you know i think ilya would get off on choosing shane's clothes for him. shane doesn't really care about fashion so much as looking acceptable for the situation, so when ilya asks to style him before charity galas and important dinners and re-do his array of game day suits, it's not exactly a hard sell.
suddenly, shane is in proper black and white formal for the first time ever, a designer suit jacket with a little point to the shoulder that makes him look all sensual and broad. accessories keep making their way in. a snakeskin belt, a loafer that doesn't look like it's from 2005, a signet ring. and of course, ilya always ties the rolex in, wear the one with the emerald face, i'll put you in a matching sock and maybe some gemstone cuff-links. his casuals remain casual, but every once in awhile he sneaks in a pair of impeccably tailored $800 jeans, or a vintage acid wash muscle tee ilya had to fight tooth and nail for on ebay. he puts his baby in cashmere sweaters that would make princess diana cry.
and people notice. of course they notice. there are theories, who is the stylist, is it a social media stunt, a new sponsorship everything their influence. and yes, a part of him is resentful he can't claim credit, but when shane asks him once, while ilya delicately folds his silk pocket square, why do you do this for me? ilya runs a hand over his dress shirt, groping at his pecs, and says, they all wonder why you look so pretty. is because i want my boyfriend to look pretty for me. they wonder, and i know. i know it's for me. it isn't for you, malysh. is for me.
one day, ilya thinks, he'll walk in with the hottest man in the nhl on his arm. he'll put him in diamonds and a fur coat, and they'll all know. but for now he just pats shane's chest and sends him out with cuff links that have ilya's initials engraved.
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