Chapter Text
Ilya doesn’t understand why they’re at the airport, but he loves the big airplanes.
Mama had told him why they were going to be flying when they left the house, but he can’t remember why; only that he had to be very very careful with his bag. That made sense; his pelt was in there, and Mama was always telling him to be careful with his pelt.
But the planes were so big, and Andrei was sitting with the bags and playing his Nintendo, so it was safe; Andrei didn’t have a pelt of his own to look after, because Ilya was special, Mama said so. With Mama and Papa doing something at the desk, surely it wouldn’t be bad for Ilya to just have a look?
“If you get kidnapped, I’m telling Mama you ran away.” Andrei warns, not even looking up from his gameboy. Ilya was too little for a gameboy of his own, but the airplanes-
Ignoring Andrei and darting for the massive sheets of glass that overlooked the wide field where the airplanes landed and took off, Ilya pressed his face to the window. There were so many flickering lights, and the people on the field looked like little ants running around under the bellies of the airplanes.
He was going to ride one of those!
The idea of flying was a lot less scary now, seeing how big the airplanes were. It wasn’t like when he put on his pelt and had to figure out all over again how to walk on four legs instead of two; he would just sit in his seat, and maybe even get to look out the window as they flew over the clouds like birds.
“Andrei! Ilya!” Papa’s voice barked out over the crowded seating area, and Ilya flinched away from the glass. Even at four years old, he knew better than to press his father’s patience.
Running back towards his parents by dodging over legs and other people's travel bags, Ilya watches Mama’s face as he gets closer. She’s frowning, but why?
Andrei’s Nintendo is sitting on the seat, but his brother is nowhere to be seen.
“Where is your brother?” Mama asks, but Andrei appears from the aisle a moment later, looking incredibly smug with himself. Ilya doesn’t trust it.
“Had to pee.” his brother shrugs, but Ilya knows they just went potty right before Papa went to go get the tickets-
“Smart boy.” Papa ruffles Andrei’s hair and Ilya leans into Mama’s legs, shuffling in close. Andrei might be Papa’s favorite, but Ilya was Mama’s and she was nicer than Papa anyway.
Something garbled and English came over the loudspeaker, some hidden meaning in it stoking his parents into motion.
“Grab your bags boys- Ilya, your zipper is undone, close it up.” Mama instructs, pulling on the handle release for her travel bag so that she can wheel it along without stooping.
Ilya zips his bag up, excited to be getting on the plane. He feels as light as a feather already; even his bag doesn’t weigh him down as much as it had on the walk from the parking garage. They’re going to ride on an airplane!
This is the best day ever.
🎒
Keys rattling in the front door had Shane jumping off the couch and running before Mom could even announce “Dad’s home!”
Taking a running leap, Shane launches himself and is easily snatched up by Dad’s strong arms. He gets the life squeezed out of him for his efforts, but it’s worth it because Dad’s been gone for a week doing something for work. But he went to Russia, and they play hockey there too, so-
“Don’t worry, bud. I remembered your souvenir.” Dad assures him, and Shane grins.
“Shane, why don’t you go put Dad’s bag away and get washed up for dinner?” Mom says, but Shane knows what she’s about; she just wants to get her hug too.
The thought of getting to put away Dad’s stuff is exciting though, so Shane wiggles free and starts rolling the suitcase down the hall.
“Your souvenir is in the big pocket!” Dad calls, followed by an oof! sound.
This was the second best part about Dad coming home from his work trips, besides, well, Dad. Because putting away the suitcase was Shane's job, and it was good work. He already knew that dirty clothes went in the hamper, and anything still folded got put back where it belonged. Socks and undies in the top drawer, pants in the bottom drawer, shirts-
Something unexpectedly soft and warm was hiding under a pair of Dad’s khaki colored dress slacks.
It drew a shocked gasp from Shane’s mouth, because whatever it was, it was beautiful.
Gold and white, Shane thinks it looks like nothing so much as a lightly toasted marshmallow. It’s not sticky though, and unlike a lot of fabrics, it doesn’t make his fingers feel icky to touch it. Pulling the whole thing out, it’s not very big, just about the size of one of his t-shirts. But it’s soft, super soft, and Shane can’t help but bury his fingers into it just to feel the way the fur tickles at his fingertips.
“So cool.” he mutters, before inspiration strikes, and he buries his face in the fur. It feels almost warm, and Shane is certain this is his number one favorite souvenir from Dad’s travels ever.
Setting the fur aside, Shane happily sorts through the rest of the laundry, setting the box that must have the rest of the souvenirs Dad liked to bring back on the bed, so he could see it when he came upstairs.
“Shane! Dinner!” Mom calls, and Shane hurries to stash the fur on his own bed before going to wash up.
🎒
“Do you know what your son just asked me for?” Yuna asks when she plops onto the bed, already changed into her pajamas and having just put Shane down for the night.
“Hockey gear?” David teases. Shane’s already got more gear than he can carry on his own, but the boy was growing like a weed and would probably need new skates before the month was out.
“No. He asked me for a set of doll brushes.”
That’s… a little strange.
“But he doesn’t have any dolls.”
“No.” Yuna confirms. “I don’t know where he’d put them anyway, with all the blocks in his toybox.”
David waited; patience was more his suit than Yuna’s, and sure enough, she continued on after only a moment.
“He wants doll brushes because he’s seen the girls at the park brushing their plushies with them. Their dolls too, obviously. But he wants to brush that pelt you brought him-”
David sets his crossword book down, giving Yuna his full attention.
“What?”
“The pelt of fur? Looks like a wolf, or maybe one of those big cats?” Yuna says, waving her hand dismissively. “Either way, I don’t think doll brushes are the right choice. We can look into getting him a set of actual grooming tools, he needs to learn that the right tools for the right job are an important-”
“Yuna. Sweetheart.” David interrupts. “I did not buy our son a piece of dead animal as a souvenir from Russia.”
It’s Yuna’s turn to frown.
“He got it out of your bag. What was it doing in there if you didn’t buy it?”
David shrugs. “Maybe customs got it mixed up somehow?”
“Well, either way, he’s already obsessed with it. Wouldn’t even let me touch it for more than a moment before he got that look in his eye, you know the one-”
“Like when you load his dresser wrong, or try to convince him that the off brand stick tape is just as good.” David nods, smiling. Shane sure is particular, but he comes by it naturally. Yuna’s been the same way since they met at college; she came with a whole set of rules for things he didn’t even know there could be rules for, and he’d delighted in learning all of them as the years went on.
“So we buy him the brushes.” David continues. “Might need to find out if it’s any good for a fur pelt to be brushed, if he’s already attached. He’ll be upset if he pulls out all of the hair by mistake.”
Yuna is giving him an odd look; sleepy, but fond.
“Nothing phases you, does it?” she asks, pulling up the covers and getting herself into bed.
“What’s there to be phased about?” David protests, but then Yuna’s giving him ‘you’ve been gone for a week and I missed you’ kisses, and he promptly forgets everything else in the room even exists.
🎒
Mama has been crying for a week.
Papa had yelled and Andrei had cried, and Ilya had gotten the spanking of his life, which had only made Mama cry harder and Papa yell some more.
His pelt is gone.
Andrei hid it in a stranger's bag at the airport, and there was no way to know where in the world it had ended up.
Mama’s pelt is kept locked up safe, so she doesn’t lose it; that’s what Papa says, anyway. They should have locked up Ilya’s too, but Mama had bared her teeth and looked more like an animal than his Mama whenever Papa even mentioned doing so.
Maybe they should have let Papa lock it away; maybe then, Ilya wouldn’t be stuck wearing two legs forever, when he was always meant to spend at least part of his life running on four.
“It will come back to you.” Mama insists, when two weeks have gone by. “It may be years from now, but it will come back.”
Ilya can’t tell her the truth, because he thinks she’ll start to cry again if he does. Maybe with his pelt gone, Papa and Andrei won’t treat him like he’s so different anymore. This could be his chance to be normal-
But as the weeks continue to go by, it very quickly becomes obvious that whatever mischief Andrei had tried to work over on his little brother had backfired spectacularly.
Because Ilya? Feels great.
His hair has never been shinier, his feet have never been faster, and he grows like a weed. Mama is so relieved that she laughs in delight when she’s clipping his nails for the second time in a week because he’s growing so fast.
“Someone is taking care of your pelt.” She tells him in a soft voice, one she saves for secrets. “When we’re truly loved and someone cares for us, that’s magic too, Ilya.”
Andrei does not think this is such a great thing. If anything, Mama loves on Ilya even harder now, smug that Ilya has something that Andrei never will. She loves both of her boys, Mama says. Loves them equally, of course.
But Andrei has never run through the house on four legs because he slipped into his pelt while Papa was at work; Andrei has never stared at the forest when they go camping with the kind of longing that Ilya knows in his bones is only for him and Mama.
Andrei will never know.
But Ilya does.