Thinking about grumpy overstimulated Shane snapping at Ilya because the kitchen range hood is on, louder than just white noise and the tap is running in the sink. The tv is still on in the living room and Ilya is stacking the dishwasher and the glasses and cutlery just keep clink clink clinking and the wrist of his hoodie is wet from where he’d been helping Ilya with the dishes and the smell of dinner, while delicious at the time the clinging smell of spice in the air. There’s garlic on his hands and the smell absorbed into his hoodie and he’s a bit too warm now from the heat of the oven but he didn’t put a tshirt under the hoodie and he doesn’t wanna be shirtless in the kitchen.
It’s not anything over the top it’s just under his skin and too much too much making him feel unsettled and he’s so tired he’s so fucking tired they’ve just come off a swing of back to backs and the travels worn him out too- but he and ilya are showering together tonight (he’s promised to wash Ilyas hat for him) so he wants to wait for him to be done because he kindly is dealing with the dishes but staying in the space is making his ears heat and his sides squirm and the pack of his neck prick and he is uncomfortable but it’s fine it’s fine he’s doing some slow breaths but then Ilya drops a metal bowl as he’s reaching to put it in the dishwasher and hits so fucking loud and it makes Shane flinch and his temper flares and it’s pushed him over the top and he can’t help saying “fucks sake- Ilya can’t you just be careful for once? Jesus Christ” and his tone is mean and bitchy and cruel and he’s glaring at it Ilya and his skin is hurting with the noise and smells and feelings and he wants to just.
Ilya doesn’t say anything, nods his head once and has set the metal dish right and he’s closing the dishwasher, stands up straights and his eyes flitter over the kitchen for a moment before he’s shutting off the tap and then range hood.
Shane’s shoulders drop an each from where they were rammed up by his ears and he feels how tight he’d been holding his body, jaw clenched
And Shane is all soft, embarrassed, annoyed still and he opens his mouth and “Ilya I didn’t- I” Ilya just waves his hand, shrugs.
“Go start the shower злой котенок” (angry kitten)
And Shane understands the nickname, Ilyas used it enough that it’s familiar to him and he bristles at it a little but understands the affection in the words. He just twists his mouth to the left and chews the inside of his cheek and then nods once and walks off, thankful for the dismissal.
And Shane is in the bathroom, quiet and clean and under his control, and he’s out of clothes and each layer coming off, the slightly less bright bathroom lights he feels the tightness unspool. He feels embarrassed still when Ilya arrives, back to the door and facing the stream of water, letting it ground him. Shane listens to Ilya rustling around, he turns when the lights click off, a frown on his face because is Ilya fucking with him but then he sees Ilya lighting a few small (scent less) candles, casting the bathroom in a warm low light (Shane’s favourite kind) and flicking on the fan, so that the air doesn’t get thick with steam and he has the extra large towels that his mum got them for Christmas, stupidly expensive and so stupid nice, thick plush fabric that Shane loves) and he’s got slippers too because Shane hates the cold floor of the tiles when he’s fresh out of the shower and oh. Shane feels his heart pinch a little.
Ilya enters the shower and he doesn’t reach right for Shane, hovers near and waits and Shane knows he’s waiting for him, waiting for him to know touch is ok now and he knows shane so well, loves him so well and. Shane reaches back to hold Ilyas hand, tangle fingers and pouts a little, looks down at his feet.
“Sorry I was a bitch” Shane grumbled and his cheeks are red and now that he’s calm and comfortable and it’s quiet and dark and just him and Ilya and the shower gentle on his skin it feels so silly how he snapped. Was rude for no reason on a nice night together. He feels stupid. Annoyed with himself.
Ilya sucks his teeth back at Shane in distaste, squeezes his hand. “Do not call yourself this. Is ok, was just too much yes? Then I throw that stupid bowl and” Ilya sighs, opens his hand like a fake little explosion.
“Is better now yes? You want a shower alone instead? Or-?” Shane cuts him off with a shake of his head.
“No. It’s. Yes, better now” he nods and Ilya made it better, didn’t react, didn’t make a big deal just made it quieter and got him to the shower with no fuss and some time to himself to decompress and it’s so easy with Ilya.
Shane turns and presses himself into Ilyas chest and then Ilyas arms come around him, tight and gum and he squeezes squeezes Shane to his chest, a firm flex of muscles pressing him in hard and Shane exhales wet and shaky cause yeah. The last bits of tension seep out and Ilya is grinning into his hair and squeezes him again tight and firm and lets out a little grunt as he lifts Shane off his feet with it and Shane squeals and then giggles and Ilya shakes him a little and then is setting Shane down, hands moving and squeezing from the sides of his neck and shoulders and down his arms, big gripping squeezes until he gets to his hands.
“Okay” Ilya says in that way, grinning, drawing out the e sound “hair salon time” he nods and Shane nods back and hes smiling and loose and warm and happy and safe. Always with Ilya, most of all, safe.
