Archive of Our Own

It was a sunny Sunday morning, and Shane was almost finished blending his regular protein smoothie when he stopped suddenly, his mouth dropping open and his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. 

Something had just occurred to him, and it absolutely was not a thought he wanted to deal with. 

He’d noticed a minor ache in his stomach last night as he was getting ready for bed, right around his belly button. He’d ignored it, assuming it was a random, passing irritation that would go away naturally. This morning though, he’d woken up, stretched, and realized immediately that it was still there, and with a bit more bite. It was more annoying than painful, but it was also noticeable enough that he wondered if he might have pulled a muscle without realizing it.

The thing was, he didn’t notice the ache after a game or after a practice. In fact, it was the last day of this year’s bye week, and he and Ilya had been focusing mostly on low-impact cardio during the break. He first noticed the uncomfortable soreness after he and his husband had been…making love. Fucking. Whatever. They’d been pretty enthusiastic about it, and if he was honest, some of the positions had been… more advanced than usual.  

He snapped his jaw shut and rubbed at his middle. Was he going to have to confess to Ilya that he thought he might have a sex injury? Or worse, Wiebe? If he’d actually pulled an abdominal muscle while having sex, Ilya was going to laugh about this for the rest of his life. 

The door opened, and Shane restarted the blender. He’d keep this to himself for a little while, see if the tenderness went away on its own. 

“Good morning, моя любовь,” Ilya called over the noise. He came up behind Shane and wrapped his arms around him. Shane melted into him, and smiled as he caught sight of Anya dancing around on the floor, excited to see him just like she was every morning. He cut off the blender and poured his smoothie into a cup.  

“Bood’s barbecue is tonight,” Shane said, keeping his voice even as he bent down to pet Anya.  

“Yes, it will be fun. I will run to the store to grab drinks. Do you need anything for pasta salad?”

“Nope, I have everything.” Ilya nodded and released Shane, heading out of the kitchen to get ready for their morning run. 

Shane was looking forward to going to Bood’s. He and Cassie had been regularly hosting barbecues over the summer and when they could find time during the season for years, and the parties had become a team-bonding tradition. The first time Shane had gone to one was shortly after it was announced that he was officially signed to the Centaurs, and it was one of the few social gatherings Shane had ever experienced where he felt perfectly normal and comfortable the entire time. It helped him understand that leaving Montreal was one of the best things to ever happen to him, even if it hadn’t felt like it at the time. 

Soon, Ilya was back, and Shane left his smoothie in the fridge, unfinished. He didn’t have much of an appetite for it for some reason, but figured he might want it after their run. He started off slow, mindful of his stomach, and let Ilya pull ahead. 

At first, he was able to ignore the ache, but as they progressed it became clear to Shane that his body was lagging. Their regular 3.5K path seemed to require more exertion from him than it usually did, and Shane was aware that Ilya seemed to be running at a more leisurely pace than usual to stay with Shane, though he didn’t comment on it. As he ran, the soreness around his navel shifted into an unpleasant cramping feeling that spread lower into his abdomen.

By the time they finally made it home, Shane was uneasy. The sensation in his stomach was weird enough that he was starting to suspect that his sex-injury theory was incorrect, which was relieving, but also somewhat concerning. The cramping just didn’t feel like pulled muscle pain to him anymore, but he wasn’t sure what could be causing it. He grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge, ignoring his abandoned smoothie.  

“Running slow today, yes?” Ilya said. His voice was cocky and teasing, but there was a questioning tone layered underneath.  

“Fuck you,” Shane replied automatically, taking a swig of water. Ilya grinned. “Just some weird cramping.” Ilya reached across the counter and separated a banana from the bunch, handing it over to Shane.

“Potassium. Eat.” 

Shane nodded, surprised he hadn’t thought of that himself. He shooed Ilya away to go shower, and ate the banana unenthusiastically. The rest of the morning and early afternoon passed relatively quickly. Shane took his turn in the shower and then sat at the kitchen table to go through a bunch of emails and a few potential contracts while Ilya ran errands. He couldn’t quite shake the discomfort in his stomach, and paused every now and then to try and fail to stretch out the cramps.  

He got up to make the pasta salad that he wanted to bring to Bood’s at around 3 o’clock, and cringed when his side twinged in response to the movement. He bent at the waist for a second to try to reduce some of the tightness he was feeling, straightening when he heard Ilya’s car in the driveway. He wasn’t really trying to hide what he was feeling at all anymore, but he also didn’t want to make it a big deal. He wasn’t even sure what exactly was going on. Either the pain would go away on its own or tomorrow when they went to practice, Shane would ask Terry, the Centaurs’ team doctor, about it.  

By the time Ilya walked through the kitchen door carrying a few bags, Shane had the cutting board out, and was gathering ingredients. He stopped to give Ilya a quick kiss. Ilya was unloading a few things into the fridge when he stopped and pulled out Shane’s smoothie. “You did not finish?” He asked. 

“No, I haven’t been very hungry today,” Shane said honestly. He still wasn’t hungry. The banana from earlier hadn’t settled easily, and the pressure in his stomach was still nagging at him. It had shifted strangely towards the right side of his body.  

“Do you feel bad?” Ilya asked, his voice slightly troubled. 

Shane sighed, but wasn’t going to lie to his husband. Ilya would see right through it. “Not exactly bad, but not normal. My stomach feels kind of weird.”   

“Why don’t you go lay down?” Ilya suggested. “I can finish salad.”

Shane hesitated, but he did think it might help him feel better if he let his body relax before they went to Bood’s. “Yeah, okay,” he agreed.

Ilya raised his eyebrows at Shane’s response. “Now I know you’re feeling bad.”

Shane rolled his eyes and started walking towards the living room. “I’m fine.” He laid himself down onto the couch gingerly, and huffed in annoyance when another twinge passed through him. He turned on a random Animal Planet documentary and watched absentmindedly, massaging his side. Ilya walked into the room about a half hour later, carrying a plate and a glass of ginger ale. 

“Here, eat this and take these.”

Shane sat up and took the plate reflexively. It was a piece of toast with butter and jam, and some Tylenol. He set the glass down on the coffee table beside Shane.

“Oh. Thank you,” Shane said, surprised. Ilya stood there for a moment, and then he gestured at Shane to take a bite. Shane complied instinctively, and was thankful that he didn’t seem to be having any immediate issue managing the toast. Ilya, satisfied, walked away. Shane continued to take bites of the toast at a glacial pace, but eventually finished it and took the meds. He blinked a few times, slowly, and started to lose track of what was going on in the documentary. 

Before he even realized that he had fallen asleep, he was startled awake. He wasn’t quite sure what woke him up, but he immediately groaned and rolled onto his side, dislodging a blanket that Ilya must have covered him with. He felt bloated, and the irritation in his lower stomach and side had become more concentrated above his right hip. The bloating was weird. He must have eaten something yesterday that was really screwing with his system. 

He checked his phone, and was shocked when he realized that it was almost 6:45pm. Bood had invited everyone to start coming over around 6 o’clock.  

“Ilya!” Shane got up, ignoring his protesting abdomen with only some difficulty, and went to change. He found Ilya in their bedroom, seemingly ready to go, scrolling on his phone. 

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” He asked, struggling to get out of his sweatpants. Bending down sucked.

“I thought you needed to rest, so I texted Bood that we would be late,” Ilya said, frowning. “You do not usually sleep during the day, I wasn’t sure if you would feel well when you woke up.”

Shane grimaced. “I want to go.” He truly did. There weren’t as many opportunities for hanging out casually with their teammates and their spouses during the season as there were in the summer. Shane was an introvert through and through, but he liked going and feeling like part of the team, literally. He didn’t want a stomachache to get in the way. 

Ilya sat up. “You are sure? Your stomach is okay?”

Shane wavered. “I do feel… kind of off. My stomach feels a little bit sore and bloated. I think it’s just indigestion or something. But I’m alright.” He purposely chose his softest, loosest pair of trousers from his side of the closet, pulled them up carefully over his tender stomach, and buttoned them.

Ilya didn’t look convinced. He studied Shane carefully. “If you want to go we will go. But, солнышко, tell me if you feel worse? And maybe check in with Terry tomorrow if you still feel bad?”

“I will, I promise,” Shane said, and he meant it. And honestly, he felt like he would be fine. Once they got to Bood’s, he would relax and he would feel better. Hopefully. He’d avoid eating anything that might bother his stomach more, just in case. He pulled a sweater over his head and ushered Ilya to the car before he could ask any more questions.  

They walked through Bood’s front door 15 minutes later, without knocking, as usual. Shane could hear music playing, and there was excited chatter and laughing coming from the living room and kitchen. 

Bood must have heard the door open, because Shane heard a loud whoop from the nearby kitchen and then Bood yelled, “come on in!” 

Ilya carried the pasta salad with one hand and placed the other on Shane’s lower back, walking alongside him to the kitchen. Bood, Troy and Harris, and Dykstra and Caitlin were in the kitchen. Troy, Harris, Dykstra, and Caitlin called out greetings, and then Dykstra and Harris went right back to arguing lightheartedly about some social media trend. Bood paid them more attention, bouncing over to them and then taking the bowl from Ilya. He set it on the counter with several other side dishes and desserts, and then gave Ilya a massive, tight bear hug. He released Ilya and looked happily at Shane. Shane braced himself, alarmed. If Bood crushed him in a hug like that today, he might die. Thankfully, Bood seemed to know that Shane was not a candidate for overwhelming bear hugs, whether he was dealing with wild stomach pain or not, and he simply squeezed Shane’s shoulder fondly. 

“You two are late, I thought you might not be able to make it.” He said, teasing. It was clear that Bood was pleased to see them, not bothered at all that they were late. “I’m going to start grilling in just a few minutes. Just pulling out the last of the meat from the marinade now.”

“We were busy… doing married people things,” Ilya said, smirking at the group. Shane huffed and hid a smile. Leave it to Ilya to hide the fact that he was actually being a good husband and looking out for Shane’s well-being behind an innuendo. 

“Gross,” Troy said blandly. 

“Troy Barrett, homophobe.” Ilya threw back at him. 

“Gay.” Troy said, raising his eyebrows at Ilya and pointing a finger between himself and Harris. 

“Gross,” Ilya replied. Dykstra and Caitlin were watching the back and forth like a tennis match, amused. Bood had turned towards the counter and was ignoring the whole interaction in favor of prepping meat to grill. 

“Okay, okay,” Harris intervened. “You’re both gay and you’re both homophobic. Let’s call it a day. Cider, Rozanov?” 

Shane patted Ilya’s back and slipped out of the kitchen. He was starting to feel like he needed to sit down somewhere. His right side was pulsing painfully. He wandered through the living room, waving or nodding at everyone he encountered, and went out to Bood’s sprawling backyard deck, hoping it might be quieter. He found Cassie, Wyatt, and Lisa sitting together near a large outdoor heater. 

“Shane!” Cassie greeted him. “Glad you made it! Is Ilya still inside?

“Yeah, in the kitchen with Bood. Mind if I join?” He asked. Lisa smiled and tapped the empty adirondack chair next to her, and he settled down into it, glad to be sitting still again. The conversation was lively, and Shane enjoyed listening, even if he didn’t contribute much outside of the times when Wyatt, Lisa, or Cassie asked him a direct question. It was nice. Shane just wished that he felt better. 

A couple of hours later, Shane was struggling. There was a plate of food sitting abandoned on the arm of his chair, untouched except for the few small and sporadic bites he’d taken when Ilya first brought it to him. He felt overly full, which was annoying because he’d barely eaten anything, but what was more concerning to him was that the pain in his side was sharper. Much sharper. 

It hadn’t been great before, but it was bad enough now that he was starting to have a hard time following the conversation going on around him. He also hadn’t been able to find a comfortable position to sit in for the last thirty minutes or so. Each time he shifted, it felt like a jagged shard of glass was being twisted a little deeper into his gut. When the pain had started to make him feel nauseous a few minutes ago, rather than just vaguely unwell, Shane knew he’d officially hit his limit. 

He needed another dose of painkillers as soon as possible, and then he needed to bury himself under his duvet and curl up into the fetal position to try to sleep off whatever this was. 

He waited for there to be a natural lull in the conversation before he gritted his teeth and moved gingerly to grab his phone from his back pocket to text Ilya. He’d gone with Bood and a few of the other guys to start building a fire in the pit around the side of the house, and Shane wasn’t exactly feeling up to walking around to go get him.

Cassie, noticing the movement, leaned towards him and whispered, “Are you alright? You seem quiet tonight.”

Shane cringed internally and looked at Cassie apologetically. He hadn’t meant to draw any attention away from the party. Wyatt and Lisa were politely feigning interest in a card game that the rookies were playing loudly over on the other side of the deck, but he could tell they were listening for his response too. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I really didn’t mean to be rude or anything, I just…” Shane faltered. He felt silly complaining about a stomachache, but he also didn’t want Cassie to think he wasn’t having a good time. She was waiting patiently for him to continue, her face non-judgemental and assuring, and Shane realized with some surprise that he felt comfortable enough to be honest with her. He confessed. 

“I’m… not feeling great. I was about to text Ilya. I think I might actually need to go home.” 

“Oh Shane, no need to apologize for that,” Cassie said kindly, reaching over and setting a hand on his arm. She looked at him closer and hummed sympathetically. “You are kinda pale. Do you want me to go get him for you?” 

Shane nodded gratefully. “That would be great. Thanks, Cassie.” 

She stood up, and Shane noticed that Wyatt and Lisa had given up their facade and directed their attention back to him. He smiled at them half-heartedly, but wasn’t able to maintain it for long. 

“That sucks, Holly,” Wyatt said, leaning forward. “Go get some rest, dude. To be honest, you do kinda look like shit.”

Shane huffed out a laugh, and was rewarded with another shocking jolt in his abdomen. He looked down briefly to hide a grimace that he couldn’t quite hold back, then took a deep breath against the accompanying wave of nausea that followed. Wyatt nudged Lisa, looking slightly worried. She jumped in immediately. 

“Shane, it seems like you’re in a little bit of pain. Can I ask what you’re feeling?”

Shane suddenly remembered that Lisa was a doctor at a children’s hospital. He had a sinking feeling that it couldn’t be a good sign that she was talking to him using what he suspected was her doctor voice. 

“It’s just a bad stomachache,” Shane told her. 

He opened his mouth again to tell her that he’d had worse, but closed it when he realized that actually, that definitely wasn’t true. He hadn’t ever felt anything like this. In fact, he was starting to think that breaking his collarbone again would be preferable to his current situation. 

“Do you think it could be gas pain?” Lisa asked gently. 

Shane flushed, self-conscious. He did not particularly want to discuss whether or not he was having gas pain with one of his teammate’s wives, even if she was a licensed doctor and being very professional about the conversation. He also did not particularly want to share that he’d experienced gas pain before—fucking macrobiotic diet—and this absolutely wasn’t that. 

He answered anyway, avoiding Wyatt’s gaze. 

“No, I don’t think so. I’ve… dealt with that before. This feels… sharper maybe? More intense and persistent? I don’t know exactly how to describe it.” 

Lisa tilted her head thoughtfully. “Could you show me where it’s coming from?”

Shane moved his hand to hover over his lower right side, almost afraid to touch. Lisa pressed her lips together in a small frown. Wyatt also frowned.  

“How long has the pain been bothering you?” Lisa asked. She seemed to be running through some kind of checklist of questions in her head. 

He’d been feeling uncomfortable for almost a full day, but the pain had certainly shifted and changed for the worse over the last several hours. Shane shrugged, unsure. “My stomach has felt weird since yesterday, but it didn’t get bad until a couple of hours ago.”

As he answered the question, Ilya reappeared in the backyard, Cassie close behind him. Shane sighed in relief. It was taking all of his energy to ignore the stabbing sensation in his side long enough to stay focused on the conversation. He was ready to be home. He slowly and carefully pushed himself forward in his chair until he was sitting right at the edge. A soft groan slipped out when Shane tried to sit up straight.  

“Shane, honey, I think—” Lisa started, but she was cut off as Ilya jogged across the deck and crouched down in front of Shane.

“I thought you said you were feeling okay, моя любовь?” Ilya asked. His face looked calm, but concern bled into his voice. “Cassie says you are not?” 

Shane shook his head and winced. “I thought I’d be fine.” He was feeling more than just a little bit sick to his stomach from the pain at this point.   

Ilya reached up and pressed the back of his hand to Shane’s cheek, and then forehead, and Shane felt weirdly emotional at his husband’s tenderness. He would have usually tried to dodge his hand—Lisa, Wyatt, and Cassie were watching Shane, which was embarrassing—but he was afraid that moving would make him feel even worse than he already did. 

“My stomach really hurts,” he mumbled, sheepishly. Ilya’s cool hand felt nice on his skin.

Ilya’s eyebrows knitted together with worry. “You are warm, sweetheart,” Ilya said. Shane wasn’t shocked. A fever, even a minor one, would explain why he’d felt so tired and gross all day. He guessed the stomachache must also be caused by whatever virus or bug was causing the fever. “Let’s get you home.”

Shane took a breath and braced himself to stand up. Ilya, probably knowing that Shane would rather die than verbalize that he might need help getting out of the stupid adirondack chair, placed one strong hand under Shane’s armpit and the other around his back to help. Shane couldn’t help but gasp at the wrenching pain that the movement triggered in his side. He hunched forward a bit, and Ilya steadied him, eyes wide. Lisa stepped forward and placed a supportive hand under his elbow, her expression purposeful. 

“Shane.” Lisa said firmly. “I think you need to go to the hospital to get checked out.”

Shane was surprised, based on the hand that he felt tighten around his arm, and so was Ilya. 

“The hospital?” Shane asked. 

“I’m worried that you might have appendicitis,” Lisa said bluntly.

Ilya swore softly, and Shane saw his husband look him over, as if he would be able to see Shane’s malfunctioning appendix if he looked hard enough. 

“Appendicitis?” He gritted out. 

“Yes. The amount of pain you're in and the location of it is pretty concerning,” Lisa said. “If you came into the ER and were one of my patients, I’d run some tests to be completely sure, but you’re showing most of the classic signs.”

Wyatt nodded in agreement. “I had to get my appendix removed when I was 20, Holly, and honestly it seems like you’re in kind of a similar situation.” 

Shane was surprised. He vaguely knew what appendicitis was. He’d had a teammate when he was in school who’d missed a few games because he’d had to have an appendectomy. Was that what he was dealing with? Shane was generally pretty healthy. He got sick occasionally, like anyone, but he’d never been sick enough to need surgery. But the more he thought about the situation, the more it seemed to fall into the realm of possibility. He could imagine that an organ rejecting its own existence would feel exactly like what was currently going on in his stomach. 

Ilya rubbed Shane’s back, and directed an alarmed, but thankful, look at Lisa and Wyatt. “Shane, I think hospital is a good idea, yes? To be safe?”

Shane sighed, but paused only for a beat. “Alright. Let’s go.”

He almost laughed when he saw the same startled expression on Wyatt and Ilya’s faces. Clearly, they were expecting him to push back against the suggestion. To be fair, Shane could admit that he didn’t have an incredible history when it came to complying with medical advice. It drove Ilya crazy. Terry had literally had to physically push Shane down onto the bench once to stop him from getting on the ice after he realized he’d been attempting to practice with a 39 degree fever. He’d also gotten a stern talking to from Wiebe last season after hiding a bone bruise for a few days. In his defense, Shane hadn’t realized that the fever or the injury were that bad at the time. He was simply used to ignoring illness and pushing through pain. It was what was expected in Montreal, and he still hadn’t quite gotten used to the emphasis the Centaurs placed on player well-being. 

Today though, Shane was at his breaking point. If he was being realistic, he didn’t think another over-the-counter painkiller was going to cut it. The pain in his stomach was so awful. It was throbbing, but instead of a dull ache, it was sharp and searing. He was starting to sweat from the effort of standing and he seriously felt like he might puke. Hell, if Lisa hadn’t said anything, after another hour or two of feeling like this he probably would have ended up asking Ilya to bring him to the ER anyway. 

Ilya broke out of his shock first. He stepped forward, helping Shane along with him. 

The rookies across the deck had finally noticed something was up, and Haas called out, “What’s going on? Shane, are you okay?” 

“I’m good,” Shane replied weakly. 

Ilya cut him off. “He’s a liar. He's sick, but he will be fine.” Ilya sounded like he was trying to reassure Haas and himself. 

Haas and the rest of the rookies did not look reassured.  

“I’ll go talk to them. Keep us updated,” Wyatt told Ilya, then he looked at Shane empathetically. “Feel better soon, Holly.” He walked over to the group to explain what was going on. 

“Do you need anything?” Cassie asked.

“Tell Bood we’re sorry for leaving early?” Shane asked. 

Cassie clicked her tongue at him. “Shane, Zane won’t mind at all. We just want you to feel better.” She stepped over and opened the sliding door for them, then proceeded to walk with them out to the car, opening doors along the way. Lisa followed. 

The short walk to the car was brutal. Ilya continued to support some of Shane’s weight and they moved slowly, but Shane felt like he was being stabbed with every step. The exertion required to walk only the few meters from his chair to the car made him feel so sick that when they finally made it around to the passenger side of the car, he stopped, pushed Ilya out of the way shakily, and gripped the door handle for support as he leaned over and gagged. After a few quick but miserable retches, the contents of his stomach were in the bushes next to Cassie and Bood’s driveway. 

Ilya placed a hand on his back and murmured comforting things in Russian while Shane coughed and spit to get the sour taste out of his mouth. Somehow, throwing up made the pain in his side even worse, and he groaned roughly. He hated that Cassie and Lisa were watching this happen. 

“I’m so sorry about this, Cassie,” he panted, trying to catch his breath. 

“Oh my gosh, Shane, I told you earlier that you don’t need to apologize. You can’t help being sick.” Cassie said, her hands hovering around him as if she wasn’t quite sure how to assist. “Let me go grab you a bottle of water.”

“Maybe also a plastic bag for the car, if you have one?” Shane heard Ilya ask Cassie lowly, before he opened the car door for Shane and helped him in.

Shane all but collapsed into the seat. He pulled his legs up as much as he could and curled around them, then let his head fall back against the headrest. He caught a glimpse of himself in the side mirror. His skin had a grayish tinge to it, and his hairline was sweaty. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe that this morning he’d thought he’d pulled a muscle. So stupid. Ilya put his seatbelt on for him, maneuvering the lap belt so that it was positioned properly between his bent legs and his torso, but extending it so that it wouldn’t press against Shane’s abdomen. Shane held the belt to prevent it from retracting. Ilya kissed him quickly on his forehead and then closed the car door. He briefly heard Lisa’s voice, muffled by the closed door, and then a soft sound of agreement from his husband. A few seconds later, the driver’s side door opened and Ilya got in. He placed a water bottle and a plastic bag beside Shane. 

“Drive safe, Ilya,” he heard Lisa say. 

“Thank you, Lisa. I’ll text.”

Ilya briefly cupped Shane’s cheek with a comforting hand, and then began to back out of the driveway. Shane tried to think about anything other than how shitty he was feeling. He started with logistics.

“What about Anya?” Shane forced out. “And do I need to text Terry and Wiebe?"   

“Lisa is going to have Wyatt go to the house to get her,” Ilya said, without hesitation. “She will stay with them until we can pick her up. We will call Terry and Wiebe later when we know more.” It helped Shane’s nerves to have a plan, but with one in place and with his brain too scattered to think of anything else, he no longer had a source of distraction for the twenty minute drive from Bood and Cassie’s house to the hospital. 

Alone with Ilya in the car and without an audience, Shane couldn’t stop himself from writhing in his seat a bit. There was no position he could find that would ease the cutting pain in his abdomen even a small amount. He curled and uncurled in his seat, tried shifting his weight to different sides, and pressed down against the side of his stomach with his hand. The pressure helped for a minute, but when he relaxed his grip the flood of agony he felt made him double over and moan. Ilya had reached over and squeezed his thigh helplessly in response.

“Shane, sweetheart, you are scaring me,” Ilya finally said, about 15 minutes into the drive. His eyes were moving rapidly back and forth between Shane and the road. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “It hurts.” 

Ilya’s jaw tightened. “I know, моя любовь, we will be there in 5 more minutes. Just hold on.”

Shane stared at the dashboard and tried even out his breathing. Motivated by his desire to not terrify his husband any further, he wrapped his arms around his stomach, turned and pressed his face into the back of his seat, and kept as still as possible. 

By the time they finally pulled into the emergency drive, Shane’s eyes were stinging with involuntary tears. He couldn’t stop himself from throwing up on the ground again as Ilya helped him out of the car and into one of the wheelchairs that were sitting near the entrance to the ER, only narrowly avoiding ruining Ilya’s shoes. Ilya shushed him before he could choke out another apology, and Shane was miserable enough that he allowed it. 

He didn’t even have enough energy to feel embarrassed about the wheelchair as Ilya rolled him into the waiting room. Instead, he sat hunched over in the seat, breathing in and out slowly and trembling occasionally, and he focused on listening to Ilya give his information to the nurse at the ER’s check-in desk and on signing the forms that Ilya handed him shakily. After a moment, Ilya turned back to Shane. “They will see you very soon, I think, and then we can get you some pain medication to help.” 

“I hope so,” Shane whispered. 

“I need to go park the car солнышко, but I will be back,” Ilya continued hesitantly. “I won’t be long. You will be okay without me for a few minutes?” 

Shane could tell that Ilya was hiding how worried he was, and that he didn’t want to leave him. He tried to take a turn at being reassuring. “I’ll be alright, don’t worry. Go.” Shane was silently grateful that his voice was steady, if somewhat strained. Ilya looked unhappy about it, but he left anyway. 

True to Ilya’s word, and much sooner than Shane would have expected in the semi-crowded ER, he was being taken back to a triage area. He managed to text Ilya an update right before the nurse began to check his vital signs.  

“Mr. Hollander, it looks like your temperature and your heart rate are a little higher than normal. Can you tell me more about your symptoms?” 

Shane did his best to describe what he’d been experiencing. Even to his own ears, his voice sounded thin and stilted, and he was struggling to concentrate with the continuous knifelike jabbing in his abdomen refusing to let up. Ilya was guided into the room by another staff member right as Shane was finishing explaining his symptoms, and he introduced himself to the nurse. Shane was asked a few more questions, and Ilya waited beside him, occasionally chiming in.  

“I’d like to get you to a bed as soon as possible, Mr. Hollander, so that a doctor can examine you and we can provide some pain relief. Please wait here.” Shane nodded and the nurse left. 

Shane closed his eyes. He wished he could fall asleep. “How are you doing, моя любовь?” Ilya asked. 

“I feel… so bad.” Shane said, unable to sugarcoat his response. He literally couldn’t think clearly enough to provide a better answer.

Ilya gently rubbed the back of Shane’s neck as Shane breathed through the pain. They waited in silence for only a few minutes before a different staff member finally arrived to move Shane to an unoccupied bed. 

The bed that he was moved to was one of many in a single long row, separated by blue curtains. The area was busy and noisy. People were chattering and coughing, machines were beeping, and there was a lot of rushed movement. The air smelled like disinfectant. An environment like this would usually be stressful for Shane, but at this point, he was honestly just thankful that he could finally lay down. The head of the bed was elevated enough that he couldn’t lay fully flat, but that was fine. He was completely exhausted.

He curled up on his side on the thin mattress slowly, one hand pressed to his stomach, and he waited to see what came next. Hopefully, it would be painkillers. He watched Ilya as he alternated between checking on Shane and sending texts, presumably updates to Cassie or Lisa or Wyatt. He tried not to writhe around too much, but he couldn’t stop himself from twisting or tensing up periodically in an attempt to ease his discomfort.

“Knock, knock,” a voice announced from behind the curtain separating Shane from the rest of the hallway. A woman in a white coat popped her head in before stepping in fully. “Mr. Hollander?” 

Shane started to try to sit fully up. 

“Oh, Mr. Hollander, no need to sit up. I understand you’re experiencing quite a bit of pain. My name is Dr. Reid. I have a few more questions for you, and then I’ll be completing a physical exam. Does that sound alright?”

“Yeah, of course.” Shane said, his voice cracking. “You can call me Shane.”

“Will do, Shane. And who do you have with you?” Dr. Reid acknowledged Ilya politely. 

“My husband, Ilya.”

“Wonderful. It’s always helpful to have some company in the ER. Nice to meet you, Ilya.” 

Ilya responded politely, and then Dr. Reid jumped right in with her questions. She repeated some of the ones that Shane had answered earlier, but also had quite a few new ones. She nodded in response to his answers, sometimes asking for more details. Eventually, she was ready to move on. 

“Shane, I’d like to examine your abdomen now. I will do my very best to be gentle and keep the exam efficient, but I want to warn you that exams for suspected appendicitis can be painful. Please let me know if you need a break.” 

“Okay,” Shane agreed, nervous. He couldn’t possibly imagine how he would handle more pain on top of what he was already dealing with. 

Dr. Reid flattened the elevated head of the bed so that Shane was laying flat. She had him lift up his shirt and unzip his pants so that they could be pulled further down his waist, and then she used a stethoscope to listen to his stomach. 

“Alright, I’m going to start palpating your abdomen, lightly at first, and then using some more pressure. Try to relax.”

Shane let her press into his stomach a few times, but as she got nearer to his ride side, he tensed, afraid. He tilted his head back and looked up at Ilya, who had gotten up to stand near Shane’s head for the exam. Ilya smoothed his hair back and smiled reassuringly, though Shane could see that his shoulders were rigid with stress from the entire situation. He picked up Shane’s hand to hold. “Squeeze if you need to,” Ilya said quietly. Shane squeezed his hand once lightly in agreement.

Dr. Reid pressed into his right side, and Shane flinched, closing his eyes and clenching his teeth together so that he wouldn’t make a noise. She released the pressure a moment later, and Shane let out a moan as his body jerked involuntarily and his vision went white even behind his closed eyelids. It was excruciating. He vaguely heard Dr. Reid apologize, and she gave him a moment to recover.

“Sorry, sorry.” Shane mumbled, opening his eyes again. Ilya, above him, shushed him and used his free hand to wipe away wetness from tears that Shane hadn’t even realized were forming. The tips of the fingers on his other hand were white from how hard Shane had been crushing them, and Shane forced himself to let go. 

“You’re doing very well, Shane. Give me one more minute and we’ll get you some pain medication,” Dr. Reid said, and Shane tried very hard to relax again. She completed a few more maneuvers that definitely didn’t feel good, but also didn’t feel as terrible as the palpating, and finally they were done. 

Dr. Reid raised the head of Shane’s bed again and said calmly, “Shane, I feel pretty confident that you’ve got a relatively advanced case of appendicitis. I’m going to have a nurse come in and collect some blood for testing, and we’ll need some urine too, just to rule out anything unforeseen. I’d like to get a CT scan to verify the diagnosis. At this point, I’m not concerned that your appendix has perforated or ruptured, but I would like to have a surgical consultation completed relatively quickly, as a precaution. Do you have any questions?”

Shane didn’t, but Ilya did. “We can get him some pain medication now?”

“Yes, absolutely. I’ll instruct the nurse to begin an IV with a morphine drip.” 

Ilya nodded, satisfied, “thank you.”

The next few minutes passed in a blur. Shane wasn’t sure if he should be concerned at how fast things were moving, considering that ERs are famously slow, but he wasn’t going to complain about it either. Changing into the hospital gown was brutal. Ilya had to help him take off his pants, because bending was next to impossible at this point. Another nurse came in, collected the fluids that were needed for testing, and finally, finally started an IV. By the time the nurse left the room, Shane was completely wrung out. 

Shane reached out for Ilya’s hand again, and Ilya took it, careful to avoid the new IV in Shane’s arm. He pressed a kiss to the back of Shane’s hand.

Shane started feeling the effects of the IV almost after only a minute or so. The piercing pain that he had been feeling was starting to be blunted. It wasn’t gone, but it was becoming less distinct. It felt like someone was poking him from the inside with a knitting needle rather than a ragged blade. He sighed in relief. 

“It is helping?”

“Yeah.” Shane let out another breath, and smiled. “It’s helping.”

“You sound better,” Ilya told him seriously. “More like Shane. I did not like to hear you in so much pain.”

The small smile that he had been able to manage shifted to a grimace when another wave of nausea swept over him. He guessed the pain meds couldn’t help everything. 

“Okay?” Ilya asked. 

“I just still feel kind of sick.”

Ilya frowned and rubbed Shane’s wrist with his thumb. Thankfully, the feeling passed soon.

“Can you call my parents?” Shane asked, when he was no longer afraid to open his mouth. “I know it’s late, but just to let them know what’s going on?” Yuna was going to lose her mind, but it would be worse if she didn’t find out until later. 

“Yes, I will call David.” 

Shane huffed out a short laugh. Clearly, Ilya was on the same page as Shane when it came to dreading Yuna’s response. Ilya waited for Shane to nod before pulling out his phone. They couldn’t have the phone on speaker-mode in the ER, but Ilya leaned down close enough to Shane so that they could both listen. It rang for a moment, and then the call connected. 

“Ilya?” David sounded pleased that Ilya had called, but also confused. It was almost 11:15pm.

“Hello,” Ilya replied. “I am here with Shane.”

“Hi Dad,” Shane said. 

“Everything alright? I don’t usually hear from you two this late.”  

“Funny you should ask…” Shane said, and then he felt an unfamiliar warmth spread through his body. Wow, okay, there was the morphine. 

Ilya was looking at him, eyebrows raised, and Shane realized he didn’t actually finish his sentence. He gestured at Ilya to continue, then brought his free arm up to cover his eyes. He was starting to feel kind of floaty, which was disorienting.  

“David,” Ilya continued calmly, “We are in the emergency room. We think Shane has appendicitis.”

The syllables in ‘appendicitis’ were shaped differently in Ilya’s accent. It was cute, and Shane smiled again. He was relieved when he realized that he had relaxed enough to notice.

“Okay. Okay.” David said, processing the news. There was surprise and worry in his voice. “Shane, buddy, how are you doing?” 

“Shane is, um, he has been given some morphine, for pain.” Ilya said lightly. “I think he is feeling it.” 

Shane was definitely feeling it. He suddenly felt like he was melting into the bed. The pain in his side wasn’t gone, and neither was the nausea, but the feelings were no longer all-consuming. He was getting drowsy. 

“Dad, I did not feel good… we were at Bood’s. It really, really was not fun. For me. Felt like I was being stabbed. Still not great, but medicine is good though. Yeah... helping. I’m tired.” The words felt weird in his mouth, and he was aware he was babbling a bit, but he couldn’t help it. 

“I’m glad the medicine is helping, bud.” David still sounded concerned, but there was a note of humor in his voice as well. Maybe Shane sounded higher than he thought. Either way, it had undoubtedly been the right decision to call David, because there was nothing about the situation Yuna would have found funny. 

Shane’s arm was still over his eyes, and he started to think he might be able to ignore the lingering pain enough to fall asleep. He let Ilya keep talking and listened to the conversation between his dad and his husband as it continued on without him. 

“We are waiting for test results. They took blood and urine, and he will have a CT scan soon. Once they are sure it is his appendix that is the problem he will most likely have surgery to remove it.” 

Shane’s eyelids were heavy. 

“Yuna’s already asleep, but I’ll wake her up to let her know. She’ll want to come to the hospital.”

“Yes, of course, but maybe tomorrow morning? I am not sure when the surgery…” 

Shane drifted. 

“Shane. Shane, солнышко.” 

Someone was touching him. Ilya? Shane forced his eyes open. His husband, Dr. Reid, and a few other doctors or nurses were in the room. Ilya’s hand was on his shoulder. He didn’t know how long he’d been sleeping. He’d woken up when they’d taken him to get the CT, but his memory of the trip was fuzzy and distant. He felt hot and sweaty and uncomfortable, but the morphine he was on was still dulling the pain in his stomach, which he was thankful for. 

“What? What time is it?”

“It’s about 1:45am, моя любовь,” Ilya answered. “Dr. Reid is here because she is concerned.”

“Your fever has risen more than I would have liked in the last hour, Shane, and your CT results confirmed that your appendix is highly inflamed. I spoke with one of our on-call surgeons, and we suspect your appendix could rupture soon. We want to avoid that complication, if possible.”

“Am I having surgery now?” Shane asked, his mind slow to put the pieces together. 

“Yes, we’d like to transfer you up to our pre-operative area,” Dr. Reid said, gently but firmly.

Shane nodded, and the other staff members in the room started to prep the bed to be moved. Shane looked at Ilya, remembering abruptly that his husband wouldn’t be able to come with him. “I love you,” he told Ilya, a bit nervously. 

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Ilya said, leaning down and kissing his cheek. “You will be just fine. You will wake up and feel better and then I will be with you.” 

Shane closed his eyes, internalizing the words as his bed began to roll away. Within the next thirty minutes, he was on an operating table, counting backwards from ten. 

“Ten… nine… eight…”

Shane woke up, and it took him a second to remember where he was. 

To his left, someone was fiddling with an IV bag, and it took Shane a few long seconds to realize that the bag was connected to him. Someone else was in a bed next to him, asleep. The person adjusting his IV turned towards him and saw that he was awake. 

“Hi Mr. Hollander. Are you with me?”

“Hi,” Shane croaked, confused and groggy. His mouth felt cottony. 

“My name is Jacob, Mr. Hollander. I’m your recovery nurse. Are you feeling any pain?”

Shane thought about it. He felt a minor internal ache deep in his abdomen, and there was a stinging sensation closer to the surface that he guessed was from his stitches, but the sharp, jagged pain in his side was gone, like someone had removed a knife from his stomach. He sighed in relief and mumbled, “Not really.” 

“Good, I’m glad to hear that. Let me know if that changes, or if you start to feel nauseous,” Jacob replied. Shane thought he nodded in response, but he couldn’t be sure. 

He was starting to fall asleep again when Ilya popped into his head. “Can I see my husband?”

Jacob smiled knowingly, and Shane wondered if he’d asked the question already. “You’re going to be moved to a temporary room shortly, and you’ll be able to see him there.”

“Okay,” Shane whispered. 

He remained mostly awake after talking to Jacob, but time passed strangely. His thoughts were slippery, and he felt pleasantly calm. He watched the things that were going on around him passively, but the room was quiet and dark, and he often realized that he was just staring off into space. After an amount of time that Shane couldn’t even begin to estimate, he was being wheeled out of the recovery room. It was a strange sensation, being rolled through the hospital. Shane felt like he was processing in slow motion. 

Suddenly, he was in a new room, looking at Ilya. 

“Ilyaaaaaa!” God, Shane was so happy to see him. 

“Good morning, Shane,” Ilya said, hiding a grin. He was sitting in an uncomfortable-looking chair beside Shane’s bed. “How are you feeling, солнышко?”

“Better.” The word stuck a little bit coming out of his mouth, a tiny pause between the syllables.  

“Your surgeon said that everything went very smoothly. She said your appendix was very angry,” Ilya said, running his thumb along Shane’s cheek. 

“It felt angry,” Shane grumbled. He blinked a few times, slowly. “I’m so tired, Ilya.”

“I am not surprised, it’s just after 5 o’clock in the morning.” 

Shane frowned. “Have you been sleeping?” 

Ilya chuckled. “No, not much. But do not worry about me, I am okay. I will sleep tomorrow when we are both home.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I think so, yes. The surgeon said that she wants to monitor you at least until the afternoon. If everything looks good, you will be discharged. I texted Terry and he wants to follow-up with you when we are home.”

“Does my mom know?”

“She knows. David texted and said they will be here right at 7:30am, when visiting hours begin. He said you should get ready to be smothered.”

“Mothered?” 

“Yes, that.” 

Shane grinned, and blinked again, sleep pulling at him.  

“Sleep, Shane,” Ilya prompted, patting his cheek and withdrawing his hand. Shane whined at the loss of contact, but couldn’t stop himself from sinking deeper into the bed. 

Soon, he was out. 

A nurse woke Shane an hour or so later, to check his vital signs and pain level. She was fast and efficient, and by the time he was fully awake again, she was gone. Shane rapidly became aware of a new and pressing discomfort. He grimaced, and looked over at Ilya. 

His husband had passed out sprawled in the chair beside Shane’s bed, his head propped up with his hand. His breathing was regular and deep, and Shane admired his ability to sleep literally anywhere. Shane pushed himself up into a sitting position with some difficulty. He tried to figure out whether or not he’d be able to walk to the bathroom across the room on his own. He didn’t think walking would be an issue, but he was hesitant to try to untangle his IV on his own or get out of bed by himself. He didn’t want to wake up his poor husband again, after he’d already been up all night, but fuck, Shane really had to go. 

“Ilya,” he whispered quietly, then waited for a beat. No response.

“Ilya,” he hissed urgently. Nothing.

Shane felt like he was going to explode. He’d been receiving IV fluids for hours, and he didn’t think he’d gone to the bathroom since before he’d gotten his IV in the ER. 

“Ilya!” 

Ilya jerked awake and jolted upright in his chair when he saw Shane sitting up. Shane winced.  

“Shane? Are you okay? What is wrong?” He looked stressed, and Shane felt bad for scaring him, but he had to worry about that later. 

“I need help getting out of bed. Like, right now. I have to pee so bad.” Shane saw relief wash over Ilya’s face when he realized that Shane wasn’t having another serious medical emergency, and he jumped up to help remove the blankets from Shane’s legs. Getting out of bed was somewhat challenging. His stitches pulled uncomfortably, and Ilya had to maneuver the pole holding his IV around the wheels of the bed while also keeping a hand on Shane, who was standing up and waiting somewhat unsteadily and very impatiently. Thankfully, the short walk to the bathroom was easier than expected, and Shane relieved himself quickly. 

He washed his hands and stood in the bathroom, evaluating himself. He was encouraged by the lack of pain he was feeling. He was sore, for sure, and the pull of the stitches was certainly present in the few small areas where his incisions had been made, but it was nothing that he couldn’t manage. He could see himself being up and moving around like normal within only another day or two, easily, and to be honest, he’s probably even played through worse. He knew it would take some time to be cleared before he could actually get on the ice again, but Shane would almost be willing to go play a hockey game right now if it meant he’d never have to experience the same level of pain that he was in yesterday. 

His thoughts were interrupted when Ilya knocked, calling through the door. “You are okay, моя любовь?”

He opened the bathroom door and smiled at Ilya reassuringly. “I’m okay.”

Ilya tilted his chin up and kissed him gently. “You look better. You were so pale yesterday, and in so much pain. It scared me.” Shane suddenly noticed the lingering tension in Ilya’s brow and the dark circles under his eyes, and frowned. He was upset that he was the reason for them. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, “you look exhausted.”

Ilya rubbed his hands up and down Shane’s arms lightly. “No apologizing. In sickness and in health, yes? You would do the same for me.”  

Shane nodded. “I would, but let’s not tempt fate. Don’t pull any stunts.”

Ilya rolled his eyes. “Fine, I will tell my appendix to stay where it belongs.” He subtly scanned Shane up and down, inspecting, and Shane knew it would take Ilya a while to truly shake off the stress of the scare. 

“I’m sore, and still tired, but I feel so much better, Ilya. Seriously.” 

Ilya’s face relaxed, just a smidge. “Good, I like you better when you are boring.” He grinned. “And your ass is peeking out of the back of your dress, which is fun for me.”

“Fuck you,” Shane exclaimed, laughing, “and it’s a hospital gown, not a dress!” He reached behind his back to pull the sides of his gown together. 

Ilya laughed and kissed him again, his lips soft and warm, and then helped him back into bed.