snowed in, blissfully
“Is this where I die?” Ilya asked as he followed Shane’s moves and rested his entire body against the snow. “Not funny.” “My boss will not be very happy if you kill me, just so you know.” “Your boss?” Shane’s eyebrows furrowed. “Yes. He is short, has cute freckles, and likes to stare at you when he is angry.” Ilya turned his face over in time to catch Shane staring at him. “Fuck off.” Shane turned to face the sky again. “And we’re the same height, asshole.”
I wrote this on a whim because a snowstorm came in today and my first thought was "What would Shane and Ilya be doing right now?" Hope you enjoy this short bit of fluff!
A beautiful snowstorm came overnight and completely covered everything. It left a stunning, almost dreamlike glow that surrounded the entire cottage. Shane and Ilya were standing right outside the sliding door, hands in their coat pockets, eyes glazing over all of the untouched snow.
“It is freezing, Hollander. Why did you make me do this?” Ilya whined, seemingly forgetting it was his idea to come outside and play in the snow.
“It was your idea,” Shane reminded him.
“Yes, and not a good one. I cannot feel my toes.” Ilya turned to face Shane, taking his hands out of his pockets to wipe off some of the snowflakes that landed on Shane’s cheeks. He gave Shane a quick kiss on the nose before deciding, “Okay, I’m done! Was fun!”
“It’s been two seconds, Ilya; you can’t be serious!” Shane let out a laugh as his eyes roamed Ilya’s face.
“Mm. Very.”
“Absolutely not,” Shane declared as he grabbed one of Ilya’s hands and began pulling him down the steps and a few feet over to a bigger area of snow. He plopped himself down and yanked Ilya down with him. “Lay back with me.”
“Is this where I die?” Ilya asked as he followed Shane’s moves and rested his entire body against the snow.
“Not funny.”
“My boss will not be very happy if you kill me, just so you know.”
“Your boss?” Shane’s eyebrows furrowed.
“Yes. He is short, has cute freckles, and likes to stare at you when he is angry.” Ilya turned his face over in time to catch Shane staring at him.
“Fuck off.” Shane turned to face the sky again. “And we’re the same height, asshole.”
“Ah, I forgot. You are always on your knees, so…” Ilya sat up as he heard Shane shift over on his side. He couldn’t tell if Shane was upset, so he went to put his hand on Shane’s shoulder to get his attention. “Shane, it was—”
Ilya was cut off when Shane quickly whipped around, lobbing a snowball at Ilya’s chest with a huge grin on his face. Ilya looked down at himself and then at Shane, a look of betrayal painted on his face. He licked his lips. “You better run, Hollander.”
Shane quickly stood up, running to a spot he deemed safely far enough so he could stop and make another snowball. Before he could turn around, he felt something hit his back. He could already hear Ilya’s laughter, and he played into it by dramatically turning around.
“You are scaring me, moya lyubov,” Ilya said while leaning down to start on another snowball. “Please, I don’t want to be enemies again. We have made it so far!”
The smirk on his face fell when Shane started sprinting towards him. Out of pure panic, he took the small snowball he managed to make and hurled it at Shane, hitting him right on the forehead and stopping him in his tracks. “Oh.” Ilya muttered under his breath, bringing his hands up to cover his mouth and hide his nervous giggling.
Shane actually looked terrifying. He started moving forward again—slow and quiet, like he was trying to decide on his revenge. He held one arm behind his back, and he watched as Ilya’s eyes studied him.
“Come here, Rozanov,” Shane said softly.
“Uh, no. Not happening.” Ilya made small steps backwards, one arm out as if to keep Shane from reaching him. Whenever they went back to using their last names during moments like these, they knew it meant game on. A small part of Ilya hoped that by calling him “moya lyubov”—my love—that it would call a truce. The other parts of him knew that Shane was too competitive to let it go.
“I just really want a hug.” Shane put on his best pleading voice and extended one arm outwards. “Please. It’s cold!”
Ilya stopped moving and pointed at the arm Shane held behind his back. “Show me that.”
“My arm? It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”
“So why are you hiding it, huh?” Ilya raised an eyebrow.
He knew he could outrun Shane, but as he studied his face as Shane grew closer, he couldn’t help but give him whatever he wanted. He loved when Shane had this determined look, and the cold making his cheeks pink made it difficult to look away and to not be in complete awe of his husband.
Shane was standing up close and face-to-face with Ilya now. He bit his lip back, trying to remain intimidating, but his facade completely evaporated when Ilya gave him a quick kiss to the side of his mouth.
“You are freezing.” Ilya announced.
“Warm me up, then.” Shane quickly wrapped his arms around Ilya’s neck. His right hand was holding tightly onto the snowball he’d been hiding. He almost felt guilty as Ilya’s arms found their way around his waist.
“Mm,” Ilya hummed. “This is—” Ilya was cut off by the jolting feeling of something cold going down the back of his neck. “What the fuck!” he screeched as he moved backwards, spinning in circles, trying to somehow reach down his back and grab what was surely by now melted snow.
He stopped and looked at Shane and his shaking shoulders. “This is not funny, Hollander.” He took one big step to bring himself face-to-face with Shane again.
“Oh, is it not moya lyubov anymore?” Shane teased. He knew Ilya liked whenever he spoke Russian. Even if it were small phrases here and there. He could always count on it to disarm Ilya, to make him melt into submission. Unfortunately, it did not work this time.
Ilya’s hands gripped at the sides of Shane’s waist. This time leaving little squeezes, tickling him until they both fell over from laughter. Shane was on top of Ilya now, and their faces were so close that their noses were touching. He started planting little kisses over Ilya’s face.
“You are saying sorry now. Is that it?” Ilya’s smile grew wide.
Shane paused his kisses and lifted his head, looking almost offended. “Me? You threw a snowball at my head!”
“Because you ran at me like wild angry kitten!” Ilya brought his hand to poke at Shane’s shoulder, giving his best little pout. “And besides, you hit me first, so.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t make that face.” Shane begged.
Ilya planted a kiss on Shane’s lips, letting his hand find its way to Shane’s ass and giving it a squeeze through his jeans. He let out a big, dramatic sigh. “I am thirsty…and sad…and cold.” Ilya looked away into the distance. “If only my husband had something to help.”
Shane feigned surprise. “Um, my ass?”
“What?” Ilya looked back, eyebrows now pushed together. “No, you little pervert.” Ilya grabbed at Shane’s face, plastering kisses over every possible inch. “Hot chocolate,” Ilya whispered suggestively.
“You know you don’t have to seduce me to get some hot chocolate.” Shane said, adjusting his hands on either side of Ilya, lifting himself up.
Ilya followed by sitting up and leaning with his hands and elbows still in the snow. “But it is so fun!” He chased Shane’s face for one more kiss.
Shane smiled, shaking his head as he stood up. He reached out his hand. “Truce?”
Ilya took his hand and stood up, too. His other hand found its way above Shane’s head, plopping down a small bit of snow. Shane’s eyes closed as he took a deep breath, accepting his defeat while Ilya laughed. He took Ilya’s hand and led him towards the door.
Ilya squeezed his hand as they walked through the door. “But you have to make it like Yuna.”
“I always make it like my mom! She’s the one who taught me!” Shane replied in disbelief. Whenever they were at Shane’s parents’ house during the colder months, Shane’s mom always made them hot chocolate. Ilya was obsessed and was convinced that Yuna had put something magical in it.
It was a simple thing to make, so Shane had done it plenty of times for Ilya—but every time he’d handed him the cup and watched as he tasted it, Ilya would just mutter a small “hmm” and continue on drinking.
They took off their coats and shoes and left them over by the doorway. Shane walked back to the kitchen, turning the stove on and getting everything ready.
Ilya sat on one of the stools. “Yuna says she makes it with love, so,” his lips pursed.
Shane turned around to glower at him. “Oh, really?”
“Yes. I told her, “My husband must not love me very much because his hot chocolate is shit.” Ilya shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "No big deal."
Shane knew Ilya was messing with him, but he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t manage to make this some sort of internal competition. He was so focused that by the time he finished, he didn’t even notice Ilya get up and grab two blankets to sit on the couch.
Shane could see Ilya’s feet wiggling beneath his blanket as he brought over the cup of hot chocolate, a mountain of marshmallows almost falling over. He stood there watching as Ilya took his first sip. His hands fiddled nervously with the pockets of his sweatpants. His eyes lit up when he heard Ilya make a sound.
“Mm.” Ilya nodded over and over with his eyes closed. He opened them to find Shane staring at him with confusion. “I love you, too.”
“What? I didn’t—”
“This hot chocolate is…” Ilya brought his fingers to his lips, kissing them. “Perfect.”
Shane understood now and couldn’t help but smile in relief.
Ilya tried to peer over to the kitchen. “Where is yours?”
“Oh, I only used the measurements for one. I got kind of focused on it being yours, I guess.” Shane shrugged his shoulders.
“Come, come.” Ilya patted the second blanket next to him, gesturing for Shane to come sit with him. “We will share.”
Shane climbed in next to him, taking the mug from him and trying some. “Oh. This is really good.”
“Yes, but we need more marshmallows, I think.”
