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Ilya hadn’t meant to start babying Shane, really.
It just came naturally.
It was a late morning during the early days of the off-season and they were staying in the cottage as they tended to when they had any time off. Usually, it was a day or weekend tucked between two games.
Now, though, they had a solid few months. It was to be interrupted by brand photo shoots and interviews and other obligations here and there, but they would come home to each other at the end of the day and that was nice in it’s own right.
Ilya discarded the dirty clothes and towel from his shower in the laundry basket set up for that purpose, realizing that Shane had gotten up at some point while he had been showering.
“I hope the running water didn’t wake you.” he said as he came out to the kitchen to see Shane preparing breakfast for them, “I was going to make breakfast for us and let you sleep in.”
“You always try to let me sleep in.” Shane mused as he mixed ingredients in a bowl- Pancake batter, maybe. “It rarely works. I was about to get up when you climbed out of bed, anyways.”
“I see.” Ilya came to stand behind him, wrapping his arms around his middle and resting his chin on his shoulder, “I always try to let you sleep in because I want my baby to get some rest. You work so hard, love- you deserve it.”
He kissed his cheek, then, which Shane allowed with a hum. Tucking his chin over his shoulder, Ilya watched as he mixed what he could now more confidently identify as pancake batter, scanning the various other ingredients on the counter- cut up strawberries and small portions of chocolate chips.
“My therapist says I should be less strict with my diet, so we’re having pancakes with all the normal ingredients. Even the full amount of sugar,” Shane told his boyfriend. “It’s the off season so it feels like a good time to loosen up, I guess.”
“I agree.” Ilya squeezed him around the middle, feeling a surge of affection towards the other man. He knew how hard it was for Shane to break any routine, let alone one that he considered necessary for his success as an athlete.
But he was doing it because he was trying to be less hard on himself, and that was nice progress to see.
“I’m proud of you, sweetheart.”
Shane laughed, just softly, and Ilya furrowed his eyebrows.
“Did I say something funny?” he questioned.
“No.” Shane clarified, pausing slightly in his motions of preparing the batter as he found his next words. “Sorry, I shouldn't have laughed. It’s just that you keep talking like I’m little. You have been, here and there, since you arrived a few days ago. If you want me to regress, you can just say that.”
Ilya retracted his arms from where they were wrapped around him, stepping back slightly. He wouldn’t admit to the flush on his cheeks.
“No, it’s okay. I would never ask you to regress,” he assured, “Regression is for you, and I enjoy taking care of you when it comes. It’s not for me. I don’t mean to treat you like a kid when you don’t feel like one- I’m sorry.”
Shane stopped preparing breakfast and turned around to face him with a soft look, “Ilya, you do know that you’re allowed to want me to regress, right? You get comfort out of taking care of me like I get comfort out of being small. You’re allowed to want that.”
“It’s for you, though,” Ilya shook his head, “I will be here when you want to be small, of course, but I shouldn’t treat you like you’re already little when you’re not.”
Shane sighed, holding out his hands. Ilya stared at them for a moment before stepping forward to take them with a sigh. Once they’re standing closer, hands in each other’s,
“Your caregiver mode is a headspace like me being little is.” Shane started, “You get comfort from being needed and wanted and getting to help me. It’s been a while since I’ve regressed last- you are allowed to miss it.”
“Okay, yes. I miss it.” Ilya admitted after a moment of hesitation. Shane smiled at him, and it feels like, for just a moment, their usual roles have shifted.
“When you miss it, you can tell me and we can make plans for me to be small,” Shane said, “In a different setting or on a day where I’m busier, I probably would be bothered by you treating me like a kid without bringing it up first, but I don’t really mind it here.”
“Good. I don’t want to upset you,” Ilya told him quickly, “Sometimes, I just get the urge to tuck you in and make your sippy cup of ginger ale and everything else. It’s like my brain decides that I must provide for you now.”
Shane laughs, and it’s fond. “I like that my regression is something that you actively want, and not just something you deal with when it’s there. It reminds me that you like to take care of me. It helps me feel less self conscious.”
“If you ever do feel self conscious, please tell me so that I can remind you why you don’t need to feel that way.”
Ilya told him, and it's stern like when he’s reminding a smaller Shane of a rule. He squeezed his eyes shut when he heard himself, “I just did it again. Sorry. I can be boyfriend and not caregiver.”
“It’s okay.” Shane shrugged. He let go of his hands to turn back around, “I can finish breakfast and then I think I can slip.”
Shane’s regression was usually a voluntary affair, something he chose to do that Ilya helped him settle into. There were days that he woke up small or faded into regression while doing something simple with Ilya- baking or crafts or watching television, but that was mostly because he knew it was safe to regress whenever he felt the urge.
There was always some level of choice to it, even if it was a subconscious one made as he blinked his eyes open in the morning. And now, he was choosing to regress because Ilya missed taking care of him, and that was the sweetest thing the russian could ask for.
“If the batter is done, I can make the pancakes.” Ilya told him, voice gentle and guiding, “Little boys shouldn’t be at the stove anyways, hm?”
Shane looked back at him for a moment, and he seemed lightly annoyed. Except he’s annoyed in the scrunched-up-nose way, like when he’s small and about to insist that he wants to help or that he could do whatever it was himself.
“I’m not small yet.” he insisted when he finally decided on his words, though they fall half-flat. “I can help. I want to help, please.”
“And you’re such a sweet boy for that.” Ilya pinched his cheek, just softly, “How about you set the table for us, love? You were going to make some pancakes with strawberries in them and some with chocolate, yes?”
“Yes. Half and half.” Shane confirmed, smiling at the fact that Ilya wasn’t trying to disrupt his plan but rather help complete it for him- which had been half the reason he was protesting.
He wrung his hands up, glancing between Ilya and the pancake batter before nodding to himself, “Okay, yes. I can set the table.”
“Thank you, Shane.” Ilya told him, motioning for him to come closer. When he does, the caregiver leans in to kiss his forehead. “Okay, go on now. You should also brush your teeth if you haven’t yet.”
“I have!” Shane smiled as if to prove it, and Ilya shook his head fondly. “I love you, Ilya.”
“I love you too, baby.”
—
Ilya is a bit confused when he goes to put the pancakes and their sides on the table and he finds it set neatly with plates and silverware and cups but no Shane Hollander.
“Honey?” he called out as he puts the plates he was carrying down, glancing over to the living room in case Shane had decided to watch cartoons while waiting. When he wasn’t there, he put his hands on his hips and spun around,
“Are you hiding from me, Shane?” he stepped through the first floor and made his way towards the bedroom, poking his head in. “There you are. I thought you were sitting at the table.”
Shane sat on his knees, digging through the bottom drawer of the dresser that was saved for Ilya’s clothes whenever he was staying at the cottage with him. He seemed very focused on the task, glancing up with wide eyes at the other man when he spoke.
“I was. Sorry. I wanted to change into something cozier.” he explained, sounding apologetic.
“No worries, sweetheart.” Ilya assured, coming over to lower himself to his knees next to him. He furrowed his eyebrows, “You’re looking through my clothes for something cozy to wear?”
He smiled at the sweetness of it as he took in the sight of Shane flushing and squirming where he sat, “I was going to ask before I changed. I promise.” he squeaked out.
“I’m sure you were.” Ilya mused, bumping his shoulder against his. “What were you thinking of stealing from me, little thief?”
“It wouldn’t have been stealing if I asked and you said yes.” Shane argued, scrunching up his nose in the way he always did while annoyed and small. “Not a thief.”
He had gotten a little more defiant and sassy as he grew to be more comfortable in his regression. It went just about that far, scrunched up noses and disagreements, and not much further. He still insisted on his pleases and thank yous and usually followed along with whatever Ilya told him to do.
The russian tapped his finger to the tip of his nose, “Sure you’re not. What did you want to ask me to wear?”
Shane seemed satisfied with this amendment, pulling out the same too-big Boston Raiders t-shirt he always wanted to wear when he was small. He was very predictable.
“Okay, sweetheart. Did you want to change pants too?” Ilya asked, and Shane nodded before reaching behind him on the floor where he had already picked out a pair of basketball shorts. “We are very prepared today, I see.”
Shane hummed and shut the dresser drawer before clumsily bringing himself to his feet with his new clothes grasped in fisted hands. Ilya made quick work of following him up because the chances of Shane tripping over his own feet were too high to risk it.
“Do you want help changing, baby?” Ilya asked carefully, and Shane thought about it, shifting his weight between one foot and the other. He was still settling into regression, it seemed- old enough to be embarrassed but small enough to need the help.
“Okay.” Shane seemed to decide, nodding to himself, “Yes, please.”
After that, breakfast is pretty routine for a small morning in the cottage, fit with Shane’s dinosaur bib and Ilya taking over to help feed him. There was something different, though, about the way Shane swung his feet back and forth beneath the table and rubbed his knuckles together like he was desperately trying to avoid staying still.
He was always squirmy and fidgety while small but it seemed more exasperated than usual. Ilya hissed and pulled his leg back when Shane’s foot caught his knee under the table, giving the boy a curious look.
“Sorry!” Shane apologized, “Didn’t mean to kick you.”
“I know you didn’t, honey. Are we feeling hyper today?” Ilya questioned, and it was gentle. Shane ducked his head, just slightly,
“Maybe,” he admitted, all quiet and shy unlike he had been a moment prior. He stilled his legs and his hands, placing them in his lap and straightening his back even though no one asked him to. “Sorry.”
Ilya frowned slightly. He hadn’t intended to make him feel self conscious. He hadn’t even been teasing when he asked if he felt hyper, but it probably came off that way to the regressing boy.
“Don’t apologize, Shane. Kids are hyper sometimes.” Ilya shrugged like this were no big deal at all, even though it was different than usual, “You can kick your feet or do whatever you want with your hands- just try not to kick me or the table itself. You could get hurt.”
Shane nodded, and he brought his hands back to the table to wring them together. He doesn’t kick his feet back and forth anymore, but he’s not forcing himself to stay still, either. He still had his eyebrows furrowed like he was overthinking everything he was doing, which concerned Ilya.
“Baby?” he caught his attention, making eye contact with him when he glanced up, “You’re doing a good job. I love you.”
Some of the tension around Shane’s shoulders eased, “Thank you. I love you too.”
By the time breakfast was done with, Shane was back to flapping his hands in between tasks he was given. He told Ilya that he was around seven years old, which made him just old enough to load plastic dishes into the dishwasher.
He dropped multiple of them repeatedly and scrunched his nose up in frustration when he did, but he would bend over to pick them up and put them where they were meant to go without Ilya’s input. Ilya was able to put away any leftovers for later and take care of the pots, baking bowls, and glass plates in the time he spent lining up a few plates and cups.
“All done!” he told Shane, who beamed at him as he clapped his hands,
“All done! All done!” he echoed, repeating the phrase more than he usually would. “All done!”
“Yes, baby.” Ilya nodded, furrowing his eyebrows and tilting his head slightly.
Sometimes he would repeat a word he heard once or twice, sounding it out syllable by syllable, but three times was off-beat. Ilya decided not to point it out in favor of his boy not feeling self conscious.
“What do you want to do now, Shane?” Ilya asked, “We can play with your blocks or watch cartoons or-“
“No, thank you.” Shane shook his head, cutting him off. Then, he frowned before correcting himself, “Sorry. I want to do something fun.”
“You find those things fun most of the time when you’re small.” Ilya let himself sound confused, “Do you mean that you want to do something more active?”
“I don’t know.” Shane whined, stomping his feet under him like he did when he was a little too frustrated for his scrunched-up-nose expression.
Ilya raised his eyebrows, “Okay. Can you try to tell me how you’re feeling right now?”
“Feelings are hard.” Shane flapped his hands again.
“Fair point.” Ilya nodded, and then he tried, “Are you feeling overwhelmed? I can dim the lights some of you want.”
“No!” Shane denied immediately before his own eyes widened. He tried again, “No. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to keep apologizing, sweet boy.” Ilya told him, “How about we try going outside- just around the cottage? It’s sunny out there and you can run around. Let some energy out?”
Shane glanced over to the sliding doors as if considering this, which is further than Ilya had gotten with any of his other suggestions so far.
“There’s no one nearby to see me?” Shane already knew the answer to this, logically speaking, but he needed the reassurance. Ilya smiled,
“There is not and if there is, we can come back inside. I’ll be on the lookout. I promise.” He held his pinky out, which Shane giggled at before taking it. He was big enough to recognize it as being a silly, childish thing but small enough to find comfort in that.
“Okay. Yes, please.” he smiled, all toothy and sweet. “We have to put our shoes on.”
“Yes, we do.” Ilya agreed, “Come on. I can help you.”
He took the boy’s hand and guided him over to the front door. Shane didn’t hesitate before dropping down to sit on the floor next to where their shoes were lined up, grabbing for the tennis shoes he usually wore. He pouted then,
“There’s no socks.” he spoke these words as if they were a realization in the moment.
“They’re in the bedroom, baby. I’ll get them for us.” Ilya seemed amused by this, taking in the sight of him sat on the floor below him. “Shane, sweetheart. Can you tell me how old you’re feeling?”
Shane stared up at him, blinking like he was confused. He hummed, running one hand over the fabric of his shorts, “Four? I think, maybe.”
“That’s a great answer. Thank you, baby.” Ilya reached down to ruffle his hair before leaving him there briefly, “Stay there. I’ll be back.”
By the time he finds matching socks for Shane and whatever the first ones he grabbed were for himself, the little had vanished from his spot sat by the front door.
“Goodness gracious.” he shook his head, “I have a disappearing toddler on my hands. Shane Hollander?”
“Sorry!” he responded from the living room, and it sounds like he is digging through a bag. “I remembered a toy from when I was little that I want now. It’s in here, I think.”
Ilya walked over to see him digging through the bags of things from his childhood that they had gathered from the Hollander house while preparing to try out regression for the first time all those months ago. Shane’s bib and baby blocks came from those bags, but they didn’t usually go digging through them due to the kid liking his routines.
He typically preferred cartoons and cuddles over anything in the bag. Now, though, he had all sorts of things discarded on the floor around him as he tried to find whatever it is that he wanted.
“I could’ve helped you if you waited for me to get back.”
Ilya tsked lightly, setting the socks on the coffee table and moving some toys around so that he could sit next to the regressor.
“I can find it myself.” Shane insisted, “Sorry for not staying. I got distracted.”
“I can see that.” Ilya hummed, “I think it’s probably a good idea for me not to leave you alone, anyways.”
“Found it!” Shane gasped, pulling something plastic and noisy out of the bag. Once it’s revealed, Ilya can see that it’s a small, colorful tambourine- the sort of one you’d find in a children’s pretend music set.
Shane immediately held it in one hand and beat the palm of his other against the thin plastic, giggling delightedly at the resulting sound. “Ilya! Music!”
He played the toy instrument again, but this time closer to his caregiver’s face. Ilya smiled at him, all bright and soft, “You liked doing that when you were small? Playing music?”
“Mhm.” he nodded, tapping his fingers more lightly against the plastic to make softer sounds, “I think it annoyed my parents, though. I can put it away, now.”
“Hey, you don’t have to do that.” Ilya caught his wrists before he could shove the toy back into the bag, “Did your parents ever say that it annoyed them?”
“No.” Shane thought about it for a moment, “But it’s loud and noisy.”
“Kids are loud and noisy sometimes.” Ilya reminded, “I think maybe I understand how you’re feeling, now.”
Shane tilted his head like a curious puppy, asking a silent question.
“I’ll say what I think is going on and you can tell me if it sounds right, okay?” Ilya tried, earning a small nod. “I think that you’re the opposite of overwhelmed- overstimulated. I think you need input and noise, all the sensory stuff you sometimes struggle with.”
Shane’s face softened in relief and he nodded, “Yes, please.”
Ilya chuckled fondly, “Did you not understand that before?”
“I didn’t have the words.” Shane answered, reaching forward to grasp at his shirt, “Hug now, please?”
“Well, yes, of course.” Ilya gently took away the plastic instrument and set it to the side so that he could take the little into his arms. “Oh, there we are.”
At first, the embrace is gentle and still, but then Shane squeezes him tighter and rocks them back and forth, so Ilya mirrors him.
“Sorry.” Shane mumbled, and Ilya pulls back to get a look at his face.
“How come?” the russian questioned, “I don’t see what you have to be sorry for. I thought we talked about apologizing when you don’t have to.”
“I don’t know.” Shane bit at his lip, “I just feel bad. I’m…”
He motioned vaguely, hesitating on his next words before saying them, “Too much.”
“You could never be too much for me, love.” Ilya told him immediately, and his voice is more serious than it usually would be when Shane is small. “I like taking care of you like this just as much as I do when you’re softer and quiet. You’re still my baby. You just need something different, right now.”
He cupped the side of his face, then, and Shane leaned into it. “You’re not annoyed?” he asked, just to be sure.
“Not even a little bit.” Ilya assured. Then, he leans in to press a kiss to Shane’s forehead- then his cheek, then the other, and then everywhere else, too. In between each kiss, “I. Love. You. Too. Much. Shane. Holllander.”
The playfulness is enough to soften the edges of the moment, causing Shane to break out into giggles as he pretends to dodge the kisses. His eyes go all soft and he gives that toothy, dimply smile of his.
Ilya pulled back for a moment, his hands cupping either said of his regressor’s face, “Do you think I can kiss every single one of your freckles? Is it possible?” he asks the question faux-seriously, and Shane takes him literally, furrowing his eyebrows as he pointed out,
“My freckles are smaller than your lips and they’re too close together.” he shakes his head, bringing a hand up to his cheek to linger over his freckles. Ilya’s face lights up and he kisses his cheek again,
“That doesn’t mean I can’t try.” the caregiver let his hands fall from the boy’s face, then, “Do you want to go outside, now?”
Shane’s eyes widened, like he forgot about this, and he nodded. He looked around the living room, “I gotta clean up all the toys. Except my tambourine.”
“That sounds like a good idea.” Ilya agreed, “How about I go put my shoes on, and then when you’re done cleaning up, I’ll help you with yours?”
Shane agrees to this, and they both set to work. From his spot at the door pulling on his own shoes, Ilya is able to catch adorable glimpses of Shane toddling around the living room to clumsily gather all the toys he set out of place to put back into the bag. He bends down and sits on the floor multiple times and it’s definitely not the most efficient way to clean the living room, but it is the sweetest.
When Shane is done, he claps his hands and repeats “All Done!” a few times before plucking up his tambourine and coming over to Ilya, “Outside?” he asked.
“Almost, sweetheart.” Ilya nodded held out a pair of socks and nodded towards the shoes Shane had grabbed earlier.
Shane immediately dropped to a crouching position before sitting on the floor and tugging on his socks in a disjointed movement in the way only a toddler could. Ilya comes down to the ground with him, helping him pull on his shoes before tying one and then the other before ruffling the boy’s hair as a sign that he was done.
Shane shook his head and scrunched his nose up at his caregiver, and it has all the effectiveness of a small, angry kitten. Ilya stands up then, and Shane throws the hand not occupied with his tambourine up in the air for help.
“You can’t get up by yourself?” Ilya smiled, taking his hand and helping pull him up to his feet, teasing him lightly, “Clumsy boy.”
“You’re mean to me.” Shane told him in a tone that was about as serious as a four year old could get, but he still keeps hold of his hand once he’s standing and stays attached to him as they make their way to the sliding door.
“Oh, am I?” Ilya mused, entertaining the childish nonsense of it all and letting him keep hold of his hand. The caregiver uses his non-dominant one to open the door, stepping outside while Shane hesitates, just a little.
Ilya made a show of looking around the backyard of the cottage, narrowing his eyes as he made his scan. “It’s all clear, soldier.”
Shane giggled at this, following him outside and letting go of his hand to immediately run off in the most interesting direction he saw.
“Whoa!” Ilya went after him, “Slow down, honey, I don’t want you to fall.”
“Not gonna.” Shane told him, but he still slows down to a stop. He shakes his tambourine in one hand briefly before turning to Ilya, “We play hide and seek?”
Ilya couldn’t say no to that.
Shane’s hiding spots were sweet attempts that didn’t get him very far, but Ilya always pretended not to notice him immediately, despite the tell-tale jingling of the tambourine’s mini-cymbals. When the caregiver did catch him, he would snatch him up and tickle his sides and kiss his face while claiming to be a cuddle monster.
It was all soft and silly and nonsensical, but those were all things that Shane’s regression was meant to be.
Each time, Shane would pretend to protest against the affection before melting into it for just a moment. Then, he would decide that it was time for him to hide again and say “All done!” or “No more, please!”
He would run off and Ilya would remind him to not go too fast or trip and Shane would insist that he wouldn’t and reach out for a hug when he inevitably did tumble over his own feet. The caregiver didn’t bother with “I told you so”-s and kissed his unscraped knees and hugged him until he got bored and decided that he wanted to play again.
Ilya tried hiding once, but Shane got pouty when he couldn’t find his caregiver and scared when he jumped out from behind a tree. Ilya hugged him and promptly decided he would not be hiding again if it meant his boy would get that sad.
“Found you!” Ilya wrapped his arms around Shane’s middle as the boy broke out into giggles again, “You’ve been captured by the cuddle monster. I’ve got you and there will be no escaping!”
“You- you say that every time,” Shane managed between laughter as Ilya squeezed him and lifted him off of his feet, “And I keep escapin’.”
Ilya put the boy back on his feet and spun him around by his shoulders, and Shane took a moment to steady himself in the movement. He tapped his fingers against the flat plastic of his tambourine, swaying on his feet.
“Oh.” Ilya took in the sight of him, “Are you getting sleepy, sweetheart?”
“No.” Shane denied immediately, rubbing at his eye with one hand. Then, clearly feeling a bit guilty, he admitted, “A little, but I wanna keep playing, please.”
“Ah, I see.” Ilya clicked his tongue, “How about I give you a piggy back ride and run us all over the yard to get the rest of our energy for playtime out, and then we’ll have a nap? I’m sure Baby Lily misses you and could use all the cuddles.”
If Shane were a little bigger, this wouldn’t work nearly as well on him. But he was small and softened by the mention of his stuffed animal, so he reached out with grabby hands and a soft nod.
Ilya spun around and crouched down so that Shane could wrap his arms around his waist and throw his arms over his neck, telling him to hold on tightly as he stood upright. The regressor melted into his back.
Shane had admitted, just once while a bit drunk, that he sometimes wished Ilya could carry him while he was smaller. Ilya immediately told him that that was entirely possible and that he just needed to ask for things like that.
Shane wasn’t always the best at asking for or even admitting to what he wanted, though, so Ilya made it a point to offer him all the soft, gentle things that embarrassed him.
Ilya then broke out into a run, careful but still energetic in his strides. Shane giggled, holding on tight to his caregiver just as he had been instructed to. Ilya climbed up to stand on a flat-top rock before jumping down to land on his feet, smiling when Shane squealed delightedly at the movement.
The whole time, the loosely gripped tambourine jingled it’s cymbals. The entire ordeal is coated in sunshine and dipped in honey, really. Soft, sweet, silly, and simple.
Ilya then spun around again and again, pretending like he was going to drop the boy before resecuring his hands where they sat on Shane’s legs, holding him in place. As he finished spinning, the giggling little on his back held him tighter and shouted,
“Mama, I’m dizzy.” he said, but he’s laughing and clearly delighted. He requested, and childish and sweet, “No more spinning, please.”
Ilya did just that, his heart going soft at his words, “Okay, baby. Let’s put you down.”
The caregiver crouched down to let him return to his feet, moving slowly so that Shane didn’t tumble or slip. Then, he turns around to help the regressor steady himself on his feet.
“This was fun.” Shane told his caregiver, and the way he’s smiling tells the other man that he means it- all toothy and dorky in the way only a small toddler could be.
“I’m glad you’re having fun, baby.” Ilya told him, cupping the sides of his face, “What did you say, just now? When I was spinning us?”
Ilya was hoping he hadn’t been hearing things.
“No more spinning, please?” Shane sounded confused by the request to repeat himself as Ilya never questioned the way his voice sounded or how he spoke when he was small.
“Before that, love.” Ilya corrected him gently. Shane pouted like he was worried that he had done something wrong, “I just wanna make sure I heard you right. You’re not in trouble, sweet boy.”
Shane flushed as shifted his weight between one foot and the other as he realized what he said, what Ilya was referring to.
They hadn’t really discussed a caregiver title beyond Ilya simply serving the role. They agreed, once, that they didn’t like the idea of “Daddy” and that Ilya didn’t like “Papa” because he associated it with his own father. That’s where the conversation ended, though.
Until now, at least.
“Sorry.” Shane shook his head, dropping his tambourine and wringing his hands together like he sometimes did when he was distressed, “Wasn’t thinking. We were playin’ and I didn’t mean to-“
“Hey, hey.” Ilya tutted lightly, interrupting his rambling before he could work himself to tears. “You don’t have to think when you’re small and I’m taking care of you. That’s the whole point of you being my baby, hm?”
“Mm.” Shane mumbled, bringing his hands up to lay over Ilya’s ones on his face. He doesn’t pull them away, just settling into the touch and covering up more of his flushed skin, all but whispering his next words: “I called you Mama.”
“Yeah?” Ilya smiled after hearing him say it again. “How long have you been wanting me to be your Mama?”
Shane shrugged, “Long time. Didn’t want to be too much. Sorry.”
“Oh, Shane. You don’t have to be sorry.” Ilya’s voice cracked around the edges, at the idea that a soft and vulnerable and sweet label like that being something Shane was tucking away. He pulled his hands away from the regressors face to instead pull him into a hug,
“You’re never too much, okay? I can be your mama if you want me to be.”
Shane buried his face in the book of Ilya’s neck, the skin above his collar bone, melting into the embrace like he was soft and made of clay. It’s clumsy. It’s sweet.
Ilya was willing to bet that the boy was feeling a lot smaller, now.
“Love you.” Shane managed, and Ilya swayed them a bit in the movement.
“Love you too, baby.” he told him, “Say it again?”
Shane pulled back just a bit to look up at him with furrowed eyebrows, as if questioning the idea that he could want to be called such a name.
“It’s sweet.” Ilya told him, “Please? Only if you want to, of course but-“
Shane giggled and cut him off, poking him in the chest, “Mama, you’re rambling.”
“I suppose I was.” Ilya smiled at him, all bright and soft at the edges. He pinched the little’s cheek, “I’m taking after you, hm?”
Shane blinked at him slowly, giving a clumsy nod, not even complaining about being pinched like he usually did. It was never a serious affair, but he usually made a fuss about it and pushed Ilya’s hands away.
“I think that means it’s time to go inside.” Ilya chuckled, “Grab your tambourine. It’s nap time, now.”
Shane follows every instruction given, his movements slower and less coordinated than before, as Ilya has them go inside and helps him get his shoes off. The tambourine is placed back with all the other toys in the bag that remained under the living room coffee table indefinitely.
Ilya sits Shane on the coach and hands him the remote as if he was thinking hard enough to consider the idea of what cartoon to watch. He simply ran his fingers over the buttons while waiting for his caregiver to return and when he did, he gasped, holding his hands out.
“Baby Lily wanted to join us for nap time,” Ilya told him, laying a blanket over him and handing the stuffed animal over.
Ilya guided him in holding her like a baby, watching the little rock the stuffed animal and smile at the rattling from the bell inside of her. Once Shane was all settled, Ilya went to go to the kitchen.
“Mama?” Shane pouted, looking up at Ilya with doe-like eyes that were lethal combined with his freckles when he was all tucked in. Ilya thinks he looks the smallest he ever has, just then.
“Yes, baby?” Ilya asked, and he’s willing to give him whatever it is he wanted in that moment even if he’d have to kill to get it.
“Stay.” Shane said, and it’s a babyish sort of plea.
“I was going to make you a sippy cup of milk, sweet boy.” Ilya told him, “To help you sleep. It’ll be warm and I’ll put honey in it. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
This seemed to be too many words for a significantly smaller Shane, whose eyes welled up like this was the worst news he could ever hear. If Ilya going to the kitchen for a few minutes was the most devastating thing he had to worry about, though, then they were doing pretty well in terms of this giving Shane a break from his typical worries and overthinking.
“Oh-kay!” Ilya separated the syllables in a sing-songy way like he had seen Hayden Pike do with his kids when they were really small and upset. He reached out, helping Shane up, “Mama’s here. Don’t worry.”
Shane was lifted up onto the counter to swing his feet back and forth and rock Baby Lily as Ilya prepared his milk, talking to him gently and occasionally coming over to kiss his forehead or tap the tip of his nose or ruffle his hair.
“Could you even tell me how small you are if I asked?” Ilya tried, and Shane just blinked up at him. The russian nodded to himself, “I think that means ‘baby.’”
He explained what he was doing as he did it, narrating as he tipped honey and cinnamon into melt and heated it up in his favorite space-themed sippy cup. After Shane had regressed to babyspace the first few times, Ilya had tried suggesting bottles and pacifiers, but Big Shane was too shy to seriously discuss purchasing them.
So, Shane got a sippy cup full of milk to drink before nap time. Ilya decided that they would be revisiting the conversation about babyspace things.
“Let’s go to the bedroom, yes? I don’t want you rolling off of the couch and I don’t think you would pay much attention to cartoons, anyways.” Ilya talks to Shane as if he was going to protest either way, leading him to the bedroom.
He sets the sippy cup on the bedside table and dims the lights before climbing into bed with him, “We’re going to get all tucked in. If I put too many blankets on you, just stop me, okay?”
Shane does not stop Ilya, melting into the mattress under weighted blankets and softer ones and curling up into his caregiver’s side underneath all of them. He keeps Baby Lily tucked to his chest and lifts his head just enough for Ilya to give him his milk, but he makes no effort to hold up the cup or try to participate in the ordeal in any way.
“If you were bigger, you’d say that you could do this yourself.” Ilya teased him even though he wasn’t processing many of the words he heard, simply melting into the sound of Ilya’s voice. “And that’s really cute, but you’re sweet like this, too.”
Ilya felt himself getting emotional, sighing lightly with content and mush, “I can’t believe I get to take care of you. I get to be your mama, do all these things for you.”
Shane’s eyes lit up when he recognized a word, and he pulled off of the sippy cup to echo him, “Mama!”
Ilya took in a deep breath, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by his affection for the boy in his arms. He blinked away any forming tears before Shane could see them and get upset, instead opting to drop a kiss to his forehead,
“I love you so much, Shane.”
Shane babbled something back that was probably meant to be “I love you, too.”
The little was practically asleep by the time the sippy cup was empty, making himself comfortable against Ilya’s chest and sighing. He tangled a hand in Ilya’s shirt like he was begging him to stay there before promptly falling asleep.
Ilya lets himself cry a little then, but they’re all happy, sweet tears.
—
Shane, jarringly, woke up big after nap time, which usually didn’t happen. He rubbed at his eyes and sat up, not knowing what time it was or exactly what had happened before he fell asleep.
He feels Baby Lily in his arms and catches a glimpse of the sippy cup, empty and still in the bed, and he pieces everything together.
“Good morning, love. How are you feeling?” Ilya’s voice came after that, soft but still deepened by sleep.
“Big.” Shane answered first, “How long have we-“
“Hours. You tired me and yourself out.” Ilya told him, and when he frowned, “Not that it’s a bad thing. It was nice to see you so energetic, playing and running around.”
“I thought you didn’t want me running.” Shane joked.
“Not so fast that you trip, no, but it was nice to see you all kiddish and excited.” Ilya was being entirely honest, “You were so cute with your little tambourine, hiding in horrible spots in the yard.”
Shane flushed but pretended to be annoyed, “Whatever.”
“Did you have fun?” Ilya asked him, “And get to rest?”
“Yes and yes.” Shane nodded, “It was really nice. Thank you. Sorry I was understimulated and whiny and that I got that small at the end.”
“You don’t need to apologize.” Ilya reminded gently, “We found a solution to the understimulation and I love seeing you that small. I do think that maybe, we should talk about getting you a bottle or something-”
“Ilyaaa.” Shane threw his head back into the pillow dramatically, “I just woke up.”
“So did I.” Ilya pointed out with a laugh. When Shane didn’t budge, “Fine. We don’t need to do it now, but we eventually have to be more prepared for when you get that small. You get so sensitive and vulnerable and that’s perfectly okay, but I would hate to not have something you need or want when you need it.”
Shane considered this, nodding. “You really like taking care of me when I’m that little? When…when I call you ‘Mama?’”
“Yes!” Ilya replied immediately, and he’s smiling, “I love being mama. I hadn’t considered that as an option for something you could call me.”
“It’s popped up in my head a few times when I’ve been small, especially when I’m in babyspace.” he says it quietly, a soft admission. “I didn’t think I would ever say it out loud.”
“I’m glad you did.” Ilya reassured him, “You can call me mama when you’re small, whenever you’re comfortable. I only worry that Yuna Hollander may kill me if she finds out.”
The joking is enough to get Shane to laugh and to break through his embarrassment a bit. He shifts in his sport on the bed, moving to sit up, “I think she’d be happy that you take care of me. That I willingly take breaks and take care of myself better.”
“I’m happy you do those things.” Ilya nodded, “I like getting you out of your head for a while.”
Shane hummed. He glanced over at Ilya, the two of them still slowly waking up their bodies and adjusting. He smiled, “I love you, Ilya.”
The next words come as easily as they always do,
“I love you too, Shane.”