I can't get over the way you write allergic Il/ya it's adorable. Maybe more allergic Il/ya and/or allergic Sh/ane pretty please ! Tysm for writing fics
THANK YOU 💖💖💖 I hope you are doing well too, friend! :D and ty for all the amazing fic ideas!!
From the moment I first saw S/hane H/ollander, I knew I he needed some dust allergies heehee~
Bunny (H/eated R/ivalry, Shane) 🐰
As soon as Ilya exited the taxi in front of the building Hollander had purchased as their fucknest - scratch that, as an investment - the door opened.
Hollander was standing there all dressed up for the occasion, wearing a sweatshirt and track pants and looking a little…grumpy. Something in his expression was pinched and irritated, and it made Ilya wonder if something was bothering him. If he was all right. Hell, if he needed a hug.
So, naturally, Ilya had to deflect from showing any kind of concern by being a smartass instead.
“‘Honey, I am home?’ This is right saying?”
Hollander smirked, but there was a tightness in his mouth and around his eyes that Ilya found a bit jarring. “Get in, you weirdo.”
Ilya raced Hollander up the stairs and narrowly edged him out of reaching the apartment first. Such was their routine. Fighting each other for a scrap of dominance before Ilya took over in the bedroom. (But only if that was what Hollander wanted, of course.)
Ilya stepped into the loft and, as usual, noted the small changes to its appearance - this time, Hollander had painted the kitchen a light beige. Sensible. Practical. Predictable. Boring.
Ilya turned around at the soft sound. At first he thought that Hollander had shushed him, like a handsome, poorly-dressed librarian, but then he saw his brows knitting upward and his mouth gaping open in the unmistakable look of a man who needed to sneeze.
A very cute man who needed to sneeze.
“hgnxt-shiew!” Hollander buried his face in his elbow with another impossibly tiny sneeze. He straightened back up with a delicate little snff, blinking rapidly, and when he caught Ilya staring at him, he blushed and said, “Excuse me.”
Well. That was fucking adorable.
“Bud’te zdorovy - bless you,” Ilya clarified at Shane’s confused look.
“Oh.” He sniffled again, the sound quieter than Ilya could ever imagine his own sniffles being. “Thank you.”
And just like whenever Ilya noticed a small crack in the veneer of Shane Hollander’s perfection, he had to poke at it a little.
“What? No, I…” Shane looked down at the floor, avoiding Ilya’s questioning gaze. “I, uh. I was just downstairs looking at the renovation in the other apartment.” His eyes narrowed slightly and his nostrils started to flutter. “Ihht’s really dusty in there.” His breath caught, and then he had his nose tucked right back into his elbow and away from Ilya, courteous as ever. “hdt’schiew! -tschhiew! Excuse me,” he repeated, and not only was he still blushing, he was turning redder than before. He was also, Ilya noticed, blinking back tears. He looked…like a fucking angel. Ilya huffed a laugh.
“Bud’ zdorov. You are…allergic? Is right word?”
Shane said a soft “thank you” and nodded, still not looking Ilya in the eye. Something about his expression - shy, embarrassed, slightly dazed, like he might still have to sneeze - made Ilya fucking melt.
Shane sniffled, the sound a little wetter than before, then froze. “I’ll be right back,” he said, then Ilya heard him close the bathroom door and the soft ssshhhh of him blowing his nose. So gentle. So polite. So well-mannered. So…Shane Hollander. Canadian wunderkind and consummate gentleman. A prince of the ice.
Ilya wanted to swallow him whole.
When Shane came out of the bathroom, Ilya noticed that he was rubbing at his pink nose absentmindedly. He caught Ilya’s eye and grinned, and the next thing Ilya knew he and Shane were shirtless on the bed, kissing and grabbing at every inch of bare skin they could, and Ilya was only faintly aware of a few itty-bitty snffs cutting through their uninhibited moans and gasps until—
“tschieww! idt-chyiew! hahh! adt’chyew!” Shane pulled away, face buried back in his elbow. When he emerged, with a deliciously vulnerable little “nghuhh,” he scrunched his face up with another snrff, nose twitching, and Ilya couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Krolik.”
Shane, who had been about to place his hands back to where they’d been splayed on Ilya’s chest, paused. “Sorry, what?”
“You. The way you move your face, is like krolik…like, like zaychik, like…fuck…” Ilya grasped at the air as he sought the word. Then he looked back at Shane’s pretty, perfect, dumbfounded face, and it came to him. “Like little bunny,” he finished.
Shane scrunched his face again, this time in annoyance. “I’m not a bunny,” he grumbled, and Ilya was delighted to see that another red flush was spreading over his cheeks and nose. (There was nothing - nothing - Ilya enjoyed more than making Shane Hollander blush. The redness really brought out his stunning freckles.)
Ilya shook his head. “No, no. Of course not. You are big, strong man who makes cute face like bunny.”
“Hollander,” Ilya challenged.
Shane crossed his arms over his chest. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Just making…observation? Yes, observation,” he said when Shane gave his first attempt a terse nod. “You do this” - he tried his best to copy Shane’s post-sneeze face scrunch and nose twitch - “and I see little bunny. Very cute. Hop hop hop.”
Shane looked about ready to make Ilya hop, hop, hop his ass back to Boston on a stretcher when his breath started to hitch again. He grabbed hastily for a tissue from the box on his nightstand and held it tightly to his nose and mouth. “isch’hew! haSHhew! hy’ishhuu! …ugh, fuck…” Something clenched at Ilya’s heart as Shane groaned and wiped at his eyes with another tissue. He was starting to sound quite miserable. Shane tucked the box of tissues under his arm and started to move off the bed when Ilya touched his shoulder.
“Bud’ zdorov. Where are you going?”
“Thank you. I, uh.” Shane’s shoulders were tensed up to his damn ears. He looked like he wanted to disappear into thin air. “I need to, uh…” he gestured at his nose.
Ilya shrugged. “You don’t need to go for that.”
Shane averted his gaze yet again. “But it’s…gross,” he said softly.
“Not gross. Stay. Is okay.” Ilya patted the pillow next to him.
Shane sighed and sat back down. He plucked a few tissues from the box and blew into them, gently. Ilya could tell that he was holding back how much he really needed to blow. He put a hand on his shoulder and rubbed it with his thumb. “Is okay, Hollander.”
Shane took in a breath and blew a little harder, face crinkling from the effort, and by the relieved sigh he gave after, Ilya could tell that he was feeling a bit better. For some reason, that made Ilya smile. He watched Shane take another tissue and massage his straight nose methodically in circular motions.
Ilya patted his arm. “Wow. Your nose really does not like dust.”
“Nope,” Shane agreed, pinching at the bridge of his now cherry-red nose. “Fuck, I don’t have any allergy meds at this place. I’ll have to go home.”
Faintly, Ilya wondered what “home” looked like for Shane. Would Ilya ever be able to see it for himself? It was probably bland and spotless and inoffensive to the eye, the perfectly appropriate home for the perfectly mannered golden boy. But maybe that wasn’t so bad. And maybe…Shane Hollander wasn’t so perfect after all.
But Ilya, who had seen Shane face down, ass up at least a dozen times by this point, knew that already.
“Okay. But only after I fuck you into this mattress, da?”
Shane looked at him, surprised, tissues clutched in one fist. “You still want to…?”
Ilya nodded. “Yes, Hollander, I am not scared of you and your tiny little bunny sneezes.” He had to hold up his hands as Shane grabbed the nearest pillow - one of the small stupid decorative ones - and whacked him with it. “Oh no, not your pillow army! Malen'kiy krolik—no, nooo!” Ilya gasped with laughter as Shane kept smacking him, saying through his smile, “Am I still a bunny now, Rozanov? Huh?”
After a faux-struggle, Ilya managed to pin Shane down by the arms. For a moment, he just openly stared. Somehow, Shane’s eyebrows were the perfect shape. Did he know this? Was he aware of just how fucking beautiful he was? Ilya cleared his mind of the thought as Shane’s nose twitched, so small that Ilya almost missed it. But he didn’t.
“Let me know if you need tissues.” Ilya gestured towards the nightstand before reaching into the drawer for a condom and lube. “Now hold on tight, Shane Hollander.”
