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Ilya rarely ever loses bets. In fact, he’d say that winning is part of his biology. It also helps he’s competitive as fuck and is actually a lot more intelligent than people believe him to be–that yes, Ilya Rozanov is not actually the meathead the media portrays him to be.
Rarely, however, does not mean never. And unfortunately, this is one of those few and far between times. And unfortunately, it is against Cliff Marleau. A boys night at the local bar to catch up soon led to them challenging each other to do the most stupid things. Like doing a squat whilst balancing a shot glass on their head, who can hold a handstand the longest whilst the other tries to push him over, who can run in a straight line after spinning in a circle five times—they both lost that one, both men veering into the bushes head first. Ilya can’t even remember how it started, but he does know how it ended.
With no hair.
Yes, Ilya Rozanov has lost his signature curly, luscious locks. All because Cliff bet that he would look better with a buzzcut than Ilya would, which in what world? Ilya doesn’t need hair to be hot, he could be balding and still be the most attractive guy around—besides from Shane of course. He did not, however, ask Shane before he took up the electric razor. But by that point he was an alpha who had consumed a little too many tequila shots—turns out exchanging his partying lifestyle for one more fulfilling means he can’t handle tequila like he used to. And he had already tracked a landing strip in the middle of his head, razor lined up to make another with Cliff already half way done with his, that Ilya had stared wide eyed at himself and realised he had not asked his mate beforehand.
And whilst it’s not like Shane controls him in any way, Ilya still likes the idea of being claimed. To have someone to ask if his hair looks good, or should he wear this shirt? Or even simply having an excuse to leave the function early to cuddle and watch Shane watch hockey videos or read. Ilya likes his quiet, boring life after all. And Ilya is a well trained alpha, he respects his mate’s wishes, desires, and tastes. He also knows how much Shane likes his hair, whether it being running his hand through it absentmindedly as the omega drives or yanking on it as Ilya eats him out.
But now there are no curls to lose his fingers in, instead there is only short fuzz. And the alpha can’t figure out how Shane is going to react. Well, he could stare at him in that way he does when Ilya knows he’s silently simmering with rage, brain churning before his mouth opens to give a foul mouthed tirade, or Shane could simply tilt his head, hum like he does when he’s considering something new before shrugging. Or just frown, before moving onto something else. Or you know, divorce him. But the omega wouldn’t do that, right? Ilya’s hair is the one thing the alpha isn’t sure what reaction it will predict now it’s no longer there, and he would consider himself fluent in Shane-speak. The idea of the unknown was terrifying.
Also because Ilya was embarrassed, which is not a feeling he ever really owns up to. But that’s what he is, embarrassed. He’s a grown up, a virile alpha with a beautiful mate, two pups, and a hockey legacy to boot. Shaving his head was something rookies did. Not someone who bought his husband a new label maker with colour options because said husband said he wished he could colour code his labels without doing it by hand. Not someone who asked for the new puzzle set featuring his and Shane’s face on so he could piece it together and frame it. No, this was pup behaviour. And Ilya was mortified. He’d lose his mind if Shane ever shaved his beautiful hair, so god knows what’s going to happen now.
Ilya blamed Cliff Marleau for his problems. If it doesn’t go down well he’ll claim he was roofied and Cliff did it in his sleep. Simple.
Even so Ilya hesitates as he unlocks their front door, the morning after his ‘catch-up’ with Cliff. Ilya had crashed in Cliff’s hotel room, not being able to brave the Uber home, to which Shane had accepted his lame excuse of wanting to spend more time with the knothead that is Marly. As fucking if. Ilya would obviously choose sharing a bed with his mate over the boisterous alpha any day, Cliff also snores like a crapping lawnmower. Not that Ilya is any better but still.
Ilya goes to tug on a curl anxiously but instead his fingers just skim the fuzzy top of his head and he jolts, cursing under his breath. His head was a lot colder now without his curly locks. It was weird, his ears were cold too, the wind making him shiver and wanting to cup his ears now there weren't any strands curled around them. Thank God he didn’t have a weird shaped head though, that would be enough reason to end it all. Ilya wouldn’t be able to take it if his skull was shaped like Megamind.
From where he stands on their porch, he can hear Hana babbling endlessly to someone and the sound of the TV blaring. Soft sounds of Sunday domesticity reach Ilya’s ears, and even though he is shitting himself, he can’t help the way his fingers land on the handle on instinct, the alpha inside of him nudging him forward impatiently. To return to his little pack, because even a night away from them is too much. With a deep breath, Ilya turns the key and tries to move into the entryway as quietly as possible. Unfortunately, he does not live in a house where he can go unnoticed. Happy ever afters, and all that crap. Ilya loves it really. Just not when he’s shaved his hair off and hasn’t told his husband.
A head of wild golden curls (the sight makes Ilya mournful and want to pat his head in loss) peeks round the doorframe of the front living room, where the sound of the TV is coming from and a pair of hazel eyes widen comically with a loud gasp. Ilya cringes. Fuck.
“Hey mishka,” the alpha begins to whisper, hands patting the air to suggest to his three year old daughter that she should be quiet. Unfortunately, being quiet is not in Hana’s vocabulary. If only it was Niko who saw him first.
“Stranger danger!” Hana cries, jumping out from behind the doorframe with an accusatory finger pointed in Ilya’s direction, glaring openly with her legs in a wide stance. Ilya can feel his eyes almost bulge out of his head as his hands hover in the air, shushing his daughter frantically, eyes darting behind her for any sign of Shane. He takes a moment to at least appreciate the fact that Hana was clearly listening when he and Shane taught her about being safe. That appreciation is dulled however by the fact that his daughter clearly doesn’t recognise him without his hair. Though Ilya had hoped that Hana would know that it clearly was her beloved Papa from you know, everything else, including his scent that is embedded into every inch of the house. Not a scent of an aggressive stranger–if there was, Hana wouldn’t need to call out for Shane, the omega would have already ripped his throat out.
“No baby–,” Ilya tries to say but she cuts him off with a little puppy growl, baring her baby teeth. Ilya can’t help but be a little proud at the attempt of an aggressive display.
“Daddy, a stranger in our house!” She yells at the top of her lungs and suddenly another small figure is running from the living room, half wrapped up in toilet paper.
Niko almost collides with Hana who continues to glare at her Papa. His eldest gawps at him, big brown eyes that are so familiar blinking at him, his face framed with tissue paper, as are his arms and legs—the pair clearly playing ‘mummies’, something Shane had banned after they used up all the toilet paper in the house.
Niko frowns, head tilting to the side as his gaze settles on Ilya, eyes flitting across his figure curiously, lingering on his buzzcut. His button nose that is already covered in freckles twitches, scenting the air, and then his pup’s frown deepens, turning to face him fully.
“Papa?” Niko asks quietly at the same time Ilya hears footsteps approaching.
“Hana, what is it?” A concerned voice echoes from round the corner and Ilya has about three seconds to straighten up and school his face into one of cool nonchalance, as if he isn’t standing there with all his hair shaved off and looking like a blonde fucking lollipop.
Shane’s gaze falls on Ilya and he stills at the end of the hallway, face blanking but Ilya knows this is Shane in shock. The omega’s brown eyes are focused on Ilya’s hair (or lack thereof), and Ilya can practically see the gears turning.
“Daddy, a weird man in our house! Look!” Hana yells again, outstretched finger jabbing in Ilya’s buzzcut direction and he winces from the volume. They were still trying to teach her about ‘inside voices’.
Niko pats Hana on the arm gently, still gazing at Ilya curiously, nose twitching constantly, his scent sensitive pup clearly trying to figure out why a man that smells like his Papa does not look like his Papa.
“No it’s Papa,” Niko says quietly and Hana blinks owlishly, glare lessening slightly as she stands there confused. Ilya slides his gaze from his daughter to his mate who has walked closer with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised, his expression the epitome of unimpressed. If Ilya had ears, they would be flat against his head.
“Had a good night, huh?” Shane drawls and Ilya rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Papa?” Hana questions, hands now on her hips and staring him down. Shane comes up behind her and pets her curls soothingly. She glances up at him before returning to look at Ilya suspiciously.
“Yes baby it’s Papa although he looks a little different right now,” Shane reasons mildly before fixing Ilya with a look, cocking his hip to the side. Ilya goes to explain himself desperately but then a voice pipes up.
“Where’s your hair?” Niko asks softly, hand coming to touch his own dark brown hair that has grown to have soft curls that lick at the tops of his ears, as if checking his own hair is still there.
“Yes, that’s a great question Niko,” Shane says to their son before looking at his husband pointedly, “where is your hair Ilya?”
Ilya tries to smile but he knows it only looks strained, cheeks hurting from the fakeness of it. He doesn’t dare move from his spot on the welcome mat. He can’t tell if he’s preparing for his execution right now. “Uh, well–,”
“Did someone take it?” Niko asks curiously, now standing close to Shane’s side and holding his hand, head tilted against Shane’s arm to cling onto the omega like a barnacle.
Ilya opens and closes his mouth a few times before he says, “Yes, a very bad man called Cliff Marleau.”
Shane rolls his eyes with a scoff, but Niko’s eyes widen comically, blinking up at Shane worriedly as his puppy smell sours slightly, clutching on to the omega tighter. “Daddy, is he going to come and take my hair too?”
In the meantime, Hana has edged closer, ever the brave soul and now stands toe to toe with Ilya with her arms folded, staring up at him as if to ascertain that he is in fact her Papa who made her eat her peas yesterday. She doesn’t look convinced.
Shane tuts soothingly, hand smoothing over Niko’s hair and a piece of long tissue paper strewn across it that tucks under his chin, the back of a knuckle dragging across a chubby cheek as their son’s eyes glimmer slightly with sudden, unshed frightened tears. “No baby, he won't, I promise.”
“He only comes for people who misbehave,” he finishes dryly with a pointed look at Ilya.
“Papa was naughty?” Niko asks, sounding scandalised and Ilya stands there helpless as his mate and pups all stare at him, pinning him to the entrance way of their home. Ilya goes to defend himself but the feeling of someone poking his knee has him glancing down at his daughter who is pouting up at him. Ilya takes the out, but also because he’s missed his little cherub (read menace) of a daughter. Not because he’s afraid to look his mate in the eyes right now.
Ilya crouches down, smiling softly as Hana blinks at him. A hand comes to tug on one of her golden curls playfully. “Hey mishka, Papa missed you.”
He can hear Niko softly talking to Shane, and his mate responding in an equally soft tone to their son’s questions as Hana comes to poke at his cheek suspiciously. She leans forward into Ilya’s chest, sniffing loudly, the top of her head brushing his chin and he can’t help but tug her in closer, nose dipping down to inhale her milky puppy scent he’s missed so much, even if it has been less of a day.
“Papa!” Hana cries, finally realising who he is and grins up at him, almost knocking her head against his chin as she rears back. And then her smile falters, hand reaching up to try and grab at Ilya’s hair that is no longer there.
“Your hair is gone.”
Ilya hums, tilting his head down so she can skim a chubby palm over his buzzed scalp. A surprised giggle erupts from his daughter as she does, jerking her hand away to cradle it against her chest. The sound has Ilya smiling, scent pulsing out happily as he looks at her.
“Tickles,” she says around a delighted giggle and he kisses her chubby cheek, before hauling her closer and standing up with her placed on his hip. She continues to run a hand back and forth against Ilya’s hair, laughing to herself and shoulders up by her ears at the ticklish feeling of the alpha’s short hair against her skin.
“Can I come in now?” Ilya asks, gazing at Shane imploringly who is watching him silently, Niko swinging their joined hands distractedly.
“Take your shoes off,” Shane says, even though the alpha had already begun to do so, before ushering Niko into the living room. Ilya follows obediently, jiggling Hana on his hip as she wiggles, small hands clutching at his head curiously.
He walks into a room littered in scraps of toilet paper. Shane stills for a moment in the centre of it, surrounded by white strips as he looks down at Niko who is biting his lip and looking anywhere but him.
“Niko what did I say about playing mummies?”
Niko juts out his bottom lip into a pout, fiddling with Shane’s fingers. “Not to.”
Shane sighs, closing his eyes for a moment before muttering under his breath, “one crisis at a time.”
Ilya can’t help but bite back a laugh as he sits a bit away, leaning back into the corner as Hana sits on his lap and reaches up, continuing to pat and stroke Ilya’s head.
“Hana wanted to play,” Niko reasons on a whine as Shane sits down on the sofa, but not before moving half a roll of toilet paper onto the arm rest so he can sit down. Niko goes to sit down beside him but Shane pulls him to stand in front of him and between his legs, de-mummifying him. Shane folds up each piece of toilet paper and places it on the armrest, gaze focused.
“But you know you shouldn’t, you make a mess I told you this,” Shane admonishes and Niko pouts up at him in plea.
Once Shane is satisfied, Niko climbs up onto the sofa. “But what about Papa, he was naughty and now the bad man has taken all his hair.”
“Oh don’t worry, we’ll get to Papa,” Shane replies with an edge to his voice, turning to appraise his mate who is sat with their daughter murmuring to herself and clearly enjoying Ilya’s hair more than anyone else there.
“Moya lyubov, I’m sorry, I should’ve told you. I didn’t even mean–,”
“You didn’t mean to shave your hair off? How did it happen then, did the electric razor just jump onto your hair with a will of its own?” Shane asks sarcastically and Ilya almost whines unhappily at the soft glare aimed his way.
“Baby, no, I swear, I know you’re mad and you have every right to be,” Ilya pleads desperately, hand creeping across the sofa towards the dark haired man. “I was just being stupid and I wasn’t even thinking, as soon as I did it I regretted it, please do not be mad.”
Ilya is aware he probably sounds pathetic, which is not the image he wants to present to his young and impressionable pups but he can’t stand the idea of disappointing Shane. Even the idea has bile rising in his throat.
“I’m not mad, I just don’t understand why you’d do that,” Shane reasons as Niko begins to draw shapes on the sofa. Hana has resorted to rubbing her cheek against Ilya’s shaved head.
“I know, I don’t know why I did, but please forgive me?” Ilya gazes at his mate imploringly before adding, “it will grow back, I promise.”
Shane huffs a laugh, “Yes I know how hair works Ilya,” before he tilts his head, sighing.
A beat passes and Ilya’s anxiety rises to a terrifying new level, and he swallows hard. The worry must be evident in his scent as Shane’s eyes soften slightly, and fingers tangle with his.
“We’ll talk about it later, okay? It’s fine.” Shane says and Ilya nods frantically, smiling as Shane squeezes their hands.
“So Papa’s hair isn’t gone forever?” Niko asks, blinking between them and Shane runs a hand through their son’s hair with a fond smile.
“No baby, it will grow back, he’ll just look like that for a while.”
Niko turns to frown at Ilya, clearly unsure how he feels about that, “really?”
“Yes, kroshka, want to feel?” Ilya asks, tilting his head towards him and Niko edges forward curiously. He reaches a hand out and pats at Ilya’s head before his eyes widen and he draws his hand back in awe. Shane rests his chin on his hand, elbow on the armrest as he watches fondly as their eldest pup lets out a surprised laugh and begins to run his hand all over Ilya’s now buzzed scalp in wonder.
“It’s like a carpet!” Niko exclaims and Shane cackles as Ilya splutters indignantly.
“Papa has carpet hair?” Shane teases and Niko laughs, copying Hana and rubbing his cheek against Ilya’s hair as he giggles at the feeling.
“I do not have carpet hair,” Ilya complains as his head is squished between their two children, rubbing their cheeks against his hair like a pair of kittens. Shane only grins, patting his knee good naturedly. “Aw don’t worry, it will grow back–eventually.”
So Ilya sits on the sofa strewn with toilet paper, with his two pups patting and rubbing Ilya’s buzzcut in wonder, giggling to each other as Shane watches on, not bothering to hide his amused smile.
Later in bed with their pups tucked up asleep, Ilya is peppering kisses across Shane’s face as he murmurs apologies. Shane laughs as the alpha resorts to rubbing his shaved head against his cheek and neck, right where he knows the omega is ticklish.
“You’re lucky you don’t have an egg shaped head,” Shane muses as Ilya nips at his mating bite. The alpha withdraws from his place in the crook of the omega’s neck to glance up at him with a triumphant look.
“Please, even the shape of my head is sexy.”
Shane tugs on his ear, quirking an eyebrow. “Oh and so is carpet hair?”
“Anything is sexy if I do it. I can make old man loafers and knee socks look good.” Ilya argues and Shane laughs loudly with his chest, shaking his head.
“Nobody can make that look sexy,” Shane argues around a laugh and Ilya makes an offended noise, sitting up so he’s straddling his husband, hands coming to press down by Shane’s ears, fencing him in.
“Is that a challenge?”
“I think you’ve done enough challenges this weekend, don’t you?” Shane smarts back, looking pointedly at Ilya’s lack of hair.
“Well weekend is not over, where are your boat shoes?” Ilya leans back with his hands on his hips. Shane’s hands fall to cradle the alpha’s waist, squeezing the muscle there.
“Ilya you are not putting on my boat shoes right now.”
“Yes I am, I’m proving a point,” Ilya shoots back cheekily and Shane can’t help the smile that bunches his cheeks.
“You have those stockings still, don't you? The sexy ones with the bows?” The alpha asks and Shane flushes immediately, whacking Ilya’s side weakly.
“Um maybe–,” Shane shakes his head before glaring at his mate who is looking at the door to their walk-in closet with narrowed eyes, as if he has x-ray vision. “Stop trying to change the topic asshole, you shaved your hair!”
Ilya sighs, “I know, it is very sad, we can hold a funeral.”
“Ilya,” Shane warns with narrowed eyes and the alpha smiles, kissing him on the lips before sliding off from where he straddles Shane to lie side by side, hooking Shane’s thigh over his hip.
“I know, I’m sorry, I was stupid and it will not happen again.” Ilya traces Shane’s freckles with his thumb.
Shane leans into the touch, lashes fluttering, “I’m not saying you can’t ever change your hair, but just…warn me or something, I don’t know.”
A hand comes up to skim the nape of Ilya’s neck, fingers dragging against the shorn hair. “I’ll just have to get used to it,” Shane mumbles with a pout and Ilya tugs him closer, hand skimming his flank soothingly.
“You miss it?” Ilya asks softly with a teasing lilt.
“Hmm, yeah,” Shane sighs, eyelids drooping slightly around a yawn, “going to be weird, waking up to a bald man in my bed.”
Ilya huffs out a soft laugh, nipping the tip of Shane’s nose playfully. “I’m not bald, I just shaved it, there is still hair.”
Shane purses his lips as his eyes fall closed, nuzzling into Ilya’s bare shoulder, inhaling the alpha’s musky scent. “Carpet hair,” he mutters and smiles with his eyes closed as the alpha snorts.
“You are just going to have to mark up my back even more now with no hair to hold onto huh?” Ilya teases and Shane’s smile widens, humming tiredly as he slides a hand around the alpha’s waist. He digs his nails into the muscled back suddenly and Ilya’s breath hitches at the slight, sudden sting before Shane relaxes his grip.
“Maybe I will, pervert,” Shane mumbles it sleepily but Ilya can’t help but grin, squeezing Shane’s pec in return.
“You’re the pervert, pervert,” he says back softly, tangling their legs together under the sheets as Shane’s body relaxes inch by inch as he clearly begins to fall asleep. Ilya watches almost obsessively as he does, the way his eyebrows lose the ever-present pinch, the smoothness of his chubby freckled cheeks, the plusness of his relaxed mouth.
“You pervert,” Shane argues nonsensically, mumbling most of it into Ilya’s shoulder, before dropping off and Ilya holds him closer, dropping a kiss to Shane’s forehead, shifting his head against the pillow and trying to get used to how it feels against his scalp.
Yeah, he’ll definitely be growing it out.