Ilya stops smoking, because he knows it's bad for his health and Shane hates it. But sometimes, when it gets very stressful he still needs the familiarity if it, to just calm his mind.
Enter his best friend Troy Barrett.
One day after a shitty practice, Ilya is sitting by the back exit playing with his lighter. He doesn't have a cigarette to light.
Suddenly, Troy parks himself next to him and offers him something small, plastic and cylindrical.
It's bubbles.
Troy got them from a fan a few games ago, they were just sitting in his cubby every since then and he saw people doing it online, so he felt he might as well try it.
And it works.
Now whenever one of them gets stressed they find a quiet spot and start blowing bubbles.
Of course, at some point they get photographed and it turns into a giant meme (imagine something like smoking Ben Affleck, but bubbles).
It's great for their image though and a toy company offers to partner with them.
A summer barbecue at the Hollander-Rozanov cottage, where Ilya and Troy are entertaining the Pike kids in the lake. After a while, the Pikelings get cold and hungry so they come out of the water to eat some of the hot dogs Mr. “Please-Call-Me-David” Hollander grilled just for them.
Ilya and Troy stay in the water for another hour or so, still playing Mermaids like Ruby and Jade taught them.
Meanwhile, Shane and Harris sit on the porch, drinking Drover Farms Cider, and smile at each other quietly. They’re both so glad that their husbands are finding ways to reclaim their childhoods, after being taken from them too soon.
Shane and Ilya just sitting on the couch, touching toes, Shane's clearly thinking about something so Ilya annoys it out of him, even though Shane is reluctant cause its gonna come out embarrassingly soft.
"I'm just thinking about when we met. There should have been some sort of sign."
"There was, you pointed out the no smoking sign, was first thing you said."
Shane smiles, "sure but it just seems crazy to me that I met you and no one told me that I'd just met the most important person I'll ever know."
Ilya felt like he'd just been sideswiped by his husband. It was so like Shane to just be thinking the most romantic thing Ilya's ever heard while Ilya's playing candy crush.
"I thought that I'd found the thing that would make me happiest in the world already, and I did, because hockey led me to meeting you. It's just crazy is all"
And well. Ilya can't not fuck him after hearing that.
I am suddenly immensely endeared by the idea of Rocky guessing in the dark which very-specific human topics would be most comforting to Grace to discuss, and 100% completely whiffing it every single time, but going so far down internet (well, internet-snapshot courtesy of Stratt) rabbit holes that he ends up more informed than Grace on a wide variety of Earth subjects in which Grace has zero personal interest.
The conversation pictured here proceeded slowly and painfully for about 20 Earth minutes, before it dawned on both participants that neither of them actually cared about the Red Sox or even Earth sports in general really, and only one of them - Rocky - actually possessed any Red-Sox-related knowledge (for about 6 extra-confusing minutes out of the 20, Grace was treading verbal water under the impression that the Red Sox were an American Football team, before he picked up on some context clues and course-corrected).
“Hey!” Remus said. “We’re glad you’re here.” He reached down, giving James a one armed hug.
“It’s good to see you, Remus,” Lily said, kissing his cheek. “You both look nice.”
“We clean up well,” Sirius said with a wink. Lily rolled her eyes a little. “And so do you.”
“You really know how to give a girl a compliment, Sirius. Is that why you had to date men?” Lily quipped, as she fussed with James’ chair a little. He waved her away.
“That must be it,” Sirius said with a wink. “What do you think, Moony?”
Remus gave him a flat look and ignored the question. Rather, he posed a question to Lily.“Is Harry with you?”
“He’s on his way. He got new orders this morning,” James said. Sirius and Remus glanced at each other. They knew what that meant. Harry had taken over as leader for the team after Sirius and Remus retired. He’d convinced Amelia to meld the two teams together, so now he worked with Kingsley, Tonks, Ron and Hermione. He was thriving as an agent, but that meant little time for his personal life. It wasn’t his business, but Sirius wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He wanted Harry to be able to have the life outside of work that he and Remus didn’t. But only Harry could make that decision.
“He really wants to be here,” Lily said, looking back and forth between them..
Ilya opened his eyes, blinking in confusion. He and Shane must have fallen asleep while they were watching…something. It was still snowing heavily outside; they were lucky they made it back early that morning before all of the flights were cancelled. With the season in full swing, it had been a string of road trips recently. They were grateful for this short respite. He didn’t move, he was so warm and comfortable lying there against his sleeping Shane. Shane, who was so snugly in his sweatshirt with the hood pulled up and his plaid pajama pants. His long lashes skimmed his cheeks, his full lips were parted. His freckles were lighter now in the winter but they were still there, spread like constellations over his cheeks.
Unable to help himself, Ilya pressed a soft kiss to his jaw and then another and another. There were never enough kisses. He could spend his life kissing Shane. Shane sighed a little, turning his head back as if looking for Ilya. Ilya moved to his lips, kissing him until he kissed back, his hand coming up to thread through Ilya’s curls.
“I didn’t mean to wake you, lyubimiy,” Ilya said, running his fingers over Shane’s cheek.
He smiled softly, still sleepy. “It’s ok,” he said, nudging Ilya closer, kissing him again, slow and sweet.
Shane reached for the throw blanket on the back of the couch. They stopped kissing long enough to tuck themselves in, cocooned in each others’ warmth under the blanket. Their lips found each other, never able to stay apart.
it's ilya's first morning waking up at the cottage. he's all drenched in soft golden light and warm along his left side, the press of shane's skin against his in the delicate, hazy morning sunshine is a heady thing. shane's body is lax, all his tissues like butter, soft and maleable, his skin dimpling where ilya presses his fingers into muscle. he's never had shane beside him quite like this. in boston he'd come close. waking up with shane trapped in the cage of his embrace but that had been a short nap, and shane hadn't been warm like this, he hadn't smelt like this. all sleepy and a little sweaty and a little like the smoke from the fire last night and a little like his eucalyptus shampoo. and it's the best he's ever slept. pressed along the soft line of shane's sleeping body, his bicep pinned beneath shane's head, and even when he wakes up and his arm is numb and a little sore at the elbow where it's been bent all night it's the best he's ever slept. it's also the best wake up ever.
shane is looking up at him when he blinks his eyes open. he gets an eyeful of puffy-faced, sleep rumpled shane. all big brown eyes and freckles and mussed hair and swollen pink lips -- from kissing, from all the kissing they did yesterday, their mouths drawn together over and over and over throughout the day like they just couldn't stop. ilya wakes up to shane murmuring 'good morning' all gravelly and low, soft and sweet. his voice like honey. and ilya says 'good morning' back and his accent is a little thicker than normal but he doesn't feel self-conscious. shane smiles at him and ilya melts. shane gets these lines just beneath his eyes, dimpling into the skin of his cheeks when he smiles like that, and his mouth stretches puffy and red and lovely and ilya is helpless but to confess 'i like you' and shane's eyes are so so so tender when he says 'i like you too'. ilya stares at him, moves his hand to card his fingers through the mess of shane's hair and he wants to kiss him so bad but shane is moving, nuzzling into his touch, smiling as he settles back against ilya. and ilya turns his face to press his nose into shane's hairline, breathing him in, swallowing around those other words sitting in his throat.
it's quiet for a while, shane just breathing deep against him as the forrest outside wakes up, birds chirping and bugs buzzing in the rising heat of the morning. ilya wonders if shane's fallen back asleep but then shane is rolling into him, pressing his mouth to the underside of ilya's pec, smearing his mouth over the moles dotted there and he's making that sound that's something like a purr and makes ilya want to eat him. ilya turns his head down and watches shane as he nuzzles his face into ilya's pecs, as he kisses over ilya's breastbone and heart. his fingers stay in shane's hair, gently tugging on the strands as shane presses tight tight tighter to his side until they're plastered together, shane's leg between his, half of shane's body on top of him.
and then shane is lifting his head and ilya is cupping shane's chin, pressing his thumb to the corner of shane's mouth, tugging on his pretty swollen lips. shane's face tilts into the touch and his tongue sweeps over his bottom lip, catching the tip of ilya's thumb. shane's hands are tucked around ilya's ribs, fingers making circles over sensitive flesh. and then ilya is bending awkwardly, stretching his neck to capture shane's mouth in a searing kiss. he doesn't care that the angle hurts his neck or strains his traps. he wants to kiss this beautiful sleepy version of shane that's nuzzling into him and purring like he's some big, heavy cat. and shane's mouth tastes like stale morning breath and his lips are sloppy and a little over sensitive but ilya doesn't care. the kiss is perfect. he licks into shane's mouth and drags shane closer until shane is sitting on his stomach and bending down over him, his big hands now on either side of ilya's head and holding him in place. shane's thumbs rub over his earlobes and ilya breathes a sigh of relieve -- the touch soothes the parts of him still lingering in the impossibility of this all -- and ilya grips shane's face back, thumbs pressing into the hinge of shane's strong jaw and urging him to release, to slacken, to let ilya press his tongue into the depths of shane's hot mouth. shane relents to the touch easily, of course, jaw slack and breathes panting in increasingly higher whines and ilya bites at his already sensitive lips and sucks on his tongue.
the makeout turns to rolling over the mattress, limbs tangling together, hands shoving briefs aside so they're entirely skin-to-skin. ilya's hands find the meat of shane's ass and his fingers dig in, kneading the flesh, pushing them closer together. shane's hands mimic the movement of ilya's and he grins as shane squeezes his ass and drags their hips tight together in a uncoordinated inelegant rhythm. rolling waves of pressure and closeness in each sliding press of their swollen cocks together. and shane is breathing a little shaky and his mouth has dropped open and his lashes are fluttering and his cheeks are pink and ilya is dropping kisses over and over and over, all across the skin in reach. a kiss to shane's jaw, his chin, his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, his eyelids, his brows, his lips, his lips, his lips. and he wants to swallow shane whole and he wants to look at him forever and he wants to fuck him and he wants to hold him and he wants to kiss kiss kiss him.
"please fuck me," shane's whispering, shivering when ilya presses his fingers between his cheeks and feels where shane is still relaxed and tender from yesterday. they'd fucked once, twice, three times before the end of the day. unable to help themselves. the first time a rush of pushing biting scratching shoving with shane on his knees. then with shane on top gripping at ilya's chest and riding ilya so filthy, so fast, so fierce it had made ilya's brain melt out his ears helpless but to grasp at shane's hips and grunt with each skilled roll of the man's body. then with shane on his back, legs locked around ilya's hips and their fingers tangled, pressing into the mattress above their heads as they kissed and moved lazily in the soft glow of the lamplight. and between that they'd kissed, and kissed, and kissed. kissed tangled on the couch after dinner. kissed by the firepit with ilya's hands cupping the back of shane's head. kissed in the shower pressed against the cool glass. kissed after they'd brushed their teeth, breaths minty, shane sitting on the counter and wrapping his legs around ilya's hips, keeping them close together.
and then shane's pleading, again, "please, ilya, fuck me." and ilya is humming, nodding, pressing shane down into the mattress and pushing his knees back to open him up. he's staring for a moment, thumb brushing over where shane is sensitive and clenching around nothing, begging to be filled, and then he's moaning and dragging his tongue over the hot flesh, kissing and sucking and prodding into shane's body with his slick tongue. and he stays there between shane's legs until his chin is slick with saliva and shane is writhing and tugging at his hair. when he pulls back shane is all blushing neck and flushed chest and sweat slick forehead and wide blown pupils and he's so so so fucking pretty. he's so fucking pretty and he likes ilya. he's so fucking pretty and he wants ilya to fuck him. he's so fucking pretty and he wants to relax with ilya, for once. and ilya is crawling back up his body and kissing him again and shane is moaning and biting at his mouth and arching up to rub his cock into ilya's hip and he's cupping ilya's balls with one hand and shoving the other in ilya's curls and gripping tight and saying "i like you so much" and ilya is grinding his body into shane's touch and then he's gasping and fuck did he just...?
shane's hips still and ilya squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a long, self-admonishing groan, head dropping down to the crook of shane's neck, hiding himself there in the warmth of shane's skin. and shane is giggling and ilya is pinching his side and shane is just giggling harder.
"did you just...?" shane asks and ilya is growling "shut up" as shane is tugging on his hair trying to get him to look at him. when he pulls back -- finally -- he expects to see maybe disappointment but shane is grinning wild and wide. his eyes are all crinkled and his freckles are bunched up around his nose and his mouth is stretched in a smile ilya has never seen before and he puffs a breath as he looks at this pretty, beautiful, perfect man. who likes him. so much. of course he just...
"sorry," he mumbles and shane shakes his head and nuzzles their mouths together, dragging lazy kisses over ilya's slack lips. "no," he's saying "that was hot" and ilya is making an indignant sound. it was definitely not hot that he just came from shane barely touching him and talking to him all sweetly in his deep morning voice. "you really like me," shane teases and ilya groans "you like me so much you came before i even did anything" and ilya is muttering "shut the fuck up" and shane is laughing again but it turns to moaning gasping whimpering when ilya wraps a calloused palm around shane's dribbling cock, thumb pressing meanly into the sensitive head.
and then he's bullying shane onto his stomach and yanking his hips up and spreading his cheeks with his hands and pushing his tongue back into shane's hole. eating him out ferociously, rough and sloppy, morning stubble dragging a little painfully over sensitve skin. and he won't touch shane's dick. he won't let shane come. he won't let shane touch himself. he's indulging in sucking and kissing and tonguing at shane's pretty wet loose hole until he is hard again and then he's fucking shane long and slow and mean. not quite giving him enough to come, driving him over the edge of over sensitve, holding him down between the shoulder blades and making him take it. ilya's come once now he can go on and on and on. and shane is whimpering, tears spilling over red cheeks, by the time ilya finally picks up the pace, adjusts his angle, and gives shane what he wants. fucking into shane hard and brutal and precise. cock dragging over that perfect spot on every press in and on every drag back out. still he doesn't let shane touch himself and shane is hiccuping, gripping at the sheets and clenching his teeth around pathetic little mewls by the time he is finally coming. handsfree. shaking beneath ilya's hold. ilya pulls out and tears of the condom and jerks himself off furiously until he's coming all over shane's ass, painting his skin in sticky, thick cum. shane's gasping at the sensation and his spent cock dribbles more between his legs as he whimpers, reaching back for ilya's hand, fingers clenching and unclenching begging for connection.
and ilya's slowly turns shane over and slides their fingers together, bring shane's knuckles to his mouth, kissing over the thick, boyish knobs of his knuckles. and then he's slumping over shane and kissing all over his face and murmuring "i do really like you" and shane is smiling, dopey and fuckdrunk and angling his face into each kiss like a sunflower seeking sunlight. "i really like you" he's mumbling and their noses nudge and their lips smear and that's how ilya wakes up on his first morning at shane's cottage.
Ilya always has a mop of frizzy wild curls at the cottage because
They're always in and out of the water – lake swims, pool swims, hot tub, showers – so doing his curl routine each time would be crazy when he could be spending that precious time sucking his boyfriend's dick.
Shane's not the biggest fan of how Ilya's styling products feel. He'll tolerate it, but Ilya can tell by his face that the texture isn't his favourite. Less product = more hair touching.
Shane's hands are always in his hair. When they're kissing. When they're watching a movie. When they fuck. When Ilya sits with his head in Shane's lap. When they're napping on the couch together. Shane's hands are usually full of a handful of Ilya's curls.
Shane seems to really like it. One time Shane said Ilya's fluffy hair made him look like a duckling and he's been chasing that high ever since.
He just prefers this version of him that doesn't need to look perfect and be perfect to be loved and adored. Shane never makes him feel lazy for letting his hair get a little wild over summer. He kisses his temples and tells him he's so fucking beautiful.
The salt and pepper in Ilya's hair doesn't show up as clearly as it does in Shane's. Instead Ilya, despite sometimes admitting to feeling like he has to claw his way to joy and happiness from the bottom of the deepest pit, develops laugh lines.
They start as creases in the corners of his eyes, the natural consequence of David's awful dad jokes, or Yuna's brand negotiation horror stories, or a stellar Cens reunion, or something wild and out of the blue that their toddler says, or a bitchy comment from Shane from their seats in the stands as they watch games rather than play them, or the way Shane's hip now clicks in a comically loud way every time Ilya spreads his legs.
Initially the lines fade away immediately.
Then, as the years go on, they linger, so that Shane gets to look at them and hear the sound of Ilya's laughter in his head for longer and longer. Then, they stop fading, and Shane can see the evidence of every beautiful moment they've had together etched onto his favorite face in the world.
When Ilya finally concedes and says they're not laugh lines anymore - he's officially got wrinkles, Shane beams at him and kisses each one reverently.
"You know me, I would never complain, but what was that for?" Ilya asks and Shane smiles back at him, knowing the lines on his own face largely mirror his husband's.
"Just grateful that I've spent long enough with you to get to see you with wrinkles."
And when Ilya swoops forward and kisses him, it feels every bit as wild and exciting as it did when they were nineteen.
there’s a viral video going around of someone who snuck a camera into the tunnel and caught shane and ilya embraced right before they hit the ice. it’s an incredibly warm and tender moment, they’re holding each other so tightly. ilya’s face is buried in shane’s hair and he’s kissing his head while whispering something to his husband. and they’re kinda slowly swaying together, and shane’s got one hand caressing ilya’s back while the other one is just playing with the ends of ilya’s hair. and it’s the most domestic and romantic thing that anyone have ever seen from them. they’re just so soft and in love and and the fans are mad about the invasion of privacy but also so grateful they got to witness such a beautiful moment between the married hockey players. and harris is absolutely beaming because for once the hollanders are viral for something nice instead of some chaotic or unhinged moment
