Run to Me (Run in My Veins)

by Skunkatey

Summary:

Shane has Norovirus. It’s the only reason he can think of that would have him how he is now. That is to say, kneeling on his parents’ bathroom floor with his head in the toilet, gagging and retching up whatever is left from his dinner the night before.

It has to be Norovirus, that’s the only thing that has ever made Shane this sick in his entire life. Flus don’t touch him. Not even the super bug ones that Hayden’s kids seem to get every single year. And Shane has been traveling a lot, roadtrip after roadtrip even despite how early in the season it is, he’s been in more airports than he can count and too many buses to even try.

Notes:

Hello! Please pardon any inaccuracies with the medical procedures and protocol, I’m American, idk what they do in Canada! Enjoy my first pregnant Shane fic! Certainly not my last, I have more to say about these two!

Shane has Norovirus. It’s the only reason he can think of that would have him how he is now. That is to say, kneeling on his parents’ bathroom floor with his head in the toilet, gagging and retching up whatever is left from his dinner the night before.

It has to be Norovirus, that’s the only thing that has ever made Shane this sick in his entire life. Flus don’t touch him. Not even the super bug ones that Hayden’s kids seem to get every single year. And Shane has been traveling a lot, roadtrip after roadtrip even despite how early in the season it is, he’s been in more airports than he can count and too many buses to even try.

It’s February, peak Norovirus season, that has to be it.

He gags again and his whole body lurches and trembles as bile and spittle dribble from his lips into the toilet bowl. He’d opted for staying at his parents’ place after their game against Ottawa that went shockingly poorly, a win barely eeked out in the third and Shane playing at his worst. He’s just run down from the traveling and needs to take a couple of days to rest at his parents place to get well enough to go home under his own power.

“Shane?” His mother’s voice calls softly from the bathroom door where he’d left it open and Shane sits back a little bit, panting into the water and vomit and trying not to breathe through his nose. “Honey do you need anything?” Shane lays his head on the edge of the bowl and stares at her, blinking slowly and swallowing around the acrid, bitter taste in his mouth.

“Water?” He asks weakly, fighting the hoarseness in his throat as he feels his body relax in the space between the waves of nausea. He feels bad. It’s early, the sun hasn’t even risen and he knows he’s not quiet when it comes to throwing up. His mom nods softly before turning to go toward the kitchen. This is the fourth day in a row he’s woken her up before dawn by being sick. The first day he’d locked her out, not wanting to infect her with whatever it is that he’s sick with but by the morning of the next when he was again in the bathroom retching and heaving he started to get worried about the neat little timing of everything.

Today he’s lying to himself.

Lying about how this doesn’t neatly line up with the end of his last heat cycle over two months ago. Or with how spotty his period had been two weeks ago. Both of which he tracks meticulously alongside his suppressants and birth control which he did not miss! How it doesn’t neatly line up with the last time he saw…

Another wave of nausea has Shane gagging and burping loudly into the toilet, barely tipping himself forward enough to barely make it over the water. His stomach heaves and nothing comes up, there’s nothing to come up. He’s staring at everything he ate the night before with guilt and fear and newfound, terrible nausea that doesn’t burn any lower than his esophagus.

His mom is back by his side, her hand touching his wrist to get him to take the water from her other hand as she kneels next to him.

“You’re okay,” She murmurs as soon as he takes the water and swishes some in his mouth before spitting it into the bowl. “Think you’re done?” She keeps her voice quiet as if his dad isn’t also awake, he’d heard them talking in the living room before his mom had first approached him.

“Yeah…” He breathes, fighting that sick, anxious feeling in his throat as she pumps out soothing pheromones and scents her wrist against his cheek. She smells like grassy tea and petrichor, soothing and tender and Shane presses his nose into it. There’s something else underneath it, sharp and sweet, his father’s scent mingling with her own, blanketing him in all the childhood comfort and love he could possibly want or need.

He wants to tell her what he really thinks this is. He wants to ask if she can get him a… test… but if he says anything about it out loud that makes it true and he won’t be able to continue lying to himself that this is just Norovirus.

“What is it?” She can always read right through him. She can probably smell it in his scent, his own marzipan and petrichor burning around the edges with anxiety along with the sickly turn to it that’s been there since he arrived at his parents’ home. Shane looks at the door, turning to sit with his back against the wall before getting a couple of squares of toilet paper to wipe his mouth.

“Close it…” His voice is almost inaudible as he nods his chin toward the door and flicks the lever on the toilet. “Don’t…” The door clicks closed behind the sounds of the toilet flushing. “Don’t tell dad.” His mother locks the door when he says that and comes back to sit next to him.

“Shane.” Her voice isn’t warning but there is an edge to it that Shane hasn’t heard since he was little and was trying to sneak bugs into the house to play with and study. “What’s going on.” It’s supposed to be a question but her voice is so flat and level. Shane can’t look her in the eye.

“I… Do you…” He doesn’t know how to say it. His heart hammers wildly against his ribs as he stares blankly at the cabinet where he can see the veneer is starting to peel from water damage.

“Shane.” Her voice is starting to sound stern and he darts his eyes to look into her. “What’s wrong?” She reaches a hand up and Shane flinches back. He doesn’t think he can take being touched right now while he makes this request.

“I need a…” He glances at the door again and drops his voice as he fights the burning to tears in his eyes. “I need a pregnancy test…” His voice is almost too low for even him to hear. He doesn’t want to say it out loud, to speak the… baby into existence.

“What?” Her face doesn’t fall but her eyes widen and she leans forward with her hands pressed to her knees. She folds her feet under her and settles on them more firmly as Shane looks away from her eyes again, tracking down to where her hair sits braided over one shoulder then further down that same arm to where her wedding and engagement rings sit on her finger. “Honey, look at me.” He doesn’t see her other hand come up until it’s touching under his chin gingerly. “What are you talking about?” He doesn’t look her in the eye.

“I think…” The tears start and his already hoarse voice cracks under the strain of holding him together. “I think I’m pregnant,” He whispers, desperation fighting with the defeat he feels washing over him in droves. “I… I made a mistake…” He can’t stop himself from whimpering as the tears rush fast and hot down his cheeks. “I’m so-sorry–” He gasps a sob and his mother’s hands are on his shoulders in a second.

“Don’t you apologize, it’s okay.” It’s not. He knows it’s not. His life is over. His career is done. He’s going to be found out and everyone is going to know he was sleeping with Ilya Rozanov and he’s going to be the laughing stock of the NHL for being the first and only Omega in the sport just to have to leave because he got knocked up by another player. “Shane, listen to me, it’s okay, you’re okay. Breathe, baby.” He flinces at that word and sobs a little bit harder, chest getting tight as his breaths become more and more labored and more and more shallow with every pass. “We don’t know that you’re pregnant.”

“I-I was spotting an-and–” A desperate gasp for air that doesn’t come. “I-I was with so-so-” Another gasp and he’s smacking his head back against the wall, squeezing his eyes tight. “Someone b’fore my heat…”

“That’s okay. This could mean nothing,” She says it like her words can fix everything. Like she knows anything about his cycle and schedule which has always been regular. Every three months, without fail. “You’ve been traveling a lot, this could just be a stomach bug.” Of course she would rationalize it the same way he had.

“It’s not.” His voice breaks on the second word, popping and crackling as he growls the sounds out. “It’s not mom. I need– I need to take a test.” He whimpers and fights that sickly feeling starting in his chest and stomach again with a thick swallow before his body is heaving again. He can’t tell if it’s the anxiety or morning sickness this time. He heaves and retches unproductively and feels like his head is underwater as he leans over the toilet. Red blooms in the water as he pants open mouthed into it and he reaches a hand up once his body has calmed down to feel hot, wet on his upper lip. His mother is there in a second, a tissue pressed to his face, leaning him back away from the water and tipping his head back against the wall. “I’m sorry…” He whispers it out into the air. To his mom, himself, Ilya. “I’m so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. You’re okay. Everyone makes mistakes.” She releases the tissue when Shane brings his hand to hold it in place, eyes dancing up to the ceiling as he avoids looking at her. He can’t see her face, she’s disappointed in him, he knows. “Shane I do need to know.” A pause before her hand is on his leg. “Are you… in a relationship?” He doesn’t know how to answer that. “Is it serious?”

Shane plays back the way he'd scrambled out of Ilya’s lap when they’d both come down. The way he’d pulled his hand away from Ikya’s knot like it would burn Shane if he stayed.

“I have to go–” He’d lied. “Team meeting I… forgot about.” The lies came easier than they would have years before. He could smell himself. Chocolate marzipan, not a single trace of petrichor to be found. His neck felt hot and he barely threw on his shirt and jacket before he was running out of Ilya’s home. He couldn’t stand the way Ilya had been looking at him, desperate and sad. Like Shane had taken his favorite toy away. He’d barely heard Ilya saying his name on the way out. 'Hollander’ repeats thrice like it could summon him back into Ilya’s lap.

“No…”He’s lying again, the ease of it practiced now. “No it was just… it was…” He can’t call what the had casual. His feelings for Ilya are dangerous, something he can’t let himself fall into. “I was stupid.”

“Hey. Don’t say that about my son. You made a mistake and we can fix it.” She reaches up and strokes the side of his neck, blooming pheromones all around him. “I’m gonna go to the pharmacy. You’re gonna be okay, we’ll figure this out, Shane.” Her hands come to cup his cheeks and force him to look at her again. “For now, my son, you are going to brush your teeth and lay down in bed.” Her face isn’t stern, she’s got tears in her eyes and Shane is still fighting with his own, snuffling around the tissue still pressed to his nose.

“Was it… was this bad for you?” The morning sickness he means. He knows his mother’s pregnancy with her only child hadn’t been easy. Alpha pregnancies were always tricky. Some went seamlessly, like the mother’s subgender never mattered. Some… cost more than they should.

“I had an easier time in the beginning.” She keeps thumbing over his cheeks soothingly and Shane takes the tissue away from his nose, the blood slowing to a stop. “I never threw up so hard my nose started bleeding but I was also on every prenatal under the sun and then some.” She chuckles and Shane huffs softly, nodding his head slowly. “Okay, let’s get you up and outta here.” She squeezes his cheeks and Shane doesn’t feel any better. Physically or mentally. He’s no longer crying but that isn’t saying much.

Shane’s hands tremble as he stands and leans on the sink counter. He stares at the bowl of the sink, sees his reflection in the drain and wishes he were that small. That none of this was happening. That it’s all a bad dream or it really is just Norovirus and the timing is all coincidence.

“I’m scared.” It skitters from his mouth before he can stop it And his mother is next to him again, her hand on his back and arm, stroking him gently and still pumping out her scent in soothing waves.

“I know.” She leans into Shane’s body gently, leaning her cheek on his shoulder before turning to kiss his shoulder tenderly. “It’s scary and you’re allowed to be scared, Shane. But right now you need to get in bed, okay? You’re gonna take today off to really rest, please.” He feels so rundown he doesn’t even think he could really muster the energy for more than laying in bed anyway.

“Okay… Okay…” He nods, lifting his head enough to look at their reflections in the mirror. He looks so bad. His face is ashen, color drained away save for the blood still staining his upper lip and his eyes look heavy, red rimmed from crying. He sighs and leans down to press his face into the counter, trying to get some cool on his skin before forcing himself to splash water on his face and brush his teeth. Between then and when he gets himself in bed his mom excuses herself, getting dressed and giving an excuse to her husband to go to the pharmacy. He can’t know. Shane can’t look at his father’s face when he shuffles from the bathroom to his childhood bedroom.

His bed is barely big enough for him now, he’d out grown it in high school and never really felt the need to get anything bigger when he transitioned to rooming with players in bigger houses with new beds. The mattress is sunken in the middle and not uncomfortable by any means but Shane still lays stiffly under the covers, curled onto his side as he stares at where his phone sits on the nightstand. He should text him. Tell him. Ask him what to do. Ilya wouldn’t care. That’s not what this is. They aren’t… They aren’t anything serious. The thought makes his heart clench and Shane feels the sickly burn in his throat again.

They could be something. They could be serious. He wants it. Now more than ever. He doesn’t reach out for his phone. Instead he turns over, laying to face the wall with the rest of the room shut out behind him, as if blocking the physical possibility to reach out to Ilya can block out the need within him. He curls tighter in on himself and fights the sickly feeling until his body can’t anymore and he drifts into a fitful sleep.

“Shane…” There’s a hand on his shoulder and his mother’s voice distant in his ear. “Shane honey? Wake up…” She shakes him gently and he sucks a breath through his nose, blinking his eyes open into the midday light of his childhood bedroom. “Hey,” She grins, her voice still soft as she bends over him from her place on the bed. “I got what you asked for, and some pedialyte. You need to drink something, baby.” She smells like outside, too strong, not enough like herself. Shane makes a small noise of confusion in the back of his throat as he rolls onto his back and rubs at his eyes with clumsy fingers.

“Thanks. Thanks.” His voice is rougher than usual, sleep and the rawness from throwing up ripping it to shreds as he stares at his mother. “Strawberry?”

“Strawberry.” She confirms and Shane nods as he sits up. Strawberry has been the only flavor of pedialyte he can stomach since he was a child. She glances toward the door and stands up to close it quietly. His father must still be in the house somewhere. “I got you three different tests. Early detection, male omega specific, and digital. Just so you’re really sure.” She’s as thorough as ever, covering all the possible bases that Shane wouldn’t even really think of worrying about.

“Thank you.” He keeps his voice low, even with the bedroom door closed. He sucks in a slow breath, curling his knees close to his chest and resting his head on them softly. He’s feeling better than he had when he first woke up, but that isn’t saying much. He’s exhausted, his limbs all feel like the day after intensive training. His head is pounding softly at the temples and his heart has begun to catch on to his panic again, beating against his ribs in a frantic rhythm.

“Shane we do need to talk about if this is real. We need to make a plan about what you want to do.” She’s asking him if he wants to keep the baby. He knows she is. She’s trying to draw up a plan about if he's actually pregnant and what they’re going to do about it. “Take the tests and when you’re done and you have the results we can make a plan.” He strokes a hand through his hair, tender and loving despite how Shane feels dread burning in his gut. “You should call the alph–”

“No.” He shuts her down sharply, his head snapping up to lock his eyes with hers. He looks like a wild animal, cornered and snapping to protect itself from a threat that isn’t there. “No, I-I can’t. He… I can’t tell him.” She nods, slow and understanding, her brows drawing together in a frown.

“He?” She’s not accusing, just clarifying. Shane nods, letting his eyes drop back down to the lumps of his feet under the blanket.

“I… I’m gay. I... I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” His voice grows tighter with every word and tears burn at his eyes as he digs his hands into the duvet. “I just- I didn’t wanna let you down–” He gasp softly and before he can even let the sound out his mother is leaning into his space, her hand pressing firmly into his knee.

“You could never let me down, Shane.” She ducks her head to get her face into his field of vision, eyes wet and earnest and so so kind. “No matter what, you could never ever let me down, Shane. Or your father. You are the best thing we could have hoped for. Every part of you.” A tear falls in her inner corner and Shane feels his own start to drip from his eyes. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me. Please forgive me, my love, I am so sorry.” She reaches up and strokes his cheeks, wiping the tears away tenderly and Shane leans forward to press his forehead into her’s.

“I know- I know, mom. I forgive you.” His voice is weak, shaking as he presses himself into her more, taking in her soothing scent with slow, shaking breaths until she pulls away and cups both of his cheeks in her hands tenderly. “I’m so sorry I-I made this mistake.”

“Honey, you’re allowed to make mistakes.” She shifts so she can wrap her arms around his shoulders, tucking his head into her neck with a hand in his hair. “Oh, my love. You’re allowed to make mistakes. All his life he never felt like he could. He had to be perfect, always. People were watching him. And now he makes the biggest mistake he could possibly make as an omega and his whole career is going to be over because of it. “I love you so much. And I want you know that no matter what you decide about whatever is happening your father and I will support you.” She scratches at the back of his head as Shane breathes deeply of her scent. “We’re right here with you, Shane. Whatever happens, my love.” She kisses his cheek and Shane sighs, letting his knees drop as he leans into her so much he may as well be laying in her lap.

“I’m so scared, mom.” He keeps his voice to a breathless whisper as he keeps crying, every part of him simultaneously boneless and wound entirely too tightly. He just wants this to be done, he doesn't want to deal with this anymore he wants to be done with this whole saga. “What if- what if I am pregnant I don’t- I don’t wanna lose my career. I’m- I don’t want to lose hockey.”

“You won’t. Hey. You won't lose hockey if you have a baby.” She starts to rock him slowly, gentle swaying side to side. “If you are pregnant we can discuss options. You don't have to have a baby if you’re not ready. We can make an appointment, this isn’t the end of everything, Shane.” Her long fingers keep stroking his hair, dragging back and forth through the short strands gingerly before turning her face to kiss his head. “We don’t have to think about it until we know, okay? Let’s both just take a deep breath. You need to get some electrolytes in your system and then we can discuss the plans, okay?” She pulls back and beckons Shane to sit up before reaching behind her into the plastic bag sitting on the bed for the Pedialyte which he accepts gratefully.

The second the Pedialyte touches his tongue he feels his stomach flip at the overly sweet, artificial strawberry taste. He pulls the bottle away from his lips and closes his eyes to take a deep breathe to fight the nauseous feeling in his chest. He gags uselessly, burping with the sour taste of bile.

“Okay, you’re okay.” His mom grabs the trash can from next to Shane’s desk, placing it in his lap and rubbing his back gingerly. “You’re okay, honey.” Shane gags again and throws up the little bit of bile his body had produced since that morning. “Okay maybe we just do water for now.” Shane groans and apologizes under his breath, hugging the trash can to his chest as he tries to fight the tears starting in his eyes. “Stop apologizing, Shane, you’re okay.”His mother reaches up to stroke through his hair tenderly.

“Fuck…” He sighs as he lays his head on the edge of the trashcan, begging his mind and heart to stop racing so fast. “I don’t think… I don’t think I can pretend I might not pregnant anymore.” His mother’s hand drops to the back of his neck, stroking him soothingly as she pumps out her soothing pheromones almst directly into his nose.

“I don’t think so, baby.” She whispers gently as she sits back a little bit. “You think you can go take the test while I clean up?” Shane sighs and nods, taking a deep breath of the sweet and earthy petrichor that surrounds his mother as she tries to soothe him.

“Yeah… Yeah I can. I’m sorry.” He whispers softly, leaning into her touch for a moment before unfolding himself from where he’d curled his knees up to hold the trash can, handing it off to his mother as he stands to leave. He grabs the bag from next to her and walks as quickly as he can to the bathroom, avoiding looking at his father where he sits in the kitchen. They don’t both need to be home. He’s not a child anymore. Maybe if he was still a kid he wouldn’t be getting himself into this kind of trouble.

He locks himself in the bathroom, dropping the bag on the vanity as quietly as he can and staring at it like a snake coiled on the porcelain. If he does it quickly it’ll be done. It’s almost a certainty to Shane now. But he needs to be sure. He opens the bag and unboxes all three tests, setting them on the counter and staring at them. He goes through the directions of use on each box, taking a deep breath before poking his head out of the bathroom to ask his mom for a plastic cup. This feels humiliating. He’s not even sure he’ll be able to pee enough to use each test, he’s so anxious.

It’s twenty minutes later when Shane gets the nerve to look at the used tests. He’s sitting on the edge of the tub, forearms pressed to his knees as he holds the tests all in one hand. His heart is in his throat and he feels nauseous again, his hands are shaking between his knees and he can feel every part of his body screaming at him to run and get away from the truth of his mistake. He swallows thickly, blinking slowly and locking his eyes on the tests.

Pregnant. Positive. Plus sign.

He gasps shakily, dropping the plastic like they’re hot enough to burn. He’s fucked. He’s so fucked. He feels even more strongly that he’s going to throw up, bile burning up his throat as he drops to his knees and throws the toilet lid up just in time to actually throw up. He gags and retches loudly as tears start to fall in fat, hot rivulets from his eyes. His life is over. Everything he’s strived for his entire life is done.

A knock comes to the door and Shane jumps, taking a ragged breath to try to get his breathing to slow.

“Shane?” His mother’s voice.

“You okay bud?” Followed by his father’s. God his father couldn’t know about this. He’d be good if he found out, of course, but Shane being an omega is already hard for both of his parents, he knows, but him getting pregnant? That’s… different.

“Mom–” His voice is unsteady as he calls out to her. “Mama.” He whimpers as he cries into the toilet, trying to keep himself from dropping too deeply into his panic. She tries the door and Shane jumps.

“Shane, honey I need you to unlock the door for me.” She tries the door again and Shane nods to himself, taking a deep breath as he sits back and leans over enough to unlock the door. As soon as the door opens he collapses with his hands on the cold tile, a sob escaping him as his mother drops down next to him, wrapping her arms around him. “Honey, breathe with me. Hey–” She brings his hand to her chest, pressing his palm firmly over her heart. “With me, Shane.” His hands feel numb, his fingers tingling as he wheezes and tries to get his breath to level out. “You’re okay. I’m here, breathe with me, Shane.” Her hand presses more firmly to the back of his, taking a slow deep breath for him to follow. He thinks he can hear himself saying something as he fights to get his breaths to slow, quiet apologies as his vision starts to blur around the edges.

“Shane you have nothing to apologize for.” His father speaks up, sounding somewhat unsure as he steps into the bathroom, shuffling around both Shane and his mother. Shane hears the water running and feels a cold washcloth be pressed to the back of his neck. “You’re okay.” The sensation is jarring and shocks a deep gasp into him, the sensation getting him to start breathing more deeply and evenly. “There you go, that’s it, Shane, deep breaths.” Shane gasps another sob, his tears still falling freely down his cheeks.

“Dave can you get some water? I’ll stay with him.” His mother’s hand presses Shane’s own harder to her chest, wrapping her fingers around his hand and stroking her thumb across the back of it slowly. When his father leaves Shane presses his head forward into her chest.

“I’unno wha’t’do.” He slurs through sobs, his free hand coming to grip her shoulder tightly. “I don’wan’a baby. I ca-” gasp “I can’t– I can’t–” gasp “I can’t mom I can’t–”

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to, Shane.” Her hand comes to the back of his head and she holds him to her chest, scenting him as she does. “You don’t have to. Keep breathing, you don’t have to, honey, deep breaths, my love.”

“I-I need—” gasp “I ne-I need–” Shane can’t get the words out between sobs and gasps, his hands gripping his mother tighter with every breath. He doesn’t know what he needs. He knows what he wants. He wants Ilya. He wants crawl into his lap and hold onto him and tell him. “I need my al–fuh I need Ilya–” Shane freezes when he says this, his breaths and sobs stuttering in his throat as he keeps his eyes locked on his mother’s lap.

“Who?” He wishes she hadn’t heard that. “I can call him—” Shane sits up straighter, looking his mother in the eye with a rabid desperation of not wanting her to see who exactly his alpha is.

“No– no I’ll-I’ll call him I just… I don’t.. I don’t know wh-what I–” gasp“I’m scared.” He clutches at her arms, sniffling to try to get his breathing to level further. “I need—”

“Hey, I got water.” His father comes back to kneel next to Shane and his mother, holding the glass out to Shane carefully. He knows he’s seen the pregnancy tests, he’s reading the results. “Drink.” He presses the cup toward Shane’s lips and he takes a sip, anything to appease his father right now.

“I’m– I’m sorry–” He wanted to hide this from him. He didn’t want to be a disappointment to his family. “I’m sorry— I-” gasp “I don’t– I didn’t mean for this to happen dad I’m sorry–” He whimpers into the glass and pinches his eyes tight to try to will the tears to stop.

“Hey, you’re fine, Shane, you’re okay.” His father grabs the washcloth and turns it to a colder side and presses it back to his neck. “You didn’t do anything wrong, we’ll take care of you, you’ll be okay.” He says softly, his hand stroking over Shane’s hair tenderly. He doesn’t need taking care of. He needs a time machine, he needs to undo everything.

“I need to-to call him.” Shane whimpers, pressing his head back into the touch holding him there. “I… Let me… Let me call him.” He sits back, clenching his jaw and breathing in through his nose and hissing the breath back out through his tightly clenched teeth.

“Okay. Do you need help?” His mother speaks up this time, her hands running through his hair and pressing into his scent glands. He feels like a child. He feels stupid. Everything is so fucking stupid.

“No– no. I… Just..” He takes another breath, whimpering softly under his breath as he feels his mother releasing his scent gland. “I’m so scared mama.” He grabs her wrist and keeps it close to his face to he can press his cheek to it.

“I know, oh my baby, I know.” She murmurs, her voice sounds wet as she presses a kiss to his head. “Do you want us to be with you when you call your alpha?” She presses her hands into his cheeks and holds him upright to look him in the eye.

“No.” He closes his eyes, pinching his brows together as he shakes his head. “No– no I… I’ll talk to him on my own.” He's not even sure if he’ll be able to make the call but he has to. “I.” He stops to take a few more steadying, shaky breaths as he holds his mother. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. You have nothing to be sorry for, my love.” He opens his eyes to look at her and sees her crying. He did that. He made his mother cry. He’s a disappointment. Again and again he’s reminded how big this mistake is. His chest squeezes with the need to implode, to draw Shane into a never ending black hole of despair and misery. “We’ll be in the living room. Or- or out in the garage. So you can have some privacy.” Shane chirps softly in the back of his throat, the itch to have his pack near while he’s so distressed overriding anything his human brain could be saying to him. “Come on, let’s get you to the bedroom, honey.”

He’s calmed some by the time they get to the bedroom, no longer sobbing but still itching in his throat to chirp and squeak. He just wants to make a nest and be done with everything. His mother kisses his cheek and holds his hand and his father squeezes his shoulder before they’re stepping away to give him privacy, closing the door behind them when they go and he’s left alone to stare at his phone and try to get up the courage to call Ilya.

He snatches his phone off the nightstand and hovers his thumb over the call button when he opens “Lily”s contact. He doesn’t know how he’ll react. If Ilya would drop everything and come to Ottawa in the middle of the season. If he’ll tell Shane he’s lying and hang up. If he’ll even answer the phone. They don’t… talk on the phone. They mostly text and even then it’s just to plan their rendezvous. His heart is back in his throat as he mashes his thumb harder than necessary into the little phone symbol and brings his phone up to his ear.

Ring…

Ring…

Ring…

Ring…

Ri–

“Why are you calling me?” Ilya sounds pissed.

“I'm pregnant.” Shane fires back before Ilya can say more, shocked at how steady his voice sounds as he says the words. Ilya doesn’t say anything for a long time and Shane sits at the edge of the bed, his feet planted firmly on the ground as he tries to get himself to stay level. “You knocked me up.”

“You’re lyi–”

“I’m not.” Shane’s voice cracks as he doesn’t let Ilya finish his accusation. “I’ll send you a fucking picture of the goddamned tests, Rozanov. I’m not lying to you. I was in heat the last time I saw you. When you–” Fucked me like we were mates. His thought doesn’t make it to his mouth, caught short in the sharp gasp in his throat. “When I ran. I-I ran because of my heat. I made a mistake.” The steadiness is waning from his voice and Shane can feel the prickle of tears starting on his waterline again. It’s a long moment of silence before he hears a door open and close on the other end of the line.

“Where are you?” Ilya’s voice is steady, deep, grounding. Shane can almost smell the alpha’s scent through the phone. Leather and something sweet and smoky probably burning with anxiety.

“‘M in Ottawa still.” His voice continues to waver and he closes his eyes as he ducks his head down. “With my parents… I…” need you.

Shane can’t bring himself to say it. To admit out loud just how badly he needs Ilya here, soothing him and touching him.

“I’m not keeping it. I-I can’t… I have too much at stake right now.” The tears start flowing again. He’s not really sure why, if it's for the baby or for his body, all he knows is grief is gripping the fascia around his ribs and rattling his bones like it’s trying to tear him apart from the inside. “I’m… I’m gonna go a hospital to-tonight and–”

“I will be there. I’ll catch a flight, I will be there.” Ilya’s voice sounds so unsteady now, shaking under all its usual bravado and Shane has never felt so unsure. “Send me the address I will be there.” Shane shakes his head, biting his lips as he takes a slow breath.

“Yo-you can’t just… just come here, Rozan–” Before he can say more Ilya is hissing into the phone.

“You do not tell me what I can and cannot do, Ho–” Ilya snaps before pausing for two stuttering heartbeats. “I will come.” His voice is softer, the edge dissipated. “Make a nest, my omega-” Shane’s breath catches in his throat. “I will come take care of you.”

“Alpha…” Shane can barely get the word out before he's folding in on himself, falling to the side and curling on the bed. “Please. I need you.” Shane does not ever let himself be weak. Not with hockey. Not with his family. Not with the press and the media and the fans. Not with anything. Ilya makes him weak. Softening his jagged edges and turning the stone in his bones to kinetic sand to be molded to his will. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no sorry. I am coming. Make a nest, I will be there. Four hours.” It takes more than four hours to get from Ilya’s penthouse in Boston to Shane’s parents' home. “I will be there, miliy, make a nest for us, I will be there.”

“I ca-” Shane gasps and bites his lips together. His nest materials are in his apartment in Montreal. Nothing here is going to feel right anymore. Not that his parents have much in the way of nesting materials, even when his mother was pregnant she didn’t really nest. “I can’t… I don’t… I don't have my things...” His voice is trembling again and he curls more tightly on himself. “Please just come.” He pauses for a long moment, listening to Ilya moving on the other end of the line before he wets his lips an sniffles softly. “Wh-where are you?”

“Afternoon practice. I’ll come, miliy.” The nickname floods Shane with warmth and he squeezes his eyes tight.

“Don’t shower-” gasp “-please I need– I need you.” His voice is so soft it’s almost lost in the bedding. He lets out a whimper of a sob, bringing his freehand up to wrap behind his head, pulling it tightly against his chest to try to hide from the world.

“Okay, miliy, because you ask, I will not. Give me four hours.” Ilya’s voice is so soft as he speaks, it’s so unlike him, so different to his usual self. “Four hours, miliy. I will be with you.” Shane nods, making a quiet sound in the back of his throat that he hopes Ilya takes as a positive. “Моя бедная омега. I will come.”

“St-stay on the phone?”

“I need to hang up to change. I will call you back as soon as I am changed, miliy.” Shane knows, changing out of hockey gear while talking on the phone or even just talking to someone is a challenge on a good day. He makes a small relenting sound. “Five minutes, omega, then I will be back.” It takes more than five minutes to change. “I will call you.” They don’t call, they don’t do this. Now twice in one day they break their norm. Though, things haven’t exactly been normal since Shane almost sprinted out of Ilya’s home.

“Ok-okay.” He gasps again, softer this time as he releases his head.

“Your mother is there? She can help?” Shane shakes his head, sniffing again and scrubbing a hand at his face as he tries to calm himself down. “Miliy, your mother can help, she is good alpha.” Ilya must hate to admit that, to be complimenting another alpha when it comes to matters of hisomega. “She will help, miliy.”

“I ca-can’t I’ve already made this week so hard for them I can’t ask for more.” He feels the power in his voice waning further as he curls the hand not holding his phone into the sheets.

“Then stay where you are, I will come to you. Your mother will take care of you until I am there, miliy.” Ilya is coaxing in the way he talks to him, his voice tender and kind as he speaks into the phone. “Five hours, miliy, I will be there.”

“You said four.” Shane challenges weakly and Ilya snuffles a laugh.

“Shift of plans, miliy. Five hours, I will be in your nest. We will go to emergency room together.” Shane shakes his head at that, letting out a distressed whine and cringing when he smells the acrid, bitter almonds on his nose. “I will not make you go by yourself, miliy.”

“What does that mean?” He’s distracting himself and Ilya. The door opens on the other end of the line again. “Mee-lee-yee?” The word sounds clumsy in his mouth, too sticky from crying and throwing up all morning.

“Means…” Ilya pauses and Shane can hear voices of other players around him. “Miliy means ‘sweetheart’. You are my sweetheart. I will come to you. I will take care of my baby. Whatever you need, I promise, miliy.”

“Oooooh Roz’s calling his girl in the locker room!!!!” Cliff Marlow is the second voice Shane hears through the phone. It makes him cringe.

“Fuck off Marly, at least I have an omega. You have what. Right hand? Left hand on holidays? Fuck off.” His voice has more bite back into it again before Shane hears a little bit of a shuffle and then ilya’s voice dropping low, muffled by his jersey or a towel or something covering it. “I have to go to my omega. Emergency. You can cover?”

“Yeah. Yeah, man do whatever you gotta do, I’ll keep coach off your back.” Marlow is quick to agree and Shane sucks in a small breath. “Everything okay? Is she okay?” Marlow being worried for an omega he doesn’t even know feels wrong for all his bravado on the ice.

“It will be fine.” A pause. “I think. I don't know until I get to Ottawa.”

“Ottawa? I thought she lived in Montreal?”

“Emergency has my omega staying with family. Not safe to travel.” Worry edges back into Ilya’s voice and Shane feels sick with the desire for it to be real. Ilya can put on an act as good as any closeted player. “I have to go now. If the guys ask they do not need to know.”

“Yeah. Of course.” Shane owes Marlow a gift basket or beer for a year or something for this. “No one will know a thing until you’re back. How long?”

“I do not know.” More shuffling, Ilya must have put the phone down so he can change. Shane stays quiet, closing his eyes as he listens to the familiar but different atmosphere of a post-practice changing room. “Two days, three. I don’t know. I will know more when I am in Canada. I will text you when I am where I need to be, let you know how long when I am with my Shanya.” His words have been so carefully chosen, nothing gendered, no names. Shane doesn’t know what that last word means but it fills him with a comfortable tingle that rides along his spine and spreads across his shoulders.

“Shanya? What happened to Jane?” The fake name makes Shane whince and he feels like he might be about to be exposed.

“Nickname.” Ilya states offhandedly and Shane can almost see the way he shrugs and shakes his head. Shane can’t hear what Ilya says next, it’s too low, too muffled by another layer of something and all the noise going on in the locker room but he does catch Marlow’s response.

“This girl has you so whipped. Good for you.” It does sound like a jab, it sounds sweet almost, tender in the way he regards Ilya. “Alright you go get your girl. I’ll hold down the fort.” The sounds get louder again and Shane can hear the shuffle of Ilya hugging Cliff and grabbing his bag, thanking him softly on the other end of the line.

“Ah…” Ilya’s voice Is louder now, right into the microphone as if he’s holding it up to speak again. “I’m coming, miliy. Stay on the phone.”

“I owe Marlow.” Shane’s voice is stronger than before, firmer as he moves to lay on the bed properly. He’s so tired, his body is weak and he aches all over. He just wants his alpha to be with him, to touch him and hold him.

“Ah no, Marly owes me. This is eh… overdue favor,” Ilya explains and Shane can hear staff and faculty greeting him as he walks through the Boston training facility.

“You want to talk?” It’s been several minutes since Shane has said anything, he realizes, shaking his head and giving a small sound of denial and Ilya hums in response. “Okay, I will talk for both of us.” And then he sets into a monologue, long and quiet, about nothing important; cars, practice, distracting things that lets Shane’s mind quieten some from the steady thrum it had been in since he woke up. His eyes and arms feel like dead weight as he half listens. He sets the phone next to his head, changing it to speakerphone so he can listen to Ilya speaking softly. He’s just going to rest his eyes for a moment, just so he doesn’t have to contend with the headache that’s likely to come.

He doesn’t know when he falls asleep that Ilya smiles over the little snores he can hear, soft and fond over someone he shouldn’t be fond of.

The fondness makes hanging up when Ilya gets to the airport that much harder. A private flight to Montreal is hard to find last minute but Ilya has more money than any one person could know how to handle so he makes it work. When he lands in Montreal he fires off a check in text to Cliff, gets a ride to Shane’s apartment and gives the driver two hundred dollars to wait for an hour. He stuffs a pair of duffle bags full of the materials he knows Shane uses for nesting; blankets, pillows, clothes enough for three weeks from both the dresser and the dirty hamper. He grabs anything he’s seen Shane take in the mornings from the kitchen, supplements, vitamins, medications, it’s a lot for a single person, but his Shane is meticulous about his health. It doesn’t take Ilya an hour to get Shane’s bags packed, it takes maybe forty-five minutes and at the end he changes into a set of his own clothes he finds tucked in a back corner of the dresser, packing his dirty, sweaty clothes in the duffle of nesting materials.

When he goes back out to the car he palms the driver another hundred to take him back to the airport as fast as possible. He’s never moved through Montreal as seamlessly as he has in this car. He might need to get this guy’s number so he can be his driver whenever he needs to drive around the city. He’s done crazier things.

He doesnt end up getting his number, instead he calls Shane again, listens to it ring until Shane’s perfectly scripted voicemail answers. Ilya doesn’t leave a message. He does something he’s done a dozen times. Not that you could even try to pull that confession out of him. He finds Shane’s location through his phone, something close enough that he can use Apple Maps to find the address from photos he’s seen from when Shane had his first day with the Stanley Cup and spent part of it at his parents’ home in Ottawa. He double and triple checks the address before saving it to Shane’s contact and letting himself settle more into the seat. He sighs softly, bouncing his leg restlessly as he feels the familiar ebb of anxiety start to swell in his stomach.

They’d been so careful.

The whole time they’d been seeing each other, never meeting around Shane’s heat or Ilya’s rut, as much as it pained both of them to be alone for those it was safer. Ilya had been lying to himself the last time they met, had lied that Shane’s usually bitter scent wasn’t cloyingly sweet and dripping with the exact kind of pheromones designed to drive alphas like Ilya over the edge. The way he’d fucked Shane had been too personal, too tender for what it was supposed to be. Of course, Shane was in heat. Of course, the way he was purring and chirping wasn’t just because he was being fucked for the first time in months. It was too personal. Too close for what they’re supposed to be.

Ilya blinks, fighting the burn in his eyes as he realizes his vision has gone blurry with tears. He sniffles softly and wipes his cheek, smearing the tears across his skinwith a rough hand. Anxiety he’s unfamiliar with starts to burn deep in his stomach as the car pulls up to the airport. Ilya thanks the man and rushes into the terminal.

The flight from Montreal to Ottawa is spent with Ilya shaking his leg the whole way. It’s forty-five minutes too long in the air. Another ten just waiting for the bags, and another ten again to get a rental car with his demand for something fast. He's forced to have an American muscle car, not his usual taste but powerful nonetheless and it gets him from the airport to a driveway he’s seen dozens of times in clips replayed over and over again. He’s parked behind a pair of cars he’s seen just as many times and dragging one of the bags from the passenger seat, taking the walk to the front door with long, ground eating strides until he gets to the front door and tries the handle.

Locked.

He raises a closed fist to bang on the door before taking a breath and remembering he has no real right to be here, in this house where he is the enemy. No one knows about them. He has no right to demand to be let in to see Shane.

He loosens his fist, lets his hand drop to shake the tension from his muscles before trying again, tapping his knuckles against the door firmly enough to be heard anywhere in the house without sounding like a demand. He can hear soft voices inside and that anxiety starts to burn up in his throat again as he stares at the mat under his feet. When the door swings open he’s met with the shock he knew was coming.

“What…” Yuna is the first to speak, her eyes searching Ilya’s for some kind of answer that he’s not sure he can share just yet. “Rozanov. How did you get this address?” Her jaw is set, firm and demanding of this strange man standing on her step with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. She also looks tired. Worry dragging her face down from the regal woman Ilya has always seen with Shane. His father looks no different, hard and stern in his regard for Ilya and both of them are radiating a bitter mix of wariness and upset in their markedly alpha scents. Ilya wants to shove past them follow the stink of cyanide through the house to find his omega, wherever he’s hidden himself away.

“He called.” Ilya shrugs, adjusting the strap on his shoulder gently and rubbing his neck, trying to cover the burning of his cherrywood smoke scent. “I told him to wait, I would come. I keep my promises.” He has never broken a promise in regard to a partner, be it a fleeting thing or the burning, aching desire and need he has for Shane. “Where is he?”

Yuna looks like she’s going to argue, tell him to leave but David lays a hand on her shoulder and Ilya feels the anxiety start thrumming harder in his chest alongside his heart. He feels like he’s on the verge of tears again when David speaks.

“He’s inside, son.” David’s hand tightens on Yuna’s shoulder and he almost pulls her from the doorway to let Ilya in. He can see the challenge in her eyes and her posture as he drops the bag to carry in front of him and walks through the house with purpose, like he knows the halls he’s walking. He’s following Shane’s scent, cyanide and petrichor burning bitter and sharp in his nose as he comes to a closed door.

Shane is on the other side of that door. Scared. Hopefully still asleep.

Ilya feels sick with the need to be with him but he’s scared if he opens the door Shane will deny him. Tell him to leave. Ask him who the fuck he thinks he is coming to his parents’ house, like the phone call was a post-practice dream.

The decision to open the door is taken from him when Shane comes bursting out of it, shoving Ilya into the wall with his other hand clamped over his mouth. Ilya follows him from the hall to the bathroom, dropping the bag as he goes and rests a steadying palm on Shane’s back as he vomits into the toilet. There’s blood in the water and Ilya feels a spike in anxiety before Shane lifts his head and Ilya can see blood trickling steadily from his nose down his lips and chin.

“Miliy, your nose.” He starts to move to press his hand to the bloody nostril as he kneels next to Shane, the smoke in his scent getting stronger and louder with his anxiety bubbling in his stomach. Shane shoves his hand away to retch nothing but new blood droplets into the water.

“‘M fine.” He mumbles softly when he finishes and shakes his head, laying it on the edge of the toilet and looking up at Ilya with tired, bleary, tear stained eyes. “You came…” He reaches his hand up to touch Ilya’s face, cupping his cheek tenderly and it feels like the only thing tethering Ilya to this earth.

“Of course I came.” Ilya presses himself forward, kissing Shane’s forehead tenderly and trying to keep himself from taking more than he should. “Of course, miliy, I come for you, you need me.” His voice is low, rumbling and purring as he runs a hand through Shane’s hair, sighing when he can smell the bitterness edging out of Shane’s scent with every second of them being together. “I’m sorry it took me so long.” Shane shakes his head and presses himself forward to bury his nose into Ilya’s throat, taking in the sweet, smoky scent. “I’m here, miliy.” Ilya wraps his arms around Shane protectively, curling himself so he can pull the omega into his lap, keeping his nose buried in his neck, even as he smears blood across his skin.

“I’m sorry…” Shane’s voice is soft against his skin and Ilya can feel him deflating into him. “I’m so sorry.” A sob echoes in the bathroom and Ilya lays his head down against Shane’s, working his hands in slow circles to try to get his omega to calm.

“No, no sorries, Shanya. You’re okay. Have you eaten? Drank anything?” Ilya doubts it. He worries though. Worries about his Shane, about what this is doing to his body.

“I can’t–” He shakes his head and Ilya sighs, trying to pump out soothing pheromones as best he can. “I can’t even keep water down.” Ilya makes a soft sound into Shane’s hair, sucking his teeth before pressing a kiss to his hair.

“Oh my omega.” Ilya is so soft with Shane as he holds him, his hands and his voice and every inch of him soft and gentle around the fragile shell of Shane in his arms. “Moya lyubimyy. I’m here.” He kisses Shane again, squeezing and moving his hand to press his fingers into his scent gland to apply pressure in the way he knows is grounding for him. “You’re okay now.” He hopes his scent is helping with the nausea, is soothing some of the sickness and smoothing the jagged edges of Shane’s scent like he’s lying to himself about. “Come, come. We make a nest, miliy, mm?” He shifts to kiss where his hand had previously been pressed into Shane’s neck, nipping tenderly and feeling a swell of pride from his alpha when Shane chirps and leans into it.

“Okay… Yeah I think… I think I’m done.” Is voice is raw and weak as he presses himself upright, his hand coming to press a square of toilet paper to his nose to stem the bleeding again. “Fuck…” He huffs before leaning back against the wall across from Ilya, catching his breath for a second. “I can’t believe you came all this way.”

“You called me, miliy.” He murmurs gently, keeping a hand pressed to shane’s ankle as he watches his face carefully, tracking him for any kind of change that would suggest he’s not actually welcome. “This is my mistake as much as it is your’s, Shane. I would not leave you alone in it.” He brings his hand up to cup Shane’s cheek, thumbing over the swell of it gently. He looks haggard, ashen and drained of all of the life Ilya is drawn to in is every day. It hurts to see. “Come, we make a nest, my omega, we rest, you need it.” He stands as he speaks, hand trailing after Shane’s face as he reaches his full height, waiting for him to reach up and take it so they can stand together.

“Yeah…” He grasps Ilya’s hand in a clammy grip, letting himself be hauled upright and into Ilya’s chest. “You came.” He’s so disbelieving it makes Ilya chuckle softly under his breath. “You’re insane.” He can feel Shane smiling into his chest, scenting against him and breathing deeply of he scent. “You didn’t shower.”

“You told me not to.” Ilya shrugs, as if being on two planes surrounded by people while smelling like a sweaty locker room was the most normal thing int he world. “Come on.” He bends low and lifts Shane like he weights nothing, wrapping his omega’s legs around his waist so he can carry him through the hall back to the bedroom, making pointed eye contact with Yuna as he passes her. Nothing aggressive, never aggressive with her, just pointed. As if to say “See? Your son wants me here as much as he wants you.”

When he gets to the bedroom Shane had burst out of earlier he lays him on the bed, kissing his cheek tenderly before backing away. Shane whines softly, reaching after Ilya as he backs toward the door. He shushes his omega quietly, murmuring soothing words as he backs out and grabs the bag from the hall, dragging it into the room and pulling the zip wide open. This one has all of Shane’s nest base pieces, the blankets and pillows and even some towels he’d found in a neatly labeled drawer in Shane’s stupidly huge closet. He tips the bag over on the foot of the bed, covering Shane’s feet with the extra soft materials much to his omega’s delight and Shane gets started immediately, building a nest slowly and meticulously. When he gets fully absorbed in scenting and positioning a particularly large blanket Ilya takes a second to step away to get the rest of the bags from the car. Shane’s parents say nothing when he comes back with the last two bags, dumping the one he’d packed with dirty clothes into the pile and leaving the one with clean to the side. As soon as he’s done flipping the bag Shane is reaching out to grab Ilya, folding his huge frame to fit into the nest and become part of it.

“Shanya– Omega I cannot be part of your–”

“Shut up.” Shane’s voice is firm, how it gets when he’s focused on something particularly hard, his hands press Ilya’s shoulders into the cushion where it sits against the wall, making him fit into the impossible space between the corner of the bed and the window. “There.” He grabs Ilya’s legs and bends them gently, making him fold onto his side and tucking his own legs under Ilya’s with a content smile. He shifts himself to press his face into Ilya's chest, sighing heavily as he’s quickly enveloped by the alpha’s scent. “Mmmhhh…” He sighs again and wraps his arms around Ilya’s waist, shamelessly scenting against him.

“Better?” He’s not sure how much better he could have made the situation. Shane’s parents are still there, just out of sight in the living room. Ilya can hear them speaking softly, urgency in Yuna’s voice and steady calm in David’s. Ilya can’t hear what exactly it is that they’re saying, he’s not going to concern himself with it, he has more important things to worry about. “Your nest is very nice,” He murmurs into Shane’s hair, kissing him again when Shane chirps, soft and in the back of his throat, almost swallowed by the amount of bedding they’re surrounded by.

“Better… much better.” Shane sighs again and shifts to pull Ilya on top of him. “I needed you so bad, Ilya.” He whispers softly into his chest as Ilya holds himself up on his elbows for fear of pressing too hard into his already sensitive stomach.

“I know, miliy.” He never stops moving his hands as they stroke over Shane’s back, fingers moving independently of his arms as they move in slow circles, back and forth and up onto his shoulders. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. Your mother took care of you?” Shane hums and nods softly, pressing his nose harder into Ilya. “She is good alpha, miliy, she takes care of her pack.” He brings his right hand up to stroke through Shane’s hair tenderly, scratching at his scalp with careful fingers. “We have to do the hard thing now, omega.” He starts gently, knowing removing his lover from the nest is going to be nearly impossible. “We have to go to the hospital, we call ahead, go in secret, we take care of this.” Shane makes a nervous sound into Ilya’s shirt. “I know. I will be with you the whole way, miliy.” He squeezes Shane’s head gently, making sure he knows he wouldn’t leave him to suffer through this on his own. “I will hold your hand and your hair and whatever you need of me, miliy.” He kisses him again and Shane lifts his head, poking Ilya in the eye.

“Y-you would?” He’s so unsure, so unlike himself. He looks so young. Like that seventeen-year-old kid he met outside of that rink is Saskatchewan.

“Of course, Shane. Whatever you need from me, I am here for you. Because you asked me to. Because you need me.” His hands both come to grip shane’s cheeks, holding his face like it’s something precious. “Because I want to make sure you are okay, miliy. I do not say it but you…” He still doesn’t wat to say it but Shane needs to hear it. “You are so important to me. You are everything, miliy.” Shane’s breath catches in his throat and Ilya wants to breathe his own into his chest. “I want to be here, Shane, I want to be here with you.” He leans forward and presses a kiss to Shane’s lips, innocent and sweet if not for the taste of bile on Shane’s tongue.

“Don’t–don’t kiss me right now.” Shane jerks back, shying away from Ilya’s lips even after they already touched. “I just threw up. That’s disgusting.” He presses his hands into Ilya’s shoulders to keep him at bay.

“I would kiss you no matter what.” Ilya counters easily, craning his neck down to try to kiss him again before Shane shoves him harder. “Let me kiss you, I have not seen you in so long, miliy.” He coos through pouting lips, trying to press down harder.

“No. No you’re not kissing me right now. Later… After… When we get back from the hospital you can kiss me whenever you like.” Shane pushes Ilya up a little bit, shuffling in the nest to sit up and look toward the door. “How did my…”

“Your mother was a little surprised.” Ilya shrugs as he sits back against the wall, looking with Shane at the door. “She just worries about you. She cares.” He reaches out, cupping Shane’s face as he turns his attention back to his omega. “She loves you, she wants the best for you and, well… I am the enemy.” It’s something he’s come to terms with. He knows he’s not going to be well liked immediately after years of himself and Shane being pitted against each other by the media and the league but he can hope that maybe some day Yuna can find it in herself to like him. “Your dad actually is the one that let me in. Looked like he was holding her back from biting me when she opened the door.” Shane sighs and shakes his head.

“I’ll… I’ll talk to her. She’s gonna have to get used to you.” He moves like he’s going to step off the bed, stopping short when Ilya takes his hand.

“Are you okay? Like really okay, Shane?” He doesn’t want Shane to move if he’s not physically feeling up to it.

“We have to do this. I don’t… The sooner we do it the better, Ilya.” He’s so tired. Ilya can almost taste the exhaustion rolling off of him in steady waves. “Come on… let’s… find an ER and call them, I guess. Tell them… fuck what do we even tell them?”

“We tell them that a VIP is coming in for emergency. We want private room and total secrecy. We can make them sign NDA, your mother can draft one while we drive there, email it while we wait.” Ilya shrugs, he’s well aware of Yuna’s abilities as a manager, her strength with maintaining her son’s image is one of the things Ilya has come to admire, since it such an intensely rigid image to uphold. “It will be okay, miliy.” Ilya steps off the bed, followed by Shane who stands in the middle of the room with his hand loosely holding Ilya’s. “We have to talk to your parents first, right? Explain some things?” Shane’s eyes dart between the bedroom door and the floor and he makes the tiniest motion that can be considered a nod. “Make sure your mother is not going to bite me?” A smile from Shane and a shake of his head.

“She’s not going to bite you.” Shane knows his mother better than anyone but Ilya also knows she’s fiercely protective of her pack. “We should just… get it over with.” Shane sighs, tightening his hand on Ilya’s as he pulls him toward the door. Ilya gives him a gentle tug, holding him in place and pulling him back. He rests his hand gently on Shane’s stomach, stroking soothing circles into it.

“If things were different I..” He’s not sure why he's saying this. “I hope we could… could maybe have pups one day.” Shane blinks up at Ilya, disbelief plain on his face as he presses a hand over Ilya’s. He looks like he wants to say something, like he wants to agree before he wraps his hand around his wrist and holds it tightly.

“If things were different.” His voice is low, soft and almost as hopeful as Ilya’s as he stares up at him with a serious turn to his frown. “I’m sorry they’re not.” Ilya isn’t sure if he means their relationship or their careers but Shane would never be sorry about for choosing his career over a baby.

“I am too.” Ilya’s hand slips around Shane’s waist, squeezing him tenderly before leaning down to kiss Shane’s cheek. He wants to kiss him for real but he’d just get himself yelled at again. He sucks a slow breath instead, turning his face to scent Shane gingerly. “I’m so sorry, miliy.”

Shane leans his weight into Ilya’s, closing his eyes as he presses his face into his neck and breathes in his sweet and smoky scent. They stay there for several seconds, just holding each other and Ilya can feel himself settling into it, the anxiety in his body slowing as they rock from side to side and scent each other.

“Okay.” Shane starts as he leans back, tearing his hands away from where he’d been holding Ilya’s wrist and waist to press into his shoulders. “Okay, let’s do it. Let’s… What’re we gonna tell them? Are we dating? What… What do we even say, Ilya?”

“We say we are courting.” Ilya shrugs, he’s not wrong, he’s been courting Shane since he first met him, finding round about ways to meet and spend time together when they weren’t fucking. “That we are–” He stops himself, biting his tongue. “I can’t be the only one who feels like this isn’t just about sex anymore.” He didn’t think he’d be the first to break, to admit these feelings he’s had for too long.

“No… no it hasn’t been that for a long time, Ilya.” Shane shakes his head, sheepishness clear in his voice as his eyes dance from Ilya’s down to his lips and then his chest. “We c-… can say we’re courting, dating, whatever. I don’t… I don't know what to call us.” Ilya shrugs at that. He knows what they are, Shane knows what they are.

“We are us. They can call us whatever they want. We know what we are.” Ilya brings his hands up to cup Shane’s face gently, making him look him in the eye. “Whatever anyone calls us doesn’t matter, miliy.”

“What my parents think we are matters.” Shane sighs as he presses his face into Ilya’s palms. “They already think I’m a disappoin–”

“No, Shane. Your parents do not think that.” Ilya knows that much just from seeing how defensive Shane’s mother was at his arrival. “We tell them we are together. It will be fine, miliy, they are not disappointed in you. They love you, Shane. If they get upset it will be my fault, not your’s.”

“What if they-they do? What if all these mistakes piling up are-are-are too much?” Shane’s eyes are darting around the room again, not tracking anything or lingering at all for more than a blink before jumping to a new subject and Ilya feels his heart clench up in his chest. He doesn’t want Shane to be this scared. He never wants him to be this panicked ever again. Ilya grabs him by the jaw and squeezing him gently before pulling him in to his chest.

“They won’t. Shane they love you. They just want you to be happy, Shane.” He leans to kiss his head as he scents him gently. “Is okay, miliy. Let’s go talk to your parens and see, okay?” He pulls Shane’s face up to kiss his forehead tenderly, thumbing at his cheeks as Shane keeps his head tipped back with his eyes closed. “Okay?”

“Okay.” He doesn’t speak above a whisper, nodding with his eyes still closed as he takes a deep breath. “Okay. Lets… let’s get it over with.” He blinks his eyes open slowly and takes another deep breath before taking Ilya’s hand again to draw him out into the living room. Ilya tangles their fingers together when they make it in front of the large, box window, facing the couch and arm chair Shane’s parents had sat themselves in. His mother looks like a shell of herself, anxiety apparent in every line of her face and David looks like he’s just doing his best to keep her present in the moment.

“Mom– I’m… we’re gonna go to the hospital but we… should probably talk before we go.” Shane’s voice is strained and weak as he rubs over Ilya’s knuckle with his middle finger, clearly trying to self soothe.

“I think we should.” Yuna agrees with a distant voice, her eyes coming back to clarity as she regards her son. Shane sits next to her on the sofa, releasing Ilya’s hand and motioning to the arm chair across from them. He feels like he’s being judged when he sits down slowly on the plush seat. “You… and Rozanov?” Shane nods, teeth worrying at the dry skin of his lip as he stares at the point of her knee.

“Uhm… yeah. We- we’re… together? I think?” His voice is shaking now and Ilya wishes he could reach him to touch and settle him some. “We- we’re normally careful. More careful at least.” He ducks his head and Ilya can hear him fighting the tears in his eyes. He’s about to stand and lay a heavy hand on Shane's neck when Yuna does it for him. “I’m- I’m sorry mom.”

“Shane you have nothing to be sorry for.” Ilya feels a little bit territorial that he isn’t the one to press his thumb into Shane’s scent gland to calm him now. “We just… we didn’t think your alpha would be… would be Rozanov.”

“Ilya, please.” Ilya corrects gently. He doesn’t want to still be referred to like he’s an adversary, even if it is their own home.

“Ilya. Sorry. We’re… just surprised, honey.” Yuna’s eyes never leave shane’s face, tracking every little change as closely as Ilya does. “You… how long has this been going on?” Shane lifts his head to make eye contact with Ilya, the question of what he should tell them clear behind his eyes.

“Years.” Ilya states simply, watching both Shane and Yuna carefully. “Many years.”

“Wow.” David is the one to speak up now, voice just as soft as Ilya’s. “How long is… is ‘many’?” Ilya swallows and licks his lips, keeping his eyes locked on Shane’s as he waits for the small nod of his head.

“S-six… six years.” Shane brings a hand up to rub his eyes, trying to keep himself from spiraling too terribly. He doesn't quite have the timeline right.

“Seven.” Ilya corrects again, still gentle as he keeps himself sat on the edge of the chair. “We… for the first time… seven years ago.”

“That’s not helpful, Ilya.” Shane pinches the bridge of his nose as his brows scrunch down together and he clenches his eyes closed again into a grimace.

“You’ve been courting for seven years?” Yuna seems disbelieving, her mouth dropping open as she turns to look at Ilya. “Your entire careers?”

“Not- not courting. Thas’s new… ish. We were just…” Shane is looking for the words to say and Ilya is almost scared he’s going to tell his parents that they were fucking.

“Lovers.” He speaks up before Shane can embarrass himself but the word seems to send a mortified shock through his omega.

“There’s gotta be a better word for it.” Shane groans behind his hands as he buries his face in them and presses his elbows to his knees. “But- yeah… I guess… lovers. We weren’t anything serious for a long time… just– fun to blow off steam.” Simplifying their relationship like that wounds Ilya slightly but it’s not wrong. For a long time it was just fun. Just two young men with an attraction that neither of them could fight.

“Is it… is it still that, son?” David leans forward from where he’d settled back against the chair, eyes tracking Ilya warily.

“No. Not since… not for a long time.” Ilya’s voice drops low, quiet alongside everyone else’s as he admits to wanting whatever this is to be more. He feels selfish at the idea. Selfish to want his omega all to himself. “I would like to continue courting your son. If I… if I am allowed.” Yuna turns to face Ilya, shock renewed on her face as her scent grows a little bit stronger.

“I want it too, mom. Before you say anything I want to actually court Ilya. After– after we take care of everything with the baby we–” He sucks in a small breath as if saying out loud that he’s pregnant again is a physical shock. “We want to actually court- to be together- it- it’ll have to be kept quiet but we want to try.” They didn’t talk about that in particular but Ilya does want that. He wants it more than anything in the world to be able to court his omega for real.

“Are you happy, Shane?” Ilya feels a greater offense at the suggestion that their relationship might not make his omega happy, especially after the way he’d been chirping at Ilya when he’d first arrived.

“I am… I… he takes good care of me when– when we're together.” They don’t get to be together very often, of course, but Ilya does what he can when they are, always making sure his omega is fed and content and fucked well out of his mind. Shane’s parents don't need to know about that part though. “Can we- talk about this more tomorrow?” Shane asks softly, clenching his jaw and sitting himself up taller. “I wanna get… I wanna handle the baby as soon as we can.”

“Of course, my love. Do you need anything from us?” Yuna’s hand comes up to stroke through Shane’s hair gently, watching her son.

“Yes- actually. Do you have an NDA you can edit that we can give to anyone who’s treating me? I know PHIPA covers a lot but I just- I wanna make sure nothing gets out and if it does we have something we can use.” Shane sets into his usual planning tone, flat and serious as he welcomes the distraction of trying to figure out the details of the whole endeavor. Ilya likes to see him like this, focused and determined, not the scared kid he seemed like five minutes ago. He likes every side of Shane, of course, but when he’s scared Ilya feels so helpless.

“Of course. We can use the same one we had for your knee surgery, with some addendums , of course.” Yuna takes her son’s hand, squeezing it gently before starting to stand and Ilya feels like he should be standing as well but as he shifts Shane doesn’t move, clearly still thinking about the future. “We can add Ilya in the addendums. Are you okay with me contacting your agent, Ilya?”

“Yes, of course.” He trusts his agent to keep secrets. She’s been good to him so far in his career and has always had his best interests in mind. “I can get you her information.” Ilya glances from Yuna to Shane, his hand stroking over his back tenderly. “Shane?” He brings his hand up to scruff the omega gently, just trying to get his attention away from wherever Shane had wandered off to in his mind.

“I’m… I’m okay.” Shane’s voice is soft as he blinks himself into focusing. “I’m okay, babe, I just need a second.” He bends forward, crossing his arms over his knees and laying his forehead on his forearms.

“Okay, is okay.” Ilya keeps stroking his hands over Shane’s back, trying not to get too excited at Shane calling him babe. “Deep breaths, miliy we are okay. You’ll be okay, your alpha is here, your parents are here.” He leans down, pressing his face into Shane’s neck to scent him and ease his anxiety. “Yuna… Can… Do you know an emergency room nearby?”

“I do. I’ll make the call.” She sounds almsot faint as she says it, watching Ilya and Shane from the entryway to the kitchen. “Dave? Can you find Shane’s insurance card while I call?” David stands at his wife’s beckoning, resting a ahnd on Ilya’s shoulder as he passes.

“While I’m up you boys want anything? Think you can drink some water, Shane?” His hand moves to Shane’s shoulder now as he pushes himself up to sit a little more straight on the sofa, pressing his neck back into Ilya’s hand.

“Some… Some water would be good.” Shane sucks in a slow breath, opening his eyes and staring at the ceiling while still keeping his breath moving slowly. “I don’t wanna fucking do this.”

“I know.” Ilya speaks softly, turning so he can box Shane in a little bit more, his hand coming to cup his cheeks. “Do you want to ke–”

“No-no god no.” Shane cuts off his question with a quick shake of his head. “No I don’t want a baby right now, Ilya. I just– I jsut wish I didn’t have to do this. I don’t want to go to a hospital and deal with all of everything in the emergency room with the noise and the questions and everything I just want to be at home in my nest with my ma-my alpha” He shakes his head, closing his eyes and pressing into Ilya’s hands with his own coming to grip his wrists and keep him in place. “I don’t think I can… handle being in the emergency room after today.”

“I know, miliy. I know sweetheart.” Ilya keeps stroking his thumbs over Shane’s cheeks, keeping a steady pressure on his skin. “Sooner we go, sooner it is done.” Ilya shifts to kneel in front of Shane, pressing his elbows into his knees so he can look him in the eye. “Sooner we can be back in your very comfy nest, my omega.”

Shane chirps and Ilya smiles a little bit, squishing Shane’s cheeks gently before dragging him down to kiss him. Distantly he can hear Yuna talking on the phone and David puttering around in the kitchen and for the next blessed few moments he’s alone with his omega, he’s able to press himself forward so he can wrap his arms around Shane’s body, pressing his face into his stomach gently. He breathes in his scent, enjoying how it’s turned milkier with his new condition and hoping some day that they might get to have this for real. If they can get past the problems with being together. Shane lays himself over Ilya, draping his whole body weight over him and scratching at his back as they just lay together. It’s a few long moments of listening to the distant sounds before Shane takes a breathe and sits up.

“Is this my hoodie?” Ilya can imagine why he’d think that, with how much it smells like him.

“No. Is my hoodie. You stole it last time I was at your place.” Ilya doesn’t sit up, stays pressed into Shane’s body as he breathes him in quietly. Shane brings his hands to press into his shoulders, making Ilya sit up to look at the glaring Under Armor symbol on the front.

“This is my hoodie. It doesn’t even fit you.” It’s a little bit tight, sure, but it’s definitely Ilya’s own hoodie. “I got it at a brand event two years ago.” Shane digs his hands into the back of hoodie, pulling the neckline up. “Yeah, see. S. Hollander. It’s mine.”

“You write your name in your clothes?” That get's Ilya to straighten up a little more to look Shane in the eye with a crooked grin.

“No– no, it was… They labeled it. Something about like… custom things or whatever.” Ilya is horribly in love with this idiot. Shane is so stupid and he’s so pretty. “Shut up. Stop looking at me like that.”

"Like what?” Ilya’s grin only grows and he feels his knees starting to ache where they press into the floor, gazing up at the man he’s hopelessly, foolishly in love with.

“Like you’re thinking something not very nice.” Shane gets that look on his face like a grumpy kitten, pouting at Ilya and he’s so weak to that.

“No I am jsut thinking how much I like you. How pretty you are, how lucky I am to be your alpha.” He murmurs as he pushes himself up to catch Shane’s lips in a tender kiss. “How much I want to put another baby in you.” That makes Shane scoff, shaking his head as he releases the hoodie completely so he can cup Ilya’s face. “She would be so pretty, have your freckles and your pout.”

“Stop. Stop. You’re not putting another baby in me. I’m getting new birth control and a suppressant so this doesn’t happen again.” He squishes Ilya’s cheeks and kisses him again, pecking Ilya’s lips once, twice, three times before Yuna comes back into the living room.

“Okay, honey, we got everything set up, they have your insurance on file so you won’t need to do anything but show up, get the procedure done. Ilya, if you wanna give me your agent’s contact info I can call her and get everything set up and get the NDA emailed to you guys while everything is happening.” She’s tucking her phone into the pocket of her robe before bringing both of her hands up to run over the thick braid over her shoulder. “I’ll text you the address, Shane, please text me when you guys get there, let me know everything, okay?”

“I will mom.” Shane nods softly as he releases Ilya’s face, letting his mother run her hands through his hair once she’s back in the living room. She turns to face Ilya and he stands slowly, clasping his hands in front of himself.

“And you.” She starts and Ilya feels worried he’s about to be chewed out for being stupid or for ruining her son’s life. “Take care of my son.” Her voice softens and her free hand reaches out to take Ilya’s, stroking her thumb back and forth across his knuckles the same way Shane does when they hold hands. “He… clearly trusts you–”

“Mom–”

“Shane I need to say this.” She drops her hand to tug his ear gently. “My son clearly trusts you, and clearly needs you with him. So I will trust you to keep taking care of him. I’ll give you my number, please text me if anything happens, Ilya.”

“I will.” Ilya turns his hand over, squeezing her’s firmly. “I will make sure he is okay, I will make sure your pack is safe.” His words are solem and his scent is just as deep, just as serious about everything to do with Shane.

"Okay.” She sighs and squeezes his hand back, looking Ilya over before turning her gaze back to Shane. “Okay. Oh, my boy.” She wraps her hand behind his head, bending down to kiss his head tenderly. “Okay, let’s get you guys to the ER. You’re gonna tell them your last name is Satō, they’ll know who you are with that.”

“Your mom’s name?” Shane takes a breath as he stands, rubbing his hands on his joggers for a moment before taking Ilya’s other hand.

“I don’t think people really know my mother’s maiden name so it should be safe.” Yuna reaches her hand up to stroke over Shane’s arm tenderly. “You guys get going, we’ll hold down the fort. Please text me, Ilya. Every step of the way.” Ilya nods, squeezing Yuna’s hand gently before releasing it so Shane can hug her and his father, he takes the time to exchange numbers with Yuna before David hands Ilya a bag of things Shane might need. Noise canceling headphones, an extra hoodie, phone cables, something to eat, the rest of the Pedialyte he wasn’t able to finish earlier, and a blanket from the nest. Ilya wants to shake David’s hand but has to settle for an awkward smile as Shane drags him out of the house to the car outside.

When they get to the car Ilya insists on opening Shane’s door for him, giving him a quick kiss before depositing the bag in his lap. The drive is quiet, Ilya keeps his hand in Shane's and rested atop his thigh as they go and only releases it to open his door again when they arrive. Shane complains about it, he complains about how he doesn’t need to be doing all of this. Ilya insists, opens doors for Shane, holds his hand until they get close enough that the security might be able to see them.

Shane shakes his hand free, anxiety burning through his already frayed nerves as they get checked in. He feels like he can barely breathe as he tries to hunch his shoulders and shrink a little bit smaller at the check-in desk.

“My name is Shane Satō. I-I was told we-we could just come right in. That it would be discreet.” He keeps his voice low, leaning close to the hole in the glass.

"Of course, Mr. Satō, come right through the doors to your right.” The nurse says it like she knows it’s not actually his name. Of course she knows, Shane’s face is all over this city. Everyone knows who Shane Hollander is. “We can help you no problem, Mr. Satō. Do you want your… mate to stay with you?” He wants to correct her that Ilya isn’t his mate but part of him is happy to have people making that mistake.

"Ye-yes. Yes I want him with me.” Shane feels like he answers almost too quickly as Ilya comes to look behind him, pressing his hands to Shane’s hips and lower back. “No one else, though, not even my parents if they show up.” The nurse nods and Shane hears a buzz and the door she had motioned to earlier. Shane takes ilya’s hand and drags him through with him.

The triage process is always the same, it has been for a long time; invasive questions that need to be answered, medical histories that are generally public knowledge in shane’s case, shame washing over him in waves of hot and cold. It’s different this time, with Ilya sitting next to him, holding his hand even when the nurse gives them a look. They only stop touching when Ilya takes his phone out to text Shane’s mother when they finish in triage and get taken straight back to a room, a pair of wristbands secured around Shane’s wrist with his information and an allergy warning. Shane is sitting sideways on, his feet hanging of the edge as Ilya stands between his knees, letting Shane’s head press into his stomach as his hands stroke through his hair tenderly.

“You okey?” Ilya’s voice is soft as he starts to push at the front of Shane’s hair, making him lift is head until Ilya’s hands are holding the back of his neck and supporting his head. He keeps his eyes closed, taking a long, slow breath as he nods.

“Yeah. I jsut… feel stupid.” Shane blinks his eyes open slowly, staring up at Ilya and almost immediately regretting it. He looks so scared. Worry etched into every line of his face even with the hospital light shining behind his head. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days and it’s all Shane’s fault. He should’ve paid more attention to everything that was going on in the lead up to meeting Ilya that last time. He should’ve known the cramps and the soreness weren’t just from hard games.

“You are not stupid, miliy.” Ilya keeps his fingers moving back and forth through Shane’s hair, twisting the strands between his fingers. “You make mistake. We make mistake. Does not make us stupid.” Shane feels Ilya shift back and then his lips pressing to his forehead.

“This.. this isn’t like… ‘Oops I forgot my shin pads’, Ilya this is a career ending mistake.” Shane doesn’t pull away, he doesn’t yell at Ilya but his voice is stern, insistent that they alpha listens to him.

“Shane, Shane.” Ilya leans himself back, both hands coming to grip Shane’s face firmly. “Neither of our careers are over. This mistake is not the end of the world, miliy. We are okay. You are okay.” Ilya presses his thumbs into Shane’s cheeks with every word, squishing them rhythmically and giving him something to focus on instead of the swirl of anxiety vibrating in his body. “We are okay. We are handling this.” He drags his thumbs across Shane’s cheekbones, opening his mouth as if he’s going to say something more when a knock comes to the door and Shane instinctively flinches back away from Ilya.

“Knock knock.” A voice calls as the door opens and Shane sucks in a small breath, turning to sit straight on the bed with a stiff smile on his face. “Mr… Satō?” The woman asks as she comes in and Shane doesn’t need to see the Metros sticker on her badge to know she knows who he is. He can’t escape, he can’t even have a moment of rest without his world following him around. “My name is Cassidy I’m gonna be your nurse today.” She smiles much more genuinely at the pair of them as she steps to the computer. “Can I have you confirm your first and last name and birthdate?”

“Sh-Shane Satō, May tenth, ninteen-nintey-one.” He says it robotically, autopilot taking over as he almost reaches out to take Ilya’s hand. Everything is too much, too loud and too bright he wants to be at home and rest. “Can– can you turn the lights off, in here?”

“Thank you.” She’s cheerful as she types and Shane wishes he had his headphones in. He just wants it to be in his nest at home in Montreal not here in a random Ottawa Emergency Room. “We can absolutely turn the lights of, Mr. Satō.” She turns and clicks a switch somewhere in the room and the lights dim some. “Is that better?”

“Yeah-” Liar. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Now, your chart says you’re here for an abortion.” Shane sucks in a slow breath, nodding and bringing a hand up to press between his brows to aleviate some of the pressure he’s starting to feel there. “Do you know how far along you are?”

“Not.. not exactly…” The timeline is clear. November in Boston. Red and orange and brown leaves on the sidewalk, Shane and Ilya cozy in a bed they didn’t leave for nearly six hours.

“Have you taken a pregnancy test?” Shane sucks in a slow breath at that, nodding as he thinks about them scattered on his parents’ guest bathroom floor. “Okay, we’re gonna have to do another one here and an ultrasound so we can put together a plan on how best to treat you, okay?” Shane agrees quietly, taking a slow breath as Cassidy types a few more things into the computer. “It’s gonna be a blood test, you don’t get squeamish, do you?” He shakes his head, huffing a small laugh at that. “Okay. I’m gonna put those orders in. I’ll set out a gown, feel free to get changed and when I come back we’ll take care of you.”

She finishes typing and Shane doesn’t know if she says anything further, he reaches blindly out for Ilya’s hand when he hears the door close behind her, gripping it tightly and dragging him back into his space.

When he changes into the gown he takes a second to really look down at himself. He just thought he’d been gaining a little bit of weight with his new diet, designed to build muscle and maintain his physique. He rests a hand on the miniscule swell of his stomach, stroking his thumb over it gently and plopping back down onto the bed before wrapping both arms around himself and hunching forward slightly. He’s so stupid. So fucking stupid. He hears the scrape of the plastic chair being dragged closer to the bed and feels Ilya’s hand press to his thigh, squeezing gently.

“Miliy.” His hand slides up to take Shane’s hand, starting to pull it away from his body. “Your stomach hurts? Do you need something?” His other hand runs through Shane’s hair and he does his best not to burst into tears at the sensation. “What is wrong, Shanya?” Shane turns and presses his face into Ilya’s chest, fighting the burn of the tears in his eyes and biting his tongue tightly between his front teeth.

“If– would you really wanna have a baby with me? If– if we could?” When he finds his voice it’s so soft, almost a whisper.

“Of course, miliy.” Ilya chuckles, both of his hands finding their way into Shane’s hair gently. “I wouldn’t have said it twice if I did not mean it. I want all of the babies with you. I want you to be fat and pregnant and happy in my den every day.” Ilya’s hands keep finding their way to holding Shane’s face and every time he feels so protected and loved and safe. “You will be best bred omega in all of Canada if you will let me. You’ll never know what a heat feels like if you’re mine.”

“Okay, that’s-that’s a little extreme.” He has to admit the image of being fat with Ilya’s pups does do something for him. Someday. “I think I’d cap out at three pups, Ilya, I’d like to still be able to walk and play hockey.”

“Okay, three pups.” Ilya concedes and Shane shakes his head, sucking a slow breath. The absurdity of Ilya’s statment took him right out of the spiral he was starting to slip down. “Why not six. Then we can have whole hockey team. Hockey dynasty. Rozanov-Hollanders all over the league.”

“That’s ambitious. If you think I’m letting any of my kids be a goaltender you gotta reevaluate your wallet.” Ilya shrugs, shaking his head as if it would be the easiest thing in the world.

“I will retire, maybe become talking head like Biz, get paid big bucks to make him look like an idiot.” Ilya shrugs and goes back to carding his fingers gently through Shane’s hair. “We will be able to afford goalie gear. And you’d be coach, mm? Coach for… mmmm New York, maybe? Their coaching needs a rehaul, besides you’ll get to boss Scott Hunter around all year.”

“I’m not gonna be having our babies in America, Ilya.” He sighs softly and brings his hands up to hold Ilya’s wrists gently. “If we have babies it’s gonna be here in Ottawa, with my family nearby. And that’s a big ifIlya. I don’t… I don’t wanna promise you anything that might not happen.”

“Why wouldn’t it happen, miliy? I didn’t even knot you and it stuck.” Ilya snorts and shrugs as he keeps his hands moving through Shane’s hair. “It can happen, miliy.” Ilya leans down to kiss Shane on the forehead gently. “If you want it, it can happen again.” He squeezes Shane’s cheeks gently and Shane sighs as he leans into his chest.

“Okay…” Shane sighs quietly, letting his eyes close so he can just soak in his lover’s scent. He feels his heart beat a little bit harder in his chest and he swallows thickly. “I love you. I’m sorry I’m saying this here, that’s such a stupid thing for me to say right now.” He can feel himself starting to spiral again

“Hey, hey, miliy, you’re fine. It’s okay.” Ilya laughs, squeezing Shane again before leaning down to kiss him firmly. “I love you too. It’s okay.” Shane stops, his whole body going rigid as he leans back to look up at him.

“What?”

“Mr. Satō?” Before Shane can finish questioning Ilya the door opens again, another nurse there to draw his blood. As soon as he goes another is coming in to take the ultrasound. At first Shane doesn’t want to look at the screen, turning his head away to face Ilya and ignore the fruits of his mistakes. But Ilya is staring at the screen with stars in his eyes. Shane closes his eyes as he squeezes Ilya’s hand. He can’t… face that right now. How much he looks like he loves this baby already. The ultrasound tech finishes and leaves and Shane is grateful to be alone in the room with Ilya. He’s so tired. Every bone in his body aches, he wants nothing more than to go home. They have another twenty minutes to themselves before the doctor is coming back with some papers in her hands.

“Okay Mr. Satō, it looks like you’re about thirteen weeks, give or take.” Neat little timeline. “That means a medical abortion is unfortunately not going to be enough.” Shane’s breath catches in his chest and he squeezes his eyes tighter. I’m gonna be stuck with this baby I can’t play anymore I’m fucked. My career is done. “We do have a surgical option. It would involve putting you under and we dilate your cervix and vacuum out everything that’s inside your womb, including the fetus. It’ll only take about twenty or thirty minutes and you’ll be able to go home tonight."

“Will it hurt?” It sounds invasive.

“You’ll be asleep for the procedure but afterward you might feel a little bit sore, most omegas say that it feels like strong period cramps,” She reassures him with a gentle smile. “We can send you home with some Motrin so you can manage any additional cramps after you leave as well, just in case.” Shane lets her explain the rest of the procedure, what kind of medications would be used, what to expect in the aftermath. He nods along, barely taking in any of the info she’s giving him before signing the consent forms.

He feels numb once everything starts, the anesthetic, the explanation of what exactly was going to happen, the placement of the IV in his arm all happens within a few minutes and Shane just wants to touch Ilya, he wants to have him by his side the whole way. He stares at Ilya until the meds take him under and he sleeps deeply, dreamless, for the first time in months.

Shane doesn’t see him again until after the procedure. His back aches and his mouth feels dry as he rolls his head to the side to see Ilya sitting in the chair next to the bed, hands clasped where the sit between his knees, he’s staring right at Shane’s face with a face bleeding in quiet worry.

“Hi.” Shane’s voice is croaky as he reaches a hand up to clumsily press his knuckles to Ilya’s cheek. “Handsome.”

“Good morning.” Ilya brings a hand up to cup Shane’s gingerly, running his thumb back and forth across his knuckles with slow, sweeping movements. “How do you feel?”

“Sleepy.” Shane murmurs as he lets his arm go slack in Ilya’s hold. “I wanna go home.”

“Soon, sweetheart. They are signing paperwork and then we go.” Ilya keeps shane’s knuckles pressed to his cheek, turning his hand over to kiss his palm tenderly. “I’ll carry you back to your perfect nest and we won’t have to leave for a while. Okay?”

“What’ll my parents think, you carrying me into the house?" Shane giggles softly, pressing his fingertips into Ilya’s cheekbone.

“Mmm I don't think they will mind.” Ilya kisses his palm again, eyes still locked on Shane even as he lets his own close. “Rest, lyubimyy, you have had a long day.” Shane wants to say they both have, he wants to tell Ilya he loves him but all he can get out of his tired mouth is a low hum, gravelly and raw as he feels himself drift back to sleep.

When Shane comes to again he’s in his own bed. His childhood bed at least, surrounded by his own scent and an overwhelming blanket of Ilya covering everything. He presses back into the weight behind him, squeezing the hand tangled in his own where it’s draped across his waist. His back hurts, his stomach hurts, he wants to go back to sleep but there’s also a dull pulsing ache between his eyes and his mouth is so dry. Shane releases the hand holding his and presses his knuckles into the mattress, pushing himself up to look around. The lights are off and the curtains drawn but Shane can see the pale dawn light coming through the space between the fabric. He rolls over to face the window, coming face to face with Ilya. He’s still asleep, mouth agape and drool collecting on the pillow under his smushed cheek. Shane smiles softly and lays back down, tugging the blanket up a little bit and scooting lower down the bed so he can press his face into Ilya’s chest and settle back in to sleep some more.

“I love you.” He murmurs into Ilya’s chest, kissing him through his shirt and closing his eyes for another deep, dreamless sleep.

Notes:

Weeeell hope you enjooooyed 💖 Comments and Kudos are appreciated!

If you’re mean or stupid in my comments I will make no bones about deleting my works.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Omegaverse Hollanov