“You can’t pick a publicist solely on looks,” he said, pulling his glass of wine towards him while Rozanov attempted to ‘enhance’ the candidate's photo. “Please, Roz, have some decorum.”
“Is easier to listen to a publicist if they’re hot, yes?” Rozanov countered, and Shane dropped his head back, staring at the ceiling, letting the track lights create spots in his vision. “She’s–”
“We’re not going to objectify potential candidates,” Shane snapped, the muscles in his neck taut. “These are extremely talented, qualified people who should get hired for what they can bring to the table, not to satisfy the divining rod that is your dick.”
Rozanov went silent for a long beat, and finally Shane dropped his chin, his eyes catching the slight smirk and almost blush on the other man’s face.
I wrote a little something for Ilya’s 35th yesterday. It’s not perfect, but I like it. Happy [belated] to the one and only. I hate them so much [complimentary].
Word count: 2272
Rating: M - it’s mostly fluff.
AUTHOR PSA: This is absolutely not beta’ed because I am a masochist (and no one will beta for me) . And don’t @ me about the title, I am a tired lil baby.
When the last of their guests had gone and the house was somewhat back in order, Shane nudged Ilya into the living room and pushed him down onto the couch.
"Stay there," he murmured when his husband blinked up at him curiously, still wearing the homemade crown the Pikelets had made for him.
"You are not cleaning up--"
"I'm not," Shane replied, a small smile on his lips. "So just, sit. And stay. I'll be right back."
Ilya made a noise of protest at the back of his throat but sank into the couch, resting his head back against it.
"Are you coming back naked?"
"Maybe," Shane replied as he made his way towards the stairs, taking them two at a time.
"...are you coming back plugged?"
"Who says I'm not already?"
He smirked when Ilya swore under his breath.
He padded into the office, flicking on the lamp on the deck before opening the closet. He'd stashed the Adidas box in here a while ago, unassuming enough that he knew Ilya would never think to look twice.
He pulled it off the shelf then closed the closet door, tucking the box carefully under his arm as he made his way back out and down the hall to their bedroom.
"Cолнышко," Ilya called, a whine in his voice. "Come back."
"Oh my god, Ilya," Shane laughed, though it came out shaky. "Hold on."
He found the last little gift in his sock drawer and tucked it into the box, then affixed a red bow to the lid. Regardless of how long they'd been together, the gifts he'd given Ilya over the years, this particular birthday made him nervous.
Had he done enough? Was this too silly of a gift? He chewed his lip, still tasting the mocha frosting from the birthday cake, as he made his way back downstairs. If Ilya hated it, he always had Porsche on speed dial...
When he turned the corner into the living room, his features softened at the sight of his husband still sprawled on the couch, homemade crown askew, eyes heavy lidded. "Did today tire you out?"
"Mm, no," Ilya sighed, eyes honing in on the box under his arm. "Was nice, though. Thank you for putting it together."
He smiled gently, moving closer until he sank down next to Ilya on the couch. "Anything for you," he said with fierce conviction. "Always."
He set the box in Ilya's lap, and took a deep breath. "Before you open it," he started as Ilya's fingers reached for the lid. "I, um, this might suck."
Ilya’s face softened. "Shane..."
"No, seriously," Shane replied, reaching up to adjust Ilya's crown, then drew fingers over the shell of his ear. "It might. But, it's...special?" He nods to the box, swallowing thickly. "I've kept some things, over the years."
Ilya sat up a little and lifted the lid. He looked down into the box, and Shane watched a dozen emotions flicker across his face.
"Shane..." His voice broke on the second syllable.
Shane's entire being went warm. "We don't have to do this right now," he said.
Ilya laughed thickly. "You made me a box of eighteen years of trinkets and now you don't want me to look at it?"
"I didn't say that!"
"I want to know, from you, what all of this is," Ilya murmured.
When Shane looked up, he immediately wished he hadn't because Ilya was looking at him with so much affection it made his heart skip a beat.
"Since it is my birthday," Ilya added for good measure.
Shane barked out a laugh and flicked Ilya's ear, but he was blushing, the stain of it high on his cheeks. "Okay, first of all, that's emotional blackmail."
"It's my birthday,” Ilya repeated, grinning wider now, and Shane feigned a sigh, leaning in to kiss Ilya’s mouth with a smacking noise.
"Right." Shane pointed at the box. "Pick one."
The first thing Ilya picked up was a newspaper clipping. The paper felt almost fragile between his fingertips, and he glanced at the faded photo. It was the two of them, side by side, in their horribly tailored suits...
"The day after the draft," Shane cut through Ilya’s thoughts. "I went for a ten mile run, got a bit lost. I felt guilty just asking a vendor for directions, so I bought a newspaper. Threw everything but the sports section out. I uh, ripped this out and kept it in a book."
"From draft?" Ilya asked, awe in his voice. "17 years?"
"Mm," Shane replied, staring at the torn article in his husbands fingers. "The article had already pinned us against each other way before the draft, but honestly I kept it because I liked the picture."
"Is a nice picture of me," Ilya grinned wolfishly, and Shane snorted.
"Okay, whatever," he muttered affectionately, nudging Ilya with his elbow. "Choose another."
He grinned as Ilya wriggled his fingers and reached in to pick up a burgundy matchbox with gold lettering, watching him turn it over as he squinted at the name printed on the box.
"After Crowell," he said quietly, reaching up to play with the curls at the nape of Ilya's neck. "That little Italian spot that I took you to."
"Was the best fucking Chicken Parm I've ever had," Ilya said, leaning into the touch while still staring at the matchbox, turning it over in his fingers. "After your fathers, of course."
"I remember how like, shaky we both were? I think it was the adrenaline crash," he mumbled, eyes watching Ilya's expression. "But I never regretted a minute of that day. If we had to do it over, I'd do it the same way."
"Yes," Ilya whispered back. "Me too."
"I think our server was worried about us," he said wryly, leaning in to nudge his nose to Ilya's shoulder. "When I went to pay she had left off our drinks and said she could do it for the meals, too, but I waved her off."
"We could have pissed off Crowell AND had free chicken parm, and you did not say yes to free chicken parm?"
"Shut up," Shane laughed, breathing Ilya in deep and smiling when his husband reached over to squeeze his thigh. "Choose something else."
He listened as Ilya rummaged carefully around in the box, and he lifted his head as he pulled out a key card. "Ah?"
"Yeah."
"Is this why I could not find my second key card in Tampa?"
"To be fair," Shane said, reaching over to flick it. "It was a heavy night, and I didn't even realize I'd swiped it until I'd gotten back to Montreal and dumped my knapsack."
"Selling the sentiment to me," Ilya teased, and Shane made a noise at the back of his throat.
"You know what that night meant to me. To us," he said, and Ilya squeezed his thigh again. "I was so fucking nervous."
"I was too," Ilya replied quietly, thumb rubbing over the inside of his leg slowly.
"It reminded me that like, maybe we could have this," Shane said. "That we were allowed to. And I know that shit happened in between, but, we got there."
Ilya's smile made his chest crack open in the best way. "We did, didn't we?"
He reached over and touched his husbands jaw, guiding him in for a gentle, warm kiss. "We did," he mumbled into it, taking a deep breath. "Another?"
"Kiss or gift?" Whispered against his lips, making him smile.
"Both," he replied, brown eyes warm.
Ilya kissed him again and Shane dropped his hand as he turned his attention back to the box, and Shane watched the way Ilya's features softened as he picked up a very distinct wine label that had been peeled off a bottle.
"Lugano?"
"Mm," Shane replied quietly.
They stared at each other for a long moment, and Ilya dropped the label off to the side before sliding his hand to the back of Shane's neck to pull him in for a deep, heavy kiss, their noses smushing together in the intensity of it.
"I love you," Ilya panted against his mouth when they just barely pulled away.
"I love you too," thickly, eyes glassy. "So fucking much."
They knocked foreheads, staying like that for a long moment, with Ilya squeezing the back of Shane's neck as they let their heart rates come back down. Shane took a deep breath, rubbing his nose to his husband's.
"Want to keep going?"
For another half an hour, Ilya plucked little trinkets, mementos from the box while Shane quietly explained their importance.
A team Russia lanyard from the IPC in 2009 (Shane insisted he did not pluck it from the garbage, Ilya cackled)
A post it note in Ilya's handwriting that read 'stop fucking peeking' (from Christmas three years ago)
A blurry Polaroid of the two of them from their cup win with the Cens in 2021 where you can barely make them out, but Shane could feel the emotion in it.
A BOS→YUL boarding pass from 2016, when Ilya came to him unannounced, for less than 24 hours. A private moment, just for them.
A Canada vs Russia program from 2008. He stole it from Yuna's purse when she told him to take a $5 bill to get a blue Powerade. Its spine is cracked to where Ilya's picture is.
A ticket stub for one of the Fast and Furious movies. Ilya looked at him curiously and he shrugged. "I went and saw one on my own to see what you saw in them."
A small ice cream lid from the ice creamery near the cottage with Ilya's scribble that read "ILYA'S: DO NOT EAT". Butter tart flavoured.
Half of a photo booth strip of photos that were taken at a friends wedding. One of Ilya licking Shane's cheek, and Shane's eyes crinkled with a laugh, the other with Shane's big hands clapped to Ilya's cheeks, kissing him thoroughly.
A save-the-date card from their own wedding.
Part of a map of PEI that proved Shane had been right about the directions.
When they'd gone through all of them, Shane leaned in to press a kiss to Ilya's temple, eyes closing as his husband leaned into it. "There's one more thing," he mumbled against Ilya's skin.
"Mm?"
He reached in and plucked out the thicker, sealed envelope, with Ilya's name scrawled across it in Shane's somewhat illegible handwriting.
"We said we wanted to take a trip this summer," he began, holding the envelope out to Ilya who took it carefully. "And I figured after the camps, we could..." he exhaled, sitting up a little as he waited for Ilya to open it.
He watched as Ilya dragged his thumb under the flap of the envelope and tore it open carefully, then slid the first piece of paper out. Ilya scrutinized it, reading the printed out email carefully. "London?"
"For two weeks. Three, if we wanted."
Ilya glanced to him, and his breath caught. Ilya's eyes were bright, searching, and he could feel the heat crawling up his neck.
"Rented out an AirBnB, too," he continued, nodding his head to the envelope. "In Notting Hill."
"Ah?" Ilya grinned. "Who is Hugh and who is Julia?"
"Shut up," he snorted, leaning in to bite Ilya's shoulder. "Keep opening."
"You've already spoiled me so much, Любимый."
"Yeah well, spoiling you more," he huffed into the fabric of Ilya's t-shirt. "So get used to it."
Ilya pulled out another printed email, his lips curled up in a gentle smile as he read. "What's this?"
"Um, It's an appointment to a tattoo parlour?" Shane replied in a rush. "For the both of us. I did some research and it's one of the best in London, and I know we have talked about maybe getting something together, and I just figured we could get something that like, made all these moments more permanent and--"
Ilya cut him off mid-ramble, kissing him deeply, his hands squishing Shane's face. He melts into it, his fingers coming up to fist in Ilya's t-shirt.
When they pulled apart, Ilya's breathing was ragged, and his eyelashes were wet. "You are..." Ilya murmured lowly, sliding one hand to the back of Shane's neck, the other tilting his head up a little, thumb under his jaw. "This is too much, Shane."
Shane shook his head as best he could in Ilya's grip. "It's not nearly enough," he mumbled, eyes heavy, holding tight. "But now you know that for the last 18 years I have been carrying you around with me in any way I could."
Ilya slotted his mouth to Shane's again and he sighed into it, his own hands unfurling from Ilya's shirt to curl into his hair and knocking the crown off his head, letting himself get manhandled into his husband's lap, the box and all its trinkets temporarily forgotten.
They kissed, slowly, languidly, bodies melded together, until Ilya pulled back, his eyes heavy, lips a deep pink and slicked with spit. "I love you," Ilya murmured thickly, drawing his thumb along Shane's cheek.
"I love you," Shane breathed, scratching blunt nails to Ilya's scalp. "I love you so fucking much. Happy birthday."
"Mm, it is still my birthday, yes?"
"For at least another hour," Shane replied, drawing lips slow to Ilya's before untangling from him, setting his feet on the floor.
"Do I have one more gift?" Ilya asked, quirking a brow as Shane retreated, unbuttoning his jeans.
"Guess you'll have to find out," he grinned, crooking a finger. "Come on, come unwrap me, birthday boy."
Send in an ask or submission with your idea for a fic or AU and I'll post it for other people to potentially turn into a full fic. You can ask the author for credit as well.
Just about anything goes and I will try to tag things so anyone can filter or search for the ideas they do or don't want. Try to keep it to Ilya and Shane. Hudcon or fics that are in universe but aren't about Shane and Ilya at all aren't a good fit for this blog and may not get posted. Anything that is hateful towards the actors will not be posted.
Remember: if it is suggested, the idea is out of your hands. You may not like how the fic turns out.
Most importantly!! Have fun and play with the boys like dolls which is the whole point!!
Shane Hollander sat his freshly fucked ass on a hard metal step during Canadian winter and gripped onto that jacket so tight Ilya practically had to wrestle it from his arms like taking a sock from a doodle puppy. Under no circumstances did he have to follow Ilya down those stairs. These are things that your mother will never know about you Shane Hollander but don't you DARE lie to that woman and tell her you haven't been in love for years. You were playing Russian roulette with plausible deniability all the way back during the first fucking Obama administration.
shane is so brave making big steps to pursue ilya in HR yes. but he is even more brave in TLG i think because he is even more scared than he was before. putting his hand on ilya’s back in the club gets me every time. standing up against crowell. MUST I REMIND YOU he initiated their first date in public getting chicken parm. he wanted to be out just as bad as ilya and he was so so scared and he was so so brave
Ilya visibly on the verge of tears while a dead wife montage of Shane plays in his mind's eye (Shane is on the other end of the couch because he's mad at Ilya)
the concept of post-intimate scene aftercare. hudcon checking in with each other, especially during the early shoots like the vegas hotel. "you ok?" "you good?" "yeah fine, kinda hurt my knees..." "that felt good, though" "yeah it did...".... like hudson literally got a tummy ache from how hard connor was pounding him...did connor feel so bad about that? did he give hudson lots of gentle hugs and comfort after? did they cuddle between takes? did they cuddle after takes? make up artists and hairstylists encroaching on them to touch them up and they're just wrapped up in each other's arms giggling, waiting to go again?
yes i am watching all the reblogs and yes i am rubbing my hands together gleefully and cackling about all the people i get to send love to. you won't see it coming...you'll never know exactly when it's gonna happen...but it Will happen. my love is inevitable.
never have i been more thankful to be a side blog. i'm shadowbanned here at oknotgood but my main can still send asks and DMs! (just gotta be careful not to get shadowbanned over there too lol). my quest continues!
Ilya, that's gross @isaidfifty - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
