Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

January 24th 2015
Montreal
Shane POV

Shane was coming down from another insane blow job from Troy fucking Barrett when someone knocked loudly on the door. Shane was sitting on the couch, trying to come back down from the orgasm, his breath still shaky. Come was drying on his stomach, and Shane was far too lazy and blissed out to even consider getting up to answer the door.

They had ordered a late lunch from DoorDash not long before the blowjob started, from a restaurant Shane loves and thought Troy would like too. There were a lot of healthy options. He thought it was weird they were there already. The blow job had been long, but not that long, and this restaurant was just inside the location limits, usually taking well over an hour to get to Shane’s place.

“It must be the DoorDash. Can you get it? I cannot move.” Shane was still huffing out slow air, one hand resting on his belly while he tried to slow his breathing. Shane watches as Troy gets up, puts his boxers back on, and plants a kiss on Shane’s stomach.

“Don’t move!” Troy laughs.

Like Shane could fucking move if he tried. His legs still felt like jelly. “That won’t be a problem, stud,” Shane teases, winking.

Shane watches as Troy walks out of the living room, swaying his ass a bit dramatically, probably because he knows Shane was admiring it, which he was.

All of a sudden, Shane hears Troy open the door from the other room, then slam it shut. A second later, he hears Troy yell, “What the actual fuck.”


####

He is instantly confused and waits to hear more, but he hears nothing at first. He doesn’t hear the door open again, but a few seconds later, he hears Troy muttering incoherently under his breath.

“Troy?” Shane calls out, but he doesn’t respond.

He smacks his legs, trying to bring them back to life. Trying to get himself up. He eventually does, walking out of the living room and calling out as he gets closer to the kitchen and front entrance.

“Troy, why would you do that? I am going to have to tip a fucking fortune.”

Shane sees Troy now, pacing back and forth, freaking out. His heart drops to his stomach. Something is wrong.

“Holy fuck, holy fuck, oh my god. I am going to get fired. They are going to push me out. I am going to get my ass kicked. My dad, Dallas.. Holy fucking shit. I cannot breathe.”

Troy is gasping and holding onto his chest. Shane can feel his own chest ache at the sight of him unravelling. He walks over to him and puts his hand on his shoulder, trying to slow him down.

“Troy..” Shane says, trying to stay calm when he can feel his own panic attack coming on. “What is happening?”

“Rozanov,” Troy whispers, the word almost disappearing as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Rozanov?” Shane asks, his whole body going cold.

“He is at your door, Shane. He saw me in my boxers.” Troy’s face is bright red. His hands keep opening and shutting like he is trying to get feeling back into them. “Does he know you live here? Why is he here?”

Shane doesn’t realize his fingers are curled into Troy’s back. His pulse spikes hard enough that for a second, all he can hear is blood rushing through his ears. All he wants to do is protect Troy, and now Troy is standing in front of him, having a panic attack in Shane's apartment, when this was supposed to be the place Troy never had to be afraid. His heart is beating so fast that he has to force himself to take a deep breath and let it out.

“Okay, breathe, Troy, please breathe.”

He can feel Troy listening, taking a deep, shaky breath in.

“Good, good. Keep breathing,” Shane says.

The knock comes again. It is loud and makes them both jolt to attention.

“GIVE ME A MINUTE, I’LL BE RIGHT THERE,” Shane shouts towards the door.

He doesn’t know why Ilya is there. Ilya should not fucking be here. He can’t even allow himself to think about it right now because his priority, his only priority, is making sure Troy is calm and safe. This was supposed to be what their time together was all about. A reprieve from everything else horrible in his current life.

Shane told him he was there to protect him. Troy is now having a full-blown panic attack.

He is bent over, holding his head between his legs, shaking, gasping for air. Shane grabs his head to bring it back up. Troy’s skin is hot to the touch.

Shane remembers what Mateo taught him. It came up one day when they were talking about Mateo’s panic attacks. Shane wanted to know if it ever happened around him, how he could help Mateo in those moments, how he could make him feel safe. Mateo showed him what his Abuelito always did for him. He puts his hand over Troy’s heart, covering it with Troy’s hand. Then he moves Troy’s other hand over Shane’s heart, putting his own hand over it.

“Feel our hearts beating together, Troy, and breathe.”

He feels Troy’s hand grip tighter over top of Shane’s, and his forehead drops into the crook of Shane’s neck. Troy’s heart is beating so fast. Shane just keeps breathing and saying, “Inhale, Troy, big inhale. In through your nose.”

He feels Troy attempting to follow him, his breath still quivering. “Good, good. You’re doing so good,” Shane murmurs. “Now exhale, out through your mouth. Let it be loud, let it out, babes,” Shane encourages, feeling Troy’s heart begin to slow beneath his hand.

They stand like that for a few minutes. The world around them stops. It is just Shane and Troy and their breathing and the trust between them in this moment.

When he can feel that Troy has calmed down, just enough, he starts talking softly. “Ilya is not going to tell anyone, I promise,” Shane says. “I promise. I promise. I promise.”

He needs Troy to hear it. Troy’s eyes meet Shane’s, full of doubt.

“He is an.. um.. ally?” Shane offers, grasping for literally anything reassuring to say.

“You guys are friends?” Troy asks, confused.

“Kind of.”

“You didn’t tell me he was going to be here, Shane. You didn’t protect me.”

Shane can feel the guilt crawl up his throat. “Troy, all I ever want to do is protect you. I didn’t know he was going to be here. I would never do this to you intentionally. You know that, right?”

Shane asks it as more of a rhetorical question. He knows Troy isn’t really in the mindset to properly answer that, or anything right now. He isn’t in his logical brain. Shane presses a kiss to his forehead and pulls him in for a bear hug, wrapping too much pressure around him.

They stand like that for a minute or two, and the knock comes again.

“I am just going to go into the hallway for a minute and talk to him,” Shane says quietly.

Troy finally cracks his first smile. “Shane, you’re naked.”

Another knock. Ilya’s patience has clearly worn thin, but Shane’s patience for him in this moment is non fucking existent.

“Okay, just go into my room for a minute so I can let him in. I’ll come get you in a bit. Go grab my weighted blanket, it is in my closet, or have a bath, or-“

Another knock.

Troy runs into Shane’s room, closing the door behind him, and Shane opens the door to his place, naked, not looking back before darting into the living room to grab his boxers and sweats.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Shane calls behind him, loudly enough that Ilya should be able to hear him in the other room. His tone isn’t nice. There is a distinct anger in it. He has to take a few deep breaths to calm himself, but he can feel the rage boiling up inside him. Why does Ilya keep thinking this is okay?

Shane makes his way back towards the front entrance. Ilya is standing awkwardly by the door, and Shane feels the anger fade as a whole new pang of anxiety blooms in his stomach.

“Well???” Shane is gripping onto his sweater. The words feel like an echo in his ear.

Ilya makes a half smile. "You do Peloton commercial. Then get all bloody fighting, Kent. I think, ah, Hollander is trying very aggressive mating call for me."

Shane wants to laugh, but he doesn’t have the energy right now. And also, fuck Ilya for being so fucking annoying, yet somehow still being so Ilya. He wants to hate him so badly.

He looks up at Ilya. “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know why he is fucking apologizing. “Um.. we weren’t expecting you, and Troy is a bit freaked out.”

If Shane is reading him correctly, and he might not be, Ilya looks equally as anxious.

“I had a few days off.. and really wanted to see you,” Ilya begins. He doesn’t sound so sure of himself, not in the way Shane is used to. His accent feels stronger, or maybe Shane just hasn't heard it in a while. Ilya continues, “I know this is not.. uh.. appropriate?” He asks it like it’s a question.

“Is that a question?” Shane asks, clearly annoyed.

“The word is the question,” Ilya clarifies.

“Yes, this isn’t appropriate,” Shane says, and he watches as Ilya’s shoulders slump down, his face goes white, and the light leaves his eyes.

Shane sighs, not knowing why he is saying this. He knows he may instantly regret it. He has done so fucking well ignoring Ilya and maintaining his distance, no matter how hard Ilya kept disrespecting them. “But you are here now.”

Some of the life comes back into Ilya's eyes, then Shane watches as Ilya takes him in, looking at his stomach. Shane follows the glance and sees the dried-up come. He moves to put his hand over it. “I’m going to go get cleaned up, and tell Troy you will act like a human being, because you will.. right?”

“Yes,” Ilya says, nodding quickly.

“Okay, just go sit on the couch.”

He sees Ilya look like he wants to say something, but instead, Ilya turns around and walks towards the living room. He doesn’t know why he didn’t just yell at him and tell him to leave. He wishes he did.

His brain is going through every emotion he has felt over the last month, every time a letter arrived. Anger, annoyance, sadness, happiness, then more anger, that Ilya really doesn’t seem to respect or care at all. That he says he has been going to therapy, but this, him showing up, tells Shane he hasn’t learned anything at all.

Shane turns around to see that Ilya isn't in the room anymore. He takes two deep breaths before going into his bedroom, where he needs to make sure he can regulate for both himself and Troy.

####


Shane finds Troy in his bed, with the 40lb weighted blanket pulled all the way over him, including his head.

Shane lets out a small laugh. “Are you trying to suffocate yourself?”

Troy flips the blanket off his head. “I was trying to reach a zen state because I think I am fucking hallucinating right now.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me about these hallucinations.” Shane says as he walks into his ensuite, grabs a cloth, and warms it under the tap.

“They involve me being in my boxers, opening your front door, and finding that prick Rozanov standing on the other side,” Troy grumbles, sarcasm still woven through the words.

“Wow, what a hallucination. I want whatever drugs you are on.”

“Shane Hollander? Doing drugs? Now that is the real hallucination.”

“You’re right, the only drugs I would do with you are poppers.” Shane looks entirely too pleased with himself as he wipes the come off his stomach.

Troy looks at him for a moment and then instantly starts cackling. Shane joins him, laughing just as hard. He nudges Troy over to make room and climbs into the bed beside him, nuzzling himself under the weighted blanket.

“Mmm, this is nice,” Shane says as the weight wraps around him, cocooning him in place.

“Should we just stay here until he maybe decides to give up and leave?” Troy asks, laughter still lingering in his voice.

“That sounds like the only logical thing to do,” Shane says, reaching over to grab Troy’s bicep.

They laugh again. Troy has an unfortunate talent for giving Shane the giggles at the worst possible moments. And it seems to go both ways.

Troy turns towards Shane, some of the humour fading from his expression. “But um.. why is he here, Shane? What is the deal? Are you guys like hooking up or something?”

Shane didn’t know what he could say. Troy had been nothing but honest and open with him over these past few months, and Shane had disclosed a lot in return. Just not everything. Not everything was his to disclose. He doesn’t know what he can say about Ilya. Not comfortably.

“I don’t really know why he is here.”

“I thought you guys hated each other?” Troy asks quickly. Shane can see his brain working.

"It's complicated."

"That's not an answer."

"I know."

"Then give me a real one."

"We came up together. We've known each other forever. It's.. complicated."

"So you're friends?"

Shane makes a face. "Kind of."

"Kind of?"

"We've known each other forever."

They stare at each other for a moment, neither of them saying anything.

"That's the answer?"

"That's the answer."

There is a look in Troy's eyes, like he understands what Shane isn’t saying, but isn’t going to push anymore. Maybe being a closeted gay athlete has taught Troy that some things don’t need to be prodded at. Shane appreciates it in the moment.

“Okay, well, Ally or not, I fucking hate that guy.”

Shane snorts. “You and all my other friends.” Shane’s rolling his eyes. “He isn’t bad, I promise.”

“You are sure he isn’t going to um, say anything, or um, chirp at me?”

“Oh, I am sure he will chirp at you, but say anything about you and me, or out you, no, he won’t do that.” Shane sounds certain, and he has to hope he is right, because he has been very wrong about Ilya before. About what he would do. About what he wouldn't.

“How do you know?” Troy asks. His hand is shaking again, and Shane grabs it, wrapping Troy’s hand into his and holding his gaze.

“Because if he does, I will murder him, and my mom will help me bury the body.”

They stare at each other, faces completely serious. Shane breaks first, a smile tugging at his mouth. A second later, they are both laughing again.

“Fuck, I don’t know how you do this,” Troy says, still laughing.

“Do what?”

“Make me laugh when I want to cry.”

“Same goes, pretty boy.”

Shane stands up, then reaches out his hand to Troy. Troy’s stuff is all packed, and his clothes are in the living room, so Shane walks over to his drawer, grabs a new pair of boxers, sweats, and a hoodie for himself and gives Troy the same.

“Are you ready?” Shane asks.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Troy says, falling forward into Shane’s arms dramatically. Shane catches him and hugs him tight, pressing a kiss to his forehead as Troy lets out a few deep breaths.

####

Shane walks into the living room, feeling awkward, with Troy trailing behind him. He is the one who is supposed to break the ice in this situation, but he feels completely uncomfortable.

He had spent the last month actively choosing not to allow Ilya back into his life, and now he is on his couch, and Troy is here with him. Ilya is sitting on a chair meant for one person. Shane sits on the couch, and Troy sits next to him without much thought.

He looks at the clock. 3:45 PM. Troy is leaving in a little over an hour. He can make it an hour.

He notices their food sitting on the coffee table, which is still off to the side because the fort is still fully up. Ilya must have answered the door.

Troy must see it at the same time. “Fuck, thank god, I am famished.”

He looks over at Shane, and the look in his eye makes Shane fold over laughing. Troy immediately loses it, too. When Shane looks up, Ilya is taking in both of them, with a weird look on his face.

Shane stands up. “I am um, going to go get us some plates and uh-“

Troy grabs Shane’s wrist to stop him and stands up. “No, I’ll go, you stay.”

“Okay,” Shane says, sitting back down.

It is just him and Ilya now, sitting in his messy living room. The living room with a fort in the middle, a mattress with messed-up blankets and sheets. Troy’s clothes are still on the floor, and a bottle of lube and a condom wrapper are still lying around. Shane doesn’t know if the better thing to do right now is get up and start cleaning or just sink into the couch and pretend none of it is there. He decides cleaning is the better option. He stands up, gathering Troy’s clothes and folding them over the side of the couch. Then he picks up the wrapper, throws it out, and puts the lube back into the drawer. He can feel Ilya’s eyes on him, tracking his movements as the silence hangs around them.

Troy comes back a few minutes later, carrying everything on a tray. Troy has plated all of the food the same way for him and Shane, carefully making sure none of it is touching. He also somehow managed to bring back a ginger ale, an Orange Crush for himself, the bottle of wine they started yesterday, and three glasses.

Troy hands Shane a plate and cutlery, then passes him the ginger ale before pouring a glass of wine. He then pours one for himself and reluctantly one for Ilya.

“Ah, if your career in the NHL as Kent’s lackey doesn’t take off, you could be a good bartender.”

Shane expects Troy to become anxious or freeze up, but Troy just smiles right at Ilya. “I would make hella tips as a bartender.”

“God, you would make so many tips. Those eyes, those lips, that ass, you would be cashing in at the end of each night,” Shane says without thinking too much about it.

“Imagine me in a gay club, a cute little open number, maybe a body chain,” Troy teases, building off Shane's joke.

“Definitely a body chain,” Shane adds. “And not an open number.. shirtless.”

“Would you visit me, Shane? Tip me well with all your big NHL money?” Troy keeps going.

“Would you be in Toronto still? Or?” Shane pauses dramatically. “You could also move to Montreal if your career doesn’t work out, move in, and be my full-time cleaning boy.”

“You’d make me wear some weird ass subby outfit for you, making demands at me all day. ‘Bitch do this, bitch do that.’”

“Bitch, you know it,” Shane says, and they both crack up laughing again, Shane lost in how easy it is being around Troy, in their own damn world.

“Ha ha ha,” Ilya says dryly.

Shane’s laughter dies instantly. They both snap out of their little bubble and back to the Russian man sitting on the chair right by them.

“Troy isn’t going anywhere. He will be in the NHL for a long time,” Shane says, snapping back into it and looking at Ilya. “You, on the other hand..” Shane adds playfully.

“Me?” Ilya mocks offence.

“You weren’t playing so well for a while. The last few games have been better, but the league was whispering worries about you. Maybe Rozanov lost his Mojo.” Shane takes a bite of food, pleased with himself.

“Ah, so you have been watching me?” Ilya says, smiling.

The way he is looking at Shane is burning through him.

“I wouldn’t take it so personally,” Troy says around a bite of food. “Shane keeps tabs on everyone.”

Shane takes a sip of his wine, then Ilya does, then Troy does.

“Um, Troy is leaving in a bit. We were just going to finish watching a movie, if that is cool with you?” Shane directs the question at Ilya, who just takes another sip of his wine and nods.

There is obvious tension in the room. Shane becomes painfully aware of every instinctive thing he normally does around Troy. Troy and Shane are touchy with each other, usually. At least they have been over these past two days. Not in an overtly sexual way when they aren’t doing actual sexual things, but a hand on a leg, a random peck on the cheek, or stimming on each other’s bodies.

A few times during the movie, on instinct, one of them goes to move their hand closer. The habit is already there now. Shane wants to rub over Troy’s fingers like he likes to do. Troy wants to lightly pinch at Shane’s skin. Both start, then stop when they remember there is a third person in the room.

####


By the time Troy gets the text from the cab service that they will be there in ten minutes, the movie has just finished.

Troy and Shane get up, bringing their dishes to the kitchen, and Ilya follows behind them with his wine glass.

Shane goes back into the living room and grabs Troy’s bag before Troy pulls him in for a long hug. The hug goes on for a while, both of them holding on tight. They both know Troy is about to go back to Toronto, back to his team, and the feeling is Grim.

“You only have a few more months to go, remember that,” Shane says reassuringly. He pulls back, looking Troy in the eyes. “We will figure this out before next season, my mom and Farah are figuring it out.”

“I know,” Troy says as his forehead presses against Shane’s.

He looks over to Ilya for a second, or at least that is where Shane thinks Troy is looking, then just plants a kiss on Shane’s lips anyway, apparently not caring at this point. The kiss isn’t romantic. There is no tongue, or lust. It is just a nice kiss.

“I love you, pretty boy. Thank you for this. I needed it.” It isn’t said with longing, or desire, or romance. It’s simply said.

“I love you too, pretty boy,” Shane says, and they both crack up laughing again.

“Okay, go!” Shane says, pushing Troy by his ass closer to the door. “And text me right when you get home.”

“I will.. Bye, Shane.” He turns back for a second. “Uh, bye, Rozanov.”

“Bye, Barrett,” Ilya says, surprisingly friendly.

Troy gives them both one last nod before heading out the door.


####


The door closes, and Shane feels his heartbeat start picking up immediately.

He goes from feeling happiness, light, fun, and laughter from the last two days with Barrett to a tightness in his chest that makes every breath feel too small.

He and Ilya are now holding eye contact in a staring contest to see who breaks first.

When Troy was there, his only concern was to keep the situation contained, keep Barrett okay, keep everything survivable. But now that Barrett is gone, the anger starts rising back up inside Shane. The anger comes with a reminder that Ilya just showed up at his house, unannounced, without invitation, and interrupted his time with Troy. That he was still walking all over the boundaries Shane had set. It is no longer letters, flowers, and plants. It is flying to another country, showing up at his house, and knocking until Shane answered the door.

If this was supposed to be some big, grand romantic gesture, Shane wasn’t seeing it. He honestly was just feeling a bit violated. His skin felt itchy, his hands felt clammy, and he felt a bit dizzy. He doesn't feel like he is in the right mindset to hear whatever it is that Ilya might say yet.

Shane can tell Ilya is about to start talking. “Actually, hold on.”

“What?”

“I need to call Mateo,” Shane says, already walking towards his room. “Uh, make yourself at home,” he calls behind him.

####


Shane goes into his room, closes the door, and drops to the floor, his head in his lap, trying to catch his breath. Ilya is here. He doesn’t know how he feels about it. Fuck, he looked so good. What a fucking asshole.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

Shane goes into his walk-in closet and grabs his bin of fidgets, grabs the Needoh, then goes into his bathroom for even more privacy.

His phone rings, Shane answers, and the screen fills with Mateo’s face. Shane can feel all the anxiety and anger leave his body. “Mi Cielo, how is your nose?”

“It is feeling mostly better, still hurts to touch and scrunch,” Shane says, attempting to scrunch his nose, then hissing at the pain.

“Well then, don’t do that,” Mateo says, laughing. “Did Troy leave?”

“Yes, he just left a few minutes ago.”

“Is that why you look sad?” Mateo asks.

“I mean, yeah, I am sad he left. But also, um..” Shane starts, not even wanting to hear himself say this out loud.

“But what?”

“But Ilya showed up at my place unannounced around an hour and a half ago.”

Mateo’s face drops. He doesn’t look impressed. “Wait.. are you serious?” His tone is annoyed. “That isn’t okay.”

“Yeah, okay, thank you, because I feel really fucking weird about it. But also, I feel weird asking him to leave,” Shane says, knowing he is being contradictory.

“He showed up unannounced while Troy was there?”

“Yes! We thought it was our DoorDash, and I asked Troy to answer. He was in his boxers, he slammed the door in Ilya’s face, and started having a panic attack. I used the method you taught me that your Abuelito uses with you, and it really worked well, but Ilya kept knocking and knocking. He wouldn’t stop. Troy thought his life was over. But I assured him Ilya wouldn’t say anything. He better not fucking say anything. Troy told me I didn’t protect him, and my heart hurts so much. I had no idea he was going to show up. Why the fuck does he think it is okay to just show up? I think Troy is okay. By the time he left he was cracking jokes, and pretending Ilya being there didn’t affect him, and we were getting lost in our own bubble, and maybe that was rude or wrong, but also, he just showed up, I was spending time with my friend, after planning this for months, so like, I didn’t feel like it was rude continuing to do what we would have done if he didn’t just show up here uninvited. I think what actually is rude is repeatedly ignoring the space someone told you they needed and feeling like you are above it all, and then making some flirty comment about seeing the Peloton commercial and me fighting and thinking I am making some mating call, what the fuck does that even mean?”

Shane says everything so fast, his words stumbling over each other, that he needs to gasp for air when he is done talking.

“Okay, just take a deep breath,” Mateo says.

Shane does.

“Are you going to let him stay?” Mateo asks.

“I think I need to, right? He flew all the way here.. it isn’t appropriate or right. He is totally trampling over all my boundaries, but.. he is here now, and we need to talk eventually, so like.. I guess we will talk.” Shane isn’t looking at the camera, but when he finally does, he doesn’t know what Mateo is thinking. “Or is that the wrong decision?”

“Cariño, it isn’t my job to tell you what is right or wrong. We both knew you would eventually need to talk to him, and it seems like your gut is telling you that even if you aren’t really ready for it, you still want to hear him out.”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay, so it is fine. You guys will talk. How long is he planning to stay?”

“I never asked him. Troy literally just left. We have barely talked. As soon as the door closed, I wanted to call you.”

“Okay, I am just pulling up his schedule,” Mateo says. “It looks like he has a game in the evening in Ottawa on the 26th, so maybe he is planning to stay until then?”

“Is it normal for someone to just show up at your house when you are not talking to each other and expect to stay for 2 days?”

“I am sure he booked a hotel room or something, just in case,” Mateo says, wearily. “But no, it is not normal or nice to show up at someone’s place like this when the emotions are so high, and they weren’t expecting you.”

Shane lets out another deep breath. He feels like this is wrong. Wrong wrong wrong. He doesn’t feel good about Ilya showing up here at all. In fact, he feels nauseated by it. Distressed. Disrespected. But he also feels like if he sends Ilya away, without hearing him out at all, maybe he would regret it.

“Do I let him stay here?” Shane asks.

“I don’t know. You haven’t talked to him at all?”

“No. Not really.”

“Okay, well, we are making a lot of assumptions then. Maybe he plans to fly home late tonight, or who knows.”

“Yeah.. who knows.”

“What are you thinking?” Mateo asks.

“I can let him stay in my guest bedroom tonight if he needs to.”

“Yeah, sure, mi amor, whatever you think is best.”

“I am not going to fuck him, Mateo,” Shane says it more to himself, as a promise, than to Mateo.

“Okay.”

“No, I mean it, I am not going to fuck him.”

“Shane, you have been very good at holding your own this past month, even though it has been very hard for you. If you say you aren’t going to fuck him, I believe you. But if something happens, I-“

“No.” He says, a bit annoyed with Mateo, “I am telling you, it isn’t going to happen.”

“Okay, I believe you. I don’t want you to think I don’t. I just want you to know that if things do happen, I won’t be mad at you. I trust you.”

“I know.” Shane laughs, “The last two times we have talked on the phone have just been you talking me down, so fun for you. I promise that when you get here in two days, I will be the best boyfriend in the world. I am going to take care of you, mush mush. I want to cry thinking about being in your arms. I never knew it was possible to miss someone like this. I feel like a part of me is always missing.”

“Well, firstly, anytime I get to talk to you, stare at you, and love you is a win for me. So I will talk you down whenever,” Mateo says. “Second of all, it took everything in me not to skip my game yesterday and tomorrow so I could have come right away. I miss you too. My world loses its colour when we are apart. I feel like the world is less vibrant, the days are less bright. I feel crazy about how much I miss you. Just simple things, like getting to make you tea in the morning, or getting to kiss you on the nose right before bed, or most importantly getting to sniff your armpits fresh after a workout.”

Shane snorts, and his nose instantly hurts. Mateo smiles, his devastatingly beautiful smile. Shane doesn’t want to leave this call. He doesn’t want to hang up the phone and not see Mateo. Two days feel too far away.

“But you should get back out there, get the conversation started. You have a lot to talk about.”

Shane exhales once more. “Yeah, okay. I will text you later? And call you tomorrow?”

“You better.”

“Okay, I love you much too much, Teo.”

“I love you much too much, mi vida.”

“And thank you.. for always being the best sounding board, on top of being the most handsome, loving, perfect, boyfriend, who I cannot wait to devour in two days.”

“Always,” Mateo says with a smile.


####


They hang up, and Shane goes back into his bedroom, pacing around a bit more. He then realizes his calendar is all green for J.J. from this evening until the 26th. He goes to change the colour and text J.J. an update when he hears a loud thump.

He walks into his dining room and sees Ilya standing at his bookshelf, looking through it. There is a book on the floor, and Ilya is bending over to grab it.

“Sorry,” Ilya says, shrugging.

Shane glares at him for a moment, and they are back to the staring contest from earlier to see who will speak first.

“So what was the plan?” Shane breaks the silence, his tone irritated.

“I did not have a plan,” Ilya says, walking closer to Shane. “I see Peloton commercial and those little white shorts, and I book a plane ticket for after my game.”

“And what? You thought I would just let you in?” Shane says, annoyed.

“Well, you did.” Ilya smiles. It is a devilish grin.

“I could also make you leave,” Shane says, as Ilya continues to move closer to him.

“I thought, ‘Nice Canadian Shane Hollander would be a good host, even if he didn’t want to be.’”

“That is where you are wrong.”

“You will kick me out?” Ilya’s face flashes with panic, maybe. Shane isn’t sure.

“No,” Shane says, his breath hitching as Ilya continues to come closer. “But I won’t be a good host.”

“Ah,” Ilya says, his hand coming to graze Shane’s waist. The touch makes Shane tremble. “You want me to grovel.”

Shane can feel a lump crawling up his throat as he swallows hard. “Maybe.”

They are standing very close together. Ilya keeps walking towards Shane, backing him up against the wall.

“You want me to apologize and tell you how sorry I am,” Ilya says in an almost growly whisper against Shane’s neck.

Shane ducks under Ilya’s arms and turns around, pinning him to the wall.

“I don’t expect anything from you.” Shane’s tone comes out a bit sharper than he may have intended. What is Ilya getting at? He just shows up, and Shane is supposed to just get over everything. Like all the horrible things Ilya has said to Shane, just disappear.

“Did you read my letters?” Ilya asks.

“Yes,” Shane says without any hesitation. Ilya looks a bit upset by this answer.

“Did you think I didn’t?” Shane asks. “I read them more than once, actually.”

“You never responded,” Ilya says quietly.

“Yeah, well, I asked for space.”

“I know..”

Shane feels angry again. “No, I don’t think you do know.”

Ilya goes quiet.

“You sent letters, and flowers, and then more letters and then a plant that I was expected to take care of. And now you’re standing in my apartment.”

“I bet you took excellent care of all of them,” Ilya says, smiling. “Mr. Perfectionist.”

He can never be fucking serious. He flew all the way here to just play in Shane’s face and try to make everything into a joke.

“What is your goal here, Rozanov?”

Even with the anger, the sexual tension is high. Ilya turns Shane around again, pinning him back up against the wall.

“I wanted to see you,” Ilya says, sounding a little whiny.

“Congratulations,” Shane says, his voice completely monotone. “You wanted to see me. I asked for space. One of us got what we wanted.”

“You are angry with me. I understand.”

“Do you?” Shane asks, really wanting to know if Ilya does actually understand the gravity of how much he hurt him.

“You said you read my letters.” Ilya looks confused.

“I did.” Shane feels trapped in his arms right now, suffocated, up against the wall. He wants to pace, he wants to yell, he wants to say things. “And that is supposed to fix everything?”

“No,” Ilya says plainly. “But I hoped we could talk.. I came because I want to really talk.”

“Okay,” Shane says, letting his head drop down onto Ilya’s shoulder for a second, exhausted already by all of this.

Ilya’s tone changes, though, as soon as Shane feels himself relax. “Didn’t expect to find you with Troy fucking Barrett in your underpants.”

Shane gives him an inch, and Ilya can’t even fucking help himself. Back to this bullshit again.

“It isn’t really like that.” Shane means it. Yes, they did have sex and hook up. But Troy really is, just like, a good friend.

“You didn’t let Troy Barrett fuck you?” Ilya says, pressing on a hickey on Shane’s neck, he didn’t realize he had.

Shane ducks under his arms again and moves away fully.

“If I did, or didn’t, it isn’t any of your business.” Thump thump thump thump. His heart is picking up speed. He can feel the pulse in his ears, in his throat, the tension in his head starting to make it pound behind his eyes. Who the fuck does he think he is? “What the fuck are you doing here?” Shane asks again.

“I came to grovel,” Ilya says. “I came here to be your little bitch. To do whatever you want me to do, so you talk to me. So you let me stay.”

“I am not going to kiss you,” Shane says.

“Okay.”

“Or fuck you,” Shane adds.

“Ah, will you let me fuck you?” Ilya smiles.

“No. You know what I meant.”

“What will you let me do then?”

Shane walks back towards the living room, and Ilya follows.

“You can sit on this chair, and you can watch a movie with me, so I can calm down and think about all of this. Then if I decide I want to, we can talk.”

Ilya is just nodding.

“Maybe after the movie I will let you make me some dinner,” Shane adds, feeling a bit proud of himself.

“Ah, you are being bratty.” Ilya is amused.

“And?” Shane says, his eyes glaring at Ilya.

“And nothing. I like it.”

“Stop flirting with me, and sit the fuck down in that chair,” Shane says, pointing at it.

“I like when you make demands of me. Tell me to bark. I’ll do it. I’ll get on all fours and bark like a dog.”

Shane rolls his eyes. “You are so annoying.”

“Can I at least pick the movie? I almost die of boredom watching you and Barrett’s.”

“You are at my house, without being invited. You will sit and watch whatever boring movie I choose, if that is what I want.”

Ilya just smiles. “Fine.”


####

Shane picks a movie and presses play. But he isn’t watching it. He is watching Ilya from the corner of his eye, and he doesn’t feel like Ilya is watching it either.

Shane pauses the movie. “What?”

“How was Mateo? Did he allow me to stay?”

“Allow you to stay? What the fuck does that mean?” Shane feels agitated.

“You call him to ask if it is okay?”

“You don’t know anything about my relationship. I didn’t ask Mateo’s permission. He doesn’t try to dictate who is in my life. He isn’t my owner, he is my partner.”

Ilya doesn’t respond to that.

“You shouldn’t have all this animosity for Mateo.” Shane feels very defensive towards his man. “If it wasn’t for Mateo, I would have never called you that day in December when I tried to talk. Or all the times I texted you, or tried to reach out. Honestly, if it wasn’t for Mateo, I probably would have blocked you long before this, I would have ripped your letters to shreds, I would have slammed the door in your fucking face.” Shane doesn't know if all of that is true. Whether he really would have blocked him or ripped up his letters. But he does know that most of the people in his life have told him to stop giving "his ex" chances. Mateo never did. Mateo listened, offered perspective, and gave Shane room to make his own choices, even when those choices were complicated.

“Okay,” Ilya says, putting his hands up.

“He defends you fucking fiercely. He thinks you are a good person. He has explained things about you to me that you never told me,” Shane says, gripping his fists into his hoodie. Then, remembering he put his Needoh in his pocket, he starts kneading his knuckles through it.

“Okay,” Ilya says again.

“Don’t talk about things you know nothing about. You know nothing about my relationship.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Ilya says, before adding, “I’m sorry. I was joking. Mateo is nice. Don’t worry, okay.”

“You can disrespect me, you do it for sport anyway. But don’t ever disrespect Mateo to me, okay?”

“Okay,” Ilya says. “I want to talk about that.”

“Talk about what?”

“Me disrespecting you for uh, sport?” For once, Ilya’s face looks serious. Like, he isn’t joking around.

“Ilya, can I ask what your travel plans are?” Shane asks.

“Travel plans?” Ilya’s eyebrows scrunch up.

“You showed up here, you booked a plane ticket, you obviously didn’t book it one way, right? You had a plan for how long you were going to stay in Montreal.”

“I play Ottawa on the 26th,” Ilya answers.

“I know.”

“So I thought, I come to Montreal, I stay until the 26th, I rent a car and drive to Ottawa.”

“And where did you plan to stay?” Shane asks cautiously.

“In your bed?” Ilya says, trying to crack a joke, but when Shane doesn’t smile, Ilya frowns and adds, “I booked a hotel room close by.”

The answer makes Shane let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. A hotel room. Good. Somehow, that feels different from Ilya showing up with nothing but a plane ticket and the expectation that Shane would take him in.

“You can stay if you want,” Shane says.

Ilya’s face lights up.

“In the guest room, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Ilya says sarcastically.

“No, I mean it. You have to stay in the guest room. I don’t want to have sex with you.”

“Okay,” Ilya says.

“I don’t trust you,” Shane admits.

“I understand.”

“But yeah, you can stay if you want, and we can hang out and talk. We have a lot we should probably talk about.”

“I would really, really like that, Shane,” Ilya confesses, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Mateo will be here on the 26th.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Shane rubs at the back of his neck. “I just.. can we watch the movie for a bit?”

“Yes, press play.”

Shane looks at the time. “Wait, I actually have to go somewhere really quickly. I should be twenty minutes tops. I have to go. Can you wait here?”

“You have somewhere to go at 6:15 p.m. on Saturday.”

“Yes, and if I don’t leave now, I will miss it.”

“Okay.”

####

Shane grabs his keys and runs out of his apartment, getting into his car to call J.J., before realizing he forgot to grab his phone.

He booked a rush STI check right after Troy left. The clinic had agreed to stay open for him. He hates getting blood taken. Lately, he books his tests with J.J. or Hayden so they can hold his hand. He puts his hand in his pocket, glad he brought his Needoh with him. He answers the questions, does the bloodwork and urine test, then gets back into his car.

Before going up, he sits there for a moment, turning the ignition off and letting the cool air from outside wrap around him.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

He moves his rearview mirror a bit, angling it so he can see himself.

“You can do this, Shane.”
“Hold your own.”
“Be kind, but don’t give in.”
“You deserve an apology. You deserve a real understanding of how he hurt you.”
“Be honest with him. Apologize for what you feel you did wrong, too.”
“Remember, he is a person you care about. A person who is learning and trying.”
“Don’t sleep with him. DO NOT FUCKING SLEEP WITH HIM.”

Shane smiles. He isn’t going to sleep with him. He just went and got a stupid fucking rush test and bloodwork, specifically because his man is coming in two days. He is not ruining his plans by sleeping with him.

####

He gets back inside, and Ilya is exactly where he left him.

“Did you snoop around?”

“Snoop?” Ilya rubs the back of his neck.

“Like, go through my things.”

“No,” Ilya says with a small smile, still rubbing at his neck.

“Let’s just watch the movie.”

They watch a bit of the movie, Shane playing with his Nee-doh the whole time. Ilya keeps looking over at him.

So far, Shane has no idea why he is here. All he knows is that he saw the Peloton commercial a few days ago and booked a flight. That Ilya is relentlessly flirting with him and doesn’t seem to be taking any of this seriously, and that Ilya smells really fucking good.

Shane pauses the movie again, looking at Ilya. “So.”

“So you think the movie is boring too.”

“No.” Shane’s a bit frustrated. “I just, you are here, and I am ready to talk a bit more. You said you came here to talk.”

“I did.”

“Okay, so talk.”

“You are so cute.” Ilya's mouth twitches.

Shane holds up a hand. “No. Like genuinely no.”

“No?”

“You are doing that thing.”

“What thing?” Ilya says with exaggerated innocence.

“Using sex and flirting as a crutch.”

“A crutch?”

“What you said in your letter.”

“Ah, my letters that you read.”

“Yeah, those ones.”

“That I use sex and flirting as a crutch.. a crutch.. like you walk with under your armpits, when hurt.”

“Yes, to lean on.”

“Yes, I do use sex and flirting as a crutch. But I am still a Russian stallion, don’t forget the important parts.”

Shane rubs at his forehead. “Ilya, please. I let you into my home, I am giving you a chance here, even when all my instincts are screaming at me.”

“What do you want to talk about then?” Ilya looks at Shane like he is trying to solve a puzzle. Like he has no clue what they should talk about in this moment.

“You showed up here. Are you going to make me lead the conversation?”

“No.” Ilya opens his mouth, then closes it again. “Maybe.”

Shane pinches the bridge of his nose before looking at the ceiling for patience. Why is it Shane's job right now to make conversation? But then he looks at Ilya, and it becomes a lot harder to stay annoyed.

“So you’re actually going to therapy now?”

“Yes.”

“Are you really going three times a week?”

“Sometimes, yes. Well, I always go, but sometimes it is too hard,” Ilya says, and it is the first honest answer he has given Shane. Shane watches as Ilya starts to stim, his finger rubbing over his thumb.

“That’s a lot.”

“Galina thinks I am a big disaster.”

“You are a disaster.” Shane grins.

“Thank you.”

“But I doubt a therapist would actually say that to you.”

“Yes, that was a twist of truth.” Ilya smiles, then his eyebrows perk up. “How would you know what a therapist would say?”

“Because I have been seeing one since I was a kid.”

“You have?” Ilya doesn’t even try to hide the surprise on his face.

“Yes, Dr. Rosen.”

“You still see him now?”

“Yeah, four times a month. We Zoom now because he is in Ottawa. I did go in person at the beginning of the month.”

“Does he know about me?” Ilya smiles, a shy smile.

“No,” Shane says, and Ilya’s smile drops. “I mean, yeah, he knows about you now. I told him everything about myself and my life for so long, but never about you, and never that I was gay. But I came out to him this summer. I never told him your name, but yeah, I told him about you.”

“And about Boston?” Ilya presses.

“Yeah, I told him about Boston, and the phone calls, and mostly everything else.”

“The letters?”

“Yes, the letters.

Ilya starts rubbing at his ear a bit, and Shane can’t help but start noticing all the self-soothing stims Ilya does subconsciously.  “Ah.”

“How is therapy for you?”

“Awful.”

Shane's fingers pause on the Nee-doh. “Awful?”

“I cry. Then I pay Dr. Galina money. Then I leave.”

“And the letters were her idea?”

Ilya looks down into his lap, a blush across his face. “Kind of.”

Shane tilts his head. “Kind of? What does that mean?”

“It was her idea to write letters. But not to send them. I was supposed to burn them. Or rip them up. Or keep the letters in a box. Not send them, never send.”

“So you have been writing me these letters, knowing I didn’t want to talk to you, and against your therapist’s advice.”

“Yes.”

“It doesn’t seem like you’re taking therapy, or this situation with me, very seriously, then.”

“I am. I do. You’re right. Fuck.” Ilya scrunches his nose and starts stimming on his fingers again. “I have things I want to say, but my brain is, uh, freezing.”

“There is no rush. Like, if you need to stop and think.” Shane instantly feels bad, thinking about what it would be like to communicate big thoughts in a totally different language. Talking about your feelings is hard enough without translating them first.

Ilya rubs his thumb over the side of his finger again. “It is hard to say big thoughts and feelings in English.”

“I understand.”

“I am trying to figure it out. I just need a little time.”

“Okay,” Shane says, kneading the Nee-doh through knuckles as he tries to think of something else to say in the meantime. “The flowers and peace lily were manipulative.”

“They were practical,” Ilya counters.

“You gave me a plant to take care of. Homework.”

“Plant is alive?”

“Yes. She is thriving.”

“She?” Ilya smirks.

“Yes. I unfortunately love her.”

“It was a good choice then, yes?”

“I guess.” Shane can’t help but roll his eyes.

####

“Are you still mad at me?”

Shane squeezes the Nee-doh once before looking directly at Ilya. “Yeah, I am. I am mad, sad, hurt, disappointed, a bit devastated, wounded, all the words and feelings.”

“I’m sorry, Shane,” Ilya frowns.

“For what exactly?” Shane presses.

Ilya looks down. “I- Uh.”

“You know, sorry isn’t just words, it is an explanation and an acknowledgment.”

“Yes. I- I need to think about it some more,” Ilya admits.

“Okay.”

“So why did you really decide to come here?” Shane pushes again, because he hasn’t gotten what he thinks is a real answer.

“I told you?”

“Did you?”

“I saw Peloton commercial, you in those white shorts, I saw you wink at me, and I booked a ticket.”

“I think you might actually be delusional.”

“I had two games, so I couldn’t come right away, but then I see you punch Kent on TV and get all bloody, and what do they say on Twitter? I astral projected and wanted to be waterboarded by the blood.”

Shane smiles at that one.

“So you saw my commercial, and then saw me get into a fight and thought, that's hot, I am going to fly to another country, go against Shane’s wishes, and show up at his door.”

“No, I already had a flight booked before the fight. The fight just made me horny, and I had to wait two more days to get here.”

“You have real impulse control issues.” Shane tries to hide his grin.

“Yes.”

“Did you tell your therapist you were coming here?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because she would say it would go against what we are working through.” Ilya peeks at Shane, a little sheepish.

Shane is having absolutely none of it. “And you didn’t stop and think, maybe I should listen to the person I am paying all this money to and giving 3 hours of my week every week to?”

“Once a week, we do 90-minute sessions,” Ilya adds like that makes it any better.

“Okay, 3 and a half hours.”

“No, I didn’t stop and think. Then once the tickets were bought, they were non-refundable, so I had to.”

“I think you can afford a ticket going to waste.”

“I wanted to come here.” Ilya shrugs nonchalantly, his cheeks, however, turning pink.

“To talk?”

“Yes.”

“But not to actually talk.”

“I-“

“Why didn’t you write down what you wanted to say, or prepare for this if you had three days?” Shane grumbles.

“I don’t know.”

####

Ilya’s phone starts ringing, but he declines it. “Marly.”

Shane feels his heart beat a bit faster. “Cliff? How is he?”

“He misses you. I thought you would reach out after my last letter.” Ilya looks puzzled.

“I wanted to, I really fucking wanted to.”

“So why not?”

“Because I hurt him. And I didn’t want to, or mean to. I really didn’t. I hope you can believe that it was never my intention. I really liked Cliff so much. I felt like we had such a unique bond, it is hard to put into words. Like our minds just understood each other.”

“Yes, he said so too.”

“But yeah, I really hurt him.” Shane sighs as he says it.

“No, Shane, I really hurt him. I pushed you away. I knew he was interested in you. I had many, many times I could have said, Marly, don’t. He took me saying it as a joke, and I knew that. I could have made him know I really meant it,” Ilya says. “I kind of, I knew I could tell him, but I kind of liked hearing about you through him. It was nice.” Ilya looks briefly mortified by his own honesty.

“Yeah.. I mean, yeah, when he would tell me things about you, I also thought it was nice. To learn things I never knew,” Shane admits.

“Can I come sit beside you?” Ilya asks, like he's asking for more than a place to sit.

“Okay.” Shane scoots to the far edge of the couch, pointing at the cushion on the opposite end.

Ilya gets up and sits on the opposite couch cushion, picking up the throw pillow and placing it in his lap, playing with the material of the pillowcase.

“You and Marly should be whatever you want to be. I will worry about our friendship. You don’t need to.” Ilya finally says, as he moves his thumb up and down on the pillow.

“Okay.”

####


“So Barrett.” Ilya winks at Shane, trying to be funny.

Shane gives him the kind of look that usually comes right before a lecture, his finger already wagging. “Ilya, I need you to know, with all the sincerity in my heart. If you ever tell anybody about Barrett being here, if you ever put him in any harm, I will genuinely never forgive you. Never look at you. Talk to you. Think about you ever again. You will be dead to me.”

“Shane.”

“No, I am really serious.”

“I won’t say anything to anyone, I promise.” There isn't a trace of teasing on Ilya's face.

“Okay. Sorry.”

“You were a little scary there.”

“Troy is a good guy.”

“You seem close.” Ilya keeps his eyes on the pillow, rubbing his thumb back and forth along the seam as he talks.

“We are. He means a lot to me.”

“And you let him kiss you?”

“I mean, we kissed, yeah.” Shane worries the conversation is veering back into an interrogation of his sex life, like it has before with Ilya.

“And Mateo is okay with that?”

Shane rolls his eyes. “Of course he is.” Shane adds, “Troy is my friend.”

“You have weird friendships.”

“You don't have any friends you hook up with?” Shane locks eyes with him in an almost challenging way.

Ilya goes silent for a long time. The answer is obvious.

“Exactly,” Shane says.

“So, Mateo is your boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“And the rest of the guys?”

“Are friends, or hookups, or, I don’t know, connections besides J.J.”

“Why, besides J.J?” Ilya's forehead creases.

“We are kind of together.”

“Together?”

“Yeah, like, together.”

“Boyfriends?” Ilya tilts his head, looking confused.

“We don’t really have a label, but essentially.”

“And Mateo knows about this?”

“Yeah.”

“And he is okay with it?”

Shane doesn't understand why every question seems to circle back to Mateo. He also doesn't really want to spend the night explaining or defending his relationship dynamics to Ilya. “Yeah, of course. Mateo is my partner. We are good. I don’t know, I don’t really want to explain all of those dynamics right now.”

“So Mateo and J.J. both know about each other?”

“Of course.”

“And get along?”

“Yeah, very well.”

“Do all of these different men know about each other?”

“Most of them, yes.”

“And, you are in love with Mateo?”

“Yeah, I really am.”

Ilya smiles. A real smile. Shane doesn't know why.

####

Ilya’s stomach growls hard.

“Are you hungry?” Shane asks.

“Mm, no, it’s alright.”

“We can order something if you’d like?” Shane moves a bit on the couch, thinking about going to his takeout menu drawer.

“I thought you are going to make me make you dinner.”

“I was just being a dick, I wouldn’t actually do that.”

“Boring Canadian, cannot even go through with his demands.”

“Honestly, I just haven’t gone grocery shopping in a few days.”

“Ah, why not?”

“Troy was here, and then Mateo is coming in a few days. I kind of just planned to have two full days of recharging and doing nothing until then.”

“You and Marly and your recharging.”

“Yes,” Shane says dryly.

“And I am interrupting your recharging.”

“Yes.”

“So you probably extra hate me.”

Shane feels annoyed. “Ilya, can we stop?”

“Stop what?”

“This.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You keep dancing around our problems, the things you said, the fact that you’re here, knowing it is inappropriate. But every time I want to actually talk about it, like you said you wanted to do, like you said was the reason you were here today, against people’s advice, against what you know is probably right, you shut it down, or say you are not ready. Do you think this is fair?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I don’t think any of the way I have acted towards you is fair,” Ilya says quietly, looking back down at the pillow.

“Okay,” Shane says with a sigh.

“But I am so tired from my flight, I know it is not fair. But we have done so much talking already. Can we do more big talking after we eat? And sleep?” Ilya asks, like he isn't sure Shane will agree.

Shane is silent for a moment.

“I know I ask for a lot. I don’t deserve to ask.”

“No, Ilya, it’s fine, okay. We can talk more about everything big tomorrow. We can stay on lighter topics for now. I am honestly really drained too. Mentally exhausted, my brain wants to just shut down.”

“Shut down?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. Sometimes my brain just.. I don’t know. When I am really overwhelmed, I am not trying to bring up the heavy topics again. I know we will talk tomorrow. But, yeah, like in Boston when I got um.. really upset?”

“Yes. Hurting yourself.”

“Yes. Well, I was um, having a meltdown. I don’t really have the energy to explain what I fully mean by that right in this moment. But one of the things that can happen is sometimes I like, um, lose words. My brain just, I don’t know how to really explain it. I go like, mute.”

“Mute?”

“Like my brain and words and my mouth just all disconnect from each other, it’s a lot more complicated than that, but that is my best explanation.”

“Okay.” Ilya nods, his expression going thoughtful.

“So, yeah. When moments like that happen, they happen. But I try my best to stay ahead of it by doing preventative things.”

“I don’t know this word.”

“Like doing something in advance to stop something potentially from happening.” Shane thinks a bit more. “Like stretching before a game to loosen your body to stop an injury.”

“Ah, ok, continue,” Ilya says, like he doesn't want to miss a word.

“Yeah, so, when I have a few days off, I like to recharge. Turn off my phone for the most part, not really talk or think much, just watch wrestling, or lie in bed and sleep, not really cook or clean or do anything besides recouping my energy.”

“And you don’t talk to or see no one?” Ilya asks curiously.

“I will usually call Mateo, or another friend and talk to them, or let them talk. I try not to talk too much. Or J.J. will come over to visit and just relax with me.”

“And so this is what I interrupted.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Shane says.

Ilya looks a bit ashamed, his lips pressing together before he roughly rubs at his eyebrows.

“I mean, it is okay. Mateo is coming in a few days, but days with him are pretty relaxing and stress-free, so like, I’ll be able to recharge then. I just, all I was trying to say, the whole point of me explaining all of this, is my brain is also in need of sleep and eating, because, yeah, my head is getting a little foggy. I am having to think a bit harder before I talk. Words are just starting to.. freeze in my brain.. also..”

“Okay, we can continue your boring movie then. Let your brain rest. So we can have big talk tomorrow, yes?”

“Yes, okay.”

“I can stay on the same couch as you?”

“On that side, though, no touching.”

“Okay.”

####

They watch the movie for the next hour and a half. Shane keeps having this weird feeling that he should go grab his phone. He thinks he left it in his bedroom, but he is too comfortable on the couch to even consider moving right now.

It is a little after 7:30. The movie is almost over, and Shane has been half-dozing off for the last half of it when he hears something.

The door rattles, and a voice comes in loud from the other room.

“Mon minou, I haven’t been inside you for days, and I am losing my fucking mind.” J.J. is shouting from what sounds like the kitchen, and Shane feels himself freeze up. His brain shuts down, and he can also feel his cock get inexplicitably hard. “Get naked right now, I am going to make you come so many times, ragdoll you around this fucking place. I want your come painted all over me by the end of the night, Bébé.” J.J. just keeps talking, having no idea that Ilya is there. Shane keeps opening his mouth to shout back, trying to get himself to stand up and run to the kitchen. A big part of him wants to start getting naked, listening to what his boyfriend is saying. “I am just getting the wine ready, ass up in the air over the couch, mouth open, start fingering yourself.”

“I’m going to fuck that perfect throat, and come down it, then you can baby bird it back down my throat.” J.J. keeps talking, completely unaware of the situation he is walking into. “Then, Bébé, I am going to kiss you and take care of you all night. Make love to you. Shane?? You better not be answering because you’re getting your clothes off.”

Shane is panicking. Words are still not working. His legs don’t seem to be working. When he finally manages to look over at Ilya, he feels completely mortified. Ilya is just sitting there, his expression mostly blank, but Shane thinks he might also be kind of smiling. That can’t be right.

His mind keeps replaying what J.J. said, and every instinct he has wants to lock in and listen and do what J.J. instructed.

“Chaton?” J.J. calls out, entering the living room, naked, hard as a rock, as Ilya and Shane both sit there.

Shane's pulse stutters. Looking at J.J., standing there naked. Every instinct in his body urges him to close the distance between them. To take his clothes off, ass up in the air, fingering himself like he was told.

His legs don’t seem to be working still.

“Tabanark,” J.J. says, seeing Ilya on the couch, a few cushions away from Shane.

Shane finally feels his body and mind catch up with each other.

He gets up, plants a hand on J.J.’s chest, and pushes him backwards out of the room. J.J. is swearing all kinds of profanities at Ilya in French.


####


When they get into the kitchen, J.J. looks at Shane, unhappy. Mad, even. Shane hates it instantly.

“Shane, what the fuck.”

“He showed up here.”

“Ok, so tell him to leave,” J.J. says, like the solution couldn't be more straightforward.

"No."

“No?” J.J. looks at him like he doesn't understand, but starts putting his clothes back on, moving slowly, clearly more focused on Shane than his clothes.

“No, we are talking, we are hanging out.”

“Shane, he treated you so badly. You had a meltdown, you weren’t okay, he fucking hurt you. He really fucking hurt you, Bébé.”

“I know, J.J.” Shane's shoulders sag.

“I had to pick up the pieces, Hayden had to pick up the pieces, Mateo and Elijah had to pick up the pieces. You went to the fucking UK to pick up the pieces.”

“I know.”

“You told me you have barely been working through other shit in therapy all month, because you have had to use every session to work through the way he talked to you, how he treated you, how badly you still feel.”

Shane feels bad because J.J. isn't yelling or judging him. He's just looking at Shane with an expression that makes it painfully obvious how worried he is, and somehow that feels worse.

“Baby, I know,” Shane says.

“And a month later you’re just over it?”

“I am nowhere close to over it. I didn't know he was going to be here. He just fucking showed up. What was I supposed to do?” Shane asks, looking at J.J. helplessly.

The question isn't entirely rhetorical. He still doesn't know. When he saw Ilya standing in his front entrance, kicking him out didn't even feel like a real option.

Whatever frustration had been there melts from J.J.'s face. So Shane continues talking.

“We are just talking, we aren’t fucking, I am sorry, baby, I am sorry, I know our contract, and I'm breaking it and I-“

“Shane.” J.J.'s face falls, and Shane instantly knows that what he meant isn't what he said. J.J. continues, “I do not give a fuck about some free fucking use right now, I care about you. I thought you and I-”

“I know. We are, J.J. We are. I went to text you, and I-”

Shane switches to French, “Je suis désolé. Je sais que je suis probablement en train de faire la mauvaise chose. Tu sais qu'il m'envoie des fleurs, des lettres et des plantes depuis un mois, puis je l'ignore. Je ne réponds pas. Mais il s'est présenté ici, et j'avais besoin d'aller jusqu'au bout. Je ne vais pas coucher avec lui. Je.. tabarnak, J.J., je suis désolé. J'allais t'écrire pour changer l'horaire et te dire ce qui se passait, mais j'ai entendu un bruit sourd et je..” (I'm sorry. I know I'm probably doing the wrong thing. You know he's been sending me flowers, letters, and plants for a month, and I've been ignoring him. Not responding. But he showed up here, and I needed to see it through. I'm not going to sleep with him. I just.. fuck, J.J., I'm sorry. I was going to text you, change the schedule, and let you know what was going on, but then I heard a thump and I..)

Shane starts to cry before he can stop himself.

“Come here, mon chaton.” J.J. plants a kiss on his cheek, his forehead, then his lips. “I just don’t want anyone to hurt you. I am sorry I got angry.” J.J. is holding him so tightly that Shane starts crying even harder.

“Don’t apologize. I ruined your night, the plans you had for us. I wanted nothing more than to just kiss you all night long. A night of us would have been perfect. I should have called, or texted, but my brain, just..” Shane pauses, wiping away a tear. He feels exhausted. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s no big deal. I was excited to see you, but I am still seeing you, so it’s fine. I just missed you the last two days. I know we texted, but fuck. Tu m'as manqué, bébé. Toi pis ton cul sexy.” (I missed you, baby. You and your sexy ass.)

“I missed you, too,” Shane says honestly, then finds himself thinking about what he and J.J. could have gotten up to. Being close to J.J. makes Shane feel electric. “Um.. what plans did you have for us?” Shane wraps his arms around J.J. He feels warm, he feels happy, he feels safe, he feels at home. He doesn't want to let go. He wants him so bad.

“Shane, now is not the fucking time.”

“Right.. Sorry.” Shane looks back at the living room. He doesn’t want J.J. to leave, but he also wants Ilya to stay. “Um.. maybe I'll go talk to Ilya, and you wait here, and then maybe.. You can hang out with us for a while.”

“With you and Rozanov?” J.J. looks profoundly unimpressed.

“Yeah..”

“Are you serious, dude?”

“He showed up here, knowing about Mateo. I also told him about you and me, just a bit at least. He is still here. I don’t know what that means. But if he wants to be in my life, you’re a part of my life, one of the biggest parts of my life. And I just want to normalize shit. I don’t want to live in compartments anymore. I can’t go back to that.”

J.J. looks at Shane for a moment, wiping another tear from his eye and kissing another away. He plants more kisses on Shane’s cheeks, eyes, and lips until Shane is smiling again.

Then he finally says, “Ok.. did you guys eat dinner yet?”

“No. I had a late lunch with my friend, and we were going to order in.”

“I can go pick us all up something while you guys talk?”

“Yeah?” Shane says, his heart fluttering. Once again, he is struck by how lucky he is to have J.J., who is kind in ways he doesn't need to be simply because he cares about Shane.

Shane rubs his fingers over the bandage on his chin where his stitches are. J.J. leans into his touch before Shane plants a gentle kiss on it. J.J., in turn, plants a gentle kiss on Shane’s nose, then his eyes that are still a little black. Shane looks around to see if the room is empty before pulling him into a hungry kiss. He just wants a minute, a minute alone, to kiss J.J.

It is all tongues, and lips, and love, J.J. holding onto Shane’s waist. Shane is playing with one of his curls.

He hears a throat being cleared. Ilya is standing there, and he pulls away. He wants to feel wrong, or embarrassed, and a part of him does, but another part, a bigger part, keeps telling himself, this is his life, this is his partner, Ilya just showed up, Ilya is the uncommon denominator here.

Yet, he doesn’t want to hurt him or make him uncomfortable. He really doesn’t.

“Um.. JJ is going to go grab us all some dinner.”

“It's all good, I will leave,” Ilya says, looking everywhere except Shane.

Shane walks over to Ilya and grabs onto his hand.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he says, squeezing it once, looking at Ilya directly before letting go and walking over to his kitchen drawer and pulling out a take-out menu.

“Pick something from here, Ilya, or as many things as you want. You said you were starving.”

“It’s okay, I will go.”

“You flew to Montreal. You can go if you want. I won’t force you to stay. But I don’t want you to go. J.J. is going to grab the food, and we can talk, okay? Let’s just talk.”

“Okay,” Ilya says, grabbing the menu, glancing at J.J. quickly before looking through it.

He picks a few things, more than a few things, and then puts his card down on the table. Shane shoves it aside and puts his card down instead. J.J. just looks over the written-down items and doesn’t take either card.

“I’ve got it, captaine,” he says before adding, “I’ll be back in 30-40 minutes.”

“Okay, thanks, JJ.”

Ilya just nods and says, “Thanks,” quickly.


####


As soon as the door closes, Shane feels anxiety again.

“Knock-knock,” Shane says, trying to lighten the mood. Except.. he is very bad at knock-knock jokes and has never been good at coming up with a good punchline.

“Huh?” Ilya seems not to know what a knock-knock joke is.

“Do you know knock-knock jokes? You are supposed to say who's there.”

“Okay,” Ilya says, his brows turned in.

“Knock knock,” Shane says again.

“Who's there?”

“Ilya.”

“Yes,” Ilya answers simply.

“No, you are supposed to say Ilya who?” Shane lets out a little laugh.

“Okay.”

“Knock knock.”

“Who's there?”

“Ilya.”

“Ilya who?” Ilya answers, finally getting the rhythm.

Shane pauses for a second, just a second, trying to think of something actually clever, and when he can’t, he panics, and instead just says:

“Ilya Rozanov being tortured by all my boyfriends one after one after one.”

It’s not really funny. It’s not actually clever at all. But Shane is trying to lighten the mood. He doesn’t know if Ilya understands the joke. He doesn’t even know if the punch line makes sense.

But Ilya laughs, smiling widely, and Shane feels himself relax. “You are a very good torturer.”

“Thank you,” Shane says automatically, blushing. “And, I am sorry.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. This is awkward.”

“Yeah, but I showed up here and kind of thought maybe this was a possibility.”

“You did?” That catches Shane off guard.

“Yes, I thought maybe a man, or two, or ten could be here.” The smile Ilya gives him is all trouble.

“Okay, let’s not start with that.”

“You tell me you like to have three somes and foursomes and were planning gang bang,”

Shane feels his face go red, thinking about the Kings.

“Ah, so you make dreams come true.”

Shane ignores the question.

Ilya looks at Shane with quiet sincerity. “I am not trying to judge,” he adds. “I am really trying to be open and understand everything that is happening here.”

“For being such a liberated Russian stallion, I feel like I’m the one with all the experience now.”

“I think you are,” Ilya says. “I fuck women, I fuck you, sometimes I find a tasty treat and fuck men.”

Something about the phrase tasty treat makes Shane cringe before he starts laughing.

“Yeah, sometimes I have threesomes with Marly, or another teammate. Never touching. But what you do, that is nothing I do before.”

“Openly communicate with a bunch of different men and let everyone know exactly where I stand?”

“Yes.” Ilya smiles. “I am Russian. We do not communicate or talk about feelings.”

“You can’t blame everything on being Russian.”

Ilya gasps, offended. “Yes, I can.”

Shane smiles.

They are moving closer and closer to each other again, like magnets. Shane doesn’t even realize that Ilya is now holding onto his waist again, and that his hand comes up to lightly brush over the freckles on his cheek.

Ilya then picks up Shane’s hands, scanning his knuckles, which are still a bit bruised and cut up, but mostly scabbing over and healing. He runs a finger over the right ones. It feels weirdly good. Shane lets out a little noise, not a moan, but almost a purr.

Ilya smells familiar. He smells good. He smells like a scent Shane used to long for whenever it was gone.

They could kiss right now. Shane could lean in. He could kiss him. His body, his body, betraying him, wanting to kiss him.
But he isn’t going to.
He can’t.
He won’t.

Just as Shane is about to pull back, Ilya does instead. “I will not kiss you.”

Shane actually really appreciates that. “I will not kiss you either.”

“I said it first.”

“No, I did earlier.”

“Well, this time I did, so I win,” Ilya insists, smiling at Shane.

“Okay, you win.”

“I can really leave. You can spend a relaxing night with J.J., recharge.”

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Please.”

“When I get a plan in my head, it’s hard to transition out of it, like to pivot. You showing up was not only hard because, well, we weren’t talking, and I asked for space. It was hard because I had a plan in my head of what the night was going to be, what my days were going to be. But now you are here, and yeah, I am still angry, and I still have a lot of feelings, but also, now that the plan became you staying, and us talking, now that is my plan, and I um.. I am happy you are here. Even if I feel conflicted. You are part of my plan now.”

“What about J.J.?”

“What do you mean?”

“He just showed up here, not part of your plan?”

“Well, J.J. and I have an agreement.”

“An agreement?”

“Yeah, we- um. He is just allowed to show up. I don’t really want to explain more right now. It is between the two of us.” Besides Hayden and Mateo, no one really knows about their free use, and it doesn’t really feel like anyone else’s business.

“But Mateo knows.”

“Yes. Mateo knows.” Shane says, a bit irritated that he keeps checking up on his relationship with Mateo.

“Okay. I’m not trying to judge, just to understand.” Ilya obviously senses Shane’s frustration.

Shane relaxes at that. “Oh, okay. Well, questions are okay, but I might not always feel comfortable answering everything that involves other people.”

“Okay.” Ilya looks at Shane. “Shane?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for opening the door and letting me come in.”

“Yeah, you're welcome.”


####

They go and sit back on the couch, Shane is now taking in the fort, and wondering if he should put it away.

“We should probably move this mattress back into the guest room.”

“Ah, mattress you fuck Troy Barrett on?”

“I will change the sheets.”

Ilya makes a face.

“If you don’t want to sleep on a place I have been fucked on, you will have trouble sleeping anywhere in this house.”

Ilya laughs at that.

Shane starts breaking down the blanket fort, sadly, missing Troy already.
He then goes to lift the mattress, and hisses when his knuckle grip hurts again.

“Let me.” Ilya picks up the mattress with ease, carrying it to the guest bedroom. His muscles flex as he lifts, it is hot.

Shane goes and grabs a change of sheets, and helps Ilya make the bed.  “Did you not bring a bag?”

“I did,”

“Where is it?”

“I left it in the hall.”

“I didn’t notice it when I went out.”

“I hid it,”

“Why?”

“So burglar don’t steal.”

“Which burglar?”

“I don’t know Montreal burglar.”

“Okay, why don’t you go get it?" Shane says, laughing.


####


They are sitting back in the living room, Shane on the couch, Ilya back in the chair. J.J. should be back soon.

“Um, I guess I should maybe warn you.”

Ilya looks at him curiously. “J.J. is a little possessive with me. So I am sorry in advance for that. He is just very touchy with me. It isn’t like a fuck you to you. It isn’t a personal thing against you. It is everywhere, all the time. He just can’t keep his hands off of me, not in front of the locker room, not in public.” Shane starts playing with his Needoh again.

“Ah, yes, I see pictures. I was at the same bar in Boston. I know this.”

“Right.”

“And who can blame him?” Ilya’s eyes have darkened. Shane looks away.

“So your team knows about you two?” Ilya asks.

“Yes.”

“And they know about Mateo?”

“Of course.”

“What about Hayden?” Ilya’s questions keep coming.

“Yeah, they know.”

“And no one is weird?”

“Weirdly, no.”

Ilya looks amused by something, but Shane has no idea what. “Ah, because they all want to fuck you too.”

“Maybe.” Shane feels heat creep up the back of his neck. “They joke around, but I’m sure they’re not serious.”

“Yes, sure.” Ilya doesn’t look convinced.

“So you and J.J. are together?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“And you, J.J. and Hayden fuck,”

“Yeah.” The questions feel invasive to Shane, but he is mentally exhausted at this point and doesn't have the energy to lie. He knows from experience that answers like these have a way of becoming weapons with Ilya. He hopes this time will be different.

“And J.J., you and Mateo?”

“We um, I don’t know.”

“Tell me.” He insists. 

Shane doesn't want to answer anymore. It feels wrong to talk about this. These moments belong to him, Mateo, and J.J. “Let's change the subject, okay.”

“Okay.” Ilya lets the subject die there.

“How is Lainey?” Shane asks.

“She is good, she asks about you a lot,” Ilya admits.

“She texts me sometimes.”

“About what?” Ilya studies Shane for a moment.

“Different ad campaigns, hockey, hot guys she thinks I should date.”

“She wounds me.” Ilya presses a hand to his heart in mock agony.

“She sends me celebrities all the time, people she ships me with.”

“I should delete her number.” Ilya scoffs, folding his arms.

“She tells me she is a ShayJ and Shayden shipper.” Shane bites back a smile and fails.

“Backstabber.” Ilya pretends to pull an invisible dagger from his back.

“She’s your friend.”

“Apparently not.” Ilya tries and fails to look unimpressed.

Shane smiles at Ilya. Ilya smiles back. It is such a small thing, but Shane can't remember the last time being with Ilya felt this uncomplicated.

“Thank you for staying. With J.J. coming back, it means a lot to me.”

“Yes, no problem.” Ilya rubs at one knuckle with his thumb.

“I know we have things to work through, a lot, so much. But I do want you in my life, Ilya.”

Ilya's attention returns fully to Shane, looking unexpectedly vulnerable. “That is good to know.”

“Yeah.” There doesn't seem to be anything else to say.

“I want you in my life, too, Shane, very badly,” Ilya says, looking at Shane like he needs him to understand.

Shane meets his eyes. “I want you to see what my life entails, I want you to know the people who are important to me, I don’t want to hide, or lie, or compartmentalize my life.”

“Um??”

“Like. For a long time, I had different boxes that never touched. One box was hockey, one was being gay, one was my PR persona, one was who I was with my family, one was who I was with my friends, and one was who I was at home, alone. Another box was the fact I was having sex with my rival, which I guess meant some of those boxes overlapped, but were hidden.. in a closet.”

“Ah, the closet.”

“Yes. I had all these different boxes I worked so hard to keep away from each other. Now I live my life really openly and honestly, and I don’t want to go back to the boxes being separate. So, I mean, if you’re here, then maybe that can give you the chance to see.”

“Okay,” Ilya says. “Thank you for letting me see.”

“And be nice to J.J.”

“I try to chirp Troy, and you guys make fun of me.”

“We weren’t making fun of you. We just, kind of, I don’t know, get lost in our own world. Troy, he is kind of like.. Me and Marlow. Our brains work differently, maybe, I don’t know how to explain it. We understand each other.” Shane pauses for a second. “I think you and Troy would actually be really good friends if you got to know each other. Maybe best friends.”

“Don't push it,” Ilya says, as though the suggestion is ridiculous, though the smile on his face ruins the effect.

“Okay.”

“I will be nice to J.J.”

“Thank you.”

“He will be nice to you, too.”

“He doesn't seem like he will be nice to me.” Ilya looks deeply unconvinced.

Shane thinks about the best way to explain who J.J. really is. Why he knows, without a doubt, that J.J. will be nice to him. “When your first letter came, with the flowers, I was really mad, I was furious, I almost had a panic attack, and I called Mateo to talk and calm down while I was waiting for J.J. to come over.” Shane is talking a mile a minute, but the look of concentration on Ilya's face makes him slow down. “By the time J.J. came, I was happy and relaxed and wasn’t thinking about the letter. When J.J. saw the flowers and letter, he got angry, and we argued a bit, and when we moved on from it, I was swept up in our night and forgot again.” Shane looks back at Ilya, who seems completely focused on what he's saying. “The next morning, when I was saying goodbye, I realized the flowers were in a vase, and the letter was propped up against it.”

Ilya visibly relaxes, looking genuinely surprised.

“When I saw the flowers in the vase, I felt relieved. Like I would have been angry with myself if I let them die, like I would be letting you down or something. I don’t know. J.J. was angry about it all. He does not really like you. He was there after Boston. They all really thought we were rivals who hated each other. It is a lot to process for them, I am sure. But regardless of how he felt, he put the flowers in the vase and put the letter out, because he cares more about my feelings than he does about his feelings about you.”

For a moment, neither of them says anything. Then Ilya wrinkles his nose and breaks the silence.

“Yes, Hollander, I understand, all your boyfriends are perfect and sweet angels, who are way nicer to me than they should be,” Ilya says, trying to sound annoyed, though Shane catches something a little more vulnerable beneath it.

“Yes, exactly.” Shane laughs.

That wasn’t the point he was trying to make, but he thinks Ilya knows that.

“I’ll be good,” Ilya says, reaching over and squeezing Shane’s knee gently.

“Thank you.” Without really thinking, Shane places his hand over Ilya's. A second later, he pulls it back.

####


J.J. comes back with the food, and they all sit around the kitchen island eating it together. It is awkward, and it is mostly silent. They are making small talk about different teams, different games, the Metro’s streak, the bar in Boston, and J.J. asks about Lainey.

J.J. and Ilya are both trying, and both behaving themselves. Halfway through the small talk, Shane realizes he has barely spoken. He mostly just sits there listening, his brain feeling oddly floaty. There is so much happening.

Ilya’s phone rings. Whatever he sees there seems to bother him. “Can I take this somewhere private?”

“Yeah, the guest room,” Shane says, a knot forming in his stomach.

They can faintly hear Ilya on the phone, speaking Russian, sounding increasingly worked up.

J.J. finally turns to Shane.

“How long is he staying?” J.J. asks, his hand resting in Shane’s lap, his expression soft when he looks at him.

“I think until the 26th.”

"Until Mateo comes?”

“Yes, and he has a game against the Centaurs.”

“And he is staying here?” J.J. starts absently tracing his thumb against Shane’s leg.

“In the guest room.”

J.J.'s hand stops moving, tension suddenly visible in his jaw and shoulders. “Mhm.”

“J.J., I am sorry if this makes you uncomfortable. I should have talked about it with you.”

“Did you talk about it with Mateo?” J.J. asks. The question doesn't sound casual. Shane's stomach drops. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

“Yes, I called him earlier.”

“Okay,” J.J. says. He doesn't ask anything else. Somehow that feels worse.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shane feels bad. He meant to text JJ, but got distracted. He meant to call JJ, but he left his phone behind. He thought about getting his phone when he was on the couch, but he left it. He never hesitated to call Mateo, though, and now to J.J., it seems like he doesn’t care to communicate with him.

Shane doesn’t feel that way. Their relationships are different.

But he can talk and communicate with J.J.
He just thought, he maybe thought, deep down he thought, that with J.J. nearby, maybe he wouldn’t be happy. Maybe he would have shown up, maybe it could have turned bad. When instead he should have allowed J.J. to show up as the incredible person he always is. The supportive person he is.

“I called Mateo first, because that is my first instinct, and I am sorry. Like, truly, it is just our dynamic. Facetiming, calling, talking through things. With you, we usually just wait to talk until we see each other. We don’t have to call or text much because we are usually together.” Shane shakes his head and keeps going. “Regardless, I should have let you know, I got distracted, and I should have made sure to double back around. Just a lot happened in a short amount of time. My friend was here, he was freaked out because he opened the door to Ilya and was scared of getting outed. Ilya showed up, uninvited, and I had to process my feelings about that. I still am. It was just a lot, and I had to work all day to keep myself regulated and going when I wanted to just melt down and crawl into bed multiple times today. I was expending all my energy, but I still should have made sure to include you. I am sorry. I did think about it, multiple times, but got distracted, and that isn’t fair and I-“

“Mon chéri, it is fine, I get it. He showed up, it wrecked the plans you laid out in your head for how the next few days should go, it threw you off, you were out of sorts, and you got distracted. I get it, I know things like this fuck with you.”

“How do you understand so perfectly?”

“Because I know you, princesse, duh.” J.J.’s thumb brushes over Shane’s cheek. Shane leans into it automatically.

“I weirdly like when you call me princesse.”

“I know.” J.J. smiles like he already knows the effect he has on Shane.

“We probably need to talk about things more, and just make sure we are on the same page about everything,” Shane says.

“Stop, you don’t need to overthink with me, we are fine. We will talk after Mateo leaves,” J.J. reassures him, still rubbing his cheek.

“Okay.” Shane feels a lot better. J.J. seems to be feeling better, too.

J.J. looks to the door. They can still hear Ilya on the phone, loudly talking in Russian.

He pulls Shane in for a quick kiss. 

####


“Sorry about that,” Ilya says, stepping back into the room.

“Is everything okay?” Shane asks, concern creeping in.

“Ah, yes, just my brother,” Ilya says, waving a hand dismissively.

“Your brother sounds like a dick,” J.J. says without hesitation.

“You speak Russian?” Ilya asks, eyeing him warily.

“No, but if the way you were talking to him was any indication, he seems awful.” Something about the way J.J. said that to Ilya, the way, without any context, just from hearing the tone in Ilya’s voice, he concluded that Ilya’s brother was the problem, and not Ilya, warmed Shane’s heart, because Shane came to the same conclusion. He knows from what Mateo had briefly told him, and from Ilya’s letters, that his brother was not good to him.

Ilya sits down next to Shane at the kitchen island, his hands curled into little fists in his lap. Shane reaches over and squeezes his hand. Ilya relaxes a bit beneath the touch.

“Yes, he is not very nice.” Ilya finally says, not looking at either of them.

“Well, I am sorry to hear that,” J.J. says, and means it.

“Yeah,” Ilya says, like he was expecting a different response.

Shane can feel his brain and body falling deeper away. He is so tired. J.J. must notice, because he moves closer to Shane and presses a kiss to his temple, rubbing at the back of his neck, before he says quietly enough, but still loud enough for everyone to hear, “Why don’t you go take a bath or something? Rozanov and I can play a round or two of chel.”

That sounds good, really, really good. The last few hours have felt like days and days and days.

He looks at Ilya, making sure he feels okay with that, and when Ilya nods, Shane feels like, for the first time since Ilya got here, he can finally, truly, calm down.

“Shane’s Xbox is set up, and the games are in the drawer on his TV stand. Do you want to set it up, and I’ll be right there?” J.J. says to Ilya.

“Sure.”

Ilya gets up and walks into the living room.


####


Shane is still sitting at the island when J.J. wraps Shane's arm around his neck and picks him up, wrapping his legs around him too.
He carries Shane to the bathroom, sitting him on the edge of the bathtub. As he warms the bath and adds Epsom salts, he strips him down and places Shane in.
He then goes and grabs the bandages and gauze and cleans Shane’s eyebrow and knuckles before kissing him for a long moment.

Shane just lets himself be taken care of, feeling energy slowly coming back into his body.

“I can stay if you want,” J.J. says.

“No, I think you should go play chel with Ilya.”

“This is so weird.”

“I know.”

“Give me one more kiss,” J.J. says, leaning in.

“I’ll give you two,” Shane says, trying to sound as playful as he can despite feeling so tired.

J.J. walks out of the bathroom, and then a moment later comes back with Shane’s speaker. He grabs Shane’s phone and puts on the playlist Mateo made for him before dimming the lights.

“Take your time, we will be fine, I promise.”

“Thanks, J.J.”

J.J. leaves the room, and Shane sinks into the tub, letting the water, the music, and the darkness consume him. Letting his mind go blank, his body go floaty.


####


Shane comes out into the living room about forty-five minutes later, feeling a bit more energized.

J.J. and Ilya are sitting beside each other on the couch, playing chel and ribbing each other. The sight makes Shane smile. He doesn’t say anything at first. He just watches and listens. To the chirps, to the laughter, to J.J. kicking Ilya’s ass in the game, and Ilya making excuses about why J.J. is cheating. It all feels so normal. It feels nice. To see two people who Shane, once upon a time, would only dream could be around each other.

“Ah, Kitten,” J.J. says, putting his hand out to Shane, inviting him closer. “Rozanov and I discovered that we both call you kitten.”

Ilya had only called him that once, in his letter. He doesn’t know how this conversation would have come up. He wonders what else they talked about. If he thinks too deeply about it, he might start panicking, so he lets the thought go.

“Yes, because you have angry kitten face,” Ilya says, amused.

“I just think Shane is cute like a kitten,” J.J. says, teasingly.

Shane walks towards them, sitting next to J.J. on the couch, who is on the middle cushion.

J.J. plants a kiss on Shane’s cheek. “You look cozy, beau, like the energy is back in your eyes.”

“Yeah, I feel a lot better,” Shane says, still quietly.

J.J. wraps an arm around Shane, pulling him into his side to cuddle him. “It’s okay if you’re still tired, just relax and watch me kick Rozanov’s ass.”

Shane yawns. “That sounds like fun.”

He looks up at Ilya and finds him already watching him. Ilya gives him a soft smile.

“I let him win because he never can beat me on ice. I was being nice.” Ilya winks at Shane.

They stay like that for a while, Shane’s head resting on J.J.’s lap as he and Ilya continue to play video games, loud and laughing, enjoying themselves. It feels nice. Maybe too nice. Something Shane wishes his life could be forever.

Ilya is making a big effort to ingratiate himself into this moment, into Shane’s life. It makes him feel things he doesn’t quite know how to put into words yet.


####


Shane eventually gets up to stretch, feeling sleepy. It is a little after ten thirty.

“I think I am going to make some tea. Do you guys want anything?”

“I am good,” J.J. says. “Thank you, though.”

Shane looks at Ilya, who is already looking at him, his eyes dropping briefly to Shane’s stomach before Shane realizes it is showing as he stretches.

“I’ll have some tea.”

Shane pulls his sweater down. “I am just making some chamomile. Is that okay with you? Because I have lots of teas. I have..” Shane is about to start naming them all when Ilya cuts in.

“I’ll have what you have.”

Shane just nods and walks into the other room.

A few minutes later, after pouring the hot water over the tea bag, he hears his phone ringing. He picks up the mugs to head back into the living room when he hears J.J. answer it and put it on speaker so he can keep playing.

“Hayden,” is all J.J. says.

“Hey, are you with Shane right now? I mean, you’re answering his phone, but is he with you in the room?”

J.J. looks up and spots Shane. “Yep. You are on speaker..” J.J. starts, before Hayden interrupts.

“I am coming over. I need to talk to Shane about something.”

“I was going to say you are on speaker with me, Shane, and Rozanov.”

“Fucking funny, man. Please tell me this isn’t some weird sex game between the two of you. I am not in the mood.” Hayden sounds nervous. Shane can hear it through the phone.

“What’s wrong, Hayds?” Shane asks, putting the mugs down on coasters on his coffee table.

“Can I come over? I cannot stay long. Jackie is out with some friends and should be home in like two hours, so I want to be home in time to watch the new episode of..”

Shane goes to pick up his phone, taking it off speaker and walking into the other room.

“Come over, but Ilya really is here.”

“What the fuck, dude?”

“Just.. be nice, okay.”

“I don’t want him knowing my business.”

“We can go to another room, or I can come down to your car.”

“I wanted to tell J.J. too.”

“Just come. We will figure it out.”

####


Not long after, Hayden lets himself into Shane’s place. He walks into the living room, sees the three of them on the couch, and says, “I am not touching this shit with a ten-foot pole.”

“No one wants you to,” Ilya says back, being an asshole.

Hayden gives him a dirty look, and Ilya gives him one right back. Shane doesn’t know what it is about Hayden that gets so far under Ilya’s skin, but it has been like this for years. Anytime Shane ever mentioned Hayden, Ilya seemed personally offended by his existence.

“Relax, men,” J.J. says, smiling.

Shane looks at Hayden. He can see he is itching to talk to him. He knows he was supposed to go out with Asher tonight. They have been going out a lot lately, continuing to build a relationship outside of Jackie that seems to be going increasingly well.

“We can go to another room to talk,” Shane suggests.

“I give very good advice, Pike,” Ilya says with an obnoxious smirk.

Shane doesn’t think that would work on Hayden, but he is obviously so desperate to talk that he drops down onto the chair beside the couch and just says, “Fine.”

J.J. and Shane both look at each other, surprised.

“Are you sure?” Shane asks.

“I don’t fucking know. I’m so tired, and Ilya is here, and it is probably rude to just get up and leave and talk in another room. What is proper etiquette? Why is he even here?” Hayden is rambling. His knee is bouncing.

Shane gets up and squeezes himself beside Hayden on the chair. There is no actual room for two grown men, so he just sits in Hayden’s lap instead. Before climbing up onto the arm of the chair and sitting there instead, resting his foot on Hayden’s leg to stop it from bouncing.

“Nothing you say will leave this room. Otherwise, Ilya will deal with me,” Shane says, glaring at him.

Ilya puts his hands up in mock terror. “I will be good,” he says, before looking at Hayden. “Tell us all your boring problems.”

Hayden and J.J. both glare at Ilya before Hayden starts talking.

“So, Asher came over tonight while Jackie was out with her friends, and we made out on the couch for like three hours.” Hayden puts his head into his hands like he just admitted the worst thing out loud.

Shane and J.J. look at each other, already making faces like they are getting the best gossip of their lives. They have had many, many, many discussions about Hayden, Asher, and Jackie. Invested in a way that borders on obsessed. Delighted by every new detail.

“Okay, what is problem? You cheat on your wife with another man?” Ilya says, like he is missing something obvious. “This is a Monday to you.”

“I don’t cheat on my wife, what the fuck?” Hayden says, his head snapping up to look at Ilya in disbelief.

Shane shoots him a glare.

“Hayden and his wife have an open relationship. Asher is Jackie’s boyfriend,” J.J. explains, as though this is the most ordinary sentence in the world.

“Oh,” Ilya says, like that somehow explained nothing.

“Okay, so how was the kiss? How are you feeling?” Shane asks.

“He kept saying I was a really good kisser.” Hayden shrugs.

Shane perks up. “You’re the best kisser in the world, Hayds.”

“Here we go again,” J.J. says playfully.

“What? It is true,” Shane says matter-of-factly. Then he catches himself looking at Hayden’s lips.

J.J. and Hayden both seem to catch up, and they all break out into laughter.

“Okay, but seriously, give us the details.”

“We kissed for a long time. It was nice. It was hot.”

“And nothing else happened?” Shane asks. “You drove all the way here to tell us about making out?” Shane pauses, then adds, “Not that we don’t want to know about it, but right now it seems like you just came over to make me jealous.”

"Shut up, dude," Hayden says, pushing Shane off the armchair and knocking him back onto the couch J.J. and Ilya are on.

“I don’t know, I think I am, like, ready for the three of us to start spending time together,” Hayden says a little shyly.

“Amazing,” Shane says.

“Finally,” J.J. adds.

“But Jackie thought, if we wanted to, like, hook up without her first, once or twice, we could.”

“Okay, so did you?”

“I got nervous.”

“About what?” Shane asks, confused.

Hayden looks up at Ilya for a moment. “Who was going to do what?”

This is when Ilya interjects. “Ah, you don’t know how sex with two men works, Pike. One is top, one is bottom.”

“I know how sex between two men works,” Hayden says quickly. “It is not always that simple, though.”

“What is not simple?” Ilya asks, looking genuinely confused.

Shane looks over at Hayden to see if he can explain. Hayden gives a small nod.

“Hayden is vers.”

“Vers?” Ilya asks.

J.J. looks over at Hayden, then back at Ilya. “He likes to fuck and be fucked.”

“Ah,” Ilya says. “Okay, so find out which Asher likes.”

“Asher is vers too,” Shane says to Ilya, then looks back at Hayden. “Why don’t you guys just take turns? Or, like, just start by messing around and seeing where it goes, or I don’t know.”

“I got nervous,” Hayden admits. “Not everyone is like you, Shane. Not everyone can ask for exactly what they want at all times during sex.”

“It’s fine. So you made out, and it was good, and you’re obviously compatible, and you’re going to forget about me now,” Shane adds dramatically.

J.J. and Hayden both roll their eyes.

“So, next week, after we get back from Chicago, the kids are going to my parents, and Jackie wants to do dinner, the three of us.”

“That sounds nice,” Shane says encouragingly.

“Yeah, and tomorrow, Jackie, her sister, the kids, and my nieces are all going to Toronto for a few days, and Asher is still in town, so when he left, he said he was going to come back tomorrow.”

“HOT,” Shane says.

“I’m on the edge of my seat,” J.J. says.

“Anyways, I think we are going to have sex tomorrow, and I am panicking a bit.”

“My little Hayden has come so far since the first time we fucked. You are a full-on bi diva now, entering your first throuple. Daddy is so proud,” Shane says, reaching over to rub Hayden’s head.

“ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT,” Hayden says, looking equally horrified and like Shane is his favourite person in the world.

“Listen to your father,” J.J. adds, doing a smoochy face at Hayden.

“Stop being weird,” Hayden says. “I’m having a crisis.”

“What is crisis? You will fuck or be fucked by guy you like tomorrow. Sounds lucky to me,” Ilya chimes in.

“I like him so much. Every time he talks, I can’t stop smiling or laughing. Every time he touches me, I feel like every nerve in my body is on fire. Sometimes when we are kissing, I feel like I don’t even know, holy shit.”

"Hayds, this is a good thing. You wanted to make sure you were going into this for the right reasons, not to just make Jackie happy, but for yourself, too. It seems like you have come to the conclusion that this is what you want. That you really like him. It's beautiful." Shane says, grabbing onto Hayden's hand.

“Holy shit, I am about to be in a throuple with my wife and her boyfriend.”

“It is like Christmas for us,” Shane says, patting Hayden on the head.

“You guys have very weird thing going on here,” Ilya says, absolutely amused by it all. He circles his finger around the three of them.

J.J. shrugs. “It works for us.”


####


They all talk for a while longer, Ilya actively engaging with them, joking with them, laughing with them.

It is a little after twelve, and Shane can barely keep his eyes open anymore. He finds himself falling in and out of the conversation and dozing off every few minutes.

“Okay, I should go,” Hayden says, standing up.

“Me too.” J.J. stands up as well.

Shane half wakes up to walk them to the door. Ilya stays in the living room.

“I’ll text you tomorrow,” he says to Hayden as they hug tight.

Hayden kisses Shane quickly, and Shane melts into it. Hayden is such a good kisser. “Mmm, thanks, Hayds. I needed that.”

“I thought you might.”

Hayden and J.J. hug, and then Hayden leaves.

J.J. pulls Shane in for a kiss, then a hug, Shane nuzzling into the crook of his neck and inhaling his scent.

“If you need anything while he is here, anything at all, text or call me. I will leave you guys alone,” J.J. says.

“Thanks, baby. And I am sorry again,” Shane says.

“It is okay, shit happens, we are good, I promise, mon amour.”

“I’ll text you tomorrow,” Shane says, going in for one last kiss even though he is so tired he can barely keep his eyes open.

####

He walks back into the living room, but Ilya isn’t there, so he heads into the guest room. The door is open. Ilya is changing, his shirt off, wearing only his boxers. Shane’s tired eyes take him in. He feels his whole body shiver.

He clears his throat quietly, and Ilya turns around.

“I’m going to go to bed. Do you need anything before I go?” Shane asks.

“Can I have a hug?” Ilya asks, walking toward him. Shane finds himself staring at his pecs.

Shane just nods as Ilya wraps his arms around him, and Shane’s head falls against his chest.

The hug is nice, and for a moment, Shane considers falling asleep like this, standing up in Ilya’s arms.

“Thank you for today,” Ilya says quietly into Shane’s ear.

Shane murmurs something, still half out of it.

“For letting me stay, for including me in your life, for making your friends be nice to me. Thank you, Shane.”

Ilya plants a gentle kiss on Shane’s temple. Shane doesn’t have the energy to say anything back.

“Go to sleep, котенок, we will talk tomorrow.”

Shane doesn’t remember walking out of the guest bedroom. He doesn’t remember stripping out of his clothes and landing back in bed under his weighted blanket. He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

He just remembers feeling weirdly happy. Unreasonably happy.
He remembers feeling warm.

####