Shane is spoiled. He knows that, his parents know that, his teachers, teammates, coaches, etc. He’s not blind to it. He would try in highschool but he couldn’t bring himself to care about algebra when his backhand needed work and he was preparing for international championships. Since he was first scouted for top youth teams at 10 and he started his first development camp, he knew he was headed to the NHL. His teachers had no problem passing papers that shouldn’t have passed, or folding to the weight of his mother’s emails when she demanded his homework be excused. Ms. Hammerson used to say, just remember little old us when you’re famous, dear and stamp an A on his lackluster book report. He’s an only child, an athletic prodigy, and the only grandchild on both sides of his family. Since he was 18, he’s been rich. Even before that, his family was comfortably middle class. He’s had twice weekly house cleaners, private nutritionists, prep chefs, personal trainors, agents, personal shoppers, stylists, wealth managers, accountants, his mother acting as conductor to everything, and so many more advantages. He’s used to hearing whatever you need, Shane. Don’t worry about it, Shane. Focus on the game, Shane, don’t worry about this. So yes, Shane is very spoiled. No is not a word he hears very often.
They were sitting on his parent’s couch towards the end of their first summer in the cottage. Yuna and David were cooking and Shane was in the middle of watching a hockey game before Ilya, after a sideways glance, plucked up the remote and switched channels.
Shane blinks. “Give me the remote, Ilya.”
“Hm,” Ilya said, who is just as spoiled, but did grow up with an older brother. “Nope.”
“I was watching that game.”
“Is old recording,” Ilya said, flipping through channels without looking over. “It is my turn now.”
“Your turn?” Shane said. “This is my parent’s house. Give it.”
“Your parents house, my turn.”
Shane made to grab the remote and then Ilya did the unthinkable.
He yanked his hand up, away from Shane. “Go away, Hollander, I’m watching Ancient Aliens."
That’s when Shane reached again and Ilya - Ilya flicked him.
“You - you!” And Shane pounced.
“You are not respecting turns!”
The wrestled - Ilya only had one hand to fight with since the other was holding the remote far away from Shane’s grabby hands. Of course, neither one was using their full strength and Shane’s playful smile betrayed his actions. At one point, he tucked the remote under his chest and curled around it, but that led to Shane rolling them both off the couch. Now on the rug, Shane had just put hands on the edge of the remote when they heard a sharp -
They both whipped their heads around to see a wide-eyed Yuna taking in the messed up couch, blankets strewn around, cushions everywhere, her son and his boyfriend tangled together on the rug, Shane's fingers brushing the remote Ilya was holding away from him.
Ilya, having more experience, immediately took the opportunity. “Yuna! Shane is not letting me have turn.”
“Shane,” her eyes zeroed in on Shane and narrowed. “Ilya is our guest.”
“But! Ilya isn’t a guest, he’s my boyfriend.”
“And he’s my guest. Honestly, you two.”
“I will clean pillows, Yuna,” Illya suggested sweetly.
“It would be nice for you to offer to clean sometimes, Shane,” Yuna uncrossed her arms.
“Yeah, Shane,” Illya smirked and it filled Shane with an unreasonable amount of rage.
“Dinner is almost ready,” Yuna said. “Shane, come help me.”
Yuna turned to go back into the kitchen, catching her husband’s amused glance.
As Shane trudged into the kitchen, David told Yuna, “we always wondered what two would be like.”
“Mh,” Yuna said quietly as David wrapped an arm around her. “I haven’t seen Shane play like that for a long time.”
