I ask for Holla/nov with cat allergies (both of em). Saw a scenerio somewhere that Hay/den gets a new cat and Holla/nov is over for date night. Il/ya is much more allergic but Sh/ane is less allergic but still adorable
Please and Ty ! Sorry for another request
First, this scenario is SO cute. Second, you have nothing to apologize for! Your requests are so fun to write, and you don’t send too many or anything! I hope you enjoy :)
The latter half of this fic (the car scene onward) was created by @softsicknose and me in a massive geeking-out session. I also added in a few sentences as recommended by the ridiculously lovely @snifflybabe. Thanks to both of them <33 This is set shortly after the ending of The Long Game.
——
Meovv (H/eated R/ivalry, Shane and Ilya)
Shane had never spent a lot of time around animals.
He hadn’t had a pet growing up - the Hollanders devoted all of their time and effort to hockey, so taking care of a cat or dog would have been difficult - and the same went for his hockey-playing friends and acquaintances. So his experiences had always been pretty limited, and he hadn’t done much of anything to remedy that in his adulthood.
Now that he and Ilya were married and finally living together full-time, Shane was used to life with a dog and enjoying it more than he’d ever thought he would. He’d pictured dogs as messy and rambunctious, and while Anya was certainly full of energy, she was far gentler and sweeter than Shane had expected her to be. A lot like her father, actually.
Shane still assumed, in the great debate of cats v. dogs, that he was more likely to be a cat person - they were quiet and calm, which matched his vibe well (maybe a little too well, if the aloofness associated with them was to be believed). But he hadn’t spent enough time near any to be sure.
When Shane pulled into the driveway of Hayden and Jackie’s home, Ilya made a show of slowly unbuckling his seatbelt and sighing exaggeratedly. “Do you think we will be able to eat lunch right away, or…?”
Shane gave him a little shove. “Don’t be an asshole.”
Ilya gave him his trademark (pain-in-the-ass) faux-innocent look. “I’m just very hungry, Shane.”
“Mhm. C’mon,” he said, ready to drag his husband by the collar of his shirt if he didn’t get a move on. Fortunately for both of them, Ilya just stuck out his pretty pink bottom lip like the drama queen he was and got out of the car.
“Hi, guys,” Jackie said with a smile as she greeted them at the door, gesturing for them to sit down on the couch. “Where the hell is Hayden, he was just here a secon—Hayden!”
“I’m here,” Hayden said, coming into the room carrying something small and black and white and fuzzy with teeny little claws — a cat?
Shane looked at Ilya, whose eyes had grown very wide with what looked like…fear? worry?…before a cheerful grin overtook his face. “Is that a kitty?” he said, and Shane couldn’t help but smile at the delight in his voice.
“Meet Sparkles,” Hayden said, then shrugged at Shane’s raised eyebrow. “The girls named her.”
“And Arthur,” Jackie added. “He got the last say.”
Hayden sighed. “Technically we got the last say, but…”
“May I pet her?” Ilya said in an awed voice. What the hell? Shane had never seen Ilya be so polite in Hayden’s presence. To his further surprise, Hayden smiled and gently held the kitten out for Ilya to take into his arms. Wow. Who knew that all it would take for the two of them to get along was the presence of a furry creature?
Jackie caught Shane’s gaze and grinned, probably thinking the same thing he was. Ilya made a small contented noise as Sparkles curled up in his lap. “She is gorgeous,” he said, blinking hard multiple times as he stroked her fur. Was he going to start crying? Shane thought the cat was cute too, but Ilya’s emotions seemed a little overboard. Still, the way that Ilya was so gentle and sweet with the tiny kitten made Shane absolutely melt. It made him want to climb into his husband’s lap and kiss and kiss and kiss him…but then, Hayden might never invite the two of them back.
“I just need to finish up the salad, and then we’ll be ready,” Jackie said. “But before that…” she went into a bedroom and brought out another cat, just as little and fuzzy as Sparkles. “Meet Sparkles’s brother!”
Ilya looked up from scritching behind Sparkles’s ears. Once again, his face morphed from terrified to excited, and no one but Shane seemed to notice. Shane muffled a quick cough into his elbow and watched the tuxedo cat’s austere, unblinking expression. How did animals look so human sometimes? This one looked like he needed a scotch and a cigarette and a nap. It was fucking adorable.
“His name’s Emmett,” Jackie continued.
“I named him,” Hayden cut in.
Ilya rolled his eyes, still petting Sparkles in a steady rhythm. “Of course you would name your cat a boring human name.” He sniffled, probably to emphasize his contempt.
Hayden crossed his arms. “Uh…doesn’t your dog have a human name?”
Ilya scowled at him like he had called Anya a filthy mongrel. “That is -snf- different. She has a beautiful name. Not like…” He screwed up his face, nose twitching, and affected a drawn-out Canadian accent. “‘Emm-ett.’”
“God, you are such a fucking—”
“Jesus Christ,” Shane said exasperatedly. “Can you two stop arguing for five fucking seconds?”
Jackie nodded in agreement. “Get it together, Hayden.”
“Me?! He’s the one who—”
“Let -snf- Shane hold him,” Ilya cut in. “He has not spent enough time around kitties. He needs practice for when we -hgkm- buy a farm for our fifty animals.”
“I draw the line at getting an emu,” Shane said, deadpan, as he took the cat in his arms, trying to hold the tiny thing carefully without squeezing too tight or dropping her. Hayden and Jackie both laughed. A loud purring began to emanate from Sparkles as she curled further into Ilya’s lap. Ilya began blinking hard again, and he rubbed his nose into his shoulder. Hm. He hadn’t seemed quite so sniffly this morning. Must have forgotten to take his allergy pill. Again.
“Wow, she really likes you,” Hayden said incredulously.
“Of course she likes me,” Ilya said. “I am -snf- irresistible. Right, Shane?”
Shane ignored him, and Hayden’s accompanying groan, focusing his attention solely on Emmett instead. He was so soft, and his huge yellow eyes were mesmerizing. He rubbed his head against Shane’s thigh, and Shane scratched beneath his chin, and - oh. He started purring too, loudly enough that Ilya turned his head to watch the two of them. Shane placed a hand on Emmett’s side to feel his little body vibrating with the sound. Something lit up in Shane’s heart. So cute…he looked over at Ilya, and returned his soft smile. Hmm…maybe Anya wouldn’t mind if they added another member to their family?
Then Shane needed to cough against the growing fullness in his throat and scratch beneath an itch in his right eye.
Ilya gave him a questioning look but became distracted by Sparkles kneading biscuits into his leg. He dragged a wrist beneath his nose as he watched her, grinning.
Shane grinned, too. Then he scrunched up the right side of his face against the returning itch in his eye. And then his other eye. And then both at once. And then the itch became a burn that left him both annoyed and confused.
Beside him, Ilya made a strangled sound, then ducked his head back into his shoulder. “h’gnxt! ngkt-uhh! huhh, iuhh…GXT’SHHt!”
“Bless you!” Jackie exclaimed as Ilya let out a shaky breath.
Shane wanted to also bless Ilya’s incredibly itchy-sounding sneezes, but he was too busy struggling with an urgent and all-encompassing tickle in his own nose. His breath hitched, at an embarrassingly high pitch, and what came out was “Blehh-ehh-eh’TSCHHhh! ts’chhhoo!” As Emmett mewed in surprise, Shane snuffled and blushed and blinked, hard. Just as Ilya had been doing since he’d started playing with the kitten. Oh, shit. “Eh-excuse m-! hdt’shiew! hh'ISHhhuhh!”
“Oh, shit,” Hayden said, echoing Shane’s thoughts. “Are you guys allergic to cats?”
Shane noticed that Ilya was avoiding everyone’s gazes. He attempted to give him a what the fuck? stare but had to give up when his vision began to blur with tears. “I-I didn’t knowhhh-!” he tried to explain. Jackie swooped in to pick up Emmett before Shane could jostle him further with his sneezes (not that they were strong enough to really bother him, like Ilya’s would be, but still). "huh-ISChhh! hh'ISHhhhoo! hah-tishh'hew!"
Ilya, meanwhile, was handing Sparkles back to Hayden before rocketing forward with a trio of explosive sneezes muffled into his hands.
"haaAAASHHhhoo! AESHhhhuhh! HAAH-SHUHHhhh!"
“Bless you! Oh my god, I’m so sorry, guys,” Jackie said. “I’ll get you some Benadryl.” She dashed off to the bathroom as Shane felt the now-burning tears begin to slip down his dripping nose. He wiped them away and turned back towards Ilya, whose face was buried in some tissues from a box that Hayden had passed him. Oh, they’re getting along again, Shane thought faintly before he had to pitch sideways into his elbow.
"hadt'schiew! -tschiew! ahh'ISHHhhew!" The sneezes came in wet bursts that left a mist on his arm, and Shane grimaced with discomfort.
“Bless you,” Ilya said, not moving his face from where it was covered by the tissues.
“-cough- Thagk you. Bless you,” Shane said, then mumbled a “Sorry” to Hayden and flushed when Ilya handed him the tissue box. Hayden told him not to worry, gave his own “sorry” - this was a very Canadian affair - and went to put the cats in the other room. Shane was grateful to have a moment to blow his nose in relative privacy, excluding the very sniffly man sitting next to him and rubbing his nose against his palm in rapid circular motions like his life depended on it.
“Ilya…" Shane noticed his husband freeze at his questioning tone. "...did you already know that you’re allergic to cats?”
With a guilty expression on his face, Ilya plucked some more tissues from the box and blew his nose with a booming, bass-note honk.
Shane huffed. “Don’t try and get out of answering the question by blowing your nose, smartass.”
Ilya sniffled thickly, and it sounded like his nose was already starting to fill back up with congestion. “I just needed to blow my nose, Hollander.”
“Oh, it’s Hollander now?” Shane narrowed his eyes. “You did know you were allergic, didn’t you?”
Ilya paused. “…-snf-…Maybe.” He said this in the direction of Shane’s knees.
Shane threw his arms up. “Jesus, Ilya!”
“What am I supposed to do? Say no when a kitten is offered to me?! She is so cute, Shane!”
“Wait, you’re the one who asked to hold—you know what, no.” Shane sighed and shook his head. “Forget it. Let’s go outside and get away from the dander, you look miserable.”
“So do you, moy lyubimyy,” Ilya said, staring into Shane’s eyes with a frown. He cupped Shane’s cheek in his hand, and the gentle touch somehow made Shane’s nose twitch. “Your eyes are so watery. Are you feeling very bad?”
“I’m okay. Just a little itchy and - hit’chew! - ugh, sneezy, I guess.” he took some more tissues and blew hesitantly to avoid setting his sensitive nose off again, Ilya rubbing his back all the while.
“Bud’ zdorov, sweetheart. I guess it is a good thing that you have not spent much time around cats.”
Shane couldn’t argue with that. “How are you?”
Ilya looked an absolute wreck; his sclera were tinged scarlet around the blue of his irises, his nostrils red and flaring with the need for release and relief. Some of his curls flopped loosely along his forehead from where’d they’d been flung during his sneezes. “I am—”
“Yeah, don’t even try and tell me you’re fine.” He took Ilya’s hand and led him out the French doors into to the Pikes’ huge backyard. The brightness of the sun shined down on them, and with how angry their noses already were, they both—
“hishh’yew! tissh’hhew! iSsh’ooo!”
“AESZCHhhh, ESZCHhhh, AESHHHhhuh!”
24 and 81 stared at each other for a moment before bursting out laughing, Shane reaching an arm around Ilya’s shoulder as Ilya moved to grab Shane by the waist. What a fucking mess the pair of them were. Two big, strong hockey players brought down by the likes of two itty-bitty kitties. They cackled until tears ran down both of their faces and they were left gasping and sniffling and wiping at their eyes and noses.
Nope, they were definitely not getting a cat.
There was a noise behind them, and they both turned to see Hayden and Jackie in the doorway, holding in their own laughter. Shane felt his entire body heat with embarrassment, but he was put a little more at ease when Hayden clapped the two of them on the shoulders and Jackie handed them both pink pills and glasses of water. Ilya swallowed his pill without hesitation, a testament to how bad he must have been feeling.
“I’ll take one later,” Shane said, placing the pill in his pocket. “I have to drive us home.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” He felt his symptoms beginning to subside as he continued to breathe in the outside air. “But Ilya—” they both watched Shane’s husband jackknife forward with another cluster of rapid “eshhuhh, ESHhuhh, AHHHshoo!” sneezes “—definitely needed one. Bless you,” he called over as Ilya fisted his hands and began to rub viciously at his eyes.
“Don’t do that, Ilya, you’ll make it worse,” Jackie said, beating Shane to the punch. After Shane confirmed with Ilya that his breathing was okay and that he was just, to quote Shane, “itchy and sneezy,” he sipped at his glass of water and walked towards Hayden.
“I’ve got to get us home. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, buddy.”
Shane scratched at the inside of his hand so he wouldn’t give into his own urge to rub at his eyes. “-snf- Y’know, Hayd, you could’ve just said that you don’t want us to come over anymore.”
Hayden laughed. “I would never, Cap.”
Shane froze, and Hayden’s eyes widened as he realized his mistake. “Uh, I mean—“
“It’s okay,” Shane said, though he did still feel a little pang at being called Cap. Nope, he told himself. That’s all behind you. You’re a Centaur now. He forced a smile. “Well, thanks for having us, I guess.”
“Hey, anytime. Want some food to take home?”
Shane looked over at Ilya, who was scratching at his nose and flushing red at Jackie’s kind attention. “We could always take some food home.”
——
After the two of them went back into the house to wash off their faces and wave goodbye to the cats from a safe distance, they got back into the Land Rover and started on the drive home. The Benadryl was already affecting Ilya, who was getting droopy-eyed as he leaned his head against the window.
“You are feeling better, dorogy?” he mumbled as Shane got onto the highway.
“I’m okay. You seem a little better, too.” Shane reached over and placed his hand on Ilya’s thigh.
Ilya closed his eyes. “I hope I did not scare them.”
“Who?”
“The kitties. With my sneezes. They are so big and loud.” His voice had gone very quiet, like it did whenever he was feeling sad, or insecure, or nervous, or frightened. It made Shane’s heart hurt.
“You didn’t, Ilya. And you were so nice to Sparkles, you even held back your sneezes when she was on your lap.” Shane had learned over the years that Ilya was very considerate when it came to the people (and animals) he loved.
Ilya smiled as his eyes began to slip closed. “Sparkles…so cute…wish I could pet her without itching…” his smile turned a little sad.
“Hey, Anya’s waiting at home for you, you can pet her,” Shane said, hoping to soothe the distress out of him.
“Anyoshka,” Ilya said, and even with his eyes on the road Shane could tell that Ilya’s happy smile had returned. “My sweet girl. Ya tebya lyublyu, moy ángel…”
Shane felt the butterflies in his stomach that always fluttered when Ilya was sleepy and his Russian accent came out thicker. It made Ilya self-conscious, but to Shane, it was the most adorable thing in the world.
Ilya gave a little gasp and turned towards his shoulder with a soft, itchy “hushhhoooo…” that made Shane’s butterflies increase tenfold. He had never seen his husband sneeze so quietly, and it was so sweet he couldn’t even stand it. “hushoooo…hushhooo…”
“Blehh-bless you,” Shane said, surprised to find his nose buzzing in sympathy with Ilya’s plight; he wasn’t quite free of his own allergic reaction, it seemed. “tschhh! tschh’ooo!” he sneezed as best he could into his shoulder with his hands occupied by the steering wheel.
Ilya, eyes half open, reached over and rubbed his thumb over Shane’s knuckles. “Bud’z’rov…” he slurred.
Shane couldn’t help but laugh. “I guess the Benadryl is working.”
“Mm…” Ilya yawned enormously and adjusted his head to lean more comfortably against the window.
As he slept, Shane held his hand for the rest of the ride home.
——
After Shane woke him gently and guided him inside their home, Ilya sat on the ground of the living room and held his arms out for Anya to come close. “Moy shchenok,” Ilya cooed when she cuddled into him, her backside wiggling as he scratched it. “Here is my good girl. She would never make her papa sneeze, hmm? No, no, never,” he said, taking her head in his hands and kissing all over her face. Then he smooshed his face into her chest. “My little teddy bear. You smell like corn chips,” he muffled into her fur before dragging his head away to sneeze into his shoulder. “hy’AASHHhhhuhh! hAAHHhhhoo! AESZCHhhhuh!” Anya, used to Ilya’s strong sneezes, didn’t even blink.
“Bless you, Ilya. C’mon, we need a shower, then bed.”
“Da, yes. Need to get all this…” Ilya waved a hand in the air as if it could help him conjure up the words he was looking for. “…kitty pollen off of us.”
Shane melted anew at the thickness of Ilya’s accent and his adorable substitute for “cat dander.” He helped him up, kissed his hand, then led him to the bathroom. He let Ilya lean on him as he washed them both off with the best sensitive-skin soap money could buy. (They’d learned the hard way never to buy scented body wash. Shane had thought he was going lose his hearing from how loud Ilya’s sneezes were that day.)
Wearing the matching robes that Shane had bought them for Christmas (monogrammed with their initials, of course), they got into bed and Ilya curled up on Shane’s chest. His nose and eyes were still red, but he was much less snuffly and irritated. Shane was feeling better himself, but he took his pill just in case. He had a tendency to be a bit sneezy in the mornings and after pregame naps, so he figured he may as well avoid that if he could. He felt pretty sneezed out for the week, anyway. How the hell did Ilya handle sneezing so much so often? It was exhausting.
Ilya snuggled as close as he could. “Shanya. You are okay?”
Shane smiled and nodded. “I’m good.”
“Anya?”
“She’s right here.” Indeed, Anya had approached Shane’s side of the bed for pets before going over to Ilya’s. “Let’s rest, okay?”
“Mmh.” Ilya closed his eyes, and just as Shane began to drift off, he said, “Shane…”
Shane opened his eyes and was lovestruck by the gorgeous, red-rimmed blue eyes staring back at him. “Yeah, Ilya?”
“We didn’t eat lunch...”
Shane rolled his eyes. “Oh my god, you dork. I brought home some salad for later.”
“Better have some protein in it…” Ilya whispered a moment before he began to snore.
Once again thinking about I/lya being taken care of by S/hane's parents. I need the slow burn of him trying to trust them enough to show 'vulnerability' while he's sick. I crave it on a biblical level.
→ hiiiiii! so i've been needing some medical-grade copium after the pens got booted out of the play-offs, so this is what i've been doing with my time. these two are both so dear to me and i'm having a real moment with them so i had to do it to 'em (make one of them — later, both of them — sick) <3
→ part 1 of 3.
As was the case for pretty much every communications manager walking the earth, it was easy for Harris to feel like his work was never truly done. That there was always more, more, more he could be doing.
Still riding the high of the winning game they’d practically just jumped off the ice from, the general mood among the boys scattered throughout the plane was jubilant, if slightly muted by the exhaustion that came after a string of back to back away games.
Some were taking some time to themselves, headphones on and actively tuning the rest of the crowd out. Some were sleeping. Some were chatting animatedly amongst themselves – still keyed up with the buzz of post-game adrenaline. At the four seater table directly behind Harris, Wyatt had pulled Bood, Ilya – and Shane by extension – into an extremely high stakes poker tournament, playing with a mix of sour patch kids, peanut M&Ms, and mini salted pretzels as chips.
Harris couldn’t help but chuckle when he overheard Ilya reassure Shane that, don’t worry — he’d eat whatever Shane ended up winning.
Wyatt must’ve known that their captain needed a distraction, because Wyatt’s just a sweetheart like that.
It’d been a bittersweet victory for Ilya tonight, winning in Boston – his old barn – to a chorus of boo’s and a torrent of abuse thrown his way pretty much any time he so much as touched the puck, by the same notoriously passionate fans that used to scream themselves hoarse cheering him on. The fans that had been proud to have ‘Rozanov’ emblazoned on the back of so many of their jerseys. He’d shrugged it off and been cracking jokes all night, pretending it hadn’t affected him, but for those with eyes to see, it had evidently worn at him. On the bus from the arena to the airport, and for the first half of the flight, he’d been sullen and unnaturally reserved.
It was a high stakes game with ‘must win’ media narratives attached on both sides. For the Centaurs, a crucial two points on offer to bring them within striking distance of clinching a play-off spot after a difficult loss in Pittsburgh at the start of their road trip. For the Raiders, a crucial two points needed to simply stay in play-off contention at all.
The Cens’ 4-2 win ended up securing the Raiders’ elimination from the play-off race.
God, no wonder the guys are tired.
Hell, Harris was feeling tired enough himself just watching on, covering it online. It was all worth it in the end, though, as they were going home with four points out of a possible six and needed just two more overall to finally get the ‘X’. One more win. Preferably at home, in front of their own fans, at their next game on Saturday night.
Tuning out the chatter and activity around him, Harris refocused his attention on his laptop screen, balancing on the tray table in front of him, the raw, ‘behind the scenes’ video footage from across the multi-day trip freshly uploaded onto into his Premiere Pro workspace.
He’d started these sort of multi-day, mini travel vlog style clip compilations a while ago now, and the fans had grown to love them. Really, they ate up any chance to get to know the guys beyond the rink and get a peek behind the curtain – Harris knew how that felt, given that he’d been one of them, growing up. Not to blow his own, or any of the rest of his team’s trumpet, but secretly liked to think that using their social media channels to break down a bit of that barrier between players and fans, showcase these guys’ personalities, had helped contribute to the Centaurs’ growth as a franchise. One silly TikTok meme trend video and silly questionnaire at a time.
Honestly, the team had become like Harris’s second family. They’d accepted him unconditionally, no questions asked. And as someone who grew up loving hockey, someone who the sport helped through some really tough times, but was essentially told by the culture at large that being gay put him at odds with that world and made him unwelcome within it, he’d never expected to be able to have… this. That family atmosphere, the healthy locker room environment they’d cultivated, was a major USP and it was something Harris loved so much about the team and about doing this job. He wanted to capture that; make it part of their brand.
They had a much-needed day off tomorrow, and technically, he could probably push the editing to Tuesday, but who knew what else could be sitting on his desk, or in his inbox, that he’d also have to deal with by then? No, it was easier to just lock in, do it now, and schedule it to post so he could forget about it. No matter the jealousy he felt creeping in that all the other guys were able to kick back and relax; their jobs done.
Exactly, Harris. They did their jobs tonight and won. So stop whining, even inside your own head, about having to do yours and just get on with it.
God, dinner felt like it’d been years ago at this point. Maybe he was a little hangry.
If he was being honest with himself though, it had probably more to do with the fact that he’d been feeling a bit icky ever since they took off. They’d dimmed the cabin lights to allow people to sleep, so the glow of the laptop screen was starting to make his eyes ache. Combine that with the weariness from the general lack of sleep accumulated over the previous few days, the recycled air drying out his throat, and the cabin pressure messing with his sinuses, making them thick and sore, and he’d admit he was definitely not the happiest camper.
But that wasn’t anyone else’s fault, so he should probably just keep to himself and not make his, admittedly rare, moodiness anyone else’s problem. He just needed to get back on solid ground, curl up in his boyfriend’s (magnificently toned) arms, in their own bed, and get a good, long sleep.
He only got as far as reviewing the first video file from the massive collection he’d just dumped into the software, when he caught movement in his peripheral vision. Speak of the devil…
He turned to find Troy hanging over the vacant aisle seat beside him, drawn back to him from wherever he’d been off goofing around with some of the few other guys that remained awake. He’d scored the go-ahead goal that led to the win tonight, a nasty 90mph wrister that Boston’s goalie had wrongly anticipated he’d pass to the centre where Ilya was deceptively tapping for it. Harris could’ve burst with pride uploading Troy’s individual ‘goal’ gif. Tonight’s first star, it’d clearly left him a little too buzzed to sleep.
Harris removed an AirPod.
“Hey…” Troy trailed off, eyes lingering expectedly on the empty seat. “Can I sit, or do you want to be left alone while you’re working?” As if to sweeten the deal, he brought his hand round from where it’d been hanging behind him out of sight, producing a can of Coke Zero and a little bag of salted pretzels. “I’m not above bribery.”
Despite his mood, Harris couldn’t help but smile. Turns out that’s just kind of one of Troy’s love languages – bringing him stuff, namely his favourite beverages and snacks.
Harris would bet he was some kind of retriever in a past life. “Of course, go for it.”
Before Troy could even move to sit down though, after another painful swallow, Harris caught himself. “Actually, wait! Before you sit down, while you’re on your feet, would you mind grabbing me a tea from one of the stewardesses, please?”
Troy glanced towards the back of the plane where said stewardesses, looking amused but almost as tired as the team they were serving, were unfortunately stuck in a conversation with a couple of well-meaning, but ultimately immature, rookies who seemed like they were trying to charm them in some way. Okay, a rescue mission as well. His mouth twitched into a smile.
“Sure, what kind?”
“Preferably green if they have it, but if not, really anything will do so long as it’s hot. And wet.”
The innuendo somehow flew right over Troy’s head. “You’re cold?”
Harris shrugged. “It’s always a little chilly on airplanes, right?”
Troy appeared to accept that as a valid answer, nodding before he went to go and retrieve the tea. By the time he came back, the steaming little cardboard cup looking particularly tiny in his rather large hand, Harris had given in and pulled a little bottle of aspirin out of his bag, shaking two pills out into his hand to wash down with the Coke Zero.
“What’s hurting?” Troy asked, brow now furrowed as he slid into the aisle seat.
“Just my head a little bit.” Harris waved it off dismissively. “Too many late nights on the road.” It felt a little bit silly complaining about being exhausted to someone who tended to wrack up over 20 minutes of ice time a night, on top of the same travel schedule Harris was experiencing, only even more frequently.
The travelling didn’t usually bother Harris this much, though. And with that, a tiny, foreboding niggle of doubt embedded itself. Troy’s questions were only making him feel a little more nervous as well. Stacking the chilliness on top of the tiredness…
On top of the sore throat on top of the sinus issues…
Troy handed Harris off the tea, making himself comfortable, oblivious to his boyfriend’s held-off, but impending, doom spiral. He leaned slightly into Harris’s side as he returned to his work, one AirPod still out, and hooked his chin over Harris’s shoulder, watching the screen. Although Troy impeded the full range of motion in his left arm, he was a welcome weight; a welcome warmth. Flush with a sudden affection, and with his fingers still warm from holding the hot cup, Harris curled his fist and brought them up to stroke Troy’s cheek. He basically melted into his touch.
“What’cha doing?” Troy eventually asked, his voice soft and syrupy slow.
Harris switched the tabs quickly between his editing software, the Centaurs’ Twitter page, and their Instagram account. “Just editing my little behind the scenes ‘DITL’s and replying to some comments.”
Troy looked confused, and Harris let out a chuckle.
“‘DITLs’? Now you’re making up words just to confuse me.”
Harris barked out a laugh. “All this time and you still have no real idea what all I actually do day-to-day, huh?”
“For sure, yeah. You… come at us with a little mini mic and ask dumb questions,” Troy answered, his smile teasing.
Harris’s mouth dropped open, clearly indignant. “The questions your fans are clamouring for the answer to! Like ‘Did you make your bed this morning?’, ‘Is this princess treatment or bare minimum?’, and, my personal favourite, ‘Who on the team would be most likely to fall for a phishing scam?’”
Troy gave him a pointed look at that last one. Harris bit his lip to keep from laughing.
“I’m sorry, baby, but you’re just mad because most people chose you.”
“I fucking wouldn’t…” Troy grumbled, just like he had on the day Harris had gone around asking it, before mumbling, “...because I’d ask you first and you’d know.”
After that they settled into a comfortable rhythm – Harris working, Troy watching him work. Whatever the hot tea had managed to loosen up in Harris’s airways, worryingly, it had him alternating between clearing his throat and sniffling with an ever increasing frequency. Despite it being pretty much right in Troy’s ear, if he noticed or was bothered by it, he didn’t show it. Something about Troy watching over his shoulder in dazed, sleepy, silence, lulled by the low rumble of the engines, was only making Harris sleepier too, his eyelids getting noticeably heavier by the minute.
Finally admitting (temporary) defeat, Harris saved his progress and sat fully back, scrubbing the sleep from his eye.
“Ugh, I can’t wait to be back home in our own bed,” he said, partly through a yawn.
Troy tilted his head to look up at him, tired eyes shining with agreement. “Same. Still a little while to go yet, though. And we need to pick Chiron up on the way back.”
Normally, if they were away together for no more than a couple of days, they’d save hassle and money and just leave Chiron at Harris’s parents’ place. But when they were gone for longer, like this, they just didn’t want to impose on them or put them under any more strain with all the animals that were already running around. So they’d started putting Chiron in this fancy kennel – more ’doggie hotel’, really – type of place. Shane and Ilya take Anya there as well and had highly recommended it. Ilya had started to joke that she and Chiron were ‘cousins’ who were ‘going on vacation together’.
“Awww,” Harris cooed, picturing his fluffy little face and how excited he’ll be to see them again. “I’ve missed him so much.”
“Me too. The worst part of it is, though, is that he’s apparently having the time of his life. He won't want to come home with us.”
They’d been getting pretty frequent updates from the kennel staff, including pictures and videos of Chiron completing commands for yummy, nutritious treats, frolicking in wide open fields on one of at least two walks he got per day, and, adorably, making friends with the other dogs.
“Did you see the last load of stuff they sent over from today?” Harris gushed, already pulling his phone out.
They were very much an ‘opposites attract’ kind of couple when it came to the scale of how glued you could be to your phone – Harris was just about the easiest person in the world to reach at any given time. Troy? Not so much. Honestly, whether Troy had or hadn’t seen them, he just wanted to look at them again regardless.
“No! I saw the notification before the game earlier, but I was kind of locked in and didn’t want to take myself out of the moment.”
They huddled together over Harris’s phone screen as they poured over the assortment of pictures and videos, their gazes mutually adoring. As much as he loved Chiron and did just want to look at the pictures again, Harris would be lying if he said that he wasn’t also just simply enjoying being close to his boyfriend – suddenly feeling a little greedy about it. He just about resisted the urge to fully lay his head in the crook of Troy’s neck, to turn his face inward, away from the screen lights, close his eyes, and rest in the deep dip of Troy’s shoulderblade like he would do if they were at home.
“That’s totally his girlfriend,” Harris pointed out instead, gesturing towards the pretty, well-groomed springer spaniel that kept appearing in so many of the snaps, never too far from Chiron’s side. One of them was captioned “Chiron and Cora! Best buddies ❤️”
Harris’s chuckle burst out of him in a rather undignified snort, the pain making him wince before he could fully catch himself. “Apparently so! Who would’ve thought? Sdnff. Where did we go wrong, babe?”
Troy ‘tsk’ed. “We didn’t raise him that way. And besides – he’s too young to have a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. Or an… an anything-friend.”
“He’s two and a half now! Nearly three.”
“Exactly. He’s still a baby.”
Harris shot him a look. “Very much a teenager in the canine world.”
Troy averted his gaze, but dipped his head a fraction closer, mumbling. “Well he’ll always be a baby to me. Our baby.”
Harris’s chest fluttered. Oh God, that’s so cute I have no idea what to do with it. He sighed, but it came out warm and affectionate. “Such a protective dad.”
Unfortunately, it appeared like that fluttering didn’t want to stay in his chest. The hot tea had dulled the ache in his throat, and eased some of the pressure in his head, but now, from that, a crawling itch suddenly wound all the way up into the back of his nose. Gasping, he pulled out of Troy’s personal space, turning away and burying his face into the crook of his arm.
“hhh’UH’AEHTSSCH’hue!” Even muffled, the sneeze was loud and abrasive, cutting through the low din of the chatter around them as it tore out. Ouch.
“Bless you!” Wyatt chimed, his kind face popping up from over the back of the seat. It must’ve caught Shane, Ilya, and Bood’s attention as well, who were looking on as they briefly lowered their cards.
To Harris’s surprise, he found he couldn’t properly respond, his breath seizing in his lungs as he geared up for another, hot on the heels of the first. “Th-hh? Thanks, su’hhh…sorry– hhuh’EHTCHH’hoo!”
Huh. He barely ever sneezed more than once at a time. Which… could mean nothing.
“Bless you, man,” Wyatt repeated, standing up and reaching over the seats to clap a warm – firm – hand to Harris’s shoulder on his way out into the aisle, heading off towards the bathroom.
Troy’s brow creased. “You okay?”
Harris reemerged from his elbow with a reflexive sniffle. He’d really rather pretend he didn’t notice how heavy it was. But the thing about growing up with a chronic health issue was that you sort of got to know how your body worked on a much more intimate basis than most other people. You learned to be observant; tended to know when something was up. All there was beyond that was either denial or acceptance.
God, one more sneeze like that and he’s definitely going to need a tissue. Then it’s essentially game over.
Shit. No.
“Yes!” he said quickly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes, of course, silly. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Troy considered that for a second, but didn’t appear to know how to put what he was thinking into words; like the right ones were just out of reach somewhere. “I don’t know. You just seem kind of…”
Harris held his gaze as Troy’s eyes flitted about, studying him. Something in him battled to help Troy out; usually he would. Just a couple more beats and then…
Troy gave up, dismissing his own thought with a shrug. “I don’t know. Never mind. Ignore me, I’m probably just…”
Harris’s mouth twitched into a small, private smile.
“Tired?” he supplied for him this time.
Troy gave a slow nod, yawning as he slumped down a little further in his seat. “Yeah, that.” He leaned back into Harris’s space once more like a clingy house cat. Getting a proper look at him now, Harris could see the slightly hollow-looking exhaustion in the ice blue of his eyes, post-game adrenaline all but drained away.
“Here,” Harris said, bending over to lift his scarf – large, woolen and adorned with coloured stripes – from where he’d discarded it on top of his bag after boarding. For it technically being Spring, he’d thought he’d been stupid for bringing it in the first place, only to be vindicated by the relatively unseasonable cold snap Boston was experiencing that actually made it entirely worth bringing. He folded it up, then propped it between his shoulder and the curve of his neck, indicating for Troy to lay his head down.
“Go ahead,” Harris prompted, when Troy didn’t immediately take him up on it, despite how tempted he looked by the offer.
“Are you not going to have a nap too?”
Harris’s smile turned regretful, peering at his waiting laptop screen. “I’m so close to having at least the first part of the video done – we only have about an hour left ‘til we land and if I focus, I know I can finish it by then.”
Troy shot him a familiar look, vaguely disapproving, but ultimately accepting. He was well used to Harris’s workaholic ways by now. In lieu of adding anything more, Troy tilted his chin up and pressed a quick, featherlight kiss to the underside of Harris’s jaw before finally laying his head down on his makeshift pillow.
“Ew,” Ilya and Bood chirped simultaneously as they passed by, the two of them and Shane having abandoned the game entirely and began making their way to their actual seats. Bood with a wide, teasing smirk, and Ilya almost comically straight-faced.
“Not in a homophobic way, obviously!” Bood rushed to follow up, full of sudden ‘potential allyship fuck up’ fear. “Just, like, in a lovey dovey, ‘get a room’ kind of way, y’know?”
“I meant it homophobically,” Ilya cut in, much to Shane’s horror, earning himself a smack on the arm as Shane shoved him onwards.
“Ilya! Jesus, sorry about him.”
It was all Harris could do to prevent himself bursting out laughing. Okay, so they’ve got a tired, cranky captain who probably shouldn’t be bothered for the remainder of the flight. Got it.
Meanwhile, Troy simply flipped them the bird before settling back in and getting comfy against Harris’s shoulder again.
He was asleep before Harris even got to the captions.
maybe their cheeks are slightly flushed. maybe their eyes are a bit glassy and the dark circles under their eyes a little darker. maybe their hands are colder than usual. maybe they're quieter or clingier than usual. maybe they keep rubbing their nose or letting out quiet sniffles when no one's looking
Initially meant this to be a spray video but it ended up being a boring video of my bedroom window SO wav it is
My nose was so itchy, sneezy, and runny yesterday in one particular spot. I've blown my nose till it's starting to become raw and I've even tried to manually itch that spot it with a wadded up tissue. Figured if I use powder I may as well post it in case anyone enjoys
this scene is so special to me! yes it's so short but it works
it's the only erotic scene where we see ilya in a long sleeve shirt! he seems like he's just getting over a cold where you're no longer contagious, but still quite sniffly & fatigued
.. the way shane helps him out of his shirt. yes.
& the fact that they're at shane's is so cute to me.. shane totally loaded him up with medicine after they were done even though ilya claimed he was all better now
maybe a bit niche, but there is an appreciable difference between tickling a nose with a feather, and tickling inside a nose with a feather.
in this case, i actually find tickling on the edges and outside of the nose to be hotter when it elicits a heavy reaction. gosh, your nose is so sensitive! this biiiiig fluffy feather brushing up against it so gingerly...it's just the bare edge of your nostrils, and you've already got to sneeze this bad? oh honey...your poor little nose is sooo helpless...
you're just gonna sneeze and sneeze and sneeze....
When somebody is frozen mid build-up waiting for release as their breath hitches endlessly when after a few moments of hesitancy their partner reaches over and gently lifts their chin up so they're eye catches the light, finally giving them relese.
(Who knows, maybe the reaction is a bit to imidiate andtheir partner is just a bit to close to get out of the way in time)
(Maybe they can't get anything up to cover or maybe they just don't have the mind to, so they sneeze openly, fully misting their parner)
Ilya is set to spend his first Christmas with Shane and his family. When he comes down with a head cold, Ilya is anxious about his illness derailing their plans.
7.4k words
cw: some mess mentions, insecurities, dubious attempts at Google Translate
Shane was practically vibrating with excitement. He woke up bright and early the day Ilya was supposed to fly into Ottawa to spend Christmas with the Hollanders. It was their last Christmas technically apart since, next Christmas, Ilya would be living in Ottawa. Shane had been so excited all week as he prepared everything he needed to show Ilya all of the Christmas traditions his family had kept up since his childhood. He was helping his parents make sure everything looked immaculate as they would be spending the majority of the holidays at Shane’s childhood home and only really going to the cottage to sleep.
Ilya woke up the morning he was supposed to fly to Ottawa regretting many of his life decisions. About a week prior, there had been a nasty cold working its way through the Boston locker room. Ilya had mentioned it to Shane when he commented that nearly everyone was playing like shit. Shane had immediately freaked out, worrying that Ilya was going to get sick and it was going to disrupt their holiday plans. He started hovering; repeatedly telling Ilya to wash his hands more often, making sure he was taking extra Vitamin-C, drinking orange juice, and trying to tell Ilya to stay away from the infected group as much as he could.
He’d complied so he wouldn’t have to look at the angry kitten look on Shane’s face, but apparently it had been pointless. The second he woke up, he knew he was going to be in for a hell of a day.
His sinuses felt like they were packed full of concrete, his throat felt like he’d spent the last several hours gargling with gravel, and his head was pounding behind his eyes. Ilya tried to huff out a frustrated breath, but it immediately made him double over coughing. He clutched at his throat and his chest as he fought for breath, tears springing to his eyes with the effort.
Ilya immediately knew he was going to have to find some way to hide this from Shane. He didn’t want to see the disappointed look on Shane’s face because Ilya fucked up their holiday plans and he didn’t want to deal with the guilt of being the cause of Shane’s disappointment.
Even though the last thing Ilya wanted to do was get out of bed, he managed to drag himself to his feet and throw his exhausted body into the shower. Thankfully, the hot water managed to loosen some of the congestion. Unfortunately, that meant his nose was streaming down his face. It wasn’t so bad at first since all of the mess was immediately washed down the drain. It became impossible to ignore when the shifting in his sinuses ignited a sharp tickle deep in his nose. He had practically no warning before he was snapping forward at the waist, barely avoiding smacking his head on the shower wall.
“H’JYSZZCHH! ahH’yIISHhhuU! ehH? ehH-EH’TZZSHHuu! Ublyudok!” he groaned, sniffling frantically after the fit. He grit his teeth as he tented both hands over his nose and mouth and blew productively, letting the mess wash down the drain, cringing to himself as a voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Shane muttered, “Gross".
He finished his shower quickly after that, desperately needing a tissue and to dose himself with as much cold medicine as he could before boarding a plane. He shivered as the cool air hit his overheated body and quickly pulled on his warmest sweatpants and a hoodie he’d stolen from Shane, whining softly to himself when he realized he couldn’t smell the traces of his boyfriend through his stuffy nose.
Thankfully, Ilya had the foresight to pack the night before and the only things he needed to shove in his suitcase this morning were his toothbrush and toothpaste. He dropped his duffle bag in the kitchen as he went to rifle through his cabinets for any kind of cold medicine he might still have. He managed to find some liquid Dayquil that wasn’t expired and he downed a bit more than the recommended dose, washing it down with the last dregs of a Coke he had open in the fridge.
Right before he left the house, he pulled out his phone and texted Shane.
Lily 09:47:
“Leaving the house now. Flight leaves at 11:30. I’ll see you soon. I love you”
Jane 0949:
“Be safe. I’ll see you soon. I love you too.”
On a whim, Ilya shoved a handful of tissues and cough drops into the pocket of his sweatpants and walked out the door to wait for his cab.
~~~
Ilya slept through the entire plane ride from Boston to Ottawa but he was still visibly drooping as he got off the plane. Thankfully, since he slept through the entire flight, he wasn’t forced to deal with all of his symptoms in front of the fleet of other passengers, except that meant they all felt exacerbated as he exited the plane. Even through the haze of his cold medicine, he could feel the tickle in his nose buzzing through the wall of congestion and the urge to cough was constantly there. It was only because he kept popping cough drops and drinking water that he wasn’t hacking up a lung as he slipped into the airport bathroom to try and make himself slightly more presentable before he saw Shane. He slipped into a stall to blow his nose, having to quickly stifle a sneeze into the bundle of tissues. Which quickly turned into three. Then six. He stopped counting after that. By the time he finally finished, he was panting and the tissues had become a sodden wad in his hand. He grabbed a handful of toilet paper and blew one more time, managing a squeaking breath through his nose for the first time that day after the effort. He unlocked the stall door, tossed the wad of tissues into the trash, washed his hands, and splashed water on his face before heading out into the parking lot to find Shane.
Shane was waiting in the car for him, wearing a hoodie and a pair of sunglasses so he wouldn’t be recognized. Ilya opened the back passenger door and thew his bags inside before dropping down into the passenger seat with a sigh. Thankfully, Ilya didn’t have to find an excuse not to kiss Shane right then since neither of them would chance it in the airport parking lot.
“How was your flight?” Shane asked once they’d pulled out onto the main road.
“Good. Short.” Ilya muttered, trying to avoid any words that would put his congestion on full display for Shane.
“Good. I can’t wait for you to see the house. Mom did a great job; it’s beautiful. We’re supposed to bake cookies when we get there, too, so they’ll be ready for the weekend.” Shane started, going through the entire list of tasks that were expected of them upon their arrival. Ilya leaned his head back against the headrest as he listened to Shane’s excited rambling. The soft sound of Shane’s voice would’ve been enough to lull Ilya to sleep if he wasn’t in a battle with himself to keep his sniffles to a minimum and his cough under control. He drank so much water on the drive to quell the itch in his throat that he practically had to run inside when they finally arrived to use the restroom.
While he was in the restroom, he splashed more water on his face to try and get rid of the flush that was slowly spreading across his face and down his neck and blew his nose softly.
When he walked out, greeting Yuna and David with a smile and a hug, he saw that Shane was already in the kitchen with a myriad of ingredients in front of him for making cookies. From scratch. Like they’d done since Shane was born. Ilya’s only experience with making cookies in his adult life came in the form of a tube of dough from the grocery store.
Shane quickly began instructing Ilya to mix the dry ingredients together while he dealt with the wet ingredients. Ilya nodded dutifully and grabbed the bag of flour to begin measuring.
That’s about how long he lasted in the kitchen. He measured out the required amount of flour, but when he dumped it into the large mixing bowl, a cloud of the white powder flew up into his face. It immediately sent Ilya coughing and spluttering. He took several steps back away from the food, holding his elbow tight to his face as he fought for breath. He stopped coughing after a moment, but as if the universe had it out for him, he hadn’t even caught his breath before his eyes were fluttering shut as his breath hitched.
“heEH! nNGgtt! – nnGgkT! Hh! nNGT'tshh!” he started, not bothering to lower his arm from his face after the first initial wave, knowing he wasn’t done.
“Bless you, sweetheart.” Yuna muttered, surprised at the reaction from a simple cloud of flour. Ilya just shook his head quickly, trying to signal that he wasn’t finished.
“hhn! nGKT'Chh! Ugh.” Ilya let out a pained moan during the brief reprieve, the effort it took to stifle his sneezes making his head pound even worse.
“Hey, stop that.” Shane muttered softly, coming up behind Ilya and rubbing a reassuring hand between his shoulder blades as his breath continued to catch. Shane’s touch was enough to ground Ilya for the moment, plus he was getting too tired to keep holding them in.
“hhiH! EH! dJJSHHhh! eh’H’TSHhh! hh! yyISHhhhUU!”
By the time Ilya finally finished, he was backed all the way against the cabinets opposite the counter they were baking at, he was panting, his eyes were streaming, and everyone was staring at him, concern written all over their faces.
“Bless you, baby.” Shane mumbled, pressing himself closer to Ilya so he could reach up and swipe the irritated tears off of his cheeks.
“I think, maybe, you should sit out of baking duty. It’s kind of inevitable that you get clouds of all the dry ingredients in the air, and that definitely doesn’t seem to agree with you.” Yuna reasoned, and Ilya nodded eagerly.
“Why don’t we work on this puzzle and watch them bake.” David offered, making Ilya smile softly and nod.
“Sure. Just… first…” Ilya muttered, trailing off as he gestured vaguely to the bathroom and his nose, which was running again after that display.
No one stopped him as he scurried off, embarrassed, to blow his nose. When he returned, his nose was pinker around the edges, but his voice was a bit clearer as he sat down on the couch to help David with the puzzle that was laid out on the coffee table.
Ilya only managed to get a few pieces in before he resorted to watching Shane and Yuna bake in the kitchen. His gaze kept trailing to his boyfriend; content to watch him laughing and happy in the kitchen with his mother. He leaned back on the couch, getting in a more comfortable position to quietly observe, a soft smile on his face.
Ilya didn’t realize he’d dozed off until he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. When his eyes fluttered open, Shane was waving a cookie in his face while he had one in his mouth. Holidays seemed to be the only time that Shane indulged in eating a few sweets, so Ilya wasn’t going to discourage him. He took the cookie from Shane, smiling sleepily up at him as he bit into it.
“Very good.” Ilya mumbled, shoving the whole thing in his mouth when he realized it was still warm and the chocolate chips were still melty. Shane smiled proudly and flopped down next to Ilya on the couch, tugging him closer until Ilya’s head was resting on his chest.
~~~
After dinner, they all curled up on the couch to watch one of Shane’s favorite Christmas movies that they, apparently, watched every year. Shane had balked at him when Ilya admitted he’d never seen Home Alone and went on an at least ten-minute rant about why Ilya had to see it.
Shane had draped a blanket across their laps and dragged Ilya’s head down to rest on his shoulder so he could run his fingers through Ilya’s curls. Ilya managed to watch the first few minutes of the movie through half lidded eyes until Shane’s fingers in his hair and the lingering exhaustion managed to lull him back to sleep. Shane didn’t notice right away that Ilya had dozed off, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to wake him once he did, even though he’d been so excited for Ilya to experience all of their Christmas traditions. He just continued to run his fingers through Ilya’s hair as he let him sleep.
When the movie finally went off, Yuna and David announced that they were going to bed. Yuna pressed a kiss to the top of Shane’s head as she passed and David ruffled his hair.
“We made up your room for you boys. Just in case.” David commented, gazing pointedly at Ilya, who was still snoring softly on Shane’s chest.
“I think we’ll probably stay tonight.” Shane whispered, gazing down at Ilya, who looked so peaceful he hated to wake him, but they couldn’t sleep on the couch all night. David nodded with a smile before turning to follow his wife.
Once they were alone, Shane gently shook Ilya awake.
“Hey, Ilya. It’s time for bed.” He mumbled softly once Ilya’s eyes fluttered open. He nodded slowly, turning his head to muffle a yawn into Shane’s shoulder. He stood up first and stretched before starting to turn toward the front door, but Shane caught his hand and shook his head. “Let’s just stay here tonight.” He proposed, smiling when Ilya just nodded and turned toward Shane’s room. Shane stood up off the couch and followed him, finding Ilya already pulling back the covers to slide into bed.
That made Shane pause, furrowing his brows curiously. Ilya always wanted to shower before bed after being on a plane. He began to wonder if maybe there was something Ilya wasn’t telling him, especially with how tired he’d been today. Shane didn’t say anything, not wanting to spook him. He just went to quickly brush his teeth before sliding into bed next to Ilya, who was blinking slowly at Shane, like he was already half asleep. Shane leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead.
When he wasn’t met with any unnatural heat, he shook off his suspicions and figured Ilya was just tired from so much traveling and that he’d be fine in the morning.
“I love you.” Shane mumbled softly, leaning back in to brush a gentle kiss to Ilya’s lips.
“I love you, too.” Ilya mumbled, and it was clear that he was barely hanging onto consciousness, because it couldn’t have been more than two minutes since the words left his mouth before he was snoring. Shane grinned down at his adorable boyfriend. He dropped one last kiss to Ilya’s curls before snuggling up to him under the blankets and sighing happily as sleep overtook him.
~~~
The next morning, Shane woke before Ilya and went to help his dad start making breakfast. They were making omelets while Yuna gathered up all of the gifts so they could wrap everything together. They’d been doing it this way since Shane stopped believing in Santa as a child. His parents would put all of the gifts into boxes with whoever it was for written in sharpie on the side and then they would wrap gifts as a family. While father and son were busy cooking, Yuna continuously appeared and reappeared in the living room as she dropped off rounds of packages.
When Ilya finally emerged from Shane’s bedroom, he was still in his sweatpants but he’d pulled on a different one of Shane’s hoodies. He was scrubbing at his eyes and his curls were all over the place.
“Good morning.” Shane greeted brightly, kissing Ilya’s cheek as he passed, smiling softly when Ilya stayed in the kitchen to wrap his arms around Shane’s waist while he cooked, his head resting on Shane’s shoulder.
“Good mborndig.” Ilya mumbled into Shane’s shoulder, making him pause. Ilya’s voice was thick with congestion, which wasn’t necessarily abnormal. The man always woke up stuffy after having broken his nose so many times; but this was different. He sounded sick. Shane furrowed his brows slightly and turned around in Ilya’s arms to kiss his forehead. He felt a little warm but he mostly felt sleep warm, not fever warm. Shane sighed, hoping that if something was wrong, Ilya would come out and say it.
“Breakfast is almost ready. We’re having omelets.” Shane said, watching Ilya’s face for any hint that he didn’t want one. He nodded agreeably and wordlessly went to sit down at the table after retrieving a glass of juice and a ginger ale for Shane.
After their breakfast, it was time to wrap packages. Yuna briefed Ilya on the tradition over breakfast and he seemed excited to participate. They all piled in the floor in a circle with the wrapping paper and bows in the middle. David joined them last after putting on some Christmas music to play over the speakers. They each grabbed a package and a roll of paper and began wrapping.
Shane was still keeping a close eye on Ilya as they wrapped which was how he noticed that Ilya kept sniffling. They were soft, unobtrusive little noises that could barely be heard over the Christmas music, but Shane could also see how Ilya kept pressing the cuff of his sweatshirt against his septum and wrinkling his nose. No one else was paying attention, too wrapped up in their tasks, but Shane was only really watching Ilya. That was also how he noticed when Ilya gasped softly and ducked into the cuff of his sweatshirt. Shane watched as Ilya’s head bobbed eight times as he stifled his sneezes into silence. When he was finally finished, he sniffled softly and shook his head, his curls fluttering around his ears.
He glanced at Yuna and David first to see if they’d noticed. When he decided they hadn’t, his gaze shifted to Shane and he blushed when they locked eyes.
“Are you okay?” Shane mouthed to him, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention. Ilya nodded wordlessly and continued to wrap the present he was working on. When he finished, placing it into the pile with the rest, he stood up, stretched, and retreated to the bathroom. Shane listened carefully to see if he could hear the toilet flush. When he didn’t, but heard the sink turn on, he knew Ilya had gone to blow his nose in private.
He came back and resumed his position, not saying a word to anyone. Shane dropped the matter for the moment, knowing that he was going to circle back later when he and Ilya were alone.
He only lasted about half an hour before Ilya’s soft gasps drew his attention again. His brows were furrowed, his eyes were fluttering shut, and his pink nostrils were flaring wildly as he tucked his head into his shoulder. This time, Shane counted a whopping fifteen head bobs before Ilya practically scrambled up and retreated to the bathroom again.
“Is he okay? He doesn’t seem like himself?” David asked after Ilya’s quick disappearance drew his attention. Shane shrugged, having had enough.
“I’m gonna go check.” Shane said, getting up himself and following Ilya into his childhood bedroom, which was the bathroom he’d disappeared into this time.
As soon as Shane stepped through the door, he could hear Ilya coughing softly through the door before blowing his nose. Shane sighed heavily, silently shutting the door behind him and sitting down on the edge of the bed.
When Ilya emerged, his nose pinker than ever, he froze when he caught sight of Shane, who wordlessly held out his hand to Ilya to tug him down into his lap.
“Ilya, please be honest with me. I can tell you’re not feeling well. I just want you to tell me what’s wrong.” Shane pleaded, gazing at Ilya with open concern. Shane’s arms wrapped around Ilya’s back while Ilya’s hung limply at his sides. He glanced away from Shane, not making eye contact until Shane turned his head back to face him with a finger under his chin. His heart broke when he saw tears shining in Ilya’s eyes. “Baby.” Shane whispered softly, and that’s when Ilya broke.
“I'm sorry. Feel like garbage. Tried so hard not to get sick. Did not want to ruin your Christmas plans. You were so excited. I did not mean to fuck it all up.” Ilya cried into Shane’s shoulder, finally wrapping his arms around Shane, who was holding him tight and rocking him slightly. Shane craned his head back slightly to kiss Ilya’s forehead and, yep, definitely a fever.
“Baby, you haven’t ruined anything. You never could. I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t tell me how you were feeling. I – we just want to look after you.” Shane told him softly, rubbing Ilya’s back as he let out soft, hiccupping sobs into Shane’s shoulder.
“I could not bake with you yesterday, did not even make it through wrapping presents, or your Christmas movie. I ruined everything.” He cried, still not looking up at Shane.
If Ilya’s father could die twice, Shane would be going to prison for murder in the next few hours.
“But you’re here. Spending Christmas with us. With me. That’s all I wanted, Ilya. I wanted you here. Everything else was just a bonus. I wanted you to have a good family Christmas. I didn’t want you to torture yourself and make yourself miserable because you were scared to tell me you were sick.” Shane whispered softly to him, moving one hand up to run his fingers through Ilya’s curls as his sobs tapered off into soft sniffles.
“But…” Ilya started, but Shane shook his head.
“No but’s. That’s the truth. I promise. I just want you here.” Shane adamantly told him, removing both hands to hold Ilya’s face, making him look into Shane’s eyes to see that he was serious. He studied Shane’s expression carefully and, finally, seemed to realize that he was being truthful.
“You promise?” Ilya asked softly, suddenly seeming much younger than he was. Shane smiled up at him and wiped the tears from Ilya’s cheeks with his thumbs before leaning in to kiss the tear tracks.
“I promise.” Shane repeated, then waited until Ilya nodded to continue. “Now, can you tell me how you’re feeling?” he asked softly, still stroking Ilya’s face.
“Stuffy. Head hurts. Throat hurts. Cold. Tired.” He listed, which thankfully just sounded like a bad cold rather than the flu or something worse.
“Okay. Can we give you some medicine? I think you have a fever.” Shane requested, but Ilya shook his head frantically.
“No pills.” He protested, but Shane shushed him softly.
“I know, baby. I know. I can see if we have any liquid medicine, and run to the store if not.” Shane offered, but Ilya shook his head again.
“Don’t want you to leave.” He mumbled, leaning to tuck his face into the crook of Shane’s neck again.
“Okay. What if I do a delivery order? I can get whatever you want, and it’ll come straight here.” Shane suggested next, which seemed to appease Ilya, who nodded, and rolled off of Shane’s lap and onto the bed next to him so he could pull out his phone and scroll through the delivery options.
Once he’d finished putting everything into his cart, he handed the phone to Ilya to look over it. He’d added liquid cold medicine, liquid fever reducer, tea, cough drops, lots of tissues, and some popsicles. Ilya nodded and handed the phone back.
“Okay. It’ll be here in about an hour. Do you wanna take a nap in here?” Shane asked, but Ilya shook his head.
“Don’t want to take you from your parents on Christmas.” He protested, clearly still feeling guilty.
“Okay. Why don’t we go curl up on the couch and watch a movie. They’re probably done wrapping presents by now.” Shane suggested, and Ilya smiled and nodded. Shane stood up and took Ilya’s hand, helping him to his feet before wrapping him in a hug. “I love you.” Shane mumbled, then kissed the side of Ilya’s neck. He felt Ilya droop further into his embrace.
“Ya tebya lyublyu.” Ilya mumbled back, following it up with a heavy sigh as he allowed Shane to lead him back out into the living room.
“Everything okay?” Yuna asked as they piled up on the couch and Shane draped a blanket over their laps. Shane glanced at Ilya, who nodded shyly and let his head drop onto Shane’s shoulder.
“Ilya’s got a little bit of a cold, so I think we’re just gonna rest here for a bit.” Shane said, immediately getting sympathetic looks from both parents.
“Can we get you anything, son?” David asked. Shane felt Ilya smile into his shoulder.
“I don’t think so. I’ve got a pharmacy order being delivered in a little bit.” Shane told them, which seemed to appease them. They both went back to putting the finishing touches on their last few packages and Shane turned to Ilya. “See. Nothing’s ruined. They just want to make sure you’re okay, too.” Shane whispered, kissing the top of Ilya’s head after. He nodded sleepily and gazed up at Shane lovingly, who took the opportunity to press a kiss to the tip of Ilya’s nose. He blushed and wrinkled it in response before ducking down to scrub his nose into Shane’s shoulder when the touch made him itchy.
“Sorry.” Shane apologized, but he was giggling softly when Ilya had to bring both hands up to his face.
“nN’TSCHh! – iiHTSHh!” Ilya grumbled when he finished and poked Shane in the side accusingly.
“Asshole.” He grumbled, while Shane continued to giggle.
“Sois béni.” Shane mumbled while both Yuna and David blessed him in English. The French made Ilya’s entire body flush red hot. “You like it when I speak French?” Shane asked teasingly, still giggling when Ilya nodded shyly. “Je t'aime.” Shane whispered into Ilya’s ear, grinning proudly when it pulled a full-body shiver out of him.
“Shane, stop teasing him.” Yuna admonished, making David chuckle.
“Yes, Shane. Stop being mean to your dying boyfriend.” Ilya added, making everyone laugh.
“You’re not dying, you drama queen.” Shane poked Ilya’s cheek, leaning in to kiss the spot he’d just poked when Ilya grinned.
“Boys, aren’t you supposed to be resting?” David asked, ever the voice of reason.
“I am trying, David. Talk to your other son.” Ilya replied with a pointed sniffle, then another. Shane just rolled his eyes.
They finally managed to sit quietly on the couch and watch Home Alone 2, which made more sense to Ilya after Shane explained the plot of the first, until the doorbell rang, indicating the arrival of Shane’s pharmacy order.
He hopped off the couch to retrieve the bags and came back with his arsenal, including a thermometer he’d pulled out of the kitchen cabinets.
“Under your tongue.” Shane instructed, tapping the underside of Ilya’s chin until he complied. He sat there looking all pathetic with the device under his tongue until it beeped and Shane swiped it from his mouth. “38.3°. Not too bad. Still need some Tylenol.” Shane mumbled as he started to pull items from the bag.
First, he handed Ilya a capful of liquid Tylenol, taking it like a shot. Then, he got a capful of liquid Dayquil and swallowed it down quickly.
“Gross.” Ilya grumbled, giving his head a shake.
“Popsicle?” Shane asked, offering him a neon green one. He nodded happily and took it, crunching down on the ice and sighing happily as it slid down his throat, the cold numbing the pain slightly. Shane tossed a box of tissues onto the couch next to Ilya and finally sat down next to him, draping an arm around his shoulders.
“Shane? I think your father and I are gonna start cooking for tomorrow. You two just hang out on the couch. We’ve got this.” Yuna told them, ruffling Shane’s hair as she passed and leaning down to kiss Ilya’s forehead, humming softly as if she didn’t trust the thermometer. “We may need to rethink the lightshow tonight. If he’s already not feeling well, we don’t need to drag him out in the cold.” Yuna mumbled softly to David as she walked into the kitchen, making Ilya’s head whip around.
“No! Please! I want to go!” Ilya exclaimed, which sent him coughing into his elbow. Shane rubbed circles on his back as he caught his breath and tossed a skeptical look over his shoulder at his parents.
“Ilya, are you sure that’s a good idea? You’re already shivering on the couch; do you really want to sit in the car for an hour with the windows down just to look at some lights?” Shane asked, starting to run his fingers through Ilya’s curls.
“I never had anything like this in Russia. I want to see what your Christmases are like. I will be fine. I promise.” Ilya reassured them all, before flashing Shane his pleading baby blues.
“We’ll see.” Shane finally mumbled after a brief standoff. Ilya seemed appeased at least for the moment and they settled back in to finish the movie.
Normally, Shane would be in the middle of the kitchen, preparing the food for Christmas Day, but he found himself perfectly content to lay on the couch with Ilya, even though he was periodically coughing and sniffling into Shane’s chest. Ilya also finally seemed content, snuggling with Shane and watching Christmas movies even though he felt like garbage.
After a while, the delicious scent of Christmas dinner began to fill the house. It wasn’t long after the smell began permeating that David came into the living room carrying turkey sandwiches.
“Lunch?” he offered, handing a plate to both of them.
“Thank you, dad.” Shane said, taking both and handing Ilya one. “They always do the turkey early and reheat it for lunch the day before. We usually have leftover turkey for Christmas and a fresh ham.” Shane told him.
“Good leftovers.” Ilya mumbled around a mouthful of sandwich. Shane snorted but didn’t say anything as he started eating his own sandwich. David and Yuna joined the pair on the couch with their own sandwiches. They all ate lunch together as they started watching A Christmas Story.
Once Ilya and Shane had finished their lunch, they stretched out on one side of the couch, Shane laying out across the couch with Ilya splayed out on top of him. Their feet were tangled together and Shane reached up to pull the throw blanket from the back of the couch and drape it across Ilya. Ilya sighed happily and tucked his face into the crook of Shane’s neck. It wasn’t long before his breathing evened out and he was snoring softly.
“What’re we thinking about going to see the lights tonight?” Yuna asked softly once Ilya started snoring. Shane hummed softly and turned his head to press a lingering kiss to Ilya’s forehead.
“He’s cooler now with the medicine in him than he was earlier. I think if he feels up to it, we can bundle him up and go.” Shane reasoned, knowing Ilya would be more upset if they didn’t go. He didn’t want Ilya to get worse, but he really didn’t want to see his boyfriend crying again, wracked with guilt over ruining Christmas.
“We can crank the heat up in the car, too. I think he’ll be okay.” David chimed in, smiling at Shane, who sighed in relief.
“Okay. As long as he’s not doing worse when he wakes up, we’ll plan to leave a little after dark.” Yuna stated before getting up, grabbing the lunch dishes and heading back into the kitchen. “Ready to get back to cooking, honey?” she called to David, who nodded and got up to follow her.
Shane sighed and relaxed into the couch, letting Ilya’s warm weight soothe him into an afternoon nap of his own.
~~~
When Shane woke up, it was to the feeling of a gentle finger tracing lines across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. His eyes fluttered open and met Ilya’s bright blue ones. He grinned when he saw that Shane was awake.
“Hi.” Shane mumbled, turning to muffle a yawn into his shoulder.
“Hi. You’re very pretty.” Ilya mumbled, leaning closer to Shane to kiss his freckled cheeks.
“You’re delirious.” Shane teased, lifting a hand to press the back of it against Ilya’s forehead and cheeks. Thankfully, he wasn’t any warmer than he was earlier. “How was your nap?” Shane asked as he pushed himself up into a seated position.
“Good. Ready to see the lights.” Ilya whispered excitedly, his grin lighting up his face.
“You’re sure you’re up for it?” Shane asked, still skeptical as he gazed at Ilya with his pink cheeks and nose. He shot Shane a halfhearted glare.
“Shane, I’m fine. I want to go.” He promised, gazing earnestly at Shane.
“Ugh, fine. If you insist.” Shane muttered teasingly, then turned to glance outside to see that the sun was going down. “It’s probably almost time to go. Let’s get dressed.” Shane said, tugging Ilya up from the couch and leading him to the bedroom.
Shane quickly tugged on a pair of jeans and a hoodie on over his long-sleeved shirt. Then, he began rummaging through their bags. He pulled out a pair of sweatpants, a long-sleeved shirt, a hoodie, and a beanie for Ilya.
“This is dramatic.” Ilya muttered as Shane also pulled a pair of fuzzy socks out of a drawer. When Shane shot him a withering glare, Ilya nodded wordlessly and began dressing. He rolled his eyes but he did sit down on the edge of the bed to pull the socks onto his feet. When he stood back up, Shane tugged the beanie down over his curls.
“You are hovering. Like mother hen.” Ilya grumbled, but Shane could see that the corners of his lips were fighting not to turn up into a smile. Shane just grinned then turned to pluck a handful of tissues out of the box on his nightstand and stuffed them into Ilya’s pockets.
“If you get too cold or start feeling bad, we can turn around and come back. Promise me you’ll tell me if you need to come back.” Shane requested, flashing Ilya his best puppy-dog look.
“Yes, I promise. Let’s go.” Ilya grinned excitedly, turning on his heel and heading for the door. Shane rolled his eyes and followed after Ilya, who’d been waylaid in the living room by Yuna, who was looking him over one last time before agreeing to let him out the door.
“One more dose of medicine before we leave, I think.” She said, quickly moving to pour out a dose of both the fever reducer and decongestant. Ilya took them both like a champ before practically skipping out the door.
“Is he always like this?” Yuna asked, her gaze jumping between Shane and the door Ilya had just walked out of.
“Stubborn? Absolutely.” He grumbled, rolling his eyes again before following after Ilya, who was waiting out in the cold by the locked car door. Even though Shane could already hear Ilya sniffling from the cold, he was practically bouncing with excitement on the balls of his feet. “Get in the car! Are you trying to give yourself pneumonia?” Shane grumbled once he’d heard the two beeps of the car doors unlocking. Ilya rolled his eyes and climbed in. Shane settled in behind the driver’s seat and Ilya shimmied himself into the middle seat, pressing himself against Shane’s side.
Before David and Yuna had even made it out of the house, Ilya was frantically fishing one of the tissues out of his pocket.
“heht-tissch’uh! Ihhsch’oo! …hhh? Ihhh’ischhh!” Ilya sniffled frantically and scrubbed his itchy, runny nose into the tissues before doubling over again with a surprise fourth. “eih’yishhshiew!”
He blew his nose quickly to head off any more while Shane rubbed his back.
“Bless you, baby.” Shane mumbled, moving his hand up to give the back of Ilya’s neck a gentle squeeze.
“Fuck. Sorry.” He mumbled, sniffling like he was still itchy. Shane knew him well enough to know that he was probably going to spend the whole light show sneezing. Being cold made his nose run, his nose running made his whole face itch, and any minor irritation tended to make him sneeze his head off.
“We’re still in the driveway. We can still go back inside.” Shane offered one last time, but Ilya was shaking his head before Shane could even finish his sentence.
“Might need more tissues, though.” Ilya admitted, but that was his only indication that anything was wrong. Shane grinned victoriously and pulled a travel pack of tissues out of his own pocket. Ilya grinned bashfully and ducked his head.
“I know you.” Shane replied simply right as David and Yuna climbed into the car. Ilya blushed and snuggled his head into the crook of Shane’s shoulder.
“Ready, boys?” Yuna asked, turning to glance at them before David threw the car into drive and started to pull away. They both nodded and settled in to watch the world go by as they drove toward their destination.
Ilya spent the car ride with his head on Shane’s shoulder, observing as much of the scenery of Shane’s hometown as he could in the dark until, finally, they turned off the main road onto a side road and the world immediately exploded into technicolor. Shane glanced down at Ilya to see that he’d lifted his head and was gazing at the lights with a childlike innocence. His mouth was slightly open in both disbelief and necessity, and Shane could see the colorful lights reflected in Ilya’s eyes.
Yuna began messing with the radio until she got to the right station to correspond with the light show, and cheery Christmas music filled the car.
“Ilya, honey, we’re rolling the windows down now. If you get cold, tell us and we’ll turn the heat up.” Yuna said as David pressed the buttons to roll all 4 windows down. Ilya nodded blankly as he continued to stare at the lights.
Although this was one of Shane’s favorite traditions, this year, he spent his time watching Ilya instead of the lights. He would mouth along to the words of some of the Christmas songs he recognized as they came on the radio and he kept his head on the swivel so he wouldn’t miss any of the lights.
“How do they do that?” Ilya finally asked after a particularly intricate display where the lights danced around to the beat of the song on the radio.
“I have no idea. I’ve always wondered that, too.” David chimed in from the front seat as they creeped along behind the line of cars ahead of them.
“It is beautiful.” Ilya mumbled softly and Shane couldn’t help but lean in and press a soft kiss to his forehead. “Thank you for bringing me.” Ilya whispered, gazing up at Shane.
Shane wanted nothing more than to shrink Ilya down and carry him around in his pocket. Sometimes, he couldn’t believe this huge, normally stoic, Russian hockey player had the capacity to be so cute.
Thankfully, Ilya’s cold symptoms seemed to be held at bay by all of the clothing Shane had bundled him up in coupled with Shane’s body heat and the heat blasting through the car. He did have to keep a few tissues clutched in his hand to swipe at his runny nose and to muffle the occasional, “heht-tissh’uh!” when the cold air became too much for him, but thankfully he was able to stay warm enough to avoid any full-fledged fits.
When they got home, Shane immediately shoved Ilya into a warm shower while he helped his parents make hot cocoa. When Ilya emerged in clean sweatpants and one of Shane’s hoodies, curls dripping, they all piled onto the couch under blankets to watch The Santa Clause.
Ilya managed to stay awake through the entire movie, even though he started blinking sleepily at the screen about halfway through. Once it was over and everyone had finished their drinks as well as a few cookies, it was almost midnight and, therefore, time to retire to bed. David carried the mugs to the kitchen and Yuna took the dirty plates while Shane pulled Ilya to his feet.
“Night boys. We’ll see you in the morning. Merry Christmas.” David called from the kitchen since he’d started rinsing the dishes before placing them in the dishwasher. Yuna made her way over to the two boys, wrapping Shane in a hug and whispering something in his ear before moving on to Ilya.
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” She whispered to Ilya as she wrapped him in a hug as well and kissed his forehead. “Feeling any better?” she asked, unable to resist mothering him.
“Much better. Thank you. Merry Christmas, Yuna.” Ilya whispered, trying not to tear up from the motherly display he’d missed so much.
“Goodnight, boys.” She told them both as they turned to head to Shane’s room.
Once they were behind closed doors, Shane wrapped Ilya in a tight hug, where he let out a huge yawn into the crook of Shane’s neck.
“Sleepy?” Shane asked softly as he ran gentle fingertips across Ilya’s back.
“Mmhm. And happy. Thank you for sharing this with me.” Ilya mumbled, pulling back slightly from the hug only so he could wrap his arms around Shane’s shoulders. They stood in the middle of Shane’s childhood bedroom, swaying slightly from side to side.
“Thank you for letting me.” Shane replied, pushing himself up slightly on his toes to press a kiss to Ilya’s forehead before planting a lingering kiss to his lips.
“You are wanting me to give you my cold for Christmas?” Ilya teased, but he didn’t pull back from where his grin was pressed against Shane’s mouth.
“I want to kiss my boyfriend on Christmas.” Shane reasoned, making Ilya’s entire body flush hot and he ducked bashfully into Shane’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get another dose of medicine into you and go to bed.” Shane instructed, giving Ilya’s back a pat before pulling away to go dose out the medicine. Ilya just nodded and joined Shane in the bathroom. He quickly swallowed down both capfuls then brushed his teeth side-by-side with Shane.
He whipped his hoodie off before crawling into bed but held his arms out for Shane to snuggle into when he fell into bed next to Ilya so he could steal his body heat.
They laid nose-to-nose for a bit, just breathing each other in.
“Merry Christmas, mon bien-aimé.” Shane whispered, tucking a stray curl behind Ilya’s ear. Predictably, he flushed a pretty pink at Shane’s use of French, but quickly steeled himself.
“Merry Christmas, dorogoy.” Ilya replied, leaning in to press a lingering, sweet kiss to Shane’s lips before nuzzling into his chest, tucking his head under Shane’s chin, and wrapping his arms tightly around Shane’s torso. “Ty luchshee, chto kogda-libo sluchalos so mnoy.” Ilya muttered into Shane’s chest.
Shane had been working on his Russian, but he wasn’t quite that advanced. He knew, though, that Ilya liked to express his more vulnerable thoughts in Russian. This time, Shane gave him a pass and didn’t ask for him to translate. He could tell by the tone of Ilya’s voice that whatever he’d said was something incredibly sappy that would probably bring Shane to tears.
Shane craned his neck down to kiss the top of his head, nuzzling his nose into Ilya’s curls and sighing contently. He began trailing his fingers up and down Ilya’s back, letting the rhythmic movement of his hand lull them both to sleep.
Shane hated that Ilya hadn’t been feeling well for their first Christmas together, but here, wrapped up in the arms of his love, he couldn’t help but feel like this had already been the best Christmas of his life. He fell asleep with a smile on his face at the thought that it wasn’t even over yet.
Translations:
Ublyudok - Motherfucker
Ya tebya lyublyu - I love you
Sois béni - Bless you
Je t'aime - I love you
Mon bien-aimé - My beloved
Dorogoy - Sweetheart
Ty luchshee, chto kogda-libo sluchalos so mnoy - You are the best thing that has ever happened to me
This monster fic bought to you by me, Dr. Frankenstein, stitching multiple posts together: allergic!Ilya hc by @diamond-pixie-dust, cottage allergies by @feverfcking, service top!Ilya by @lavsnz, and sexy tease Ilya by anon and @perseaphoneaa.
Featuring "who, me? I'm not allergic" Ilya and "please don't figure out I have the kink" Shane.
Thanks again to @diamond-pixie-dust for the feedback and encouragement! This fic is loads better (and way hotter) than it would've been without you.
Posting this part (3.9k) first because the second part will be very NSFW ;)
----
Ilya slowly rises to consciousness, but he's not sure why he’s awake. The bedroom is just starting to reclaim colors from the night’s darkness, so it’s still early. Shane’s still asleep next to him on the bed. He has some sore spots, which is to be expected; his ribs are still on the mend and yesterday was his first time having sex in months. He’s not any more congested than usual. After breaking his nose as many times as he has, it seems like he always is, a little. So what -- oh. A familiar twinge runs through his sinuses and his chest jumps with an involuntary inhale. He needs to sneeze. He’s able to stifle his usual triple into silence, hands-free, so as not to wake Shane, but he can’t help the brief quake that runs through his body with each sneeze.
He sniffs quietly, rubbing his nose against the wrist that’s opposite Shane. There’s a lingering feathery tickle at the forefront of his nose, like he’s going to maybe sneeze again. He breathes slowly and steadily, hoping to outlast the feeling and go back to sleep. He’s just starting to drift off when the tickle flares suddenly and he finds himself hitching almost before he realizes it, but he’s able to contain the sneeze itself and the second too. But after the third, a soft, stuffy exhale escapes him, “–uhh.”
Shane makes a soft sound and tenses. Ilya freezes, knuckle pressed flush against his septum. After a long second, Shane’s body relaxes, his breathing resuming a sleepy cadence. Ilya relaxes too, using his knuckle to firmly rub his nose, flicking the tip up as he finishes and sniffs again. The tickle from before has faded, but a softer, teasing itch seems to have taken its place, settling farther back in his nose. He scrunches his face around his nose, trying to itch the tickle without moving too much, to no avail. Fuck. This will-or-won’t-he-sneeze feeling is one of his least favorites. His lips part, tongue pressing against the back of his front teeth, as he focuses on the sensation.
Luckily (or unluckily), it resolves after a few more breaths into, of course, a sneeze. As with the previous sneezes, he’s able to completely hold in the first one. On the second, however, he’s able to suppress the release, but the ending sighs out of him. “–shhieww…” They’re getting stronger, more insistent. The third sneeze is entirely voiced. “...tsch’ngkk!” And he’s not done, what? “nnn’gxxtzz! hih’kngzt!” Ilya’s mouth hangs open as he waits for the sixth sneeze… which… doesn’t come. Fuck.
He startles, badly, when he hears a half-yawned, sleepy, “Bless you,” from Shane.
“Thank you,” Ilya replies automatically, voice raspy with congestion. He sniffs it back, swallows, then adds, “Sorry, I did not mean to wake you.”
“S’okay,” Shane mumbles, stretching, and rolls over to face Ilya. Looking adorably sleepy, he snuggles in close, and rests his head on Ilya’s shoulder, then tilts his face up towards Ilya’s. “Good morning.” His voice sounds more alert than he looks.
“Good morning,” Ilya agrees, blinking against the sunbeam cutting over his face. Its brightness seems to re-awaken the tickle, which isn’t surprising, and the congestion has crept back, so he wrinkles his nose and sniffs sharply. Looking at Shane, his entreaty from yesterday, to be honest about how they think and feel, floats through Ilya’s mind. He’d been excited yet nervous to spend more than a few hours at a time with Shane. They’d all but admitted to liking each other in Tampa, but there’s a difference between liking someone and enjoying their company.
He sniffs again, then puts it out there against the background noise of nature: “I like you.”
“I like you too,” Shane concurs, unhesitating. Ilya trails his fingers across Shane’s forehead and back through Shane’s hair as Shane tilts his face back down towards Ilya’s pec, closing his eyes, a content smile on his face. Even though Shane’s awake, he looks so relaxed and happy that Ilya just wants to stare at him forever. Too bad he can’t take a picture, because the tickle hasn’t let up and he’s going to sneeze again. Soon.
Ilya opens his mouth to warn Shane, the thought of untangling from Shane not having crossed his mind, but what comes out instead is a series of hitching breaths. “hhh! hih... ihhh’huh?” After so many years playing MLH hockey, Ilya’s usually not self-conscious about sneezing anymore, but he feels a little embarrassed about sneezing while in such close proximity to Shane. At least the hitches give him enough time to turn away from Shane, towards his opposite shoulder. “hhh-NK’ZXtch’ue! ahh’ntschooo! –kschht’uhh!” He sniffles loosely in the aftermath and roughly swipes at the tears that have gathered in the corners of his eyes.
“Fuck, sorry,” Ilya apologizes damply, sniffling again, “they surprised me.” Shane, stretched out along Ilya’s side, feels tense, where he was boneless before. His eyes dart quickly away from, then back to, Ilya’s.
“You, uh, you don’t need to do… that,” Shane says, gesturing vaguely at Ilya’s face.
“Sneeze, Hollander?” Ilya deadpans, arching his eyebrows at Shane.
“Fuck you,” Shane responds automatically. “I meant,” he pauses, swallowing visibly, “You don’t have to hold them back like that.”
“Ah. I will try to remember,” Ilya says, internally reserving the right to ignore those instructions.
-----
Ilya’s maybe a little more congested and sniffly than usual as they lazily get up and get ready for the day, but since there are no further sneezes he doesn’t think much of it. After breakfast, they settle in for some gaming. Shane’s sitting back into the couch and Ilya’s leaning forward, elbows braced on his knees.
“You can’t pick Montreal!” Shane protests, but he’s smiling.
“Yes I can!” Ilya retorts, throwing a look behind him at Shane before returning his gaze to the screen. Maybe something shifts with the quick movement, because there’s a sudden, fluttering itch in his sinuses. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be a Metro,” he muses, twitching his nose. It doesn’t help. “You know, historically they’re the best team in sport.” The tickle builds as he makes his final selections.
Resignedly, Ilya tucks his face into his elbow. “heht–tissch’uh!” It’s wetter than he expected but there’s no time to sniffle before he’s leaning into the next sneeze. “ehh’heh’kkscht!” He’s not holding them in entirely, but yes, he is trying to contain them somewhat. It’s actually doable without bursting any veins, unlike his monster sneezes during allergy season. “hih’KSShh’ue!” Ilya squints into the middle distance. Is he… going to… fuck, he is– “ahhhISHHew! ihhschh’oo! eih’yishhshiew!” He wasn’t able to suppress the sixth sneeze, but still finds himself gearing up for another. “…hhh? ihhh’ischhh!”
“...fuck,” he pants with feeling, waiting for an eighth. But the need-to-sneeze feeling fades enough that he knows it’s not going to come, even though his sinuses are still tingling. His arm is wet and he grimaces, wiping it onto his shorts while sniffling the loosened congestion back. He should probably blow his nose, but there aren’t any tissues in sight.
Ilya expects Shane to chirp him for hygiene or something, but Shane just huffs an exhale through his nose and rolls the hem of his sweatshirt between his fingers. “Better than the fucking Yankees!” he declares after a beat, reviving their banter with forceful enthusiasm.
Ilya cedes control of the setup menu to Shane. “Oh, I know so,” he agrees, aggressively rubbing at his nose while Shane works his controller.
“Well, I’m gonna be Boston,” Shane sasses, thumbing at his joystick and pressing buttons with unnecessary force.
“Good choice,” Ilya drawls.
“I’m gonna fucking kill you,” Shane promises.
“I am you,” Ilya points out, his right hand releasing the controller and gesturing for emphasis. It detours to his nose, pinch-rubbing before drifting back to his controller.
Shane looks at Ilya. His gaze flickers slightly down, like he’s looking at Ilya’s lips, and lingers there for a second before snapping back up. “Well, you’re not anything,” Shane retorts.
Ilya can’t let that stand. He picks up the case and holds it next to his face, angling himself toward Shane. “I’m on the cover of the fucking game!” he huffs.
They’re about to start playing when Shane’s phone buzzes. Pike. Boring. Ilya falls dramatically back onto the couch cushions, but Shane pays him no mind, focused on the call. He sits up again, intending to pout at Shane, but something delightful catches his eye. Shane’s half-hard. Ilya walks his hand up Shane’s thigh only to get smacked aside. Rude. He keeps trying, leaning into Shane’s space until Shane pauses the call.
“What are you doing?” Shane demands expectantly.
“I think you know,” Ilya murmurs, flicking his gaze back and forth between Shane’s eyes and his crotch.
“Please stop,” Shane requests, tilting his head slightly down toward Ilya’s hand.
Ilya purses his lips, makes a show of looking down, and raises his eyebrows at Shane. “I don’t think is what you want,” he demurs, faux earnest, with a slight shake of his head.
“Later, okay?” Shane says pointedly.
“Okay, I make you a deal,” Ilya proposes magnanimously, “I won’t touch you, but if you get hard–”
“I won’t get hard,” Shane asserts with a shake of his head.
“Okay, so no problem then,” Ilya says smoothly, like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.
“Ilya…” Shane reprimands.
“Shane…” he counters, irrepressible, raising his eyebrows.
Shane turns away from Ilya, rejoins the call, and hoists himself up to sit on the back of the couch. Not his best tactical move, since that puts his crotch basically on a line with Ilya’s face. He flicks his gaze toward it, then leans forward to rest his chin on Shane’s thigh. As he does, an itch swiftly unfurls in the back of his nose. He was going to plant a kiss above Shane’s knee anyway, so he seizes the opportunity to quickly itch his nose against Shane’s quad. His lips part and nostrils flare instinctively as he looks up at Shane and lightly scratches at Shane’s inner thigh. And then he sees, as he predicted, that Shane’s fully hard.
Ilya ignores the flowering itch, gives Shane a gleeful thumbs up, and sternly commands his nose to not sneeze until he’s done blowing Shane. For once, his nose obeys. Mostly. Almost to the second after Shane comes in his mouth, his nose pointedly reminds him that it’s waited long enough. He takes in a quick breath as he pulls off, then presses his face against Shane’s inner thigh, helpless to do anything but yield. He does, however, ignore Shane’s directive to stop holding the sneezes in because, gospodi, another inch to the left and he’d be sneezing all over Shane’s shorts.
“NGXSHT! heh’JXKTZsch! eh’nnGTSH-uh!” The insistent triple triggers all the congestion that he hasn’t been able to sniff back over the last few minutes to start flooding down. He can’t even try to stem the flow because he’s already breathing in, in, in for the next sneeze. “hih’dJSTchuh! huhhMMPT’shew!” As he hitches his way to the sixth and hopefully last, “hhh, hah’ahh-,” which he’s definitely not letting out, “...ahh? hhh, hh, h’ahh,” he feels Shane’s thigh tremble against his cheek. “ahh-NNGXKT’jshh! -snnrrff!”
Ilya stays in between Shane’s legs, still sniffling every few breaths, uncharacteristically unsure what to do next. He’s a hot mess and he’s definitely gotten some of it on Shane. Fuck, he really needs a tissue… or something. He peeks up at Shane, who’s staring shell-shocked at him, and immediately looks back down, his cheeks starting to heat. Ilya reaches down towards the hem of his tank top, which seems to restart Shane, who hastily leans back, peels out of his Metros sweatshirt, and shoves it at Ilya.
“Here, you can, um, use this,” Shane stammers, blushing and looking everywhere but at Ilya, “while I, I need to,” he brandishes the phone, just in case Ilya’s forgotten.
Ilya, confused, accepts the sweatshirt and swipes it over Shane’s thigh, quick but gentle, cleaning him up. He brings it to his own face, scrubbing roughly at his watery eyes before rising. Keeping the sweatshirt over the lower half of his face, he flops back onto the couch. As he steeples his hands over his nose, setting up to blow, he hears the little ping of Shane unmuting. He might have been able to blow his nose quietly enough to go unheard right after sneezing, but now that he’s back to being congested, he knows blowing his nose will get loud. Instead, Ilya presses his fingers down, massaging his still itchy nose through Shane’s sweatshirt in slow up and down strokes. A wet spot blooms on the fabric, growing with each pass of his fingers.
“Ah, sorry, man,” Shane apologizes, still catching his breath. “I just– I have to run. Someone’s at the door.” Ilya pauses, letting out a breathless chuckle and grinning wide under the sweatshirt.
“Fuck,” Shane pants, shooting a look at Ilya, “No, it’s just… it’s just, just Amazon. But, um, I’ll–I’ll call you next week, and… Yeah, yeah, so… totally. And um… All right, yes, love you man. And, uh, give my best to Jackie and the kids.” Shane hangs up and tosses his phone aside, then looks at Ilya.
As Ilya inhales deeply to blow his nose, he sees Shane’s gaze skitter away from him. Did he misread Shane? Fuck, it’s too late if he did, because now he really needs to blow. So he does, first one side, then the other, each accompanied with a loud honk. He blows twice more, equally as loud, shoulders hunching with effort. He can feel his sinuses vibrating, but risks a fifth blow. Predictably, the vibration escalates.
“EHSCHHH’huh!” He lets himself sneeze freely, pitching forward. “hih’ETSCHOO! hhh… hih’EDJJSSSCHHH’uue!” The first two must have loosened everything up, because the third sneeze sluices out of him, swiftly soaking through the fabric. He shifts to a dry spot and blows, long and gurgling, then blows again and again until he’s squeaking. Ilya rubs around his nose a couple more times, just to make sure he’s presentable, before looking up sheepishly. He’s not sure what to do with the sodden mess he’s made of the sweatshirt. Shane’s not giving Ilya any hints either; he’s hunched forward, tension radiating from the set of his shoulders, and his head is lowered, hiding his expression.
The sound of birds chirping and leaves rustling feels extra loud in the silence between them. Ilya’s about to say something when Shane sits up, inhales his shoulders to his ears, drops them with his exhale, and shakes his head. Ilya can see Shane’s somewhat more relaxed after that, which soothes some of his own tension.
“Fuck you,” Shane huffs, amused and… maybe nervous? He leans forward, plucks the thoroughly used sweatshirt from Ilya’s hands, and lets it drop to the floor. “Fuck you,” he repeats, bracing his right hand on Ilya’s shoulder and swinging his right leg over Ilya’s lap. He touches their foreheads and noses together as he brackets Ilya’s body with his own. Ilya releases the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
“Why was that so hot?” Shane asks rhetorically, his gaze darting to the sweatshirt. Maybe Shane likes it when Ilya uses his clothes? Ilya files the thought away for later contemplation even as relief washes over him.
“Because you,” Ilya taps Shane’s pec and lightly pushes Shane away as he sniffles, “like to be bad.”
Shane’s lingering mirth sombers as he looks at Ilya. He puts a hand against Ilya’s jaw, rubs Ilya’s cheek with his thumb. “Hey, that’s–that’s not what this is. You and me. Maybe it was at first, but…” Shane pauses briefly. Ilya sucks his lips in and scrunches his nose up, his tongue sneaking out to rub over his lower lip before releasing his lips. “Not now, and not for a long time,” Shane finishes, earnest and tender.
“Oh, so now you like when it’s messy?” Ilya intones, deflecting Shane’s sincerity.
“All right,” Shane grumbles, but he’s smiling as he rolls off Ilya. Ilya grins, sits up, and plays a few drum beats on Shane’s thigh before they pick up their controllers.
-------------
“I do not understand soccer,” Ilya complains as they head outside. “You kick ball with foot, football!”
“Actually,” Shane says, opening the door and holding it for Ilya, “the term soccer originated in Britain as a shortened version of association football.”
Ilya cuts Shane an incredulous glance before stepping over the threshold. “How do you,” he begins, but cuts himself off with a sudden flurry of sneezes. “hh’ITSCHHoo! ihhh’isssch–itsch–isshoo! hihht’SZSSSHHHiew! –djssch’ue! …heh, ehhh? ehhhGGISSHHhuh!” He waits a second to make sure he’s really done, then straightens up with a muttered, “Pizdets,” in between sniffs.
Shane, notably, says nothing. He just shoves the hand not holding the ball into his pocket and keeps walking. To Ilya’s eye, Shane’s stride looks choppy and tense – yet another Shane-related oddity in a day full of them. He’d mulled it over all through lunch and concluded that Shane’s weirdness lines up with his sneezes, but he can’t figure out why that should be the case. The taut silence stretches between them, punctuated only by Ilya sniffling every few breaths, until after they reach the back lawn and Shane tosses the ball towards Ilya.
“Ilya, are you–do you… have allergies?” Shane asks haltingly, his gaze somewhere over Ilya’s shoulder, like he thinks that might be a stupid question.
“Yes,” Ilya affirms. Is Shane blushing slightly, or is the light playing tricks on him? “But is not the season for them,” he continues, using the heel of his hand to swipe at his nose.
“You can, um, develop allergies whenever,” Shane points out, passing the ball to Ilya. His expression and tone are carefully neutral, but his fingers are worrying at the hem of his shorts.
A frown teases at the corners of Ilya’s mouth as he observes Shane’s unease. “Okay, sure, but it does not feel like them. I can still breathe through my nose,” he pauses to pointedly inhale through his nose, only wincing slightly at the accompanying whistle, then amends, “kind of. Also, the sneezes are smaller.” Shane’s eyebrows lift and his eyes widen for a split second. Ilya flicks his wrist dismissively, changing the topic and passing the ball to Shane. “So I was thinking I’m, ah, I’m free agent next season.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“You wouldn’t re-sign with Boston?”
Ilya sniffs, briefly knuckles at his nose, then fools around with the ball instead of answering. Shane gets in close, making Ilya work for possession. Ilya’s breathing a little harder than he ought to be and ends up kicking the ball behind himself. It collides with one of the lawn chairs and Ilya laughs, a touch throaty.
Shane goes to retrieve the ball and Ilya, resignedly, cups his hands over his face for a trio of soft but spraying sneezes. “hhh’kisschue! et’KISHhhh! hhahh…hah-tischhhuh!” He grimaces behind his hands, sniffles the leading edge of the mess back, and wipes his hands on his shorts.
“Then where?” Shane probes, positioning the ball for his next kick.
“I don’t know, I was thinking maybe a Canadian team,” Ilya says. Shane looks back to Ilya and passes the ball.
“Not Montreal, ah?” Ilya points at Shane for emphasis.
“No, I mean, I know.”
“But I would, snnff, love to not have Russian passport,” Ilya admits, bouncing the ball before kicking it towards Shane.
Shane barely has the ball for a second before Ilya swoops in, kicks the ball away from Shane, and goes after it. He extends a hand behind him, his palm landing squarely on Shane’s abs. Ilya means for it to be a playful deterrent, but it turns urgent as he snaps forward with an insistent uncovered sneeze. “ISSCCHHHooo!” Of course, it’s never just one. “heh’ISCH-hh’ITSCH-ahh’ITSCHhhue!” A rapid triple is next, the sneezes practically tripping over each other as they spray out of him, followed by a set of surprised coughs. Fuck this shit. Ilya grabs the hem of his tank top, lifts it to his face, and blows his nose, long and loud. Afterward, he wrinkles his nose at the dark patch and strips the tank top off.
“Okay,” Shane declares, overly loud, “I think it’s time to go back inside.” He takes Ilya by the arm, his palm clammy against Ilya’s skin, and steers them into the kitchen. This close to Shane, Ilya can see that his pupils are dilated even though they’ve just come inside and he’s definitely flushed. Ilya knows that look. Knows it so well that he doesn’t even second-guess himself.
“Also, you should at least try taking something…” Shane says, a faint wobble in his voice, but Ilya doesn’t hear any of it. All of today’s off moments are flickering through his mind’s eye, reevaluating them in light of the arousal he just recognized on Shane’s face. Shane’s sudden tension and not meeting Ilya’s gaze this morning as they cuddled. Shane’s blushing and stammering after Ilya’s post-blowjob fit. Shane’s plaintive “Why was that so hot?” accompanied by a glance at his sweatshirt. Shane’s stilted inquiry into Ilya’s allergies while fidgeting and his sweaty palms just now. And, Ilya’s just now realizing, Shane hasn’t blessed him all day. Ilya’s certain he’s come to the right conclusion; after all, he’s good at reading people and he’s spent almost a decade studying Shane, but he wants to hear Shane say it.
“Earth to Ilya?” Shane asks. “Meds?”
Ilya sniffles purposefully, trying to convince the ever present tickle in his nose to grow into a sneeze. The tickle does grow, but it’s not quite there yet. If he just concentrates and breathes… “hhh, hhh…” Ohhh, there it goes. He turns his head away slightly, so he’s not sneezing right at Shane, but so Shane still has a good view. “hHhh, hhh! hhhEISCHooo! ahhSSCHHeww!” During the usual pause before his third sneeze, he makes sure to hitch audibly. “huh-uh… hhhh’TTSCHHhhuhh!”
“Sorry,” Ilya apologizes mischievously, briefly swiping under his nose with the back of his fingers, “I had to sneeze.”
“Meds,” Shane repeats, blinking rapidly.
“Is what you want?” Ilya says innocently.
“Yeah, for sure,” Shane blurts, not meeting Ilya’s eyes. Holy shit, he really is into this.
A wicked smile spreads across Ilya’s face. “Hollander, snnf, you are still a really bad liar,” he purrs, echoing his words from the locker room years ago.
“Wha–what?” Shane stammers, eyes wide, blush out in full force.
“I don’t think you want me to take anything,” Ilya says, slower, as he edges into Shane’s space.
“I… I can’t stop you if you want to feel like shit,” Shane rejoins weakly.
“Oh, this is nothing,” Ilya says, his smile turning predatory. “No migraines, no sinus infection, not so congested I can barely breathe… Only some sneezes and–snff, snnf–sniffles.” As Ilya talks, Shane’s pupils dilate further and his lips part. Ilya pauses for a deliberate second, like he’s actually needing to think about this, and scrunches his nose. “And itchy.” He sniffles again, and rubs his nose slowly back and forth along his index finger. “And runny.” He’s playing it up a little, yes, but it’s not untrue.
“Tell me, Shane,” Ilya leans closer into Shane’s space, tracing the shell of Shane’s ear with the tip of his nose, “what do you want?”
person A being sick while also having bruised/cracked ribs. the only relief they get when coughing or sneezing is bracing their ribs with a pillow, but this means they can't cover their nose and mouth very well. person B has the option to either sit behind A and wrap around their middle so that A can focus on covering their coughs and sneezes or B can sit in front and cover for A while A braces their ribs.
2087
dededos
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