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“Hey, Jackie,” Shane greets as she slides into his passenger seat, yoga mat tossed into the back. “How’s things?”
Jackie sighs as she thumps her head back into the headrest. “I love them to pieces, but I swear these kids will be the death of me.”
Shane laughs and listens to her recount the story of Ruby and Jade’s latest fight about having the exact same number of peas on their plates for dinner last night as he drives.
He’s been going to yoga with Jackie for about two months now, ever since his physio had recommended it as a way of improving his flexibility and strengthening his joints, especially as he starts to get a little older and hockey continues to be unkind to them.
He’s been practising the basics on his own since the draft, has a simple routine he follows as a cool down after a good workout, or on a rest day, but his physio recommended trying a few more slightly advanced poses. While there were options at the rink, when Shane had mentioned the recommendation to Hayden over dinner at the Pike’s Jackie had said that her class was brilliant and he’d given in to her wide, pleading eyes and agreed to try it.
She hadn’t given him time to back out, had turned up at his house the next morning with a visitor pass to her gym and email confirmation of his booking to her yoga class.
To his surprise, Shane had enjoyed it. The class itself was good and stretching, challenging without being impossible, and no-one had judged when he’d not been able to stretch as deep or bend as far as them. He was the only guy who turned up regularly, most of the other women either Jackie’s age or approaching retirement, but their fellow classmates either didn’t know who he was or Jackie had said something, as although they spoke to him hockey was never a topic of conversation. Instead he'd learnt more about the symptoms of menopause than he'd ever wanted to know, and had some good book recommendations outside his usual genres to add to his list as half the women were also in the same book club.
It was also nice to just hang out with Jackie. He didn’t have many female friends, aside from Rose, but as one of the longest-standing WAGs she understood some of the pressures of his job, and is one of the few people who knows he’s gay, and still likes Shane for the awkward person he can be sometimes.
So he’d signed up for a class membership, and now he and Jackie go to at least one yoga class a week where they can fit it in around their schedules. He’s felt the difference a little in his hips and ankles, a gradual loosening that was definitely helping with his overall conditioning.
They find their usual spots in the room, Shane tucked away against the far wall, with Jackie providing a buffer between him and the other attendees. There’s a plain black mat - not Marie’s usual pale peach - lying across the floor at the front of the room, perpendicular to the wall, with a black hoody crumpled at the side but no other indication of its owner.
“Oh, yeah,” Jackie murmurs as she frowns at the items, “Marie’s on leave. Who’d they say we have again?”
Shane racks his brain but before he can remember they’re interrupted by Carol and Shaz, two of the other regulars who grin at them in welcome as they lay out their mats.
The class is small, which Shane also likes, capped at 10 people, and the studio is tucked away off to the side of the gym with solid doors, which gives a much needed sense of privacy too.
The other attendees arrive shortly, everyone set up and ready a good five minutes before the start time. There’s soft chatter while they wait for their instructor but they don’t have to wait long, as almost immediately after Priyanka’s settled down on her mat the door opens and Shane realises he is entirely fucked.
Their temporary instructor is insanely good-looking. He’s wearing black workout shorts that come to an end where they’re wrapped snugly midway down muscular thighs and a tight black undershirt that clings lovingly to a sculpted torso and well defined biceps.
“Good morning!” he greets them cheerfully, voice softly accented in a way Shane wants to hear whisper sweet nothings to him and Shane meets Jackie’s eyes, her own shock transforming into something like delighted glee.
The class offers a murmured “good morning” back as he crosses the room and collapses fluidly into a cross-legged seated position like most of them.
“My name is Ilya,” he introduces himself, and goes on to remind them that he’ll be covering for Marie for the next four weeks. He tells them they’ve done some handover, so he’ll be keeping the structure of the classes similar to what Marie’s told him she does, but that he’s more than happy to be adaptable or be told what the class would prefer and change it up, if they want.
He meets each of their eyes briefly as he speaks, offers a professionally warm smile to each of them, not even blinking as he comes to see Shane at the end of the room. Shane tries not to blush as pretty hazel eyes meet his, tries not to think how his smile currently feels more like a grimace.
“Well, do we have any tight spots, sore areas, things we want to work on today?” Ilya finally asks. Someone calls out “hips”, another “back” and he nods, says he can focus a little more on those, if there’s nothing else? Any injuries he should know about?
Carol mentions her knees, but no-one else offers up anything so he asks them to come to their feet, taps something on his phone screen until soft music pipes through the speakers.
He takes them through a few flows to start, a shorter one to begin with and then adding moves on as they repeat it until they’re fully warmed up and Shane’s feeling loose. It’s maybe a little more intense than Marie’s classes, the flows maybe a little quicker than the group are used to but Shane likes it, likes the slight burn as they hold ‘Warrior Two’, then straighten their front leg and tip into ‘triangle’.
He’s a good instructor, shows them all first what he’s asking them to do and offers options for both slightly easier and harder versions. Ilya moves like he’s grace incarnate, like every single lift of an arm or leg or hold is effortless, and Shane’s staring harder than he maybe needs to as he tries to memorise the movements (and tries not to memorise the ripples of well-defined muscles under skin-tight clothing as Ilya moves). There’s something - maybe (definitely) the underlying want to impress - that has Shane pushing himself into the harder options, and he studiously ignores Jackie’s knowing grin.
Ilya turns to Carol and offers a couple of specific modifications to take the pressure off her bad knees but to make sure she’s getting the stretch and workout she wants, and Shane’s never heard the older woman giggle before but she does as Ilya comes over to gently show her how to adjust her hips a little for a better position.
They have a quick water break before Ilya announces they’ll be moving into the balance portion of the class, and Jackie grins as Shane as she comes to stand next to him, sipping from her insulated bottle, both of them watching out the corners of their eyes as Ilya drinks from his own, tipping back his head and neck bared as he swallows in a way that Shane wants to sink his teeth into and bite.
“He’s so hot,” she whispers. “Have you looked at his butt?”
“Jackie!” Shane whisper-shouts back, feels his cheeks heat. He hasn’t not looked at Ilya’s ass though, you can barely avoid it with how fucking round and peachy it is.
“What! I pay for these classes, I’m going to make the most of everything. And I mean everything,” she winks at him and he can’t stop a disbelieving laugh, shakes his head, even as he fully understands the sentiment.
The other women are all off gossiping in their pairs too, but come back quickly for the next bit as Ilya stands on his mat and looks ready to continue.
The balancing portion of the class is similar to Marie’s, as Ilya leads them through several poses, again starting to add new ones in until they’ve got a little sequence going on one leg; then doing it all again on the opposite leg in their own time.
Shane’s not half bad at the balancing series of poses; he likes to think skating around on deadly blades has given him a decent sense of balance, but he’s definitely not flexible enough to be pulling his heel right into his groin the way Ilya does for the ‘tree’ pose, can’t sink quite as deep as they all squat into figure four.
“Ugh,” Jackie sighs as she wobbles, has to tap her foot to the floor for the third time lest she fall over as she transitions from figure four to warrior three.
“Here,” Ilya’s suddenly standing in front of her, two hands extended out. Shane watches from the corner of his eye as he slides into the next pose and Jackie copies Shane, tipping forward, the tips of her fingers barely against Ilya’s but offering the promise of support if she needs it.
“See,” he murmurs as she transitions into the pose almost perfectly, “you can do it.”
Jackie’s turned pink, thanks him as she glances at Shane as if to boast a little. He presses his lips together to hide his grin, reaches back to catch his foot in his hand to push up into dancer’s pose, feels himself blush as he gets a “very good” from Ilya before the instructor returns to the front of the room.
“Very good,” Jackie mouths at him with a grin as they both finish the sequence and wait half a minute for everyone else to do the same. He shakes his head, but the praise is definitely worming its way through him, warmth settling deep in his belly.
They move onto the deep stretching portion of the class after another short water break, and Ilya works them through a full body stretching programme, adds in a few extra stretches for their back and hips as requested.
This is Shane’s least favourite bit, reminds him he’s not as flexible as he’d like to be but equally that’s the point of it: to improve these areas where he’s lacking. He breathes deeply into frog stretch, this at least feels familiar to what they do on the ice, though it’s always a little weird without his pads, and counts through his inhales and exhales until Ilya directs them into their next stretch and the next until they’ve gone top-to-toe.
“Okay, everyone, this is something I like to do, and that is inversions,” Ilya announces as they’re left with ten minutes left of the sixty-minute class. “Three to five minutes of this, then five minutes meditation and then you can go and treat yourselves.”
This is something Marie doesn’t do and there’s a couple of confused looks, but Ilya goes on to explain and says he doesn’t mind what they try next, so long as their heart is above their head. He gives a few options and Shane stares as he lies on his back, pushes his legs up off the floor and points his toes at the ceiling, hands bracing his waist as he pauses in a shoulder stand, then lowers his legs over his head into ‘plow’. His t-shirt slips down, shows a tight row of abs with a trail of hair Shane wants to trace with his nose, into those fucking shorts, wants to take them off with his teeth.
Ilya then rolls backwards and in a ridiculous show of strength pushes himself easily into a handstand, before bringing his legs down slowly so his knees are braced in his elbows in what he calls crow pose, then drops his feet to the floor and sits back into a deep squat.
Shane tries not to think of the pure fucking core strength the man must have, or how flexible he appears to be and just exactly how that benefit him in bed. Or over the sofa. Or anywhere (and everywhere) else.
“Any of those. Or can just sit against wall with legs up it. Or if you are not in mood, can start relaxation early,” he tells them, and they’ve got three minutes.
Most of their fellow attendees roll onto their backs, legs coming up into shoulder stands and plows.
Jackie winks at him as she places her hands shoulder-width on the floor, bracing her knees with her elbows and pushing herself up into crow pose.
“Very nice,” Ilya compliments, though she can only hover for a couple of seconds, the balance of it harder than it looks.
Shane realises he’s just been watching. It’s ridiculous, but he wants to try a handstand. He’s not done one for years, it’s never been part of his training but surely he should be able to still. It’s like riding a bike, right?
“Handstand?” Ilya asks him as if he can read his mind and Shane blinks at him. “Come here,” he gestures over to the wall and Shane follows automatically, keeps doing as Ilya tells him as he’s told to bend over, place his hands on the floor shoulder-width apart as he faces the wall. A brief thought passes through his head that he’d like to be in this position but facing Ilya, ideally without any clothes on, and he squeezes his eyes shut as if that will help block it out.
“Legs up, one by one,” Ilya taps the wall and Shane lifts one leg, braces it against the wall and once he’s steady enough and can shift his weight to his hands, he lifts the other. “Up, a bit more,” Ilya encourages and he shifts his feet bit by bit up the wall until he’s basically standing upside down.
“Okay, nice,” Ilya tells him, and Shane sort of wishes he was wearing a looser t-shirt that would fall and cover his face as the praise heats his cheeks again. At least he can blame it on the blood rushing to his head from behind upside down.
“Can you push one leg off?” Ilya asks him and Shane shifts, stares at his hands on the floor as he does, feels the way it shifts his centre of gravity. His shoulders tense, adjust for the changes, and he presses his fingers harder into the wood.
“Do you mind if I touch you? Only if you might fall,” Ilya asks, and Shane makes a strangled noise of agreement. “Okay. Can try other leg, if you want?”
Shane breathes, presses into his hands a bit further and gently pushes with his toes, until he’s balancing on his hands. It’s more difficult than he’d anticipated, any minute movement of his legs almost exaggeratedly affecting his entire sense of balance.
A warm hand lands lightly on his lower back, prevents him from tipping too far backwards and onto the floor.
“Very nice!” Ilya compliments as his feet hit the wall again, balance lost. “Brilliant for first try.”
Shane crawls awkwardly down the wall, accepts Ilya’s hand as it comes down to help him to his feet, flushes again as hazel eyes look at him in approval.
“Thanks,” Shane manages to croak out, and to his relief Ilya just nods and turns, heads back for his own mat, complimenting a couple of the women on his way.
Jackie grins at him, mouthing “oh my god!” as he takes a seat and Ilya encourages them to lie down, either on their backs or in another comfortable position, and dims the lights.
He doesn’t do some of the more spiritual meditation talk that Marie often does, but asks them to think of something that they’re particularly proud of achieving today and to focus on that, to take that sense of accomplishment off with them as they continue with their days.
Shane’s proud of his handstand, brief as it was, and tries to focus on that rather than the lingering sensation of Ilya’s hand on his lower back, like a brand as the impression of heat feels like it’s trapped between his yoga mat and his skin.
They roll up to sit as Ilya brightens the lights again, congratulates them all for a class well-done and ends the session.
The general consensus as the women leave the class was that it was good, and Ilya even better. Carol cackles as the women wink at her in a mix of jealousy and approval, and Shane lets Jackie lead him over to the drinks bar where she orders his usual black coffee and her smoothie as it’s her turn to pay.
“Well, I’m looking forward to the next few classes,” Jackie grins as she thanks the barista and hands Shane his coffee, leading the way outside.
They pass Ilya, hovering at the reception as he chats to the staff member on duty there. He spots them and smiles cordially and Shane lifts a hand in acknowledgement even as Jackie beams at the instructor, and Shane internally curses her as she veers closer.
“I just wanted to say how much I enjoyed the class,” she tells Ilya sweetly, and Shane wishes they weren’t such good friends as she digs her elbow into his ribs and he holds back a hiss. “Right, Shane?”
“It was great, yeah,” Shane agrees, unable to look at hazel eyes as his gaze gets stuck on thick lips with a sharp cupid’s bow. “I, um, I liked the inversions addition, actually.”
“Ah, I am glad,” Ilya’s smile is just as dazzling as the rest of him, “You both did very well.”
“Well, we’ll see you next week?” Jackie tugs on Shane’s arm, and he manages a rough “bye” as she practically pulls him out of the door.
“He couldn’t stop staring at you,” she whispers, and Shane stops himself from looking back.
“It’s his job to be friendly,” he dismisses, a reminder for himself more than anything. He’s sure there’s probably rules about fraternising with clients, and so there’s no way Ilya’s being anything but professional. Even if he wishes otherwise.
The second of Ilya’s classes the following week passes much the same, Shane attempting another handstand and managing it more smoothly this time to his satisfaction. Jackie has a go too, manages a short handstand with Ilya’s help. They both get praise from the instructor and head home with flushed cheeks.
But on week three, Jackie abandons Shane; as Amber's given her some kind of bug and she’s spent the night over the toilet.
Shane’d had to cancel one too many classes in the last few weeks due to shifting schedules, and he’s at risk of being temporarily suspended if he misses another, so he’s turning up for yoga alone for once.
It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last, but he still always feels a little more awkward without Jackie there as a buffer between them. He nods hello to Carol and the other ladies, who smile warmly at him but otherwise leave him be as he rolls out his mat on the side. He’d taken a hard hit in the game two nights ago, so his shoulder aches more than he’d like and he’s hoping a good thorough stretch should help.
Class goes mostly the way the last two have, with flows followed by balances and stretches, then inversions and meditation/cool down.
Ilya’s just as charming as always, and Shane volunteers the information about his shoulder and can see him immediately thinking about how to adapt. He adds in a couple of additional moves for the shoulders, a few deeper stretches that have Shane feeling looser than before the injury. He can’t do a handstand this week, can’t risk aggravating his shoulder or falling over, and Ilya nods as if pleased when he doesn’t try and goes for a simple shoulder stand instead.
He stops by the coffee bar after, as usual, and is a little surprised to see Ilya turn up after him, a black hoody shoved over his skin-tight tank top to Shane’s relief; he’d watched the ripples of his arms too often in class as it was.
“Hi,” Ilya smiles at him as they wait in line together for the person ahead of them to order. “Your shoulder okay?”
“Yes, thanks,” Shane nods, tells him the additional stretches helped and sees the soft pleasure seep into Ilya’s smile. He steps up and orders a black coffee, and on a whim (maybe with the spirit of Jackie in the back of his head encouraging him) turns to Ilya, “what would you like?”
“Oh,” Ilya hesitates, but glances at the barista and orders a latte, thanking Shane quietly as he pays.
“Don’t mention it,” Shane dismisses. “I’ve been really enjoying your classes, so this is sort of a thank-you.”
Ilya smiles and they wait again for their drinks, talking a little about how Ilya’s been finding covering for Marie.
“Is nice to do something other than just PT. Not that that is bad, of course,” Ilya adds, glancing around as if checking for his clients. “But has been a nice change.”
“You wouldn’t do any classes of your own?” Shane asks, and he can’t quite meet Ilya’s eyes when he does, sure it’d give him away.
“Timetable is currently full, so no space,” Ilya shrugs, “but maybe in future.”
Shane nods, thanks the barista as they hand over the two cups, hands Ilya’s over to him and tries to ignore how heat sparks as their fingers brush. There’s something there, he can feel it, but Ilya makes no move to suggest more and Shane’s not going to hit on the guy in his place of work, that feels a bit icky.
“Well, see you next week?”
“Bye, Shane.”
“I’m sad this is probably our last class with Ilya,” Jackie sighs as Shane pulls into the gym car park the following week.
“He said he might have his own classes in future, so you never know,” Shane tells her and immediately realises his error.
“When was this? Shane?” Her eyes are growing wide as she watches him flush and he climbs out of the car to avoid her gaze. “Shane!”
Shane sighs and explains how he’d bought Ilya a coffee last week. “But that’s all it was,” he adds sternly.
Jackie hums, and Shane just hopes she’s not getting any ideas.
Class is fine, normal, and Jackie behaves, barely gives a single innuendo-laden wink, even as Ilya’s dressed even more provocatively than usual in a tank top with arm-holes down to his waist giving tantalising glimpses of his chest and abs every time he moves.
It doesn’t feel like the last class as the hour speeds by and Shane’s disappointed as it ends, as Ilya thanks them all for a good class and they roll up their mats.
He doesn’t see Ilya afterwards, either, as he and Jackie buy their usual drinks. Jackie’s clearly looking around for the instructor as well, but even though they both linger he doesn’t appear and they leave the gym disappointed.
Marie returns the next week, and class returns to normal. It’s nice, still, but Shane can’t help but look for Ilya every time he and Jackie walk into the gym building.
He has the stupid thought that maybe he can pay for another holiday for Marie. He’s got the spare cash, though Jackie reminds him there’s no guarantee they’ll have Ilya as a cover teacher again, and it pretty much smacks of desperation, to Shane’s embarrassment.
Three weeks after Marie returns, Shane heads for the bathroom after class while Jackie gets their drinks. As he turns the corner he collides with someone with a soft oof, and apologises automatically as he pulls back, only to freeze as he realises it’s Ilya.
“Ilya,” he breathes, taking the man in. He’s in shorter shorts, bare thighs that Shane wants wrapped around his head, and another of the tank tops that shows more than it covers. His hands itch, want to press against all that bare skin, wants to see if it’s as soft as it looks.
“Hello, Shane,” Ilya hums, and Shane flushes as hazel eyes draw his up from thick lips curving into a smile. “How are you?”
“Um, good, yeah. Thanks. How are you?”
“Better now,” the grin tugs up one side of his mouth higher and Shane can’t help but watch, still so close that it would only take him lifting a hand to grab onto the front of his tank top and draw him in close. There’s definitely a different atmosphere between them and for all that they’re of equal height, it feels like Ilya almost looms over Shane and his heart races with want and anticipation.
“I, um, I’ve missed you- your teaching,” he hastily corrects himself, and he’s 90% sure he’s not imagining things as Ilya shifts slightly closer.
“Well, ah, maybe I can give you a private lesson sometime?” Ilya murmurs quietly, and Shane’s breath falters as he leans in, grin sharp and wicked and inviting.
“Here,” a hand takes his and Shane can only watch, dumfounded, as Ilya presses a business card into it, “Call me.”
He sways after Ilya as the PT steps backwards suddenly with a wink, the cool corridor air rushing in between them and making him feel lightheaded.
Ilya’s striding down the corridor, butt outlined to perfection again in his shorts and Shane feels weak as he looks down at the card, sees a personal number scrawled across the paper in red ink.
Shane holds onto the card like it’s his life savings as he turns and heads back for Jackie. She looks concerned as she sees his expression, but it turns into delight and glee as he lifts the card and shows her Ilya’s name and number.
“Yes!” she whispers, “Oh my god this is perfect. You’re gonna call him, right?”
He promises, and she grins at him practically the entire drive home.
He calls before dinner, but is greeted by “This is Ilya. I will never listen to your voicemail”, so he sends a text instead, hoping that he’s doing the right thing, and tries not to worry when he doesn’t get a response as he heats and eats his pre-prepared dinner.
He’s settling on the sofa after dinner when his phone rings and his heart practically leaps from his chest.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Shane. I am sorry I missed your call earlier.”
“No- that’s fine. Thanks for calling back.”
“Of course.”
A moment of silence, as Shane tries to work out what to say. Christ, he doesn’t do this, doesn’t know how to do this, how to flirt without being an awkward mess.
“I owe you coffee,” Ilya eventually offers. “From other day.”
“No, it wasn't- you don’t owe me,” Shane denies, “it wasn’t, um, transactional or anything.”
“Then I would like to buy you a coffee,” Ilya sounds a little exasperated, but mostly fond. “Or dinner, or anything that would let us meet again outside of gym.”
“Yes,” Shane blurts out, cheeks flushing.
“Yes,” Ilya repeats, “Okay. Just to be clear, I want this as date.”
“I want that too,” Shane promises, “I’m sorry. I’m not used to, um, well, flirting.”
Ilya laughs, low and intimate down the phoneline. “Trust me, I have not even begun to flirt with you. Could not, when at work. I even held onto that card to give you for last three weeks because they would not give me your email. Said it would be ‘inappropriate use of gym member information’.”
“Really?” Shane can feel himself practically melt as Ilya blows a raspberry in derision, the thought that he’d been interested enough to try making Shane’s stomach flutter.
“Really.”
“I, um, kept looking out for you too, the last couple of weeks. So, um, when is good for you?”
They agree on a date and time, and Shane finds his cheeks hurting by the end of the call, the teasing flirting Ilya had ramped up as they spoke making him blush and his heart race a million miles an hour.
As Ilya teases that maybe after he can fulfill his promise of a private lesson anyway, show him how that flexibility from yoga can translate into other, more fun activities Shane has to bite his lip hard to stop his body from reacting.
Christ. If this is just him flirting over the phone, Shane’s not sure if he’ll survive a full on date, but as he and Ilya reluctantly end the call, he really can’t wait.