OBSESSED with the concept of ilya getting annoyed with shane for babying their crying little whiny clingy girlfriend (ilya babies her too let’s be honest)
shane’s a protector. ilya, sure, he watches out for you. but he’s not afraid to hurt your feelings- or play rough.
so when you come babbling to shane about ilya being an asshole again, the soft boy has no choice but to tuck you into his chest and run his fingers up and down your back.
“how did he hurt your feelings?” he asks, voice as soft as fur, sweet and tender. he prods at your wounds, making you relive the horror.
“he blew me off for practice, again, for like the fifth time.” you pout, rightfully so. but at the same time, shane’s been in the same boat. but shane’s attentive to others feelings. lilys domain lies in pleasure, but shane’s is comfort, nurturing soul that he is.
“i’m sorry sweet girl.”
“sorry for what now?” lilys voice cuts through, quit as a mouse since he heard your voices in the room, waiting to hear you talking about him. he knows what he’s done. and he’s sorry, but not really. he needs to win. he wants that trophy, so if skipping out on a few dry humping session with his girlfriend would help him succeed? why not?
but guilt hits him like a train when he steps into the room, and find you curled into shane, who holds you like you could save the world. he evens cuts ilya a nasty glare. acknowledgment of the russians behavior.
pride is a fickle thing though, so instead of apologizing right away, begging for forgiveness that would be given in an instant, he plays asshole yet again.
“you coddle her. it is ridiculous, hollander. she is not a baby to be soothed.” he scoffs, putting his stuff away.
“ilya, you’re an asshole,”
“and you act like your performance is going to be as good as last year, when we both know it won’t. and we both know the reason why.”
the words land like a bomb, with you jerking up and out of shane’s hold immediately. and even with his quick hands, you still manage to slip away.
both males break at once, “stop!” ones, a plea, the others, a command.
“come back.” shane calls out, firm. unusual. but he knows better. if you aren’t forced to stay in the room, you’ll leave and go to bed angry and hurt. he won’t stand for it. better to tough it out know.
and ilya- fuck he’s pathetic. all that bark and no bite. “i’m sorry, i am so sorry” he stutters out. you won’t even look in his direction and it makes him sick. why would he even say that? if anything you help them be better. you’re encouragement and support.
shane watches you, still curled into yourself and not looking at anyone. you look like you’ll vanish if he doesn’t act soon. “come here”, softer this time.
you take a hesitant step closer to him, and ilya follows in your footsteps. when you finally look at them, a tear falls down. and your lip wobbles slightly, preparing for more. you sniffle, and ilya crowds your space, “you know i don’t mean that. i should not have said that. i don’t mean it. please, please don’t leave” his big hands hold the backs of your arm, noses practically touching.
you literally couldn’t run or look away if you tried. “i don’t like you” you sniffle, and if he didn’t love you, he would have laughed. it’s surrender handed to him on a poorly concealed platter.
“yes you do, i like you too”
shane watches you guys with heavy eyes, ilya is such. hypocrite. shane does not baby you more. no way, this public display (they are literally in their shared bedroom!) is a clear sign that ilya is one big teddy bear.
