overwhelming thought that he was never getting to see his beautiful face again. 

Shane shuddered and tried to swipe at the warmth that was prickling at the back of his eyes all of a sudden, but only managed to tug at a pulse oximeter clipped to his finger.

“Sorry.” He croaked out as the movement made Ilya jolt upright, face bleary as he looked around wildly, confusion and something haunting still thick in his sleepy eyes.

“Is okay,” Ilya shook his head, confusion settling back down into concern as he scooted closer. “How are you feeling?”

But Shane was really struggling to keep himself together now. He shook his head fiercely and gasped. 

“Shane, Are you struggling to breathe again?” Ilya stood, finally releasing him as he whirled around to find a panic button of sorts, eyes wide with horror once more, and it was the fear on his face only made things worse. 

He shook his head and grabbed Ilya's hand, unable to bear losing contact with the only thing that was keeping him steady enough to hold it all together. 

“Shh no,” Ilya tried to soothe him, hands immediately moving to work through his hair.

Shane let himself be pushed back into the pillows, feeling as helpless as a little child as Ilya busied himself with tucking Shane back in carefully, making sure everything he was connected to was still correct, but tucked neatly in place. 

He made no comment about the tears that were working their way down Shane’s cheeks now, merely pausing to brush them away, before placing a kiss on his forehead. But Shane could see the struggle that Ilya was trying to keep at bay himself, could see the storm behind his eyes and the fear still settled in the crease of his brow. 

“I’m okay.” He said, relishing the touch of Ilya’s large, warm and steady hands, and Shane never wanted them to leave him. 

Ilya merely smiled tightly though, and Shane didn’t miss the quiver of his chin as he held it all tightly in. 

“I’m okay.” He said again, surprised a little at the level of desperation in his own tone, as if he was trying to even convince himself of it this time. 

Ilya took a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes glistening with something Shane never wanted to see.

“You almost died.” He whispered, as if it pained him to even say those words outl oud. 

Ilya let the words hang in between them though, gazing sadly at him for a moment, and Shane just made out the quiver in his lips before Ilya threw himself forward and burst into tears. Shane’s hands came up to thread through the golden curls he loved so much, as Ilya buried his head into Shane’s chest and wept. 

“I’m sorry,” Ilya managed to get out after a few minutes. “I’m so sorry.”

Shane shook his head fiercely, feeling even more undone by his husband's outburst than before. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

Ilya hiccuped into him, laying his head against Shane’s heart, as if he was trying to listen to the steady thump of him existing in his arms. 

“You’re not allowed.” Came a muffled statement when the tears began to subside. 

“Allowed what?” Shane murmured. 

“To leave me,” Ilya replied, pushing himself up onto his elbow, their faces merely inches away from each other. “You’re not allowed, Shane Hollander. I couldn't bear it.”

“Well, you’re not allowed then either.” Shane continued his steady swirls through his curls, pushing the mess back off his forehead, his voice thick and wet. 

Shane scooted over enough that Ilya was able to settle in the bed next to him, though it was still a rather cramped affair for two large Hockey players. Still, Shane needed this, needed Ilya to be as close as possible right now, and he was pretty certain that Ilya needed the exact same thing. 

 He let Ilya wrap his arm around him protectively, sinking into his side as if they were melting together. 

“I don’t think I've ever been that scared in my life,” Shane admitted after a while, feeling a little floaty as Ilya ran his fingers softly up and down his arm.

Ilya sighed heavily. “Admittedly, me neither.”

“Not everything’s a competition.” Shane said and Ilya huffed out a surprised laugh. “Too soon?”

“Yes Hollander, way too soon. Tell me again tomorrow maybe.”

Shane hummed in response. “Did they figure out what it was? I can’t remember now if someone has been through to discuss that.”

“Mmm you were a little out of it still. But yes they had a decent idea. We're still waiting for the lab results to come back.” Ilya told him. “Based on what you ate…they think it may have been the apple.”

“Apple?”

“Yes.”

“But…” Shane’s face screwed up in confusion. “I’ve eaten apples my whole life.” 

“I know.” Ilya hugged him tighter. 

“How is that even possible?” 

“I don’t know Shane, I am not doctor. They tried to explain but it was too many English words for me tonight, I was struggling to follow what they were saying.”

“Okay, that’s okay.” Shane squeezed Ilya’s arm reassuringly, understanding exactly how frazzled Ilya probably had been in that moment.  “Oh god.”

“What?” Ilya’s voice was laced with panic immediately.

“Harris!” Shane felt like bursting into tears all over again. “If it was the apples…Oh god he’s going to hate me.”

“No, no Shane, of course he won’t.” Ilya's hand moved to caress his cheek, rubbing his finger back and forth so gently in an attempt to soothe him. 

“But I…” 

“No.” Ilya cut him off. “Malysh, if anything he will probably think you’ll hate him.” 

“Why would I hate him?”

“Exactly,” Ilya pointed out. “All this hate that is going nowhere. No one will hate anyone. You’re both terrible people pleasers. Anyway, we need to wait and hear if it was in fact apple. It might not have been and if it was, then we deal with that and Harris will still want to be your friend.”

“Well, here's hoping I can give you some clarity then.”

Both of their heads whipped up to the doorway where Shane’s doctor now stood, chart in hand and a kind smile on his face despite the deep shadows under his eyes. 

“Good to see you looking and sounding a bit better now Shane” He moved forward. “You were a little out of it so let me re-introduce myself. Dr Winshaw, I've been handling your case since you arrived in the ED last night.”

“Hi.” Shane’s voice was small and scared enough for Ilya to squeeze his hand reassuringly. 

“We had you on supplemental oxygen when you arrived, and I'm happy to say-” he paused to make a note on Shane’s chart, his eyes flickering to a monitor. “That your blood oxygen levels are looking a lot better this morning.”

“Your husband was able to give us a pretty thorough list of what you’d eaten, and then also what you normally eat in your day to day diet. Unfortunately there’s no one test that will sort through all of that and tell us what exactly you reacted to, so we have to test food by food. Based on what we were told though it did seem pretty likely that apples were the only thing you had not consumed in a long time so we did a panel for this. Based on this history, and the testing we’ve been able to do so far, we’re feeling confident that apple is the trigger in this case.”

“But I…” Shane rubbed a hand across his face, his head a whirl of confusion. “I haven’t had apples in a few years, sure, but I used to eat them all the time, I don't understand how I'm suddenly allergic to them.”

“That’s fair, but honestly that's kind of how allergies can work, especially one you develop as an adult.” Dr Winshaw nodded, acknowledging that this was a surprise. “Our immune systems continue to develop throughout our lives, and sometimes an allergy can present itself after years of your being able to eat something without any problems. Sometimes people become sensitised to an allergen without having obvious symptoms, and then a later exposure can trigger an unfortunate reaction. I wish I had a definitive answer for you as to why it happened, but we don’t always know exactly why.”

“Okay,” Shane swallowed hard, and he could hear Ilya breathing deeply next to him. “So what happens now?”

After that it became yet another blur of information about managing an allergy, a referral to an allergist for a follow up, a neatly typed up emergency action plan, two EpiPens and a printed off prescription and the weight of something bigger than the both of them now clinging on to Shane like velcro. 

“I know this feels like a lot,” Dr Winshaw patted his leg comfortingly, and Shane was suddenly reminded of his dad. “But I promise you that you can still live your life, even with this. You can eat and play hockey and do and be everything you want to be. You will just adapt, and learn how to avoid this one thing.” 

“He’s right.” Ilya, who had finally settled back in his chair by the bed, found Shane’s hand. “We will be okay with this. You will be okay. No apple will ever set foot near you again”

Shane glanced between the two of them, eyes flickering down briefly to all the new paperwork splayed out across his bed— His new life plan to stay alive basically.
The machines were beeping steadily around them, the bustle of the ED outside the door sounding distant and like a whole other world they hadn’t yet stepped back into. 

He felt sleepy, like a deep fatigue had finally settled into his bones, and his body ached like he’d done 5 hours of straight bag skates. He took a deliberate breath, allowing Ilya’s warm hand to draw hearts into his palm for a few moments before he answered. 

“Okay.” He nodded. “We’ll be okay.”

*

“Tell Shane to take it easy, and we’ll see him when he’s feeling better.”

Ilya huffed out a laugh, skipping a stone across the lake from where he stood at the edge, the cool water lapping at his bare toes, licking at his skin and keeping him awake. 

They’d been home for an hour and Shane had been napping on the couch when Ilya’s phone had lit up with an incoming call from Coach Wiebe. He’d ducked outside to take the call and give their coach the update he needed. 

“Easier said than done, coach. You have clearly never told Shane Hollander he’s not allowed to skate. He thinks he has to be 100% all the time. Being sick or resting is not acceptable.”

“No, I guess I haven't, not yet at least. I’m guessing Montreal was not so forgiving.”

Ilya just hummed in disapproval. 

“How long is he out for?”

“Just a week,” Ilya replied. “He’ll feel fine probably in a few days, but they recommended refraining from strenuous activity for at least the next week. It was a pretty shitty reaction, knocked him around a bit, so his body needs time to bounce back completely.”

“Okay, well you know that he has the whole support of the team, me, the organization. We want him back only when he's feeling well.”

Ilya smiled at this. He loved this team so much. “I know. Thank you.”

They chatted for a few more minutes about the plans for the upcoming week, Wiebe telling him to take time as well if he needed it. Ilya said he’d talk to Shane first and would let him know, but he was grateful to have that safety net, even if he knew Shane would fight him on it. 

Admittedly, he was feeling pretty shaken up by the whole thing as well. He hadn’t been the one to go through it, but he still couldn’t get the terrified look on Shane’s face out of his head. 

Maybe this was how Shane had felt when he thought Ilya's plane had crashed earlier that year. 

They needed to stop having near death experiences, he thought wryly to himself as he made his way back inside.  

Shane was blinking awake on the couch, rubbing at his eyes as he slowly came back into consciousness. 

“Hey.” He croaked as Ilya flopped down next to him, dragging his feet into his lap immediately, kneading at Shane's soles so his hands had something to do. 

“I just spoke to coach.” 

“Oh.” Shane replied cooly, like he was avoiding bringing it up. 

“You will be missed this next week, but you have the support of the entire organisation,” Ilya told him matter-of-factly, leaving no room for interpretation. “And when you do come back, after you’ve rested your cute little butt off, you will come back strong and ready to skate circles around us all.”

Shane just stared at him for a few seconds, brows furrowed like he was trying to argue. And then it was like something switched inside of him, and he sunk back into the pillows, his eyes swimming a little. 

“Fuck,” He let out. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Ilya quirked an eyebrow, completely floored at the lack of pushback. 

“Did you want me to fight you?” Shane asked incredulously.

“I mean, I was expecting a little something, sure.” Ilya squeezed his ankle playfully. “Anyway Wiebe said I can take the week off too.”

“Ilya no!” Shane shot back immediately, and he couldn't help but laugh. 

“Ah there it is.” 

“You can’t leave the team in the first week of training.” Shane surged forward. “Not because of me. Besides, I'll just be here resting. Watching TV, I don't know. You have to be there.”

“I will definitely come with you to your appointment, but we can talk about it later,” Ilya leant down to kiss his knee. “For now, can I make you something to eat, something easy perhaps.”

Shane’s eyes dropped to his lap and Ilya had to duck his head to try and catch his expression. 

“What is it?”

“It’s stupid.” Shane shook his head, face fallen and unsure. 

“What is it?” Ilya pushed gently. 

“I’m just scared now…” His voice was small and indeed laced with fear. “What if it happens again, with something else?”

Ilya lifted his feet off his lap and crawled over the top of him, setting himself down until he had a knee on either side of Shane's hips, easing himself gently down into his lap. He took up Shane's face in his hands, planting a kiss gently on each cheek before pressing a final one onto his forehead. 

“If it happens again, we have special pens to stop it,” He told him. “We know what to look for now and what to do.”

Shane’s dark eyes swam, tears threatening to fall at any second. 

“I should never have had the pie.” He sighed. 

“No, do not do that malysh.” Ilya growled. “Do not make this about things you should or shouldn't have. That is not this.”

“I-”

“You could have eaten an apple tomorrow, or next week or easily added them into one of your gross smoothies. You didn’t do anything wrong by eating the pie. If it had been another time though, you might have only had useless little old me, and we would not have had wonderful doctor Lisa there to save your life.”

Ilya rubbed his thumbs across Shane’s cheeks, catching the tears that were now skating down silently. 

“Fuck,” Shane sniffed bitterly. “We owe Lisa so much.”

“I will buy her new car I think, or send her and Wyatt on a nice holiday perhaps?”

Before Shane could reply though their doorbell rang. Ilya extracted himself and went to answer it, surprised to find Harris and Troy on the other side, Anya dancing around their feet impatiently waiting for Ilya to open the door. 

“Oh sweet girl, were you good?” He immediately scooped her up and let the Australian Shepherd lick at his face. 

“She was the best, obviously.” Troy smiled. “We just happened to speak to Wiebe and he said you guys were back home.”

“Thank you for taking her, we really appreciate it.” Ilya said, feeling grateful for his friends and their unwavering generosity. “I’m sorry I didn't text you.”

“Is Shane okay?” Harris asked nervously.

“Ilya?” Shane's voice came from the den before he had a chance to answer. Anya, hearing this, wiggled in his arms to be let down, and as soon as her paws hit the floor she was off to find him. 

“Why don’t you come in and see.” He indicated for them to follow.

They made their way through the house to where Shane was settled into the plush couch, an excited dog now crawling all over him, her tail thumping against him incessantly.

“Oh,” Shane’s voice was still croaky, but he was happy to see them. “Hey guys. Thank you for bringing Anya.”

“How are you feeling?” Troy sat down in an armchair, Harris perching on the arm of it. Ilya settled back on the couch next to Shane and wrangled Anya into his lap. 

“Tired.” He chuckled. “And like I've been run over by a zamboni, but…fine, really. I’ll be okay.”

“We have things to stab him now.” Ilya added with a smirk. 

Shane fixed him with a look. “You can’t say it like that you idiot.”

“So it was an allergic reaction then?”

Shane nodded, a slight hesitation in his action, and Ilya decided to take over. 

“It was the apple actually.” he said it carefully, testing how it would land with their friend. There was unfortunately no avoiding it, not if they were to protect Shane from them moving forward. 

“Oh Shane.” Harris looked truly horrified, his hands flying up to cover his mouth as he realized that he’d almost killed his friend. 

“No, Harris you didn’t know.” Shane shook his head quickly. “I didn’t even know.”

“It was an accident, Harris. Was no one's fault.” Ilya added, nodding reassuringly at him. Troy's hands were rubbing up and down his back in an attempt to bring comfort to his boyfriend. 

“But I still almost killed you.” He squeaked. “Like hey, welcome to the team, have these big juicy apples that are going to quickly make your throat close in and kill you.”

“Are you telling me you did it on purpose then?” Ilya asked and Shane whacked him. Troy shot him a glare. “You’re out to murder my very handsome husband?”

“No of course not!” 

“Then we are back to it was accident,” Ilya confirmed. “Shane’s immune system just decided to throw…what is it with the spanner, working, something?”

“Throw a spanner in the works?” Shane offered and Ilya snapped his fingers. 

“Yes, this. It was no one's fault Harris, not yours, not Shane’s.”

“Well, it’s a little mine,” Shane mumbled. “My immune system and all.”

Ilya hushed him quiet and pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“Okay.” Harris let out a long breath. “Okay, as long as you're sure.”

“I’m sure.” Shane said earnestly. 

“We’re sure.” Ilya agreed. 

“I’m just sorry I scared everyone,” Shane sighed miserably. “A really awesome way to introduce myself to the team.”

“They’re all just worried about you to be honest,” Troy admitted. “The group chat has been blowing up.”

“We should probably give them an update.” Ilya nodded. “Or have them over here for a re-do team dinner.”

“No apple pies this time.” Troy nudged his boyfriend good naturedly and received a playful shove for his efforts.

“I also make a pretty awesome cherry pie!” Harris offered and Shane grinned.

“Sounds perfect.” Shane replied and Ilya couldn’t help but beam at him. 

Troy and Harris stayed a little while longer but when they saw Shane start to flag, his eyes dropping as he sank a little further into Ilya’s shoulder, they saw themselves out with promises to catch up through the week sometime. 

“I love you.” Shane sighed into him, halfway gone to sleep. 

“I love you so much.” Ilya replied and let Shane fall asleep against him, their chests rising and falling in sync as they just breathed together.