Chapter Text
Shane was on top of the world. He came out as gay to Ilya and the world hadn’t imploded, he felt like things were becoming even more real between them, which both terrified him and made him feel like there was a swarm of butterflies in his belly.
On top of that, he finally had a friend that he could confide in. He’d been texting Rose on and off for the last couple of weeks; mostly about whatever they were up to that day, but occasionally Rose would send him a picture of somebody she knew, generally with the caption, “He’s cute, right?” to try and set him up with someone. Shane brushed her off every time. It was bad enough she’d seen his slightly heartbroken face when he’d been forced to remember all of his nights with Ilya while they were out to dinner and the tears in his eyes that came with the memories. She didn’t need to know that he was hopelessly hung up on someone he couldn’t be with. Or so he’d thought.
Things were different in Florida. Ilya was… softer. More open. Shane got to see a side of him that he didn’t normally see. Especially when he was playing in the pool with the group of kids. Then during the game, when Ilya pressed a smacking kiss to the side of his helmet, Shane couldn’t help the butterflies that erupted in his gut and the blush that colored his cheeks and trailed down his throat. Even though it seemed performative, a typical show of sportsmanship, the look in Ilya’s eyes was anything but performative. It was pride. Finally on the same team, this was the only way Ilya had to show Shane off to the world; to show how good he was, how happy he was to be playing with him, and how happy he was to be with him. The gesture was for the whole world to see, but the meaning was only for Shane.
Then in the sand, when Shane could feel Ilya’s fingers twitching as they itched to tangle with his own, Shane knew there was no going back from here. He was in deep. Completely and royally fucked.
They were texting almost constantly now, about anything and everything. They’d even started FaceTiming more when they could. They both justified it by saying that the phone sex was a way to scratch the itch between seeing each other in person, but really they just needed to see each other’s faces. Sometimes, hearing Ilya’s sleepy voice was the only thing that could put Shane to sleep after a particularly stressful day.
The previous day was one of those days. It seemed like every noise was too loud, every light too bright, every article of clothing too itchy. Finally, Shane had been able to go to bed and flop down on top of the covers in only his socks and boxers, feeling somewhat peaceful for the first time all day. What really helped, though, was when a FaceTime request came through a few minutes later. Shane quickly swiped to accept it, flipping himself over onto his stomach as Ilya’s smiling face filled the screen.
“Bad day, yes?” Ilya guessed after only a quick glance at Shane’s face. Sometimes it irked Shane how Ilya could read him like a book. Today, he was incredibly grateful for it.
“I guess.” Shane mumbled, not having a particular reason why he didn’t have a good day, but knowing there was no point in lying.
“You need to stop thinking.” Ilya said, not bothering to phrase it as a question. He knew Shane.
Shane couldn’t help the way his breath caught in his throat in excited anticipation, and he nodded ever so slightly, then smiled as he watched the grin spread across Ilya’s face.
“Clothes off. On your stomach.” Ilya ordered, already tugging his shirt off over his head and moving to prop his phone up. Shane eagerly obeyed, thankful for Ilya’s ability to get him out of his head for a few minutes.
That night, Shane went to sleep with a dopey, blissed out smile on his face. Which is probably part of the reason he was so pissed off when he woke up the next morning feeling like death warmed over.
His throat burned like he swallowed razor blades, and it felt swollen to the touch. His entire body ached, and he felt too heavy to move. His head was pounding like he had the world’s worst hangover, but he hadn’t had a sip of alcohol in a week.
He was supposed to be at practice in an hour, but he knew there was no way his achy body would support the weight of all his gear right now; he’d just crumple to the ice like a stack of cards. Shane immediately knew that he needed to see a doctor; that something was seriously wrong. Luckily for him, it would be much easier to just go see the team doctor. Unfortunately for him, that meant he had to somehow drag himself out of bed.
It was slow going. As soon as Shane was upright, his vision went fuzzy and he had to hang his head and breathe deeply until the world came back into focus. When he was finally up on his feet, each step felt like a monumental effort. He didn’t bother changing clothes. He just pulled on a Metros hoodie and a pair of sweatpants over his pajamas, brushed his teeth, threw on a mask, and started to make the trek down the stairs as he ordered an Uber on his phone, knowing he couldn’t drive himself. Almost as soon as he stepped into the cool stairwell, he started shivering. By the time he made it to the bottom, his teeth were practically chattering. In the back of his mind, he wondered if that meant he had a fever, but he didn’t have the energy to worry about it right now. He eased himself down to sit on the bottom stair until his Uber arrived to take him to the rink.
Shane barely remembered the drive to the rink. He knows he tipped the driver a considerable amount for singlehandedly turning his car into a plague vehicle, but other than that, it was a blur. He slowly made his way inside, bypassing the locker rooms to go straight to the team doctor’s office.
As he approached the door, he noticed it was cracked open and raised his fist to knock softly. Even the soft knock seemed to echo in his head, making him wince. The door swung open to reveal Dr. Martin’s smiling face that immediately fell after she laid eyes on Shane.
“Jesus, kid. Come on in.” she muttered, quickly ushering Shane inside.
She took Shane’s vitals as quickly as possible since Shane was still sitting there shivering. He wasn’t surprised to see the number 39.4° staring back at him when Dr. Martin pulled the thermometer out of Shane’s mouth with a low whistle.
“I’m going to run some tests to be sure, but I think you’ve got mono. All of your symptoms match, and I wouldn’t be surprised given the news about the X-Squad movie.” she commented, making Shane whip his head in her direction in surprise before moaning lowly when the movement made his head spin and pain shoot down his back.
“What’re you talking about?” Shane croaked, wincing at the sound of his voice after not really using it that day and how badly it hurt to speak.
“Oh, I figured Rose would’ve told you. At least half of the cast is down with mono. Apparently, it’s swept through everybody, and they’ve had to halt production until everyone is healthy again.” she informed him, then gazed at him curiously. “I figured your girlfriend would’ve told you that she had mono.” she muttered, making Shane shake his head much slower this time.
“She’s not my girlfriend. Not anymore.” he said, adding the last part when she gazed at him skeptically.
“Ended things just in time for her to give you mono, I see.” she quipped, trying to lighten the mood. It did not work. Shane was still sitting miserably on the table, huddled in on himself, trying not to bite his tongue off as his teeth chattered. “How about I give you another blanket, so you don’t shiver to death while we wait for the blood test to come back.” she suggested, smiling softly at him when he nodded gratefully.
She came back a few minutes later with a warmed blanket that she draped around his shoulders. Thankfully, it quelled his shivering long enough for her to swab his arm with an alcohol pad and draw enough blood needed for the test.
“I’ll let you rest while this runs.” she said, giving Shane’s arm a gentle pat before turning to leave, flipping the light switch on her way out and plunging the room into blissful darkness.
Shane sighed in relief and finally took the opportunity to lay down on the exam table, curling around himself to conserve warmth and pillowing his head on his arms.
He must’ve dozed off because the next thing Shane knew, he was being gently shaken awake, but it felt like he was experiencing an earthquake.
“Hey, bud. You definitely do have mono. Unfortunately, that means you’re benched from all practices and games for a month since you’re at risk of rupturing your spleen. When your month is up, I’ll reevaluate you and hopefully be able to clear you for practice. You’re going to be exhausted and in a lot of pain for the next couple of weeks, so it’ll probably take you some time to get back to the level of play you’re used to even after you’re cleared. The best thing for you to do is go home, drink lots of fluids, rest, take some Tylenol to get your fever down and help with the achiness, okay?” she said, waiting until Shane nodded sleepily to help him sit up. “I talked to your coach, and he talked to the team. Hayden’s going to take you home and then come back to practice. Do you want us to call your parents so someone can be there to take care of you? You’re going to need some help.” she asked, but Shane just shook his head.
“I’ll call them. Just need to sleep.” he mumbled, scrubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands. Dr. Martin sighed sadly; he looked so young like this.
“Okay. Hayden’s just outside. We’ll help you up and he’ll get you out to the car.” she said, then began to help ease him down off the table and onto the floor. Once he was stable on his own two feet, she swung the door open and Hayden swooped in to help Shane to the car. He practically carried him.
“How the hell did you get this bad, dude?” Hayden asked after he’d deposited Shane into his passenger seat. Shane just shrugged and grunted noncommittedly before letting his head fall against the window, pressing his overheated forehead to the cool glass.
Once again, Shane didn’t remember the drive back home. He dozed off against the window and didn’t register a single second of the drive until Hayden was putting the car in park and coming around to the passenger side of the car to help Shane inside. The sudden rush of cold air as he stepped outside of the car irritated his already sore throat, making Shane duck into the collar of his shirt to cough. When he stumbled into Hayden’s side with the force of them, they had to stop in their tracks on Shane’s doorstep.
When the coughing finally tapered off, Shane was gasping for breath and clutching at his throat, tears shining in his eyes as he fought to swallow around the pain, feeling like he was trying to swallow a golf ball instead of saliva.
“Jesus, dude. Come on, let’s get you inside.” Hayden sighed, wrapping his arm more tightly around Shane to get him inside and out of the cold as quickly as possible.
They finally made it inside, and Hayden deposited Shane on the couch, where he promptly curled up in a ball and shut his eyes.
“Shane, buddy. Don’t go to sleep yet. You’ve got to take something. You’ve got one hell of a fever.” Hayden called from the kitchen as he started rifling through Shane’s cabinets looking for Tylenol or anything that would lower his fever. Hayden could hear him mumble something in response, but he couldn’t raise his voice enough for Hayden to hear him from the other room. “What’d you say?” Hayden asked, quickly reappearing at Shane’s side.
“Can’t swallow pills yet. Hurts.” Shane croaked out, leaving Hayden conflicted. He couldn’t make his friend take anything, but at the same time, once Hayden left to go back to practice, there wasn’t going to be anyone there to make sure Shane wasn’t cooking in his own skin.
After wrestling with himself for a few moments, his fatherly instincts took over.
“I know it hurts, buddy, but you’ve gotta take something.” Hayden told him apologetically, his heart clenching as Shane’s eyes filled with tears at the prospect of the pain it was going to cause him to swallow the pills. Hayden didn’t let Shane’s puppy dog eyes deter him; he went back into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of Tylenol he’d found then went to rummage through the freezer, hoping that there would be something cold in there that Shane would be willing to eat to ease his sore throat after taking the pills.
Miraculously, he managed to find a carton of ice cream in the back of the freezer that was still good. He dished out a bowl and brought it to Shane along with the pills as a peace offering.
“Take these, then eat the ice cream. It’s cold. It’ll help.” Hayden encouraged, handing Shane two pills and a glass of water. He steeled himself before tossing back one pill with a sip of water, letting out a groan of pain as he swallowed, then threw the other one back quickly to get it over with.
Once he’d downed them both, he leaned back against the couch with a groan, and squeezed his eyes shut, making a tear fall down his cheek. Hayden sighed and gave Shane’s shoulder an apologetic pat before holding the bowl of ice cream out to Shane.
“Eat that. It’s cold. It’ll help numb your throat.” Hayden said. Shane opened his eyes to see what Hayden was offering him. When he noticed the ice cream, a fond expression flashed across Shane’s face. Hayden made a mental note to ask him what that was about when he was feeling better. Hayden was a bit surprised that Shane accepted the bowl without any argument, quickly shoving a spoonful in his mouth, then sighing happily as the cold began to numb his throat. “Are you gonna be okay?” Hayden asked after glancing at his watch and realizing he had to get back to practice.
“Mmhm. Gonna nap. Call mom and dad.” Shane mumbled around the spoon, his eyes already beginning to droop closed like he was halfway to falling back to sleep with the ice cream bowl in his lap.
“Okay. If you need anything, you call me.” Hayden told him, waiting until Shane nodded in agreement before nodding along with him and then heading out the door and back to practice.
Once Hayden left, Shane managed to finish his ice cream, thankful that it was still in his freezer from the last time Ilya was at his apartment, before deciding that the bed was too far of a journey. He pulled one of the throw blankets off of the back of the couch and curled up on top of the throw pillows. Shane was barely horizontal again before he fell asleep.
~~~
When Shane woke up, it was to the repetitive buzzing of his phone from where he’d left it on the coffee table. When he cracked his eyes open, he noticed that it was dark outside, and he wondered how long he’d been sleeping. He reached for his phone, slapping the table a few times before he managed to locate it. He winced at the brightness of the screen then again when he noticed all the missed calls and texts.
He scrolled past several text messages from his teammates wishing him well before he saw 3 missed calls from his mom, one from his dad, one from Rose, and 4 from Ilya. He also saw that he had several texts from his mom and a voicemail. He bypassed the texts to click on her voicemail and raised the phone to his ear to listen.
“Shane, honey, why am I hearing from the news that you have mono? Are you alright, honey? If I don’t hear back from you, your dad and I are heading to you to look after you, okay? Call us back, honey. We love you, bye.”
The voicemail cut off and Shane saw that she had called about 3 hours prior, so he figured they were already at least an hour into the drive. He figured, at this point, there was no reason to call them back. They were headed to his apartment no matter what.
Next, he scrolled to his missed call from Rose and decided to quickly call her back.
“I’m so sorry.” She said, instead of hello, as soon as she picked up. Her voice sounded as rough as Shane’s felt.
“Not your fault. You didn’t know. I hear it takes time to incubate.” He mumbled, his voice coming out much raspier than earlier.
“Still. I’m sorry. We all started feeling like crap probably a week after we last saw each other. I should’ve warned you.” She pushed, and Shane shrugged and relented.
“How long is this gonna last?” he asked, not caring how pathetic he sounded.
“I’m a couple of weeks in and I’m not falling asleep every few minutes anymore, but it’s definitely still not fun. Everything still hurts, still running a low-grade fever, still don’t have much of a voice as you can tell. Just generally feel shitty.” She told him, making him sigh, realizing that he really was in it for the long haul.
“Okay. Keep me updated. I’ll talk to you later.” Shane told her.
“Yeah, you too. I hope you feel better. Bye Shane.” She said, then ended the call with a click. Next, he scrolled to his missed calls and messages from Ilya. There were so many text messages that he didn’t have the mental capacity to read right then, so he decided to just FaceTime him.
“Dorogoy.” Ilya mumbled fondly as soon as Shane’s face filled his screen.
“Hi.” Shane muttered, clearing his throat softly.
“They say you have mono? That is kissing disease, yes? But I am not sick.” He tried to reason, but Shane just shook his head.
“It can take a few weeks for you to show symptoms. Rose and the whole cast, basically, have it. She gave it to me before we broke up. You still might get it. We’ve slept together since I was exposed.” Shane told him, wincing apologetically.
“No, Russians do not get these things. I will be fine. How are you feeling?” he asked as Shane watched Ilya’s gaze rake over his pathetic form through the screen.
“Terrible.” He grumbled. “Pissed I can’t play.” He grumbled with a sniffle. Shane propped his phone up on the coffee table so he could continue talking to Ilya as he pulled the sleeves of his sweatshirt down over his hands to combat the shivers that had started again as he swiped at his runny nose.
“You are very pink. You have fever.” Ilya stated, not bothering to ask the question, as he gazed at Shane’s pink cheeks.
“It was over 39° earlier. Not sure now.” Shane told him, managing a slight grin when Ilya thumbed at his nose, his anxious tick.
“Have you had medicine?” Ilya asked, looking around the room like he could magically send Shane something to help with his fever.
“Hayden gave me Tylenol earlier.” He said, which seemed to appease Ilya ever so slightly.
“I will be in Montreal by the end of the week. I will come check on you.” Ilya said, his tone leaving no room for argument even as Shane frantically shook his head, then regretted it when it made his neck spasm in pain.
“No, don’t. If you don’t already have this, you definitely will then. What will people say if you come down with it, too? They’ve already traced it straight from Rose to me. It’s called the kissing disease for a reason.” Shane told him, but now it was Ilya’s turn to shake his head.
“I will be fine. You are not. You are very sad, cute, blanket burrito. I come see you. Make sure you take medicine.” Ilya said firmly and, this time, Shane didn’t have the energy to argue.
“You can’t kiss me.” He mumbled, wrinkling his nose when Ilya tilted his head to the side skeptically.
“We will see. Do you need anything?” he asked. Clearly, he was about to have an entire pharmacy shipped straight to Shane’s door.
“No. My parents are on their way here.” He said, although that didn’t seem to appease Ilya.
“Have you eaten?” Shane just shook his head. He’d only been awake for a few minutes, but the effort of trying to hold these two conversations was enough to have his eyes trying to slip closed again. “Ask your parents for soup when they get there. Will be good for your throat.” Ilya instructed, smiling softly when Shane nodded. “Sleep, moya lyubov.” Ilya whispered, then kissed his fingertips and pressed them to the screen, making Shane’s face heat up in a way that had nothing to do with his fever.
“I’ll text you later.” Shane promised, his eyes slipping closed again as he gazed at Ilya’s soft smile.
“Okay.” He whispered, watching as Shane drifted off to sleep again before hanging up the phone.
Ilya tried to ignore the pang of longing in his gut at seeing his maybe boyfriend so sick and not being able to do anything to help. He decided right then, as if he hadn’t already, that no matter how much Shane protested, he was going to come check on him when he arrived in Montreal for the game.
~~~
The next time Shane woke up, it was to cool hands caressing his face.
“-lya?” He mumbled sleepily, nuzzling into the touch like a cat.
“Sweetheart, it’s mom. How’re you feeling?” Yuna’s voice whispered, not wanting to aggravate his head. When Shane cracked his eyes open to stare into his mom’s face, he was met with a slightly confused expression. She was probably wondering who her son was asking for when he was half asleep and miserable.
“Like I got hit by a truck.” he grumbled but sighed happily when her cold hands pressed against his forehead and cheeks.
“Shane, you’re burning up.” she clicked her tongue anxiously before going off in search of the thermometer. Shane sighed, figuring there was no going back to sleep for a while as his parents fussed over him. He managed to pull himself into a seated position and grab his phone from where it was still propped up on the coffee table. He smiled softly when he saw that he’d gotten a series of texts from Ilya, even after he’d fallen asleep on their call.
18:27 – Lily:
“Take your temperature when you wake up. You are too pink. Is cute, though.”
19:06 – Lily:
“Make sure you take medicine.”
19:12 – Lily:
“And drink some tea. And eat. Have mama Yuna make you good soup.”
Shane couldn’t help but smile at how Ilya somehow managed to fuss over him from a different country and over text message. Just as Shane was about to respond, his mom returned with the thermometer and promptly stuck it under his tongue.
“Your father is making miso soup. That should be fine on your throat. I’ll find you some medicine in a second.” she told him as she ran her fingers through his hair. He nodded stiffly, trying not to cough around the device in his mouth. When it finally beeped, Yuna swiped it quickly before Shane could. “39.3°. Not good, Shane.” she mumbled worriedly, but he just shrugged.
“Little better than earlier.” he whispered, then quickly disproved his point when a violent shiver wracked his body.
“If it gets up to 40°, we’ll have to go to the ER.” she told him, which was all the motivation Shane needed to quickly swallow down the Tylenol she handed him next. It still brought tears to his eyes to swallow pills, feeling like his throat was being shredded. “I’ll get you some tea.” Yuna said, noting the pain etched into his expression.
As soon as she padded off to the kitchen, Shane pulled out his phone again.
19:56 – Jane:
“My parents are here. Temp is 39.3°. Mom gave me Tylenol. It feels like swallowing knives to swallow pills. This sucks. Dad’s making miso soup and mom is making tea. I wish you were here. Good luck tonight. We’ll be watching.”
Shane set his phone down, knowing he wasn’t going to get a response as Ilya was probably right in the middle of his pregame captain’s speech. To his surprise, mere seconds later, his phone lit up with a message.
19:57 – Lily:
“I am sorry you’re so sick, moya klubnika. Soup and tea is good for you. I will score every goal for you tonight.”
Shane blushed at the term of endearment, even though he didn’t know what it meant. He quickly pulled up Google Translate and typed it in, wrinkling his nose when he saw the translation.
19:59 – Jane:
“I’m your strawberry?”
19:59 – Lily:
“Right now, yes. You are very pink and freckled. Like strawberry. You are very cute, Shane Hollander.”
Shane had to physically put his phone face down on the coffee table, blushing so furiously he was getting a bit worried that his mom would think his fever spiked.
While his parents were still occupied in the kitchen, Shane reached for the TV remote and flipped on the Boston vs. New Jersey game just in time to see both teams skating onto the ice for warmups. Shane grinned as he caught sight of Ilya skating to the middle of the rink, clearly lagging behind the rest of his team. Probably because he’d been texting Shane barely a minute prior.
Shane’s eyes were trained on Ilya the whole time, meaning he caught the moment where Ilya noticed the camera zooming in on him. He shot the camera a typical, cocky wink before his expression softened slightly and he blew a kiss at the camera. Shane blushed again, knowing that it was for him.
Thankfully, he was quickly distracted by both of his parents coming back into the living room, his mom carrying a mug of tea and a bowl of soup and his dad carrying two more bowls.
“Tea with lots of honey and lemon, and miso soup. Oh, good, you already turned the game on.” Yuna said, setting everything down in front of Shane before taking one of the bowls from David and settling in next to Shane on the couch.
They watched the game in relative silence, each of them sipping at their soup while Shane alternated between the soup and his tea. He wasn’t very hungry, but the warm liquids were definitely helping his throat. It didn’t feel so much like he was trying to swallow knives anymore; he’d downgraded to something more akin to sandpaper.
“He’s on fire tonight.” David mumbled after Ilya scored his second goal in the first period, putting Boston up 2-0. Shane ducked his head with a shy smile when his mom grumbled her agreement.
By the first intermission, Shane had managed to finish almost all of his soup and even asked his mom for another mug of tea, which she seemed delighted to get for him.
Yuna returned with Shane’s tea right as the second period was starting. She’d barely sat down on the couch when the doorbell rang. She furrowed her brows, glancing between Shane and David in confusion.
“Are we expecting someone?” she asked as she got up, but the boys looked just as confused as she did.
She was gone for a few minutes, and Shane could hear her talking to someone, but he wasn’t sure who. When she finally returned, she had several Pharmaprix bags slung over her arm and was gazing curiously at Shane, a hint of mischief in her eyes.
“Someone sent you gifts, Shane.” she said teasingly, offering him the bags and gazing at him expectantly, hoping he’d explain.
Shane didn’t say anything right away as he rummaged through the bags, pulling out the contents and placing them on the coffee table.
There was liquid Tylenol, liquid cough medicine, cough drops, tissues, ginger ale, Gatorade, a new fuzzy blanket, a pair of fuzzy socks, a carton of ice cream, a box of popsicles, some cans of soup, and an assorted box of tea with what seemed like every flavor under the sun. Lastly, he pulled out a soft, plush strawberry and promptly blushed darker than the red fabric.
“There was also a note included with the delivery.” Yuna whispered after Shane had been gazing at the stuffed strawberry in silence for a few moments. She handed over the small notecard and Shane had to blink rapidly as tears sprang to his eyes to keep them from falling.
“Shane,
No more swallowing knives for you. Only liquid medicine from now on. Google says you will have a very sore throat and be achy. Maybe a cough and sniffle. Everything you will need should be there. Google also says you need to stay hydrated. I know you love ginger ale, but try Gatorade, too. And eat your soup. And the cold popsicles and ice cream will numb your throat. Tell me which tea you like best and I will bring more of your favorite. I wish I could be with you. I am playing for you tonight, dorogoy. Feel better.
P.S. I hope you like the strawberry, but is not as cute as you, moya klubnika.”
By the time Shane finished reading the note, he’d given up pretending like he wasn’t crying. He could just picture Ilya going into the locker room during the first intermission and ordering an entire drug store to be sent straight to Shane’s door because he couldn’t be there to fuss in person.
“Somebody really seems to love you, son.” David commented with a smile, then froze when a choked sob escaped Shane’s lips.
“Sweetheart.” Yuna cooed, scooting closer to him and wrapping her arms around him.
“I’m okay. I just have a fever.” Shane choked out to make sure they knew he wasn’t upset. They were used to how emotional Shane got when he wasn’t feeling well.
He sighed heavily to try and get himself together, holding the plushy tight to his chest.
“Honey, are you seeing somebody? You know you can tell us.” Yuna asked, skirting the line of acting like his mom and his manager. Shane wasn’t sure if she’d read the note or not but at this point, he figured there was no use lying. He could at least tell half of the truth.
Shane nodded with a soft smile, sinking back into the couch, still clutching the strawberry in one hand while the other scrubbed at his tearstained cheeks.
“Did you read it?” Shane finally asked his mom, holding the notecard out to make sure she knew what he meant. She nodded slowly, pursing her lips apologetically.
“I didn’t mean to invade your privacy, but when a strange package shows up on your doorstep, I needed to make sure you were safe.” she reasoned, and Shane couldn’t find it in himself to be upset. Even with how terrible he felt, he was just so happy.
“Did you figure out who it is?” Shane finally asked softly after re-reading the card and realizing that his mother had not only read the Russian terms of endearment, but she’d also read that whoever wrote the note was playing tonight. It didn’t seem difficult to put those puzzle pieces together.
“I have a guess.” she said simply, then glanced at David for help.
“Can I read it?” he asked, partially, so he could offer each of them help and partially because he was feeling left out. Shane wordlessly handed over the card, figuring it wouldn’t be as bad for his father to read it as his mom. Shane watched as David’s eyes scanned over the paper before jumping back to the TV when he finished, just in time for the camera to pan straight to Ilya, who’d just scored a miraculous hat trick before the second period was finished. There was definitely something to be said for comedic timing.
“Shane, are you dating Ilya Rozanov?” David asked, and Shane was immediately thankful that he’d asked the question and not his mom. He definitely had more tact about the whole situation. Shane sighed heavily but knew there wasn’t any point in lying. They were clearly already found out. He nodded slowly, glancing first at his dad who offered him a reassuring smile before his anxious gaze shifted to his mom. She was staring down into her lap, wringing her hands.
“Mom?” Shane whispered, desperately needing her to say something.
“I’m just... surprised. I mean, you two hate each other.” she said, then cringed when she clearly realized that wasn’t true.
“No, we don’t. I don’t think we ever did. I... I love him. I mean, I haven’t told him that yet, but I do.” Shane admitted, his gaze flitting up from his lap to meet his mom’s before quickly shifting away again when he saw that her eyes had gone misty.
“How long have you two been... involved?” David asked, making Shane wrinkle his nose at the insinuation. Not that it was a wrong assumption.
“Since... rookie season.” Shane admitted, watching as both his parents’ eyes bugged out.
“You’ve been in love with Rozanov since rookie season?” Yuna exclaimed, cringing when her raised voice made Shane wince and clutch his head. “Sorry.” she whispered.
“I don’t know how long I’ve loved him. I was trying not to for a long time.” he admitted. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I... was scared you’d be upset.” Shane whispered.
“Shane, the only thing we care about is that you’re happy. And if Rozanov makes you happy, then we can get used to the idea of... not detesting him.” David said gently, shooting a pointed look at Yuna.
“Ilya.” Shane said firmly, meeting both of their gazes. If they were going to get used to the idea of them being together, they had to get used to calling him by his first name.
“Ilya.” both of his parents parroted back to him, getting a small smile in response.
“Mom?” Shane said questioningly, glancing over at her.
“I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell us – tell me sooner. If he’s important to you, he’s important to us. We love you more than anything, Shane. I can’t wait to get to know him better.” she said earnestly, and Shane could see it in her eyes that she was really going to try. It might take her some time to unlearn her distaste for him, but she was going to try.
“Thank you.” Shane whispered, finally allowing himself to lean into his mom’s side and be hugged. He rested his head on her shoulder, and she wrapped her arm around him. He sighed happily, thankful that everything was out in the open and now they could all watch Ilya play together. Well, almost everything. “I’m gay, by the way.” he mumbled, glancing up at his mom through his lashes, who just smiled down at him and leaned down to kiss his forehead.
“Thank you for telling us. Now, let’s watch your boyfriend.” she said, making Shane’s cheeks flame at the acknowledgement of their relationship.
He settled in happily against her shoulder while David went to put the popsicles and ice cream away. Shane kept sipping his tea even though it had gone a bit cold.
When the game was finally over, Boston winning 6-2; they kept the TV on to watch the post-game press. When they showed Ilya, fresh out of the locker room, sweaty curls plastered to his forehead, shirtless, and grinning brightly, Shane became acutely aware of both of his parents’ eyes on him.
“Mr. Rozanov, how does tonight’s win affect your preparation to play Montreal in a few days?” one reporter asked, shoving a microphone in Ilya’s face.
“It does not. We play our game, same as always. We practice hard, play hard, we will win.” he stated matter-of-factly. Shane gazed up at his mother at his words, grinning when he saw how hard she was trying not to scoff.
“With Shane Hollander out for your next matchup, how do you like your odds against the Metros?” another reporter asked. Shane cringed, hearing them talk about him and how he wouldn’t be able to play. It seemed that his parents were having similar reactions.
“They will be much easier team to beat without their captain. I hear he is ill, yes? I hope he gets better soon; it is not as much fun to beat the Metros without him.” Ilya said, winking into the camera, making Shane snort, then he regretted it when it made him cough, hurting his throat. His comment also made the reporters chuckle. Surprisingly, it also amused his parents.
The reporters moved away from questions about the upcoming game and didn’t mention Shane anymore, so he enjoyed staring at his shirtless boyfriend while he pulled out his phone to text him.
20:18 – Jane:
“Thank you for all my gifts. You really didn’t have to send me an entire pharmacy. Your note was also very sweet. I miss you.”
20:19 – Jane:
“By the way, my mom answered the door when it was delivered. She was making sure it wasn’t from some stalker or something. She read the note. My parents know about us. They’re fine with it. I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to say and I don’t think I have the energy to make up a lie.”
Shane sighed after sending the messages, anxiously waiting for him to respond. He didn’t think Ilya would be angry, but he wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to react.
What he didn’t expect was for his phone to light up with a FaceTime request mere minutes later. Shane quickly swiped to accept it, sighing happily when Ilya’s grinning, sweaty face, appeared before him.
“Hi malysh.” Ilya smiled at him, immediately drawing the attention of both parents.
“Hi.” Shane mumbled fondly, smiling sleepily at Ilya. “Where are you?” he asked since it was so soon after press ended, there was no way everyone had left yet.
“I got your text. Locked myself in a closet to call you. Are you okay?” he asked, his worried gaze raking over Shane’s form, trying to detect even an ounce of anxiety.
“I’m good. We’re good. Are you okay?” Shane asked, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Da, I am perfect. Proud of you. Are you feeling any better?” he asked, poking his bottom lip out in a pout when Shane shook his head. Ilya smiled when a hand appeared in the corner of the screen before it was being pressed to Shane’s forehead.
“Mom.” Shane whined, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment.
“Let her fuss over her mal’chik, Hollander.” Ilya teased, grinning widely.
“A little cooler than earlier.” he heard Yuna mutter through the phone.
“That’s good, yes?” Ilya asked for clarification.
“Yes, that’s good. The Tylenol is working.” Yuna told him, peeking over Shane’s shoulder to speak to Ilya.
“Hello Mrs. Hollander.” Ilya mumbled, for the first time, sounding a bit shy.
“Hello Ilya. Thank you for taking care of our boy.” she said, making Shane blush and duck to hide in his sweatshirt.
“It is no problem.” he started with a sincere smile, then glanced back at Shane, making a fond grin spread across his face. “Come out of there, you cherepakha.” Ilya laughed when Shane popped his head back out, but only because he was confused.
“What?” Shane asked, not having heard that one before.
“Ehh, in English is the green thing with the shell... turtle!” he exclaimed excitedly when he came up with the correct word. Shane rolled his eyes fondly.
“Don’t call me a turtle.” he grumbled, but he was grinning.
“Is what you looked like. Did you eat your soup? Drink your tea?” Ilya asked. Shane didn’t miss the amused, fond looks his parents exchanged as they listened to Ilya fussing over him.
“Yes. All my soup. Two teas.” Shane told him, pulling a beaming smile out of Ilya.
“Good. Time for dessert. Eat your cold treats. It will help.” he promised. There was a small voice in the back of Shane’s head reminding him of his diet, but the pain in his throat screamed back, “Fuck off”.
David stood up to go get whichever of the dessert options Shane decided on.
“Popsicle, please.” he requested, smiling when David nodded and ruffled his hair on the way into the kitchen. “You should probably get out of the closet. People are probably looking for you.” Shane told him, getting another pout from Ilya.
“You will be asleep when I get home?” Ilya asked, nodding along with Shane, basically telling him to go to bed. “Text me how you are feeling in the morning. I’ll see you in a few days.” he said, waiting for Shane to argue again. When no argument came other than a shy smile and a quick shake of his head, Ilya grinned victoriously, kissed his fingertips, and pressed them to the camera. “Goodnight, Shane.”
“Goodnight Ilya.” Shane whispered and ended their call. David came back into the room then, handing over Shane’s popsicle before settling back into his place on the couch.
“Part of me still didn’t believe it until that phone call. I see it now.” Yuna whispered, kissing the top of Shane’s head with a fond smile. “He loves you.” she whispered into his ear, making Shane blush.
“Thanks, mom.” Shane mumbled around a mouthful of popsicle.
“We planned to stay in the guest room tonight in case you need anything. After you finish your popsicle, I’m gonna give you more Tylenol and send you to bed.” Yuna said. Shane nodded, ready to drop off to sleep again. Suddenly, his eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds.
Thankfully, the cold worked to numb his throat and, coupled with the new liquid medicine Ilya sent him, he took his medicine with little pain. After he’d taken all the medicine, his mom thrust at him and took his temperature again, showing a more manageable reading of 38.8°, Shane managed to drag himself to bed. He didn’t bother to change clothes before crawling into bed and burrowing under the covers. He quickly dropped off into a deep sleep.
~~~
The next day was more of the same. Ilya fussed at him over text and FaceTime; his parents kept up a continuous supply of soup, tea, Tylenol, and popsicles, and he slept for most of the day.
By the third day, Shane was feeling slightly less exhausted, but his entire body was aching worse than it had been, and his head was pounding. He was also shivering like he’d been abandoned naked in the north pole.
When Shane hadn’t bothered to come out of his bedroom by 11:00am, Yuna came looking for him with a dose of Tylenol, a bottle of Gatorade, and the thermometer.
“I figured you were feeling worse if you hadn’t come out by now.” she sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to him. “Under your tongue.” she urged and helped him to sit up slightly. His eyes were drooping as the numbers climbed on the thermometer, not from drowsiness but from the effort it took to hold his eyes open. When it finally beeped, Yuna sucked in a sharp breath. “39.9. That’s got to come down, Shane.” she mumbled, quickly shoving the cup of Tylenol into his hands and then handing him the Gatorade as a chaser. “Keep drinking.” she urged when he tried to stop after only sipping it long enough to get the taste of the medicine out of his mouth. When he raised the bottle back to his lips in compliance, she headed into the bathroom to get a few cool, damp washcloths. When she returned, she placed one on the back of Shane’s neck and draped the other across his forehead. He moaned softly at the cold sensation and tried to squirm away from the cloths and wrap the blankets tighter around himself as shivers wracked his body, but she shushed him gently. “I know, I know it’s cold; but if your fever doesn’t come down, we have to take you to the ER.” she reminded him adamantly. Thankfully, he was still coherent enough to know that he didn’t want to have to do that, so he stopped fighting and tried his best to relax.
“Hurts.” Shane just whimpered, and he could practically see the heartbreak in his mom’s eyes.
“I know, honey. Getting your fever down will help.” she reassured him while running her fingers through his hair in an attempt to lull him back to sleep.
When it became obvious that he was in too much pain to get comfortable enough to sleep, she reached for his phone off the bedside table.
“Why don’t you call Ilya. Let him take your mind off things.” she suggested, smiling thankfully when Shane nodded in agreement. As Shane pulled out his phone to call Ilya, Yuna got up off the bed and quietly headed out of his room to give them some privacy.
With how disoriented he was, Shane didn’t realize that Ilya was supposed to be getting on a plane to fly to Montreal right about the time he hit the button to call him.
It took Ilya a few moments to answer and, when he did, it looked like he’d wedged himself into an empty corner of the airport. Shane couldn’t help but smile softly at him. He had a beanie pulled down low over his curls, with just a few poking out the top and sides, he was in a Raiders hoodie with one of the strings wedged between his teeth, his cheeks and nose were slightly pink like he’d just come in from the cold, and he was smiling sleepily at Shane, probably preparing for his nap on the plane.
“Shane? Are you okay?” he asked, softly and frantically.
“Everything hurts.” he whined, squeezing his eyes shut as a stab of pain went through his head.
“I’m sorry, malysh. I wish I could help. I am heading to you now. We are boarding.” Ilya told him, making Shane smile through the pain.
“You can help me.” Shane argued, grinning wider when Ilya wrinkled his nose.
“I don’t think you are up for that right now.” he joked, making Shane huff an exasperated laugh.
“Not that, you pervert. Just talk to me. Talk to me until you have to put the phone down. In Russian, if it’s easier.” Shane requested, shooting Ilya his best puppy dog eyes. Ilya’s stomach flipped; there was no way he could say no to this man.
“Of course. Lay down. Close your eyes.” Ilya instructed, waiting for Shane to be horizontal before he started rambling in soft Russian.
Just the sound of his voice was enough to calm Shane. He relaxed into the sheets, finally feeling like his skin wasn’t going to melt off and his head wasn’t going to explode. It could’ve also been the Tylenol kicking in, but Shane chose to believe that it was Ilya.
Shane also knew that Ilya tended to be more open when he spoke Russian because he knew Shane couldn’t understand him. When Ilya started sniffling every few words, Shane couldn’t help but wonder what Ilya was saying to him, since his nervous tick had begun.
Shane was finally about to doze off when Ilya cleared his throat.
“Moya lyubov, I have to get on the plane now.” he whispered so he wouldn’t startle Shane. He cracked one eye open and almost pouted at not being able to hear Ilya’s voice anymore until he remembered that Ilya was getting on a plane to come to him. That made Shane smile.
“Okay. Be careful. I’ll see you soon.” Shane said, blowing a kiss at the camera, his stomach flipping when Ilya raised a hand to catch it.
“Feel better.” he whispered before the call ended. Finally, feeling a bit more peaceful, Shane managed to drift back off to sleep.
~~~
By the time Shane woke up again, he’d gotten a text from Ilya saying that he’d landed.
13:48 – Lily:
“We landed. Leaving the airport now. I’ll text you when I get to the hotel.”
14:17 – Lily:
“At the hotel. We have late practice tonight before afternoon game tomorrow. Take more medicine. Check your fever. I’ll see you after the game. Text me when you wake up.”
14:22 – Jane:
“Just woke up. Have a good practice.”
14:23 – Lily:
“Feeling any better?”
14:24 – Jane:
“No. Freezing. Hurts.”
14:25 – Lily:
“I’m sorry, dorogoy. Drag yourself out of bed, take your medicine, eat something, drink your tea, and lay on the couch until I can come take care of you.”
14:26 – Jane:
“The bed is where it’s safest. It’s warm in here.”
14:26 – Lily:
“There’s a reason I sent you a blanket and fuzzy socks. Let your mom take care of you for now.”
14:27 – Jane:
“Okay. Have fun at practice.”
Shane groaned, especially since he knew Ilya was right. Shane swung his legs out of bed, wincing as his feet hit the ground. Somehow, even that simple contact sent pain radiating up his body.
The blanket Ilya had sent him that he’d gone to bed wrapped in had ended up in a mound on the floor. He bent down to pick it up and wrap it around his shoulders, then regretted it when the change in altitude made his head spin. He groaned again, reaching a hand out to stabilize himself on the bed. Once the world had finally stopped spinning, Shane wrapped the blanket tightly around his trembling shoulders and slowly made his way into the living room where his parents were sitting at the kitchen table eating lunch.
“Hi, honey. How’re you feeling?” Yuna asked, getting up from her seat when Shane didn’t make an effort to walk into the kitchen and, instead, flopped down onto the couch.
“Same. Bad.” He mumbled, sighing as she pressed her hand to his forehead.
“Still too warm. Are you ready to eat something?” she asked, not bothering to wait for an answer before going back into the kitchen to, probably, heat up some of the leftover soup.
“No, but yes.” He said with a shrug. He wasn’t even remotely hungry, but he knew he had to eat if he wanted to keep taking his medicine on schedule, or he was going to have a different problem. The last thing he needed was to have the medicine make him nauseous and vomit when his throat already felt like it had been clawed by a tiger.
“Wanna watch something to take your mind off things?” David asked, leaving Yuna to tend to things in the kitchen.
“Anything’s fine.” Shane muttered, shooting his dad a weak smile when he opened the YouTube app on Shane’s TV and typed in “Ilya Rozanov highlights”.
“If anything will distract you, this’ll be it.” David teased, making Shane chuckle softly.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of medicine, tea, hockey highlights, and frequent dozing on the couch. When it was late enough that Ilya should’ve been done with practice, Shane finally picked up his phone again to text him.
20:32 – Jane:
“Good practice?”
20:57 – Lily:
“Yes. Ready to beat your team tomorrow.”
20:58 – Jane:
“You wish.”
20:59 – Lily:
“Will be much easier without you. Less fun though.”
21:00 – Jane:
“Yeah, I heard in your interview the other day.”
21:01 – Lily:
“All true. How’re you feeling?”
21:03 – Jane:
“Less freezing. Everything still hurts. I really need to shower, but I don’t think I can stand up that long.”
21:04 – Lily:
“Don’t worry, I’ll help. You should go to sleep so you can watch me beat your team tomorrow.”
21:06 – Jane:
“I’m about to. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Good luck. But not too much luck.”
21:08 – Lily:
“Goodnight, Shane.”
21:09 – Jane:
“Goodnight, Ilya.”
~~~
Shane managed to sleep in again the next morning, leaving only about two hours between when he woke up and when the game was supposed to start. Knowing he needed to get up so he could go watch the game, he dragged himself out of the bed, ate some of the chicken noodle soup Ilya had sent over that his mom was more than happy to heat up, took some medicine, and had a popsicle before settling onto the couch between his parents to watch the game.
They were barely five minutes into the first period, and it was obvious that Ilya was playing terribly. He was skating sloppily, missing easy shots, he wasn’t playing aggressively, it took him longer than usual to recover each time he was checked, and he looked like he was moving through molasses.
Shane couldn’t figure out what was going on with him. He hadn’t mentioned anything about being hurt, which was the only way Shane could explain his lackluster playing.
That is, until the camera finally zoomed in on Ilya’s face and Shane’s heart nearly stopped in his chest. His face was flushed darker than it should’ve been from sheer exertion; his nose was a darker red than it should’ve been from the cold, and his brows were furrowed in a way that they only were when he was either in a lot of pain or very turned on. The camera stayed focused on Ilya long enough that Shane saw as he doubled over coughing, which nearly sent him tumbling into a heap on the ice from the effort of keeping himself upright. Even before seeing that display, it was glaringly obvious to Shane that their nightmare had come true; Ilya had mono. The flush of his cheeks was the same one that Shane had been seeing in the mirror for days, so he was certainly running a high fever. The pained expression suddenly made sense, and he’d probably spent the last day scrubbing at his nose. Since Ilya had broken his nose so many times, every time he was even remotely sick, it went straight to his head, leaving him hopelessly congested.
Suddenly, Dr. Martin’s voice echoed in Shane’s head, reminding him of the reason he was benched for a month. Having any intense physical contact while you have mono means you run the risk of rupturing your spleen. Shane immediately forgot about how bad he was feeling; he just knew he had to find a way to get Ilya off the ice.
“Shane?” Yuna asked, sounding slightly panicked as she sensed the change in Shane’s breathing.
“Mute it, please.” Shane asked pleadingly, already pulling out his phone and pulling up Dr. Martin’s contact.
“What’s going on, Shane?” David asked, his gaze jumping between Shane and Yuna.
“Look at him. He caught it from me and now he’s gonna rupture his spleen because he’d rather die than tell anyone he’s sick. Please mute the TV, I have to get him off the ice.” Shane told them, his voice wavering as he dialed Dr. Martin with shaky fingers. Thankfully, his parents muted the TV, and she picked up after a few rings.
“Mr. Hollander? What’s going on? Are you feeling worse?” she asked, clearly worried about him even though he wasn’t even on the ice.
“I know you’re the team doctor, but you still have to abide by that doctor-patient confidentiality thing, right?” Shane asked quickly, not bothering with pleasantries.
“Of course. What’s going on?” she asked, now beginning to sound as panicked as Shane felt.
“I know you’re our team doctor, but I need you to do whatever you can to get Rozanov off the ice. Fake an emergency, I don’t care. Just please get him off the ice.” Shane pleaded as he blinked away the tears that had sprung to his eyes.
“Can I ask why?” she asked, even though Shane could hear the background noise on her end of the call getting much louder as she, presumably, walked out towards the rink.
“He has mono. There’s no way he told his team doctor and if he’s at risk of rupturing his spleen, like you told me, then he needs to get off the ice now.” Shane told her, his cheeks flushing at the vague admittance of their relationship.
“How could you possibly know that? And how could he have gotten it?” she asked quickly. “Unless…” she added, then trailed off as the reality of what was really going on dawned on her. “Ohhh.”
“That’s why I mentioned the… confidentiality thing. Just please get him off the ice.” Shane pleaded.
“Shane, calm down. Don’t work yourself up. I’m going to find his team doctor right now.” She promised.
Shane’s eyes stayed glued to the TV screen, his gaze not leaving Ilya. Dr. Martin had stopped talking to Shane, but she still had the phone close to her, because Shane could hear as she started talking to someone else.
“Dr. Darrow, I know this may sound like a strange request, but we need to get Ilya Rozanov off the ice right now. He has mono.” Shane heard her say, followed by an obvious sharp intake of breath.
“He has what? Why wouldn’t he tell me that?” Shane heard the other doctor exclaim.
“I have no idea, but he’s already taken too many hits. Get him off the ice.” Dr. Martin ordered.
It went quiet for a few moments until Shane heard Dr. Darrow’s voice again.
“Coach, Rozanov has to come out for evaluation. We believe he has mono.” She said.
“We’re in the middle of the game. He’s not coming out until the first intermission.” Shane heard Ilya’s coach say, making his stomach turn. He was going to throw up.
“Coach, respectfully, unless you want your captain rushed into emergency surgery when his spleen ruptures, you will take your time-out right now and get him the fuck off the ice!” Shane heard Dr. Martin exclaim, making him freeze right before his anxious nausea hit its peak.
“I’m sorry, who’re you?” coach asked.
“Metros team doctor. It’s a long story, don’t ask, But we’re certain. Get. Him. Off.” She demanded, not taking no for an answer. Shane swore right then that he was going to send her the most expensive fruit basket he could find. It went quiet for a moment before Shane heard the coach heave a heavy sigh.
“Fine.” He mumbled, then Shane watched on TV as the Raiders called a timeout, and Ilya was motioned off the ice. He looked confused but Shane could see the relief in his eyes. The cameras followed him as he bypassed the benches and was escorted back to the locker rooms by both team doctors.
“He’s off, Shane.” Dr. Martin told him, and Shane finally breathed a sigh of relief and slumped back onto the couch, exhausted.
“I saw. Thank you so much. Can I talk to him?” Shane asked once the background noise faded out, meaning they were out of the rink.
“Yeah. Here he is.” She said, handing over the phone to Ilya.
“Shane?” Ilya asked, confusion evident in his rough voice as he accepted the call.
“Baby.” Shane breathed in relief, then; “What the hell is wrong with you?” Shane exclaimed, then groaned when it hurt his throat.
“I am sorry. I thought I could manage.” He mumbled, sniffling into the phone.
“You could’ve died, Ilya. If you got hit and ruptured your spleen, you could’ve died.” Shane mumbled, thumbing away the tears that finally fell.
“I’m sorry.” He repeated, probably not having the energy for any other response or explanation.
“Text me your hotel information. You’re stuck here for at least a month and you’re not staying by yourself in a hotel room.” Shane said in a tone that meant he wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“Okay. I’ll call you later.” He promised before handing the phone back to Dr. Martin.
“Shane? Dr. Darrow is going to do the same examination that I did on you, and then he’ll be sent home. Is there anywhere he can go other than back to his hotel?” she asked, and Shane immediately glanced over at his dad, who was already getting off the couch and grabbing his coat.
“I’ll go get him. Just tell me where I’m going.” David promised, giving Shane’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as he passed.
“Thank you.” Shane whispered, although he wasn’t sure if he was saying it to his dad or Dr. Martin or both.
“You did good, Shane. I’ll see you later.” Dr. Martin said before the call ended.
Shane dropped his phone onto the couch next to him and practically melted into the cushions, pressing his fingertips against his brow as his headache came back full force.
“Fuck.” He mumbled under his breath.
“He’s alright now, honey. You did a good job.” Yuna mumbled as she reached over to ruffle Shane’s hair and press the back of her hand to his forehead. She didn’t say anything, but she got up to retrieve more Tylenol.
They watched the rest of the game in relative silence. As soon as Ilya texted Shane his hotel information, he sent it straight to his dad, who said he was already at the rink and would take Ilya back to his hotel to collect his things before bringing him to Shane’s.
Without both of their captains, the game was relatively well matched, with Boston managing to pull out a 3-2 win in overtime.
About halfway through overtime, it was announced that Ilya was benched for a month with mono, and the announcers immediately began speculating where he’d gotten it from. Thankfully, their speculation seemed to center around the All-Star game and how he probably managed to share a water bottle with Shane by accident. However, it was also announced that Ilya was being sent home with family to recover, and they were also speculating as to what family he could possibly have in Montreal since he definitely wasn’t getting on a plane in his current state. Thankfully, that mystery seemed to have them stumped.
Shane dozed on the couch as he waited for his dad to get home with Ilya while his mom watched some kind of cooking show. When Shane heard the key turn in the door, though, he sat up so fast, his head spun.
David entered first and Ilya trailed behind him looking like a sad, lost puppy. His face was ghostly pale, except for his bright red cheeks and nose, and he was walking like every step hurt. Speaking from experience, it probably did.
He was bundled up in what looked like every warm thing he owned. There was a beanie pulled low over his curls; he was wrapped in a hoodie, and grey sweatpants. Shane’s heart broke at the sight.
Even though it was obvious Ilya felt like death warmed over, when he caught sight of Shane, his eyes lit up ever so slightly and the corners of his mouth pulled up into a slight grin. Shane smiled sleepily back at him and held a hand out to him.
“Come here.” Shane mumbled, letting out a soft, “Oof”, when Ilya flopped down boneless on top of him. “How do you say, “You’re an idiot”, in Russian?” Shane asked softly after a few moments, pulling the beanie off Ilya’s head to run his fingers through his sweaty curls.
“Ty idiot.” Ilya mumbled, making Shane wince at how congested and raspy his voice sounded. He was sure his own voice sounded equally like he’d gargled with gravel, but he hoped this wouldn’t also turn into a sinus infection for the man who was already prone to them because of how many times he’d broken his nose.
“Ilya, honey, have you eaten?” Yuna asked, making Shane smile with how quickly she’d seemingly jumped on board with this whole thing. Ilya shook his head, not moving from where he was buried in Shane’s shoulder.
“You have to eat something. You need medicine. You’re burning up.” Shane mumbled, kissing Ilya’s forehead.
“How can you tell? You also have fever.” he grumbled, sounding like a petulant child.
“Because I have eyes.” he whispered then quickly had to turn away to cough into his shoulder, wincing when it scraped his raw throat.
“You need tea.” Ilya mumbled with a gentle poke to Shane’s ribs.
“You need to stop worrying about me after the stunt you pulled tonight.” Shane bit back, grimacing slightly when his worry came out as irritation. He felt Ilya wince in his arms and started to pull away, but Shane just tightened his hold. “I’m not mad. I was just scared.” Shane whispered reassuringly to him, continuing to stroke his hair until he felt Ilya relax into his embrace again.
“Sorry.” he said, nuzzling his face into the crook of Shane’s neck with a sniffle.
“Will you both eat some soup and drink some tea?” Yuna asked softly since it seemed like they’d both forgotten she was standing there, still trying to mother Ilya.
“Yeah. Thank you, mom.” Shane offered her a thankful smile which she returned before going off to the kitchen to make herself busy.
“Shane? Where do you want this?” David asked. Shane craned his neck over the back of the couch, fighting back a groan of pain, to see that he was gesturing to Ilya’s bag.
“In my room. Thank you.” Shane said, sending his dad a look that he hoped conveyed how thankful he was that he’d gone to retrieve Ilya. “How’re you feeling?” Shane asked softly once both of his parents were occupied.
“Like shit.” he mumbled eloquently. Shane couldn’t help but huff a small laugh.
“Very descriptive.” Shane deadpanned.
“Cold. Whole body hurts. Can’t breathe. English is too hard.” he mumbled, finally coming up from Shane’s neck for air. “Scared of your parents.” he admitted shyly, immediately going back into the safety of Shane’s neck.
“They’re getting used to the idea of us. They just want to make sure you’re safe. Like I do.” Shane promised, finding one of Ilya’s hands that was fisted in Shane’s shirt and tangling their fingers together. “Do you need anything?” Shane asked, knowing Ilya would tell him but not his parents.
“Tissues.” Ilya mumbled, punctuating the statement with a sniffle, removing his head from Shane’s shoulder again to scrub at his nose with the cuff of his hoodie.
“Hey dad?” Shane called as David reentered the room. “Can you grab the tissue box off my nightstand?” he asked, getting a thumbs up in response before David disappeared again.
“Hollander.” Ilya whined, blushing in embarrassment.
“Hush.” Shane ordered, grabbing the box his dad handed over the back of the couch. He pulled out a handful and passed them to Ilya, who was still trying to become one with Shane’s collarbone and looked like he would rather disappear into the recesses of the couch than blow his nose in the same room as Shane’s parents. “Hey.” Shane started softly, shushing Ilya with a hand in his hair. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.”
Shane didn’t know any intimate details about the things Ilya’s father had done to him, but judging by how Ilya handed any type of injury or illness, Shane could guess that he wasn’t allowed to show any type of weakness without fear of repercussions. When he still looked skeptical, Shane leaned down and kissed his forehead then the tip of his nose.
“You’re safe with me.” And then Ilya fucking Rozanov blushed a color that rivaled Shane’s usual flush. It was truly one of the cutest things Shane had ever seen. Thankfully, he didn’t need any more convincing, although he didn’t turn any less red until he’d stuffed the bundle of used tissues into his hoodie pocket.
He finally relaxed after that, rolling off of Shane’s lap to curl up next to him on the couch, his head resting on Shane’s shoulder, one hand patting Shane’s lap to find his hand to tangle their fingers together again as they both turned to the TV to watch Yuna’s cooking show until she came back in with their soup.
“Try to eat at least half. Then you’re both getting medicine and going to bed.” She told them, setting the bowls down before retreating into the kitchen, presumably to dose out the medicine or maybe make tea.
Neither of them were very hungry, but they picked up their bowls and started to eat slowly. At the very least, it seemed to warm Ilya up from the inside since Shane could feel his shivering lessen slightly.
When Yuna came back with tea and medicine, as Shane had guessed, Ilya smiled shyly up at her.
“Is very good. Thank you.” he mumbled, then flushed when she ruffled his hair affectionately.
“You’re welcome, honey. Can I get you anything?” she asked. Ilya didn’t say anything at first, but he glanced at Shane out of the corner of his eye.
“It’s okay.” Shane whispered, giving him a gentle nudge in the ribs.
“If there’s ice cream left?” Ilya asked shyly, getting a wide smile from Shane, proud that he’d actually asked for something he wanted.
“Of course.” she smiled kindly at him and immediately went to scoop out a bowl.
It seemed that the promise of ice cream spurred Ilya on to finish his dinner. He ditched the spoon entirely and brought the bowl up to his mouth, sipping the soup until it was drained.
When he finally put the bowl down, there was a droplet of soup that had escaped and was making its way down his chin. Before he could get it himself, Shane reached out, swiped at it with his thumb, then popped his thumb in his mouth to catch it. When Ilya just gazed at him, open-mouthed, Shane giggled.
“You are not allowed to do hot things when we are this sick.” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant toddler.
“Awww.” Shane muttered teasingly, leaning over to kiss Ilya’s cheek, grinning when Ilya’s head tipped to follow Shane’s lips when he pulled away.
“You are being asshole again.” Ilya huffed, poking his bottom lip out in a dramatic pout.
“You’re cute.” Shane beamed even though his wide smile hurt his cheeks a bit.
“Here you go, sweetheart. Shane, you want a popsicle?” Yuna asked when she came back in. He thought about it for a second, but he figured eating a popsicle in front of Ilya after the conversation they just had would be a different brand of torture.
“I’m good with tea. Thanks, mom.” Shane said, then gestured to the other end of the couch they’d been sitting on before going to retrieve Ilya. “We’re good. You guys can sit and relax.” he told them. They seemed skeptical for a moment, but Shane seemed perfectly content with his soup and tea, and Ilya seemed thrilled to be eating his ice cream pressed against Shane’s side. They finally sat down on the couch next to each other and watched the cooking show.
Once Shane finished his soup, he tossed back the cup of medicine, handing Ilya his as well so he could get the taste out of his mouth with the rest of his ice cream, then he started sipping his tea, sighing heavily and drooping further into the couch in relief when it almost immediately soothed his throat.
After a few minutes, Ilya placed his empty bowl on the coffee table and curled further into Shane’s side, burying his head in the crook of Shane’s neck. In moments, he was snoring, his congested puffs of breath coming out hot on Shane’s skin.
Shane slowly moved one arm out from under Ilya to wrap around his shoulders, running his fingertips gently up and down Ilya’s back.
“He’s gonna need a decongestant before this turns into a sinus infection, too. He gets them all the time.” Shane whispered to his parents. His mom immediately pulled out her phone, presumably to add it to the grocery list.
“More liquid medicine?” she asked and Shane nodded.
Shane let Ilya sleep on his shoulder while he finished drinking his tea, but after a few minutes, he also started drooping. When he almost fell asleep holding his mug of tea then flinched so hard he startled Ilya awake he knew it was time to go to bed.
“Let’s go to sleep.” Shane whispered and Ilya nodded sleepily. He pulled himself upright with a wince, pressing his fingertips into the space underneath his eyes.
“Goodnight, boys. Let us know if you need anything.” Yuna said as she watched them both slowly stand up, stretch, and stumble off into Shane’s bedroom. She laughed softly to herself when she heard them flop down on the bed with a groan.
“They’ve got each other. Let’s go to bed.” David said, giving his wife’s leg a pat. Exhausted herself from the last few days, she nodded and got up with him to head to bed.
“You have to actually get under the covers, Ilya.” Shane grumbled as he tried to pull back the blankets to crawl into bed and couldn’t because Ilya was lying on top of them.
“Hurts to move.” he whined, peering up at Shane through his lashes, pouting at him.
“Come on, you big baby.” Shane huffed. He wasn’t above physically rolling Ilya, but he wasn’t sure he could in his current state and with Ilya’s fever and how sensitive he was to movement and touch, he didn’t want to risk hurting him.
“Your big baby.” Ilya mumbled, making Shane freeze. They'd gotten more comfortable with casual affection and the occasional term of endearment (usually from Ilya in Russian), but Ilya said this so casually and openly that it floored Shane for a minute until he managed to shake himself out of his stupor.
“Yeah, you are.” he mumbled fondly. “So, get under the covers so I can hold you.” he added, not above a bit of bribery. That seemed to get Ilya moving, although it was still slow going. Every movement made him grimace in pain as his muscles screamed at him.
“Do you hurt this bad?” Ilya asked through gritted teeth.
“I mean... it’s bad but you also played almost a full period of hockey today, so I’m sure you’re in more pain than me.” Shane reasoned, unable to resist another slight jab about how stupid he’d been to play.
“Yes, yes. I am idiot.” Ilya grumbled, finally collapsing under the covers next to Shane. A few of his curls were sticking to his head with sweat from the effort. Once he was finally settled back against the pillows, Shane wrapped himself around Ilya like an octopus.
“You scared the shit out of me.” he mumbled into Ilya’s shoulder, his voice catching as tears sprung to his eyes.
“Sorry, malysh. I did not mean to.” Ilya apologized, rubbing Shane’s back soothingly.
“I thought... do you know what could’ve... I can’t.” Shane cried, cutting himself off halfway through each sentence, unable to voice the “what if’s”. Ilya just held him tighter and pressed kisses to Shane’s hair.
“I am fine, Shane. Feel like shit, but am fine.” Ilya reassured him, but Shane just shook his head until his vision went fuzzy.
“Don’t do that again. I can’t handle watching you hurt like that.” Shane whispered, making Ilya cock his head to the side, slightly confused. No one has ever said something like that to him before.
“Why not?” he asked, and Shane’s head shot up.
“Because I...” he started to exclaim, then practically choked on his words, his eyes going comically wide before he buried his face into Ilya’s chest to hide from what he’d almost said, like the words were chasing him.
“Shane?” Ilya asked breathlessly, sensing what Shane had been about to say and hoping with every ounce of his being that he was right.
“I’m sorry.” came Shane’s muffled cry from Ilya’s chest, mistaking Ilya’s tone as terror and thinking he’d said too much and scared him.
“Shane.” Ilya breathed, his breath hitching in his chest as he managed to wiggle two fingers under Shane’s chin so he could tilt his head up and meet Shane’s eyes. When he did, he noticed that Ilya was crying too, but he was smiling.
“I love you, too.” Ilya whispered, his grin widening when Shane barked a wet laugh.
“How’d you know that’s what I was gonna say?” he asked breathlessly, unable to stop smiling.
“I know you, moya lyubov.” Ilya said before he was promptly cut off by Shane’s lips on his.
“God, I love you so much.” Shane mumbled against his mouth.
“Makes sense we have kissing disease.” Ilya teased, pressing his grin into Shane’s cheek, making Shane snort a laugh.
“No sense in staying apart. We both already have it.” Shane said with a shrug, pressing another soft kiss to Ilya’s lips, knowing that Ilya would never ask Shane to stop kissing him but also knowing that Ilya absolutely could not breathe through his nose. “Can I take your temperature?” Shane asked after a moment, feeling the heat rolling off Ilya in waves even through his own fever. He nodded and reluctantly let Shane roll over and grab the thermometer from the bedside table. He wiped it down on the sheet and popped it under Ilya’s tongue, who clearly hadn’t thought this through, as he struggled to breathe. “It won’t take long.” Shane mumbled, running a soothing hand through Ilya’s hair to calm him when he started to panic.
Thankfully, it finally beeped and Shane quickly pulled it out, wincing in sympathy when Ilya gasped for breath.
“39.6°. That’s bad, Ilya. Especially with Tylenol in your system.” Shane muttered as he started to anxiously toy with his lower lip with his teeth.
“Sleep it off. Relax. Lay down.” Ilya mumbled sleepily, grabbing Shane’s shirt to pull him down. Thankfully, Shane went easily into Ilya’s arms, sighing happily when Ilya burrowed into him.
Shane reached over and turned the light off, plunging them into peaceful darkness. They both breathed sighs of relief, not having realized how bad the light was hurting their heads. Ilya slipped his hand under Shane’s shirt and began tracing mindless patterns on Shane’s chest to lull them both to sleep.
After a few minutes, Ilya thought Shane had fallen asleep and he was almost there himself when he heard Shane clear his throat softly.
“Ilya?” he asked, sounding shy.
“Yes, Shane?” he replied, letting his hand relax on Shane’s chest, right above his heart.
“Does this mean you’re my boyfriend?” Shane asked softly. Ilya didn’t need the lights on to know that Shane was blushing scarlet.
“Yes. I think so. Probably. Do you want to be?” he asked, a hint of insecurity creeping in that probably wouldn’t have made it past his lips if not for his fever.
“I do.” Shane admitted, glancing up at Ilya in the dark, his eyes shining.
“We are boyfriends, then.” Ilya said simply, but Shane could tell he was smiling. “How do we do that?” he asked after a few moments of silence. Shane felt him reach up to scrub his nose. Shane reached a hand out and laid it on Ilya’s thigh, squeezing gently.
“We figure it out as we go.” he whispered, and it sounded like a promise.
“Okay, Shane. Ya tebya lyublyu.” Ilya mumbled sleepily. Shane furrowed his brow when he didn’t recognize that Russian phrase.
“What’s that?” he asked, then felt Ilya smile against his temple.
“I love you.” Ilya translated and Shane’s whole body flushed hot and he shivered.
“I love you, too.”
~~~
The pair were startled awake the next morning by Shane’s phone practically vibrating off the nightstand.
“Turn off vibrator.” Ilya groaned, rolling onto his stomach and shoving his face into his pillow before realizing he still couldn’t breathe and he had to turn his head to the side.
“It’s the phone.” Shane said through a yawn as he slapped the nightstand until he found his phone. “Hello?” Shane answered sleepily, then was immediately deafened.
“Shane fucking Hollander! You’ve been holding out on me!” Rose Landry exclaimed through the phone, making him wince.
“What’re you talking about, Rose?” Shane asked, stifling a laugh when Ilya sat up like he’d been shot at the mention of Rose Landry.
“You’re fucking Ilya Rozanov, aren’t you?” she asked, making Shane’s blood run cold.
“What’re you talking about?” he asked, shooting Ilya a scared look.
“Why is Rose Landry calling you?” Ilya asked, immediately negating Shane’s attempt at playing dumb.
“He’s in your bed, isn’t he?” Rose asked, clearly hearing his distinct Russian accent from next to Shane.
“Uh... maybe? How’d you figure it out?” he asked with a heavy sigh as he reclined back against the pillows.
“Shane, there are three people in your life with mono right now, including you. I gave it to you, and he had to get it from somewhere. Plus, I know you’re gay, so it wasn’t hard to take a guess where he got it.” she said it so casually like she hadn’t just rocked Shane’s world. If she figured it out, that meant other people could too. “But to be fair, the world as a whole seems to think you two just swapped water bottles by accident at the All-Star game, so I think your secret’s safe.” she reasoned, almost like she could sense Shane’s impending panic attack through the phone.
“I’m not awake enough for this.” Shane groaned, putting the phone on speaker and sitting it down on the bed so he could scrub his hands over his face. If you can cough to assert dominance, that’s what Ilya was doing as he coughed into his shoulder.
“Good morning, Ilya Rozanov.” Rose greeted, practically giddy.
“Hello Rose Landry.” Ilya mumbled, much less cheerfully.
“This is my worst nightmare.” Shane groaned, laying back down and throwing the comforter up over his head.
“I hear I have you to thank for feeling like I was hit by truck.” Ilya said, getting another groan from Shane.
“I’m so sorry, guys. I have no clue who started it but we’re basically all down with it. I guess we should be more careful about sharing drinks and food, huh?” she said, trying to make light of the situation.
“Mmm, probably.” Ilya agreed, and Shane finally emerged from his cocoon.
“Well, this has been delightful. Rose, insightful as always, please don’t tell anybody about this.” Shane pleaded, getting a scoff from her through the phone.
“Of course. I hope you both feel better. Ilya, I can’t wait to meet the man who makes Shane blush like a schoolgirl.” she teased, and Shane went right back under the covers.
“I would like to hear more about this, please.” Ilya chimed back in, immediately more interested in the conversation.
“I’ll DM you. I’ll talk to you both later.” she giggled.
“Bye Rose.” Shane called from under the blankets, his voice muffled, making her giggle again. Ilya already liked her in spite of himself; she liked embarrassing Shane as much as he did.
“Bye, Rose.” Ilya parroted before she ended the call.
“You two are not allowed to gang up on me.” Shane grumbled, throwing the blanket back again and glaring at Ilya.
“Is not up to you, I think.” Ilya teased, laying back down and grinning at Shane, who was too tired to argue so he just groaned and swung his legs out of bed.
“Ready for breakfast?” he asked, even though he still wasn’t hungry himself.
“Don’t wanna get up.” Ilya groaned, burrowing back under the covers with a shiver.
“How’re you feeling?” Shane asked, walking over to Ilya’s side of the bed and placing the back of his hand on his forehead.
“Cold. Body hurts. Stuffy.” He whined, punctuating the sentence with a sniffle.
“I think mom bought a liquid decongestant for you, but you have to eat to take it.” Shane said, thankful Ilya didn’t catch onto his white lie.
“Ugh, fine.” He grumbled, finally rolling out of the bed to follow Shane into the kitchen.
“Morning, boys. You’re just in time for pancakes.” Yuna announced from where she was flipping a pancake at the stove.
“Mom, you know I can’t…” Shane started before Ilya cut him off with his hands on Shane’s hips.
“Thank you, Yuna. It smells great.” Ilya said with a smile. Shane snorted, knowing full well Ilya couldn’t smell anything. “You can have pancakes, Shane. You are in perfect shape.” Ilya whispered to him, giving him a soft kiss behind his ear.
“Maybe just a couple.” Shane relented easily, still not feeling well enough to argue.
“Before you eat anything.” Yuna started, then trailed off as she placed a thermometer in front of both boys. Apparently, she’d gone out and bought a second one. Shane and Ilya both exchanged a fondly exasperated look before they popped the devices under their tongues.
They beeped at almost the exact same time and Yuna swiped them both before either of the boys could.
“Shane, down to 38.4°; good. Ilya, 39.5°.” she said, glancing at Shane to gauge his reaction since she hadn’t taken Ilya’s temperature the night before.
“Almost the same as last night.” Shane told her. “It was 39.6° before we went to bed.” Shane said, and she tutted in response.
“You’ll feel better when it comes down. Shane, how’re you feeling? Need more meds?” she asked, even though she was already pouring out a dose of Tylenol for both of them.
“Throat’s still killing me. Body aches are better. Headache’s the same.” He said, getting a nod of approval from his mom as she slid him the cap full of Tylenol along with a Ginger Ale.
“Ilya?” Yuna asked, turning to the Russian, clearly expecting a similar explanation.
“I am okay.” He mumbled shyly, immediately getting a gentle nudge in the ribs from Shane.
“Ilya.” He admonished, cocking his head in Yuna’s direction, urging him to tell her what was wrong. He sighed heavily but was clearly no match for two equally earnest Hollander gazes.
“Head feels full of cement. Body hurts. Throat hurts. Am freezing.” He admitted, getting a soft smile from Yuna as she slid two caps of liquid medicine over to Ilya.
“One of those is Tylenol. That will help your fever and the body aches. The other is a decongestant. It should make your head feel better. If it doesn’t, there’s some other things we can try.” She told him, sliding him a Gatorade. He took both like a shot and chased them with Gatorade, wincing in a way that Shane figured meant he wished he was chasing them with vodka. Ilya shook his head in disgust, his curls fluttering around his face, then winced when the movement jarred his head. Shane wordlessly moved his hand up to run his fingers through Ilya’s hair, watching as Ilya leaned into the touch like a cat.
“Breakfast is almost ready. You two go get settled on the couch with a movie or something. We’ll bring it to you.” Yuna told them, giving the top of Shane’s head a kiss and rubbing Ilya’s back.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hollander. This is probably strange for you.” Ilya mumbled sheepishly, ducking his head and not meeting her gaze as he got up to retreat to the couch along with Shane.
“You’re important to Shane. That means you’re important to us, honey. And please, it’s Yuna.” She told him in an only slightly scolding tone. He blushed and nodded as he followed Shane into the living room.
They settled on the couch, Ilya curling up half on Shane’s chest. Shane wrapped an arm around Ilya’s shoulders, dragging his fingertips up and down Ilya’s back, smiling when he sighed heavily and Shane felt all of the tension leave his body.
“Ya tebya lyublyu.” Ilya mumbled into Shane’s chest, then turned his head to press a kiss to Shane’s arm, the only unclothed part of his body he could reach in this position.
“I love you, too.” Shane mumbled, leaning down to kiss the top of Ilya’s head, missing the way his parents whirled around to look at each other after hearing the declaration of love from their son. There were tears in Yuna’s eyes, having wanted for so long for her son to find someone who would love him the way he deserved to be loved. Of course, she was emotional to see that he’d finally found it. David smiled at her, coming around to her side of the counter to press a kiss to his wife’s temple before disappearing into the bathroom and coming back with a damp rag.
Without a word to Yuna, he crossed into the living room and cleared his throat when he came to a stop behind the couch.
“Here, son. This may be cold, but it’ll help.” David said, drawing the attention of both boys as he leaned down to place the cool cloth on the back of, not Shane’s, but Ilya’s neck. Shane sucked in a breath, trying not to tear up at how casually David called Ilya his son before chancing a glance at Ilya, who did have tears shining in his eyes.
“Thank you, David.” He mumbled. Nobody mentioned how the words caught in his throat or the emotion in his voice. Shane wondered how long it had been since a male figure had treated Ilya gently; with the care he deserved. There had been moments where Shane wondered if he was the only one who ever had.
Deciding to give Ilya a moment to collect himself, Shane grabbed the remote off the side table and turned on Pirates of the Caribbean to have on as background noise. It wasn’t much longer before Yuna was bringing over their breakfast, David following behind her with two glasses of orange juice.
“We’re going to run out to the grocery store for a bit. If there’s anything you two can think of that you need, text us a list.” David said as he leaned down to pull a throw blanket out of the basket next to the couch, draping it over both boys then adjusting the cloth on the back of Ilya’s neck that came dislodged as he sat up to eat. They both nodded as they took the plates and promptly started cutting into the pancakes. Shane only managed one halfhearted, reluctant stare at his breakfast before his desire for comfort food won out.
They both started eating slowly, still not having much of an appetite. Shane’s parents seemed appeased that they were eating and decided they’d be fine for a bit. They left for the store after giving strict instructions to rest. It wasn’t like they had the energy for anything else, anyway.
As slowly as Shane was eating, Ilya was eating much slower. It seemed the decongestant was finally starting to work and now his nose was running like a faucet, leaving him reaching for the tissues between each bite. He finally gave up and placed the box next to him on the couch, tucked against his hip.
“At least the medicine’s working.” Shane reasoned when Ilya groaned, having to reach for the box again as he sniffled repeatedly. “Hey, quit that. It needs to get out, or you’ll end up with a sinus infection. Again.” Shane admonished him, staring pointedly at the tissues that were still clutched, unused, in his hand. Ilya shot him a halfhearted glare and pointedly blew his nose.
When he did, something up in his sinuses must have shifted because he’d barely balled up the used tissues and shoved them in his pocket before he was scrambling for another handful to sneeze into. And again. And again.
“Jesus, bless you.” Shane mumbled, reaching out to grab Ilya’s plate, steadying it before it went crashing to the ground.
“Spasibo; blyad.” Ilya grumbled as he blew his nose again. Thankfully, that seemed to help, and he was able to finish his breakfast without battling his sinuses.
When they were both finished, they laid back on the couch, Shane propped up with throw pillows with Ilya draped across him like a weighted blanket. In this position, it didn’t take them long to doze off, lulled to sleep by the sound of each other’s breathing.
A little over an hour later, when David and Yuna returned from the store, that was how they found the pair. They were both snoring softly through parted lips. Ilya’s arms were wrapped tightly around Shane while Shane’s head was pillowed on one of his arms and the other was draped across Ilya’s back. Yuna couldn’t help but snap a photo of the adorable display.
They unpacked the groceries as quietly as they could before retreating into the guest room to watch TV, leaving the pair to rest on the couch.