And when Ilya opens the bathroom door, Shane gets a glimpse of his exhausted face - not the look of someone experiencing a big shock, but rather someone in the aftermath of a very familiar battle, Sisyphus walking back down the mountain to fetch his rock - before Ilya spots Shane, still on the bed, and the expression is gone, something hard in its place. Why are you still here? Ilya says and it's cold and mean and full of sneering disdain and the Shane of twenty minutes ago probably would have flinched, would have been upset and humiliated to be spoken to in that way, would have walked right out the door. But the Shane of twenty minutes ago didn't just get a harrowing look at the great bleeding gash that is clearly Ilya's home life, so instead he lets the sheets fall from his still naked body and says I needed a shower, asshole, like everything's the same. And when he brushes past Ilya to step into the bathroom he thinks he manages to look unbothered, unmoved, like someone who didn't just overhear something intensely private, probably. Maybe.
And once Shane has the water running hot, steam fogging up the glass, the mirror above the jack and jill sinks, Shane doesn't turn around when Ilya steps in behind him. Shane doesn't turn around when big broad arms wrap around him from behind, or when he feels a forehead press against his shoulder. He doesn't think about how the body behind him feels like it's collapsing. He just firms his stance and holds up the weight. And when they step out the shower to dry off and Ilya's face is wet, well. Of course it is. They were just in the shower.