Archive of Our Own

Lily: maybe I can show off for you this year.

Ilya sent the text along with a picture of the bed that Shane would surely recognize—the bed from two years prior where Shane seemed more than happy to give into Ilya’s demands to show off for him in the Vegas penthouse. Ilya glanced over at the chair and grinned, memories flooding the horniest corners of his mind. He lived for weekends just like this one, where he could steal a few uninterrupted hours with Shane under the guise of an NHL event. He had flown in a night early this year in the hopes that he may be able to steal even more time with him. Shane had won his second Cup, and he was a shoe in for the MVP award this year—Ilya was sure of it. His smile dropped when his phone vibrated.

Jane: I’m in Ottawa.

Fuck. Shane had been the only reason Ilya hadn’t returned home to Russia yet. He hated these stupid fucking awards nights. He wasn’t even a presenter this year. There was no reason for him to be there other than the promise of a good lay from his less than convenient, neurotic fuck buddy.

Lily: you come tomorrow?

Ilya was already packing up the few things he had taken out of his bag. There was no point in staying if Shane wouldn’t be joining him.

Jane: no. I have a surgery coming up.

While he understood that their relationship was limited to the odd fuck, he felt a pang of guilt in his gut at his complete and utter lack of knowledge regarding any kind of injury. He felt even guiltier that their injuries to that point were seen more as an inconvenience to their sexual escapades than to their careers—an end of summer injury had never affected them before, because Ilya would have been long gone to Moscow before it could. He had never bothered to ask about his injuries beyond whether or not it would delay their next rendezvous.

Lily: Are you ok?

Ilya zipped the last of his things into the side pocket of his weekend bag, he might as well head back to Boston. He had no interest in seeking out a one night stand, though it would be easy enough. Fuck—had this room become sacred somehow? It felt wrong to bring anyone else back here. His phone vibrated.

Jane: Yeah. It’s just my wisdom teeth.

He barked out a laugh.

Jane: Wow. You are Stanley Cup champion and you choose small tooth surgery over Vegas. Why would your team dentist schedule for this weekend?

He made his way out of the room and waited for the elevator. He would arrange an Uber to the airport so he could get back to Boston and pack his things for his return to Moscow. The Shane-induced disappointment of what this weekend was supposed to be felt heavy in his chest. He wasn’t sure when he started putting so much of his energy into the hope of being with him again. It was gross.

Jane: Shut up. It’s not my team dentist. It’s my family dentist. And my mom booked it.

The smile that spread across Ilya’s face was one of pure warmth and delight. He could admit that moments like this had him feeling completely smitten. This grown man still had his mommy booking his dentist appointments. It was the most Shane thing he’d ever heard—he loved it.

Lily: Wow. You are 24 years old Hollander. Will your mommy be there to hold your hand too?

He hoped she would be. He remembered having his own wisdom teeth out as a teenager and his mom had been in the ground for years. He experienced worse surgeries and injuries since, but it still would have been nice to have the support then. The thought of Shane’s puffy and swollen face, accentuating his adorable freckles, made Ilya smile once again.

Jane: No. She booked it and then her and my dad booked a holiday in Europe all month.

He stepped out of the elevator and took a seat in the lobby while he waited for his ride.

“Rozanov! Good to see you, man.” He heard from behind him. Carter Vaughn swung his hand in aggressively in his direction offering a handshake. “Are you just getting here? I’m meeting some of the other boys at the bar. Come for a drink with us.”

Ilya stopped and considered the offer as the dot on Uber app loomed closer—he was here, he might as well have drinks with some of the boys. He figured if Vaughn was here, Scott Hunter would be close behind. If he couldn’t fuck Shane’s brains out in a Vegas penthouse, reminding Scott Hunter that he was a washed up fossil of an athlete would be a close second where joy was concerned. His phone vibrated.

Jane: I will uber home and hope not to embarrass myself in front of the driver. Good luck at the awards. I guess I’ll see you in October.

“Roz?” Vaughn prodded.

“Uh no. I am just leaving. Family emergency.” Ilya said, standing as he watched the dot signifying his departure pulling into the lot on the map. “Be sure to tell Hunter to go fuck himself for me, yes?”

Vaughn laughed. “Sure dude. Hope everything’s okay.” Ilya offered a silent wave, turning his attention back to his phone as he made his way outside.

Lily: When is surgery?

He saw the typing bubbles immediately.

Jane: Tomorrow morning.

Ilya smiled as he sat down in the Uber. He looked at the bags he packed and figured they weren’t worth wasting now.

Lily: You will pick me up at Ottawa airport, yes?

He thought he might be more nervous when he hit send, but he felt a kind of peace wash over him. He and Shane had always met with the purpose and intention of hooking up, he felt that they needed a reason—well, he just found a new one. He could be useful, while still stealing some hours with him without the fear of his family getting in the way.

Jane: Huh?

Ilya typed quickly before he could lose his nerve.

Lily: I am going to airport. I will switch my flight and come to Ottawa. I can get you home from dentist.

The bubbles appeared. Disappeared. Appeared. Disappeared. Ilya always wondered what Shane was thinking when this happened. It happened all the time—as if he was constantly second guessing his response. He could imagine the different drafts. Fuck off Rozanov. That would be really nice, thanks. You don’t have to. He would be playing tug-o-war with his own mind, trying to pick a right answer that didn’t even exist. They appeared again.

Jane: Ok. Send me your flight itinerary. I’ll be there.

Wow. A response so simple and direct had not been on the menu in Ilya’s mind. This was really happening.

Ilya arrived at the airport and booked the first available flight to Ottawa before heading to the first store he could find in the terminal. He thought back to his own surgery years earlier—though it was more of a procedure in Russia. He was shot full of freezing, and the teeth were yanked out. The thought of it made him shudder, but he made a mental list of what had made him feel better. He quickly realized that most of the list involved a variety of frozen goodies, so instead he grabbed Tylenol and Advil and popped it in his bag. He was sure that Shane would have already thought ahead, but he would hate to find out that he hadn’t the hard and painful way.

Lily: You have stuff for after?

Bubbles, only once this time, given the simplicity of the question.

Jane: like what?

Oh Shane—he was so organized and analytical in the world of hockey and real estate, yet he seemed so clueless beyond that. It’s as if all of his energy was expended on his two main interests, leaving nothing for the more mundane things in life. Actually, Ilya could probably count himself as a third interest—Shane always seemed to have energy to spend on him.

Lily: Nevermind. I can deal with it when they are ripping your teeth out.

Bubbles, twice this time. How could he possibly overthink that one, Ilya wondered.

Jane: Gross

Ilya smiled.

Lily: I will land around 2:30. Maybe park away and share location? I can find you.

Ilya already knew Shane well enough to know that he’d be panicking about the logistics of their meeting. They had hooked up dozens of times over the years and not once had Shane let his guard down. He lived in a constant state of fear, so he was sure that the idea of being seen together outside of an airport would send him into a fucking coma.

Jane: Ok

Somewhere over Nevada, the panic set in, and somewhere around the Canadian border the emergency exits started to look appealing even from thirty thousand feet. His relationship with Shane had always been more dick-in-various-holes, and less medicated-popsicle-cuddles. He couldn’t help but wonder what the fuck they planned to do when one of said holes would be bleeding and swollen—it eliminated sex from the equation, and conversations could quickly become one sided. Unfortunately, the functional side belonged to him, and his communication skills were far from functional aside from sentences like ‘get on your knees’ and ‘fuck, Hollander’. If he hadn’t already had his own wisdom teeth removed he may have considered booking a two for one, because if they were going to have to suffer through each others company with clothes on, they might as well both suffer physically too, limiting their ability to speak in the process. Fuck. When the announcement regarding their descent chimed, Ilya had his phone pulled out ready to book a flight back to Boston—instead the notification popped up.

Jane: I’m sharing my location. Should show up when you land.

And then again, and this one put a smile on his face as he closed out of his flight-booking-panic tabs.

Jane: I’m freaking out.

He wondered how long Shane had been sitting in the parking lot, considering turning around and driving to Montreal, missing his appointment and disappointing his mother in the process.

Lily: Me too.

Ilya regretted not checking his carry-on—while totally unnecessary, it would have bought him an extra twenty minutes of staring at a spinning carousel before he had to face his impulsive offer to comfort the man he was used to pounding his dick into. Instead, he had about a fifteen minute walk to reconcile how after seven years of the same shit, he was about to become the man who could maybe offer more than just nine inches and an orgasm. He was sure to walk slowly, knowing damn well that the slower he walked, the quicker Shane’s mind would spiral. If he walked any slower, he’d miss the surgery altogether.

He could see the Shane-shaped dot on the screen get closer and closer, and then he saw the Shane-shaped person leaning against the car—his stomach turned.

“Get the fuck in the car, Hollander.” Ilya squawked as he approached. Shane obeyed without words. Ilya threw his bag in the trunk and made his way to the passenger seat. He couldn’t help but notice that Shane had already turned on his cooled seats, and adjusted the head rest to be an Ilya-appropriate height.

“I was just getting some fresh air.” Shane said when Ilya buckled his seatbelt.

“Ah. I wouldn’t want to sit in this car either. What is this? A Jeep?”

Shane shot him a look. “It’s good in the snow. Practical.”

“Boring. Right.” Ilya said.

Shane rolled his eyes. “So…I don’t have a place here. I was staying at my parents.” He glanced up at Ilya. “But if you want to go…”

“Not to your parent’s house?” Ilya finished his sentence.

Shane nodded. “My cottage is only two hours from here. We wouldn’t have to leave to come back until noon tomorrow. We could go there and…” he looked away avoiding eye contact, “relax… until the appointment.”

“Sure.” Ilya said casually, but inside he was elated. He had seen the boring think pieces that the sports networks had put out about Shane Hollander’s summer house. He was sure he could draw it by heart, but he’d never admit it.

Shane nodded as he backed out of the parking spot. “I was there all week, so there are still groceries and stuff. But we can stop if you need…”

“Yes. Can we stop at a grocery store? Closer to the house?”

“Sure.” Shane said. “You can run in… alone? So no one…” He added before being cut off.

“Yes, Hollander. I won’t make you hold my hand in public.” Ilya smiled, and then he impulsively lifted Shane’s hand from the gear shift, taking it in his. “But is this okay?” He asked. Shane smiled and nodded.

“Thank you for coming.” Shane said. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.” Ilya said honestly.

He had spent the better part of three hours on a flight panicking about how they would communicate when they were forced to share space for more than a couple of hours, and now he didn’t know why. Holding his hand in his now was the closest thing that they had come to an intimate connection beyond their regular hookups, and it felt…nice. If he was honest, he had already circled their game days on the calendar back home, and had pinpointed the perfect opportunity to ask him to stay—an afternoon game in Boston that would allow for him to stay the night. Now he felt like he was expediting the process in a way that might be even more meaningful.

Shane looked insanely hot in the drivers seat, a moment Ilya hadn’t pictured them ever sharing. His skin was already sun-kissed and warm, his freckles darker than the last time he had seen him. “Summer suits you.” Ilya said, admiring the view. He had never seen him in the summer—not like this, in his casual clothes and in his element.

Shane smiled and lifted Ilya’s hand to his lips. The boldness surprised Ilya…and turned him on. “You too.” Shane mumbled against his hand. “It’s too bad you’re here for this, and not just for…”

“Sex?” Ilya said, huffing a laugh.

Shane shook his head seriously. “No. Just for… fun. For summer.” He said honestly. “I’ve always thought about inviting you. But I know you like to go back to Russia. I never wanted to take time away from your family.”

Ilya nodded. “I don’t like going back.” He admitted. “But I’m not sure your family would appreciate me as your houseguest either.”

“They would love you… if they knew you.” Shane glanced at him and back to the road. Unlike the highway, the family road was not one that either seemed willing to go down right now, though the usage of the word love was not lost on Ilya. Maybe it was possible that this impulsive decision could lead to more serious conversations. “So…” Shane said changing the subject, “have you had your wisdom teeth out? Was it awful?”

Ilya smiled and nodded. “Mmm you’ve never wrecked that pretty smile… you are not real hockey player.” He flashed a toothy grin at Shane. “But yes, I had them out as teenager… it was fine.”

“I hate being knocked out.” Shane said.

Ilya’s eyes widened, eyebrows raised. “Knocked out? What do you mean knocked out?”

Shane huffed a laugh. “Well yeah, they will put me out and then cut them out.”

“Wow. Are all Canadians pussy’s? In Russia we get a shot, to numb it… and then they cut them out. Or that’s what they did to me.”

“That sounds a little barbaric, no?”

“You can’t feel it… and it hurts after either way.”

Shane grimaced. “Can you hear it?”

Ilya thought about it. “Uh, yes. I guess I could.” He smiled at the disgusted look on Shane’s face. “Hollander, you have had worse surgeries, yes? It will be okay.”

Shane nodded. “Do you promise you won’t laugh at me? I don’t think I’m at my best coming off anesthesia.”

“What do you mean?”

Shane shrugged. “I don’t know… I might say something stupid.”

Ilya laughed. “Ah. It takes drugs to make you funny.”

“Fuck you.” Shane said.

An hour later, Ilya found himself exiting a small-town grocery store like a spy—or maybe more like a criminal. It was the kind of store where you can buy a tent and a toilet one aisle down from the pudding and granola bars. It worked in his favour, because he was able to stock up on frozen goods for Shane, and pop them in a cooler he bought in place of bags. Luckily, Shane had kept his location on, because he parked a fucking mile away, as if a large Russian man walking a mile with a cooler to an unmarked, lonely black SUV was less suspicious than just picking him up outside the front door. He couldn’t help but smile the whole way there, knowing that six hours earlier he was in Vegas thinking of his hand pressed to Shane’s sweat-slicked back in a penthouse bed—now he had a popsicle-filled cooler in one hand, and would soon have Shane’s in the other.

“What the hell did you buy?” Shane said, looking to the cooler in the backseat.

“Popsicles. Frozen fruit…” he said, buckling his seatbelt. He reached for Shane’s hand immediately, already missing the feeling of it in his. Fuck—how was this suddenly the thing he wanted more than his naked body in a Vegas hotel room. “I already grabbed you Tylenol and Advil at the airport.”

Shane looked serious. “You didn’t have to do that.” He glanced to Ilya. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Ilya said. “When do your parents come back?”

“Not for another three weeks.”

“Do you see anyone else while they are gone? Any visitors?” Ilya was curious to know if they could be interrupted, but he was also genuinely curious what Shane’s summer life looked like.

“Uh. No. I had no plans. I usually try to take June to just relax. I like the quiet.” He said, glancing at Ilya. “But I’m also happy to enjoy it with you. I’m not sure I would have had the balls to ever invite you.”

Ilya’s heart could burst. “Oh, your balls are just fine, Hollander.” He said with a wink.

They had never ventured down a path to actually get to know each other, but now that they stumbled on the path it wasn’t as rocky as he would have expected. For years they had gradually been drawn to each other more and more, spending more time on their phones than with the people in front of them, craving a connection with a person who was often on the other side of the world. It felt like it was only a matter of time before the gravitational pull between them became too much to fight against. When he woke up that morning, Ilya never would have expected that the catalyst for a deeper connection would have sat deep in Shane’s gums.

An hour later, Shane turned off the highway where the pavement and vacant fields quickly transformed into a winding gravel road draped with trees hanging above them. It was serene and beautiful, and it hit Ilya that he was really about to see Shane’s summer home for the first time—completely unplanned and with little thought. He was suddenly filled with gratitude over the simple fact that he had sent a text with a booty-call intent, and instead he was now in a position to care for Shane in a way that wasn’t physical. It was uncharted territory, not only with Shane, but with anyone—Ilya had never allowed himself to go there.

Ilya realized they hadn’t spoken for a few miles, and he sensed the nervous energy coming from the other side of the car. He pulled Shane’s hand to his lips and kissed it gently the same way Shane had done earlier. He could see the nerves leave his eyes as he melted back in the seat, releasing the tension he’d been carrying. “Your mouth isn’t in pain, is it?” Ilya asked, hoping that pain wasn’t the cause of the pending surgery.

Shane shook his head. “No. Nothing serious. They’ve moved around for years and bother me sometimes. I should have had them out years ago.”

“Good.” Ilya said, because he was both happy to hear that Shane wasn’t in pain, and he wanted to do nasty things to that mouth while he still could tonight.

Shane began to slow the car as he took the final curve toward the property, and it finally came into view. None of it surprised Ilya, because he had seen it so many times on tv, but the view was still something he could admire. As they exited the car, Ilya reached into the backseat and took out the cooler with one hand while Shane moved to retrieve his bag from the back. Ilya was surprised when Shane found his way to his side and reached for his hand, holding it as they walked in. He put the key in the door before turning back. “I really can’t believe you’re here right now.” He said, looking at Ilya with a mix of fear and fondness.

“Me neither.” Ilya said seriously. “I’m happy I’m here.”

Shane smiled and stepped into the home, dropping his keys in the bowl and taking off his shoes. “Do you want a tour?…” he said, but he could hardly finish before Ilya’s mouth crashed into his. Shane pulled back only long enough to grab his hand and guide him up towards the bedroom. They moved quickly, like horny little teenagers wanting to get some action in before their parents got home. Shane threw Ilya back on the bed and smiled into a kiss as he hopped up to straddle him.

“I’ve wanted to have you here for years, Hollander.” Ilya muttered into his mouth.

“I’ve wanted you here for years.” Shane muttered back, plastering kisses across Ilya’s face and down the side of his jaw.

The bedroom was bathed in sunlight, something that they weren’t used to, but meant so much to both of them. After years of having to plan every hook up so diligently, hiding in the shadows, they suddenly found themselves here in the light with no plan and nowhere else to be. Their kisses had started slow, but quickly deepened into something urgent and necessary. Ilya's hands mapped Shane's back instinctually, fingers tracing the curve of his spine as Shane arched into the touch. Their mouths met again and again, each kiss longer than the last, tongues sliding together in a rhythm that made Shane's breath catch in his throat.

"How did we get here?" Ilya murmured against Shane's lips, pulling back just enough to search his eyes. Shane knew that here didn’t just mean the cottage, it meant here, together, in this place that Shane loved so much after so many years when they had started the day in different countries. It meant here, in the sunlight.

Shane answered by pulling him closer, threading his fingers through Ilya's curls and kissing him with a tenderness that spoke louder than words. "I guess we could thank my dentist." He said smiling into another kiss.

“Or your mom.” Ilya said cheekily.

“Gross, Rozanov.” Shane said before reaching for the hem of Ilya’s shirt.

They shed their clothes slowly, punctuating each revealed inch of skin with kisses and gentle touches. When Shane lay back against the pillows, Ilya hovered above him, drinking in the sight with an expression that made Shane's heart stutter. "You're very pretty in the sunlight, Hollander." Ilya whispered, lowering himself to press kisses along Shane's collarbone, down his chest, across the soft skin of his stomach.

Shane's fingers found Ilya's shoulders, pulling him closer, their hips meeting in the middle. "Rozanov..."

"Mmmm." Ilya moaned, enjoying the friction. He reached toward the nightstand, pulling open the drawer—and paused. A slow smile spread across his face. "Hollander... did you rob a pharmacy?"

Shane felt heat flood his cheeks as Ilya lifted out the very large, unopened box of condoms and the bottle of lube, both clearly purchased with optimistic intentions. "I wanted to be prepared."

"Prepared for what, exactly? You didn’t know I was coming." Ilya's eyes danced with amusement, but his touch remained gentle as he set the items on the nightstand.

"I've never needed them here before," Shane admitted quietly, the words carrying more weight than he'd intended.

Ilya went still, his expression shifting from playful to something softer. He cupped Shane's face in both hands, thumbs brushing across his cheekbones. "Never?"

Shane shook his head, holding Ilya's gaze. "Never."

"God, you're..." Ilya kissed him deeply, pouring everything he couldn't say into the press of their lips. When he pulled back, his voice was soft. "So you were saving the cottage for us, then? How romantic of you." He'd meant it as a joke, a way to lighten the moment, but Shane's answer stopped him cold.

"Yes," Shane said simply. "I was."

Ilya's breath caught. He rested his forehead against Shane's, eyes closed, overwhelmed by the gift of that truth. "Shane..."

"I wanted it to be you, Ilya" Shane whispered. "I wanted it to be here, like this."

Their first names had slipped out so naturally in a way that seemed to satisfy them both. Their first names carried the weight of the words they actually wanted to say but couldn’t. They kissed again, slower now, savoring each other. Ilya's hands trembled slightly as he reached for the supplies, preparing them both with tenderness and care. When they finally came together, Shane gasped at the fullness, the way he always did. Ilya moved slowly, enjoying the view of Shane beneath him, bathed in sunlight for the first time ever. He watched Shane's face for every flicker of sensation, adjusting his rhythm to match Shane's breathing.

"Okay?" Ilya asked, voice strained with the effort of holding back.

Shane nodded, wrapping his legs around Ilya's waist, drawing him deeper. "Perfect."

They found their rhythm together—a slow, rolling dance that built gradually. Ilya whispered endearments in Russian that Shane didn't understand but felt instead. Shane answered with Ilya's name, repeated like a prayer. Their actions weren’t new, but their words were, and suddenly a simple name carried so much more meaning than anything else could.

The pleasure built between them, a tide rising steadily until Shane shattered first, crying out against Ilya's shoulder. Ilya followed moments later, Shane's name on his lips, their bodies locked together in the most intimate of embraces.

Afterward, they lay tangled together, hearts gradually slowing. Ilya pressed lazy kisses to Shane's temple, his cheek, the corner of his mouth.

"Worth the wait?" Ilya murmured. Words he had spoken years earlier that meant so much more now. Because they had waited years for this—for the sunlight, for the privacy, for the cottage, and for first names that felt so very earned.

Shane turned his head to capture Ilya's lips in a lingering kiss. "Worth everything."

“Good morning.” Shane said, lifting his head gently from its new home on Ilya’s chest.

“Good morning, Shane.” Ilya said, not wanting the bravery from the day before fade back into old habits.

“It’s almost time to go already.” Shane said reluctantly. “We slept in.”

Ilya smiled and kissed the top of Shane’s head. “I’m not sure it counts as sleeping in if we only went to sleep a few hours ago.”

It was a good morning indeed, after having spent the evening and much of the night moving between the kitchen island, the bed, and the shower. The feeling of clothes on their skin would be an adjustment after spending so many hours naked, and pinned together. Shane had saved the cottage for them for so many years, and Ilya insisted that he get his moneys worth out of it before his sweet, swollen face wouldn’t allow for it.

“One more shower?” Shane asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Mmm yes please. You will kill me, Hollander.” He flipped Shane off his chest and onto his back, pinning his arms down on the bed as he leaned down to kiss him. “I will miss this mouth tonight. Maybe I will put it to work one more time.” Shane pushed him off with a smile and Ilya gasped dramatically. “Oh… maybe you will have more room in there after tonight!” He joked as both men made their way to the shower for one last round of fun.

The boys pulled up to the dentist office more than a few minutes late, and Ilya could tell that Shane was stressed out.

“My mom would fucking kill me if she knew I was late.”

“Ah, no. You could just tell her you were working out and got distracted. It’s not untrue.” Ilya joked before he continued. “Hey, did you know dentists can tell if you’ve given someone a blow job recently?” He said winking.

The look on Shane’s face was one of pure shock and fear. “Fuck, Rozanov… that’s true isn’t it?” He brushed his hands down his face. “I remember hearing that in high school… but I never thought it be relevant in my life.”

“Ah yes… high school. When you were straight and disappointing women only?”

“Fuck off… oh my god. You’re going to walk in there with me and they are all going to know I had your dick in my mouth this morning.”

Ilya smiled. “Well not everyone. Receptionist might not know.” Shane groaned. “Besides, I should stay in the car, yes?”

Shane shot him a look, but he softened. “Uh… you could, if you want. But this is a private clinic for procedure like this, they don’t usually take appointments on weekends. I just pay a little extra to have them come in.”

“Wow… you drive Jeep. You don’t travel. Your clothes suck… but you spend your money to ruin a dentists weekend? You really are boring, Hollander.”

“Shut up.” Shane said defensively. “I get… anxious. I don’t like the dentist.”

Ilya thought about making another joke, but instead he sensed the legitimate fear on Shane’s face. He reached for his hand instead. “I will come inside. We can be friends today… maybe in town for a commercial shoot?” Ilya said, trying to ease his nerves.

Shane nodded. “Yeah. That works.” Shane looked up to him then. “I really appreciate you coming.”

“Mmm. The dentist is still better than Moscow.” Ilya said.

Ilya never could have guessed that he would be so nervous sitting in the waiting room after they took Shane back. He had planned on being a hungover piece of shit with hundreds of thousands of dollars missing from his bank account this morning, courtesy of the Vegas strip—instead he was here waiting for an overmedicated, likely whiny, Shane Hollander to wake up from a dental procedure. Yet somehow, there was no where else he wanted to he.

“Mr. Rozanov?” A lady said emerging from a sterile-looking door. “You can come back now, he’s just waking up. Everything went perfectly.”

Ilya hopped out of his seat, wishing he had been a little less enthusiastic, and made his way through the door. He was shocked to hear the sound of sobs coming from down the short hallway, and he quickly remembered that Shane was their only patient right now. Either Shane Hollander was having a meltdown, or a very masculine sounding dental assistant was having a bad day—one of those options sounded much more entertaining than the other. His suspicions were confirmed when he walked into a room to a splotchy faced Shane. His cheeks were packed with gauze, while a mix of blood, drool, and tears slid down his face. Ilya couldn’t help but smile, despite the sadness on Shane’s face—he knew that whatever he was feeling was fuelled by narcotics and not emotions.

“Ilya…my chompers.” Shane whined, trying to catch his breath.

“Your what?” Ilya said as he approached the bed, his hand finding Shane’s. He didn’t care about the optics now that he was as upset.

“My… chompers!” Shane said, one syllable at a time, struggling to make the right sounds around the bloody gauze packed cheeks. He pointed in his mouth dramatically. “They stole… my! chompers!” He exclaimed, while not being able to fully open or close his mouth. Ilya tried to turn his head to hide his quiet laughter. “It’s…not…funny!” Shane said, and the tears began to fall.

“Maybe they could give you your… chompers…in a jar to take home.” He said, raising his eyebrows to the nurse in the room, questioning. She nodded. “See! You can have them back.”

Shane cried out loudly, the drool building up and escaping his mouth. Ilya couldn’t help but think he was the most precious sight in the world despite the medically-induced dramatics. He used the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe away the bloody drool while Shane continued to cry and yell pathetically. “A JAR? They belong in my face, Ilya!.. I want them back. They live in my mouth! Not in a jar.”

“Shane, my love.” Fuck, that word just slipped out, but he continued. “They cannot put your chompers back. But you can hold the container on the way home so you know they aren’t lost. Okay?” He lifted his hand to his mouth and kissed it gently, once again trusting that the medical professionals in the room could keep their fucking mouth shut—unlike Shane who continued to drool like a disgustingly precious blood fountain. Ilya glanced around the room and found indifferent faces watching them.

When he turned back to Shane, the sadness on his face had suddenly faded to something different—oh god, this was going to be interesting, Ilya thought as a sly smile suddenly found a home there. “Shhh, Ilya. No ‘my love’” here.” He said, mocking Ilya’s accent while bending his face in a humiliating and mocking way. His mouth opened wider, with a look of shock and realization and gasped, no hint of pain there—the drugs were doing their thing in more ways than one. He looked to a nurse then. “Can you really tell if someone has given a blow job recently?” He slurred, the last word sounding more like ‘wee-sen-wee’. He was both adorable, and blowing the doors right off the closet one fucked up question at a time. Ilya rubbed his hand over his face, regretting having ever brought that up.

“Shane!” He exclaimed.

“Lighten up, Rozanov.” He said. Ilya said nothing, he just raised his brows as if to say alright captain, I sort my spices alphabetically and have to squeegee the shower after having sex in it before I can settle my mind enough to continue to the bedroom.

“No honey…” the nurse began.

“Because I didddd.” Shane said in a sing-songy tone, bopping his head as if he was making music. His smile quickly faded, before looking back to the nurse. “And then you stole my chompers!” He said accusingly.

“I’m very sorry about your chompers, Mr. Hollander.” The nurse said, shooting a smile at them both.

“Mr. Hollander.” Shane said, once again mocking Ilyas Russian accent. “Mr. Businessman. Mr…Landlord.” He continued, though ‘Meestur Wahndward’ sounded much cuter in his fully open, Russian mocking mouth than it ever had coming from Ilya’s.” He looked to Ilya. “You’re fucking hot.” He said, and now there was really no hiding whose dick he had sucked that morning—regardless of the dental science of it.

“Mmm you are very high.” Ilya said. “And you should probably shut up now.”

“Mmm” he started, mocking him once again. “You should just kiss me.”

“Maybe when the drool goes away.” Ilya said, wiping it away once more.

Shane crossed his arms and stuck out his lip as best he could, which wasn’t well considering the complete and utter lack of feeling in it. He looked away. “You don’t think I’m hot!” He said, sounding more like a five year old than a grown man.

“Shane, I think you are beautiful.” As soon as he said it, he could see tears gathering in Shane’s eyes and he braced himself for more hysterics—and smiled, because he was so completely delighted by this unhinged, unmasked version of the man he had so obviously fallen for.

“You only liked me when I had all my teef.” He said, tears streaming down his face.

“No!” Ilya said, gently pulling his chin towards him to make eye contact. “I would like you if you had no… teef.” He said, mocking him back now. “But if you keep your chompers in a jar longer than today, I might have to reconsider.”

Shane glared at Ilya. “I hate you.”

Ilya smiled. “No you don’t.”

The nurse smiled at them both. “I’m going to step out for a few minutes. Hit the call button if you need anything. We will wait until his doctor signs his discharge papers and you’ll be able to get him home.” She said on her way out.

“We’re alone” Shane said, suddenly no longer crying again. He had attempted to whisper it, but failed miserably. “You’re going to take me home, Rozanov?!” He asked completely shocked, realizing what the nurse had said.

“Yes, Hollander. I’m going to take you home.”

“TO MOSCOW!?” He yelled, louder than any man with a mouth full of gauze should have been able to. His lip pouted again. “But I don’t have any winter clothes here to pack.”

Ilya couldn’t help but laugh, but Shane seemed to mirror his joy with a big wide mouthed, drool filled smile. He wanted to ask why on earth he thought Russia was in a different season than Canada, or if he thought that Russia was just in a perpetual state of winter, but he didn’t want to see that smile leave his face.

“No, Shane. Not to Moscow.” He said simply instead.

“You know…” Shane said, in a clear attempt to be flirty, “you could stay here. With me.”

“Shane…” Ilya began.

“Don’t go to Russia.” Shane continued, slurring his words, but never stopping to allow for Ilya to interject. “Come to my house. It’s so private… we could have a week, or maybe two! We could be all alone… together.”

Ilya smiled, kissing his hand and wiping the drool from his mouth again. “We will talk about it, Hollander.”

“Don’t call me… Hollander.” Shane said, once again making fun of Ilya’s Russian accent. “I like when you call me Shane.” And something serious settled on Shane’s face—like maybe it was the first thing he might actually remember after all of this.

“Okay.” Ilya said simply, and he meant it.

“My mom still books my haircuts.” Shane said then out of nowhere.

Ilya huffed a laugh. “Oh, Shane… no.” He pushed Shane’s sweat-damp hair from his forehead. “Grow it out.” He said. “Give her a break from her assistant duties. It would look…hot.”

Shane tried to waggle is brows, but it looked more like a confused spasm. “Even without all my teef?”

“Yes, Shane. Even without all your teef.” Ilya said smiling.

“I’m gonna pukeee in the carrr.” Shane said with that now familiar sing-songy cadence. Ilya pulled up a chair, exhausted from the spectrum of Shane’s emotions and language. It was like communication whiplash, something he didn’t know four wisdom teeth and some anesthesia were capable of.

“That’s okay. We will grab a bag and clean up if we need to.” He said squeezing Shane’s hand. Ilya himself didn’t handle the anesthesia comedown well, and he wondered if Shane’s internal panic came out this time. He didn’t want him to feel embarrassed.

Shane seemed to calm down, allowing his head to loll to the side as his eyes closed. “I’m excited to nap with you.” He admitted, allowing his eyes to flutter open.

Ilya leaned in and kissed his already-puffy cheek. “Me too.” He watched a tear leave Shane’s closed eye then, and this time he didn’t know if it was born from relief, sadness, or something else. He wiped it away, bending close to whisper in his ear. “What’s wrong, Shane?”

“They stole my chompers, Ilya.” He said. Another tear escaping.

Ilya huffed a breath and smiled, gently grazing his thumb across Shane’s forehead and cheeks in an attempt to soothe him. “I know, Shane.”

Ilya thought that Shane's eyes closing may have signalled the end of what had been a roller coaster of oversharing—or maybe more of a log fume given the copious amounts of drool escaping his face—but it didn't. Shane continued to jump from heartbreaking sadness, to overwhelming joy, and a sprinkle of anger at the complete and utter disregard for his poor 'chompers'. Ilya had seen more emotions rip through Shane in that recovery room in thirty minutes they spent there than he had in the years he had known him—he soaked in every second of it. He thought that they may have escaped further closet door TNT, and they almost had until the nurse came to discharge him.

"Be sure to ice often, or you'll be looking a bit like a squirel stashing nuts in your cheeks." She said with a smile. "It will be uncomfortable."

Ilya could tell what Shane was about to say by the smile on his face alone, and he tried to stop him before he could. "Shane!"

"Nothing uncomfortable about having your nuts in my mouth." He said looking at Ilya.

"Jesus Christ." Ilya muttered under his breath, looking at the nurse embarassed. "Sorry." He said, offering a shy smile.

"None of what has been said here makes it into the files." She said, assuring him. "Though, he's made it worth coming in on Saturday." She added with a smile. She moved a wheelchair next to the bed. "Alright, Shane. Let's get you to the car, shall we?" Ilya helped him move from the bed to the chair, before the nurse handed him a plastic container that contained Shane's precious chompers. Ilya noted how more than one seemed to be broken, which likely meant that the extraction didn't go as smoothly in those areas of his mouth.

Shane stared at the container with disgust before looking to the nurse one last time, a glare replacing his previously content smile. "You're a monster." He told her, clutching the container to his chest.

Ilya wheeled him out. When they reached the car, Ilya opened the back door to find the pillow and blanket he had proactively packed for the long drive home. He took the small pail that the clinic offered on the center console for easy access if Shane felt like he was going to be sick, and he turned on the cooled seats so he would be comfortable in the summer heat. He gently guided him into the car. "Alright, Chompy. Let's get you home.
"

Shane smiled, as well as he could. "Ha. Chompy. That's the name of Arthurs's stuffed animal." Ilya reached over to buckle him in. "He cries everytime he loses him."

"Mmm. So you and Arthur have a lot in common." Ilya joked, pecking Shane on the cheek before moving to close the door.

"Woah." Shane said. "We do!
"

"Ready?" Ilya asked, slipping into the driver's seat. He needed to adjust the seat to fit properly, and it brought a smile to his face knowing that that was likely to bother Shane next time he got in the car. Shane nodded and tucked the pillow between his head and the window, snuggling into it softly. Ilya reached out to give his thigh a gentle rub before putting th car into reverse to head back to the cottage.

They only made it fifteen minutes out of town before Ilya noticed the change in Shane's complexion and the distant stare of a man who was feeling a little queezy. He didn't give Shane the chance to say anything, he just quietly pulled the car over to the shoulder of the highway and handed him the pail that they had been given. Shane accepted it, emptying his stomach without words. "Fuck." He muttered, pulling it back. "I knew I was going to do this." He said, only now there was no underlying joy or a sing-songy cadence to his voice. He looked miserable. He held the container containing the remnants of his teeth over the bucket. "Look what you did." He said seriously, and then Shane made the mistake of looking in the pail himself. "Ilya!" He exclaimed in a panic, still very much feeling the effects of the narcotics. "Am I gonna bleed out?
" He looked completely terrified, and Ilya thought back to his own distraction and what the inside of his toilet had looked like when he was sick post-extraction as well. All of the blood that had been swallowed to that point had no where to go but out, so he knew that the pail would be filled with a mix of blood and bile. He unbuckled his seatbelt and made his way over to Shane's side.

"Give." He said, reaching for the bucket. He moved down into the ditch and dumped it there, being sure to rinse it with his water bottle before returning it. 
"You are okay. It is just from swallowing your own blood. It's gone now." He said, crouching down to rub Shane's back. He reached out to wipe off his mouth, and when his sleeve came away, a smile was revealed on Shane's exhausted face.

Shane looked to Ilya, and gently placed a hand on his cheek. "I kind of love you, you know?" He said honestly.

Ilya wanted so badly to say it back right there on the side of the road with drool and blood caked sleeves, while he looked into the beautiful coffee colored eyes of a man who didn't know up from down in that moment—but he didn't. "I know, Shane." He said instead, as he brushed a thumb softly across his freckles. It seemed to satisfy Shane until the moment he was filling the bucket once more. It killed him not to say it, but looking at Shane, he knew he really wasn't there with him. He knew better than to anchor something so heavy and so important to a moment that Shane may not even remember. The last thing he wanted was for Shane to wake up clear headed later today feeling like he had said too much, too soon, to a truth he hadn't intended to share just yet.

Ilya knew that somehow this confession would embarass him more than telling his nurse that he liked balls in his mouth and that he had blown the handsome Russian in the room earlier that day. He smiled thinking about the unlikelihood of all of those words being spoken on the same day—and yet, here they were. He wanted to kiss every inch of his body and tell him he loved him over and over and over again, but instead he emptied the bucket once more and returned to the driver's seat, not wanting the power of this moment be owned by the drug haze that surrounded Shane. He sat down, and reached for Shane's hand, hoping that he maybe be able to feel his love in the meantime.

The last hour of the drive, Shane had fallen into a peaceful sleep and when Ilya glanced over at him his heart swelled as he allowed himself to feel just how important the last twenty-four hours had been for them. He had impulsively invited himself to Shane's hometown with the intention of caring for him—something he had never done for anyone. Less than a day later he was holding the hand of the man who just told him he loved him for the first time. He had gone from picturing his hand on a sweaty back in a penthouse, to picturing a future of summers at the cottage. He expected he might feel the familiar panic that came anytime they flirted with emotional intimacy, but he realized looking at Shane that it wouldn't come this time, because whetherhe meant to or not, Shane had just given Ilya the gift of peace. At the end of the day, Ilya knew that the drugs hadn't created the feelings that Shane had declared—they only created the freedom for them to be spoken out loud. He knew that they had a lot of things to figure out if they wanted to make this work, but the fact remained that that was something they clearly both wanted.

Something about their story had always felt meant to be on some level, and this single spin of the earth, a whirlwind twenty-four hours, seemed to confirm it. This weekend was supposed to be casinos and hook ups, and instead it had become puke pails and love confessions—and it was the best twenty four hours of Ilya's life. He would choose dumping puke pails into ditches over pouring champagne into the Stanley Cup time and time again if it meant he got to fall asleep next to Shane every night. He would choose riding shotgun in this shitty Jeep over driving one of his many fancy sportscars if he meant he got to hold Shane's hand over the gear shift. He would choose summers in Canada over summers in Moscow if it meant being able to wake up next to Shane every morning. He looked over to the man he once compartmentalized as his quarterly, Canadian fuck buddy, and now he saw his puffy faced, once in a lifetime love. He didn't know if Shane would remember the events of the day, and the words that left his mouth, but it didn't matter—they had been released to the universe and now Ilya's world would never be the same.

Shane was still leaning against the door, passed out, when Ilya pulled up to the cottage. "Shane..." Ilya whispered and Shane began to stir. "We're home." He said, almost regretting the we in that sentence, until he realized that the we's and the my love's were the kind of words that may have invited Shane's honesty earlier. Shane's eyes opened, surprised that they had reached their destination. Ilya anchored his hand at the back of Shane's neck, squeezing it softly. "How are you feeling?"

Shane looked disheveled, and more alert than he had. "I'm okay." He said, wincing by the end of the short sentence. It was clear that he had slept away some of the drug haze.

"Let's get you inside." Ilya said, exiting the car to come around to help Shane.

Their second-ever entrance into the cottage was much different than the first. The day before they could hardly get their shoes off before ravaging each other's bodies and exploring each other's mouths, and today Ilya was bending down to untie and remove Shanes shoes delicately as he felt a drop of what had to be drool hit his shoulder. He would never mention the grosser parts of the day to Shane. "Bed?" Ilya asked simply.

Shane nodded. "How romantic." He said with a small smile, but then his face dropped again, clearly still not feeling very well. "Will you nap with me?
" He asked.

"Of course I will." Ilya said, kissing his forehead.

He got him settled into bed, a fresh pail at the bedside just in case, and an ice pack for each side of his face. Shane was a lot more present than he had been all day, but even now he struggled to coordinate the two ice packs in a way that felt comfortable. "Here." Ilya said, turning his body around on the bed so he could sit and face Shane. He reached down and held an ice pack on each side of his face while Shane settled deeper into the pillow. "Does it hurt?" He asked.

"A little." Shane said honestly.

Ilya glanced at the clock. "You are allowed to take the drugs they sent home in an hour. I can hold these here while you wait." He said smiling.

"You'll get frostbite." Shane said sweetly, and Ilya realized that his old Shane was definitely on his way back into the room. His eyes were still heavy and he was clearly in need of a much longer rest, but his mind seemed more clear.

"Worth it." Ilya said smiling. He bent down and placed a soft kiss on the tip of Shane's nose. "Do you need me to text anyone for you? Your mom?"

"Mm. Yeah." Shane said pointing to his phone on the nightstand, eyes still closed and relaxed against the pillow. Ilya let go off the ice packs long enough to warm his hands under the blanket and reach for the phone. He opened the phone and turned it around to unlock it with Shane's face ID. He chuckled when it didn't work.

"It doesn't recognize your face моя белка." Ilya said.

"What does that mean?" Shane asked.

Ilya leaned over and kissed each of his swollen cheeks softly. "My squirrel." He said and he couldn't help but fall in love with Shane's soft, tired smile a little more when he tried to repeat the Russian words. He didn't even come close, but the attempt warmed his heart. "You need to put in your password." Ilya said turning the phone, but Shane didn't open his eyes, he just spit out the password.

"2481." He said softly, a subtle grin on his face.

Ilya let that one pass without comment as well, because the four digits may as well have been his second love confession of the day. Instead, he picked up Shane's hand and kissed each knuckle before unlocking the phone and finding the right contact. "Yuna Hollander as the contact name. How personal, Shane."

"More personal than Lily." Shane mumbled, his face turning serious.

Ilya froze for a second, trying to decide if that was a drug-induced comment, or a heartfelt one. "Does that bother you?" He asked earnestly. Shane still didn't open his eyes, but he nodded his head. "Okay." Ilya said, before finding his own contact and changing the name to Ilya Rozanov. He could feel a sting behind his own eyes as he saved the changes, such a simple change that felt so cathartic. Lily and Jane were never fully formed, real beings, but they were the pseudonyms who allowed them to have a taste of a normal connection. They were more important than Ilya had ever realized.

He snapped out of it, going back to Yuna's text thread. He read their last messages from this morning and smiled.

Yuna Hollander: I'm so sorry we aren't there today. Please text me when Hayden gets you home and let me know you're okay. We love you.

It made Ilya happy to know that Shane had loving and supporting parents, even from across the world—but it was Shane's reply that really made him smile.

Shane: It's okay mom. We decided to head to the cottage, so he's here. I am safe and well taken care of. You don't have to worry about me. I love you too.

Ilya knew reading it that the lie lived only in the name, and not in the message itself. The idea that Ilya could make him feel safe and well taken care of was all he ever wanted for him. It had been the goal from the very start, only back then it had been sexual. Shane's comfort and consent had always been his priority, but he never expected to be able to offer that level of safety on this level. This was a level of care and trust that he had worked for and earned, and it was something he was more proud of than anything he had ever achieved on the ice.

"Dear Mom...Can you book me haircut from England, because I am bad adult... also they stole my chompers and I am sad boy now." Ilya said as he typed a more appropriate real message. Shane huffed a small laugh.

"Monsters." Shane said, obviously remembering at least that much.

"How does this sound?" Ilya said before reading off the message. "
Hayden is a pussy, and I told him to stay home because I don't want to be around his talentless and whiny ass more than I have to be all season." He smiled as Shane cracked his eyes open. "Send, yes?"

"Ilya..." Shane said concerned. Oh he was definitely getting back to himself.

"Relax." Ilya began. "I said you were home safe and feeling good. Everything went perfectly."

"Shit. Did you say it in a Russian accent?" Shane said, flinching as Ilya rested the ice packs back on his face. Maybe he wasn't fully down from the high just yet.

"No, Shane. I made sure to use an English accent... in a text." Ilya let out a long exhale. "You know, I could have been enjoying some Vegas strippers right now."

Shane opened his eyes, catching Ilya's. "Hmm. Yeah. You've kind of got a thing for me, don't you Rozanov?
"

Ilya smiled. "You have no idea, Hollander."

"Come lie down with me." Shane said. "Don't worry about the ice packs."

When Ilya opened his eyes, the sky had gone dark and he could see the stars dancing above the lake—it was almost as beautiful as the face of the man beside him. Even with a swollen face, and dried blood and drool on his chin, he was exquisite. Ilya had never seen him sleep like this before. That morning, Shane had woken up first, so Ilya was soaking this in as the gift that it was. He was peaceful and serene in a way that matched the beauty on the outside of the windows—he never wanted to leave this place. In an attempt to proactively meet Shane's needs, Ilya left the bed slowly in search of water, meds, and some soft foods. He had stocked up on pudding and yogurt at the store the day before, knowing he would struggle to eat anything solid for a few days. He gathered an assortment of options and returned to the room where he found Shane lying with his eyes open. He looked like he was in pain.

"Pain meds?" Ilya asked simply and Shane nodded. He sat up slowly and Ilya handed him a glass of water and two pills. He laughed as he watched half of the water splash down on to his shirt.

"Fuck." Shane winced. "I still can't feel my lips." He said.

Ilya moved to the bathroom, returning with a damp cloth to wipe away the caked on blood that had run from his mouth while he slept, and a dry one to gently wipe away the water that dripped from his chin. "Let me help. You just swallow." Ilya said as he slowly tilted the water glass up so he could get just enough to swallow the pills. "Lean forward for a second." He said, as he found the hem of Shane's now soaked shirt and pulled it over his head, being sure to stretch the collar with his hands before pulling it over his face. "Where are the clean ones?
" Ilya asked, about to move to the drawer.

"Don't worry about it." Shane said, brushing him off. "I will just spill on the next one too."

Ilya nodded. "How are you feeling?
"

"Better... in here.
" He said, pointing at his head. "Worse in here." He said pointing in his mouth.

"Hungry?
" Ilya asked.

"Starving."

"Excellent. On the menu, we have... chocolate pudding." Shane's nose turned up. "Vanilla pudding." He shook his head. "Plain greek yogurt." Ilya said, rolling his eyes, knowing that that would be Shane's disgusting choice. He nodded—of course. "High, fun Shane would have taken the pudding." Ilya scoffed.

"I don't like the sound of that guy." Shane said, looking a little stressed.

"Oh no. You would have loved him. He was very funny." Ilya said, but Shane's face remained unchanged. Ilya rested a hand tenderly on his cheek. "He was wonderful, and kind, and just a little silly. You have nothing to worry about."

"Okay." Shane said, breathing our a relaxed exhale. "When are you going home?" He asked, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"I don't know.
" Ilya said, stirring the disgustingly bland yogurt before handing it to Shane.

"What do you mean?" Shane asked, taking his first spoonful and wincing at the new sensation.

"Well, you know high Shane?
" Shane rolled his eyes and looked at him annoyed. "Well he asked me to stay here a little longer."

"Wow. He is a little silly." Shane said, smiling again now.

"And I thought, if you're parents will be gone for three more weeks... maybe you will need a full time nurse until then. You know... for your chompers?"

"For my chompers?" Shane said raising an eyebrow.

"Ah yes... the removal of the chompers seemed to be very traumatic for you... and the nurses. So, if you need the support to get through it..." Ilya took a deep breath. "I thought maybe I could stay to help."

Shane's smile was shyer now. "Well, I wouldn't want to be left alone if the chomper monster's returned." He looked to Ilya, yogurt slipping down his lip. Ilya leaned in and kissed it off of him—the most disgusting form of intimacy. Shane leaned his head back against the headboard, clearly exhausted from the day. He handed the yogurt back to Ilya after only a few spoonful's. "I'll try this again when the drugs kick in."

"Okay." Ilya wasn't sure if he could take Shane's words as a confirmation for him to stay, and he didn't want to leave Shane in an uncomfortable position, knowing he was still a little loopy from the meds. He leaned in to kiss Shane's temple, mirroring it on the other side. He kissed across his forehead, and down his swollen cheeks. He very tenderly and softly kissed the underside of his jaw, as Shane tipped his head back, completely relaxed as he melted into it. Ilya knew he probably couldn't even feel it fully, given the amount of freezing they would have injected him with, but muscle memory told his mind that this was what he needed. The comfort outweighed the lidocaine. When he reached the now swollen place below his ear, he whispered to him. "Shane, do you want me to stay?
"

"Mmm." Shane moaned. "Yes. I would love for you to stay, Ilya." He reached for his face and pulled it back so he could meet his eyes. "More than anything."

Ilya reached up, wiping the drool from his lips one last time before he kissed them softer than he had ever kissed him before.

"Good." He took a deep breath. "Because I kind of love you, you know?"

Shane smiled. "I know, Ilya."