Archive of Our Own

Shane awakes when he feels weight pressing down on him. “Daddy! Illyeia!” Iris has climbed into their bed with all the energy of a four-year-old who’s slept well and is excited to spend all Saturday playing. “Breakfast time!”

He spares a glance at Ilya, who looks back at him with emotionless eyes and gives the tiniest shake of his head. Well, given what today is, that’s to be expected. “Niji (Rainbow), have you brushed your teeth yet?”

“No, I will now!” She kisses both of their cheeks with a loud smack before crawling back out of the bed. Once she’s gone, he turns to Ilya again and cups his cheek gently.

“Take all the time you need, baby. Do you want me to tell her what’s going on?” He gives him a single nod, and Shane smiles sadly as he rubs his thumb against his cheek softly. “Okay. I love you.”

“Love you.” Ilya’s voice is soft and thick with sleep. Shane presses a kiss to his forehead before carefully getting out of bed, not wanting to jostle him around.

After brushing his own teeth, he steps into the hallway just as Iris steps out of the hall bathroom. She gives him a wide smile to show off her newly brushed teeth, and he chuckles as he picks her up and carries her to the kitchen. “Before we make breakfast, I want to talk to you. You’re not in trouble, but it’s important.”

“Okay Daddy. Is Illyeia coming too?” He sets her down at the kitchen table before sitting next to her.

“Not yet, my little Rainbow. But Ilya is who I want to talk to you about.” He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear gently. “Do you remember what we told you about Ilya’s mama, Miss Irina?”

“That she’s somewhere we can’t go visit her and she can’t come visit us. It makes Illyeia sad sometimes. But we can talk about her memory and tell stories about her!”

“Very good job.” She preens at the praise, and he gives her a sad smile. “Well, today is Miss Irina’s birthday. And Ilya is a little more sad about missing her today because they can’t celebrate together.”

“Illyeia’s extra sad today?” He nods gently, and the crestfallen look on her face pulls at his heart.

“He is. I don’t know if he’ll want to play and go on adventures like we usually do on Saturdays, but I want you to know that it’s not your fault, baby girl.”

“Can I draw him a picture to make him feel better? I don’t want Illyeia to be sad.” Oh, his little empath.

“I think he’d love that, Iris.” He kisses her forehead as he stands, going to the supply closet and grabbing her crayons and a piece of paper. “Here, draw your picture while I make breakfast, and we can give them both to him at the same time.”

“Okay Daddy.” She immediately opens the crayon box and inspects it with intense detail. He chuckles to himself in adoration before turning to the stove to make Драники (Potato pancakes) for breakfast, as per Ilya’s tradition.

He had been texting Sveta for the past few weeks to learn how Ilya spent today every year. He knew the first time celebrating Irina’s birthday after leaving Russia with no plans on ever returning would be tough, so he wanted to make sure that he did whatever he could to help Ilya carry the weight of today.

Iris hums to herself as she draws, and Shane lets his daughter be the soundtrack to his breakfast-making. He’s so in the zone in front of his skillet that he jumps slightly when he feels a strong pair of arms wrap around his waist. “Iris will not let me see her picture until she is done,” Ilya whispers as he hooks his chin over Shane’s shoulder, rubbing a thumb against his stomach in apology for the startle.

“Can’t say I’m surprised by that,” he whispers in return, flipping the potato pancakes with the spatula in his right hand while reaching his left hand up and around to card through Ilya’s curls. “Luca and Andrew gave me some fresh dill from their herb garden that we can mix with sour cream from the Russian market for dipping these in. I know that was Irina’s favorite.”

Ilya falls silent behind him, but he does pull Shane in a little tighter. Shane scratches at his scalp gently, knowing the motion is actually one of Ilya’s favorite feelings. “Спасибо, Звездочка моя (Thank you, my Star),” Ilya mumbles softly, squeezing him even tighter before letting go. “I can mix the dill and sour cream.”

“In the fridge. You’re welcome, baby.” Shane quickly leans to kiss Ilya’s cheek before turning back to the stove, placing the completed pancakes on a plate before adding two new ones to the pan. Ilya grabs a knife and a cutting board before going to the fridge and getting the dill and sour cream. The rhythmic sound of Ilya chopping up the dill joins the sound of pan-frying potato pancakes and Iris’ humming, and it brings a sense of peace to the kitchen.

“Illyeia, my picture for you is ready!” Iris sets the last crayon down with a firm plunk as she declares her latest masterpiece finished. Ilya sets the knife down before going to join her at the table, and Shane can hear his breath hitch from his spot in front of the stove.

“Радуга (Rainbow)…” Ilya’s voice wavers, and Shane takes the latest set of finished pancakes out of the skillet to set them on a plate before joining his babies at the table.

“This is you, and this is Miss Irina, and this is the birthday cake for her birthday!” Shane finally gets a glance as Iris explains her drawing, and his heart absolutely melts at how thoughtful it is. Iris’ signature stick figure Ilya is a main feature, but he’s holding hands with another figure that has long, curly blonde hair, just like Irina Rozanova does in the portrait that lives on their mantle now that Ilya’s moved in.

Ilya leans in and kisses the top of her head, pulling her into a hug that she quickly reciprocates. “This is beautiful, Цветок (Flower). Thank you so much.”

“I love you, Illyeia.”

“I love you too,” he whispers, smiling at her as he pulls back. “And I would love to hang this in Mama’s corner in my shop. Is that okay?”

“Only if you take a picture and show me.” She nods astutely, and Ilya nods as he ruffles her hair.

“Of course. Do you want to help me mix the sauce for breakfast?”

“Okay!”

Ilya can’t even begin to thank Shane and Iris for all they’re doing today. Typically, he’d get through this day every year in a constant flurry of tears and needed to stop every so often to collect himself. Today, though, his Hollanders have given him a soft place to land every time he feels himself falling.

In particular, Iris has proven herself to be quite the support person. She’s stuck to his side like Velcro, allowing him to hold her close and excitedly listening whenever he shares stories about Mama. They’ve just finished making Mama’s Птичье молоко (Bird's milk cake) recipe and are letting the sponge soufflé cake chill before they add the chocolate glaze. “Illyeia?”

“Yes, Iris?” She reaches her arms up in a request to be held, and he’d let hell freeze over before he ever denied her of that. He props her on his hip, and she leans her head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry you’re sad about your mama. It’s not fun to be sad on birthdays.”

“No, it’s not fun.” He kisses her head softly as he takes her to the couch, positioning them both so she’s resting against his chest and he’s got his arms wrapped around her protectively. “But you and Daddy are helping me be less sad. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She smiles up at him before kissing his cheek, and he pulls her even closer.

“Hi, my babies.” Shane greets from the hall, carrying his laptop with him. “Is the cake all done?”

“It’s too hot right now, Daddy! We have to let it cool before we add the chocolate on top so it doesn’t melt.”

“Yes, very important step, Daddy.”

“Of course, silly me.” He chuckles as he sets the laptop down on the coffee table. “There’s something I thought we could watch while we wait, then? I can stream it from my computer onto the TV if you want.”

He’s nervously fiddling with his fingers, which causes Ilya to perk an eyebrow. But something in his face is telling Ilya that he can trust this, so he does. “Okay. Do you need any help?”

“Nah, I got it.” True to his word, it only takes Shane a few minutes to get the laptop streaming to the TV. He curls in behind Ilya once it’s ready, pulling both him and Iris close while the mystery showing starts.

Of course, it isn’t a mystery for long. As the music begins and the image fades in, Ilya feels his heart skip a beat. He hasn’t seen this since he was twelve years old, when Papa demanded they get rid of all of Mama’s things. “Rose found a bunch of these while looking up media archives for a case. Sveta said we should start with this one today,” Shane whispers in his ear, pulling him close.

“Ooh, ballerinas.” Iris is in awe as she stares at the TV, where a recording of the Bolshoi Ballet’s performance of Sleeping Beauty from 1985 is just beginning. They watch for a few moments as tears pearl in Ilya’s eyes, and the first one falls when the Lilac Fairy makes her entrance in the ballet’s prologue.

“Niji (Rainbow), do you see the ballerina with the pretty purple tutu?” She nods at Shane’s whispered question but refuses to tear her eyes from the screen. Ilya doesn’t blame her, he never could either. “That’s Miss Irina.” She gasps in wonder as she watches, and another tear slips down Ilya’s cheek as he pulls her even closer.

Watching Mama’s old ballet performances used to be one of his favorite things. She was a star in the making at the Bolshoi, but she stepped away when she met and married Ilya’s father—he got the feeling it wasn’t by choice. Still, she had a few recorded performances on tape that she and him would watch together. His favorite had always been this exact recording of her as the Lilac Fairy in Sleeping Beauty and he thought he’d never see it again. He’d tried looking it up a few times, but non-propaganda recordings from the Soviet era were next to impossible to find if you didn’t know where to look.

Like in a law database. He’d have to thank Rose profusely at family dinner tomorrow.

As the variation ends and the audience in the recording applauds, Iris begins clapping excitedly. “Miss Irina did so good!”

“Yes, she did. She always did,” Ilya whispers softly, letting another tear fall. Shane presses a soft kiss to his cheek as he pulls him even closer.

“Can I do that?” Iris finally turns away to look at them, eyes full of excitement.

“We’ll talk about lessons at dinner with Mommy and Sveta, okay my little Rainbow?” Shane reaches to push some stray hair out of her eyes, and she nods excitedly.

“I want to be as good as Miss Irina one day.”

“You will be, my love. Of course you will be.” Ilya leans forward and kisses the tip of her nose, smiling when she giggles. “Come now, the rest of the ballet is beautiful.”

Iris quickly kisses both of their cheeks before turning back to the TV, watching the ballet with rapt attention. Ilya pulls her close as they watch, letting his weight rest against Shane’s chest and letting fresh tears fall whenever Mama was onstage again. Shane’s arms stayed locked around him, but his fingers were absentmindedly drawing shapes and rubbing calming motions on Ilya’s arms and stomach.

Once the ballet has finished, Iris claps excitedly along with the audience from the recording, and Ilya can’t help the warmth that blooms in his chest. Not a day goes by where he isn’t proud of Mama, but seeing his boyfriend’s daughter be just as proud of her fills a void that he didn’t realize was there. “Бабочка (Butterfly), did you like that one?”

“I loved it! Illyeia, your mama and the other ballerinas were so pretty and did such a good job!” She turns back to smile at him, but her smile falls when she sees him crying. She reaches up and wipes a tear from his cheek. “Are you sad again?”

“I’m okay. Just some big feelings coming out. I haven’t seen Mama dance in a long time.” Shane squeezes his waist as he gives Iris a sad smile and takes her hand, kissing it gently. The two of them have expanded their kissing spots since he moved in. “I think the cake is cooled enough to put the glaze on, do you want to help me?”

The rest of the day passes in a bittersweet bliss. Shane turned on Tchaikovsky’s Sleeping Beauty on the home speaker system, so the soundtrack to some of Ilya’s favorite memories with Mama accompanies the rest of their birthday traditions. Iris helps Ilya glaze the cake and then insists on helping him and Shane with dinner, which is a pot of Mama’s famous борщ (borscht) with meatballs.

“I didn’t realize borscht has meatballs. Every recipe I looked up was meatless,” Shane notes as the three of them are hard at work shaping the ground beef Ilya has already seasoned.

“Siberan style has meatballs.” Ilya places a meatball on the tray before rolling another. “Like how Rose always talks about Detroit style pizza and why it’s better than Chicago style. Regional difference, that’s all.”

“Is this a good meatball, Illyeia?” Iris holds her hand out, a meatball resting in her palm.

“Beautiful. Just like you.” She grins as she places the meatball on the tray, and he gives her a wink before turning back to Shane. “Now, don’t think I’m going to let you get away with admitting to looking up recipes.” He chuckles as he nudges his elbow against him.

“I looked up everything for today, baby. Wanted to make sure we had ingredients beforehand,” Shane says as he places his meatball on the tray before he begins to form another. Ilya freezes, and Shane turns to look at him after a moment of silence.

“Thank you.” His voice is barely more than a whisper, and they both know Ilya is thanking Shane for so much more than looking up recipes for today. Shane gives him a loving smile before leaning in and kissing his cheek softly.

Iris must have sensed Ilya’s emotions again, because she leans in and kisses the highest part of his arm she can reach from her step stool. He smiles down at her and kisses her head before they all turn back to finish the meatballs for the soup.

Dinner and dessert pass by quickly, though Shane does keep sneaking glances at Ilya to check on him and does a bad job of hiding it. Ilya knows this fussing is how Shane shows his love, so he isn’t bothered by the extra attention. As they finish cleaning up and Iris makes her way upstairs for bathtime, Shane gently guides Ilya to the back porch instead of letting him follow. “I’ll handle bathtime tonight so you can have time to talk to her. I’m sorry we haven’t given you much space today to do that.”

“Do not apologize for anything you have done today, Shane Hollander,” he whispers, pulling him into a tight hug. “You both have been amazing. Today would have been very bad without you.”

“We love you, Ilya.” Shane squeezes him tightly, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. “Tell Irina happy birthday for us.” With one more quick squeeze to his waist, Shane leaves him on the porch and goes upstairs for Iris’ bath.

Ilya makes his way to the tree in their backyard. A similar one had grown at the park in Moscow that Mama always took him to, so it’s become his spot to talk to her. He sits down and leans against the trunk, looking up into the branches and reaching for the cross around his neck. “С днём рождения, Мама (Happy birthday, Mama).”

There’s never a set topic of conversation for Mama’s birthday, but tonight he finds himself rambling on about how today went. He tells her all about Iris’ drawing and Shane’s Драники (Potato pancakes) at breakfast. He talks about how excited Iris was to learn all about her and the family birthday traditions Ilya has carried on over the years. The tears begin to fall when he gets to the part of the day where Shane played Sleeping Beauty for them and Iris was amazed by Irina’s performance. He smiles through his tears as he tells her how proud she would be of their борщ (borscht) and Птичье молоко (Bird's milk cake), especially since Shane and Iris had never made or tasted either dish before.

“Они так сильно нас любят, Мама (They love us so much, Mama),” he whispers through his tears, gripping the cross pendant tighter. Everything Shane and Iris have done today just proves to him that, even though they never got the chance to meet her, they love Irina just as much as they love him. It’s something he’d never thought he’d get, and now that he has it he wants her to know just how wonderful it is.

He falls silent after that, just like he always does when he talks to Mama. He knows she can’t exactly respond to him, but the moment of silence is his way of letting her, wherever she is, say whatever she needs to.

Once he feels like enough time has passed, he kisses her cross necklace softly. “Я люблю тебя, Мама (I love you, Mama).”

When he gets back into the house, he hears Iris and Shane upstairs discussing the story she wants for tonight. He wipes a stray tear as he goes to join them, happily accepting the book about ballerinas Iris thrusts into his hands for storytime.

Once she’s peacefully dreaming, Shane pulls him into their bed, where Ilya finally allows himself to fall apart. Shane holds him close, tangling a hand into his curls and kissing his forehead softly. “Спасибо, Звездочка моя. Я тебя люблю (Thank you, my Star. I love you),” he whispers as he buries his face into Shane’s neck.

“I love you,” Shane whispers in return, holding Ilya close. His fingers scratch against Ilya’s scalp softly as they hold onto each other. “I know today was hard. But she would be so proud of you. I’m so proud of you, my baby.” They lay in each other’s embrace for a few moments, but then Shane taps his side softly. “Come on. While we shower and get ready for bed, you can tell me more of your favorite stories. I’d love to hear more about your mama.”

And they do just that. Ilya fills their nighttime routine with stories about Mama taking him to the ballet, about their days skating through the park, and about the one time she took him and his brother to the beach without their father.

Before he knows it, he falls asleep with Shane curled tight against him, between one story and another.

Shane sets his phone down on the nightstand before curling back up into Ilya. He rests his hand on top of Ilya’s violet tattoo, rubbing his thumb against it softly as he watches him breathe for a moment. Irina’s pendant rests between Ilya’s pecs, and Shane leans in to reverently press a kiss to the gold cross. “Happy birthday, Irina. Thank you for sending me your boy,” he whispers softly against the jewelry. “I promise you that I’ll take care of him. Always.”