we know shane has a skin care routine. not necessarily because heâs bougie or spending money on imported creams, but for the simple fact of its routine and studied benefits.
after being domestically involved with ilya for some time, especially in the summers at the cottage, he is diligent about applying sunscreen to every inch of his boyfriends exposed skin: the waiting 15 minutes before jumping into the lake, reapplication every 2 hours, the heightened risk of skin cancer speech every time the blonde fussesâ the whole nine.
with the speech also addressing how the daily use of sunscreen is best, especially on Ilyas face, (keeping it youthful was more of a selling point than the cancer probability) he had curated a smaller routine of his own, in which SPF was a (according to shane,) crucial last step.
side by side, they would apply their creams and serums each day, though Ilya would finish his abrasive applications before shane as he didnât have as much to rush through. He never caught the tail end of Shaneâs routine.
one spring, around Shaneâs birthday, Ilya decided to replenish all of his skincare as one of his many gifts.
he took note of every bottle, asking Svetlana when had any questions, trying his best not to royally fuck this up.
he placed orders on about 3 different wellness sites, concluding his spree, when he realized that a sunscreen wasnât on his list.
with shane laying next to him, glasses on and nose practically almost in his book, ilya padded into the bathroom and investigated.
on the counter, in the row of small containers, no SPF was found.
in the trash bin, no SPF was found.
in his travel toiletry bag, no SPF was found.
his curiosity grew larger than he could contain, trumping the desire to purchase every single product as a surprise.
walking back out into their bedroom, he crossed his arms and probed,
âmalysh, where is your face sunscreen? is missing.â
shane didnât look up, but his eyes doubled in size, clearly no longer absorbing any hockey statistics in front of him.
his teeth grazed his bottom lip, an internal turmoil arising, and his whole face reading: â i donât want to say the truth, but iâm going to, be gentle i donât like it eitherâ.
âi donât wear facial sunscreen.â is what finally came out, in a hollow, meek tone.
Ilyas jaw dropped to the floor, and shane expected his tongue to roll out comically onto the hardwood at any second.
years of (loving) nagging about how he would burn to a crisp or how he would develop sunspots before his 40th birthday replayed like an ironic, doting film reel in ilyas brain.
before ilya could make any sort of unhelpful comment, shane seemingly began to become suddenly upset at this finding. like this deep, dark, UV ray secret had been weighing on him this whole time.
the canadian began to feel childish over the way his voice threatened to catch, but he closed his book and spoke down into the hardcover.
âi know, i know!â he said wetly, â i donât want to get skin cancer or burn or be wrinkly prematurelyâ i tried!â
âtried what?â ilya asked simply, gently coming over to sit on the corner of the bed, extending a hand to shaneâs blanket-covered ankle, confusion and all.
âsunscreen. i canât handle the way it feels on my face. it makes it all heavy and tight and my eyes burn when i rub them when the lights get too bright,â he confessed, with the last part coming out with the most emotion of all- âand it smells weird!â
Ilya had to bite the inside of his cheek promptly to keep him from giggling at the moral upset, but he knew all too well that Shane really was beating himself up over his lack of sun protection.
they both knew that he couldnât help the way the product made him feel, like a heavy greasy weight on an exposed nerve all day, Ilya was just giving the situation more grace.
after a few minutes of comforting his boyfriend, convincing him he wasnât a âfraudâ as he kept muttering, he stepped out and called Svetlana once more after conducting his own Google research.
on his birthday, Shane unwrapped over 2 dozen bottles of sunscreen from every store imaginable- even ones from places he had never heard of.
sprays, serums, lotions, powders, creams, you name itâ were picked out and purchased with care.
Shane smiled as he opened each one, inspecting the boxes carefully at the sweet gesture from the blonde massaging the nape of his neck beside him, giving him all the time in the world.
his smile grew the widest when Ilya lastly handed him a pack of unscented baby wipes, promising to be on standby with them as he tried each sunscreen out so he could wipe away any option that felt icky immediately.
