Chapter Text
Shane thought, and in the back of his mind he’d hoped, that Mr Rozanov had taken offence to his awkward laughter and moved clinics.
Here he was at eight in the morning staring down the scheduled spay with his name attached. His name, next to Anya.
That meant he would have to collect Anya off Mr Rozanov, call him after the procedure and then discharge her with care instructions. That was three different interactions, three.
He was good at spays, they were a simple procedure, but the idea of a famous client made him itchy. If something went wrong, would he sue? Would he send hockey fans after the clinic, after Shane?
“Rose!” He hissed at the woman as she entered the kennel and prep area, coffee in hand, “can we swap? I’ll take your consults this morning.”
“Is Kiara the nurse for the spay?” She asked as she placed a ginger ale on the desk next to him.
“No..?”
“I think you can manage a dog spay, Shane. I’ve got some nasty ones anyway, they’ll need lots of admin.” She glanced up at him, pausing for emphasis, “one of them even needs a referral.” She starts braiding the waves of light auburn hair that never get greasy, no matter how many terriers rub their bodies into it. It’s superhuman.
“And if Kiara was involved in the spay?” He gets along well with the nurse, they’d have easy conversations about the intricate henna that she always had up her arms and about the patients, but he thinks there might be something a bit different between Rose and her.
Rose, who he was never taking out for dinner again, shakes her head. “No, I don’t think Kiara likes attending spays.”
“Rose.”
“He seems pretty sweet, he was nice to Linda and Grace on reception.”
“Dr Landry.”
“Ask him about his teeth! You love doing dentals!”
“Yeah on dogs!” He yells after her as she leaves the kennels by bumping the door open with her hip, hands still wrapped in her hair.
“So…” Eleanor begins from where she’s preparing a kennel for a scan patient, “Ilya Rozanov, yeah?”
“Oh god, don’t start.” Gossip in vet clinics was insane, Shane had managed to avoid the majority of it over the years but he was not immune to discussing insane clients. Mr Rozanov was not a client he felt mentally prepared to gossip about.
“I don’t know much about nothing, but, he’s pretty y’know...”
“Y’know?” Shane turns from where he’s posted in front of the main monitor in the room, daring to look at the nurse.
“That hockey has certainly done something good to him, even if his teeth aren’t real.”
“Eleanor.”
“What?” She squirts the yellow disinfectant in his direction, like he’s a disobedient cat, “I have eyes, he’s not here now, is he?”
“Aren’t you a lesbian? And you watch hockey?”
“Who do you think told Rose about your meeting with Rozanov?”
“It was a consult, don’t say meeting, it sounds all…”
“Sordid?” She drops to a sultry tone and uses the blanket she’s just grabbed to wrap her shoulders sensually like some old Hollywood star, “Illicit? So wrong yet so, so right?”
Shane let his head fall into the small standing desk. “Who’s free to go in with me?”
“Kiara and John are going to be helping Rose with the scan, so…”
“Oh no.”
“Hey, spays are boring as hell to watch, okay?”
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He hides in the waiting room with the nurses helping with preparing the labelled boxes with the meds in until that dreaded name appear under the ‘waiting’ column again.
John is the first to see it. “Hockey man’s here!”
Eleanor drops what she’s drawing up into a syringe to rush out the door followed by the other nurse. Shane follows with shaky legs which make him clutch onto the banister and awkwardly squeak down the stairs. They’re waiting for him in front of the doors which lead to the waiting room, like puppies expecting a walk.
Eleanor spots his tight grip, “you’re not like actually nervous, are you?”
“A little.” He squeaks out. “He’s just… famous and now I have to remove one of his dogs organs.”
“Hey, hey,” she looks like shes about to go in for a hug and then drops her arms, “I’ve seen you remove so many organs, you’re the best organ remover I know.”
Shane just stands in front of the doors, trying to control his breathing. He’s always nervous, it’s his baseline, but having to operate on a hockey superstars dog isn’t even the worst aspect of this whole situation. No, having to talk to the hockey superstar who probably thinks he’s extremely racist towards Russians or whatever is making him wonder whether he’s experiencing atrial fibrillation.
Rose comes strolling through the doors, swinging them open and almost slamming John in the face.
“Oy!”
“Jesus,” she hisses, “what the hell are you lot doing here? Shane, your patient is in there… oh.”
“I don’t want to get attacked by rabid hockey fans!”
“Your parents are hockey fans.”
“Exactly!”
She puts a hand to the small of his back and starts to push him towards the doors. “I promise, he’s not as scary as he looks. He’s nervous, if anything.” She leans in to whisper into his ear, “go get ‘em, tiger!”
Now was not really the time to explain that what he felt towards Mr Rozanov wasn’t fear, mainly because he was now standing in the waiting room but also because he couldn’t quite tell what he was feeling. His stomach felt like an experiment gone wrong.
“Anya?” He calls out with more trepidation that before.
Mr Rozanov gets up instantly, moving towards the vet with a pinched, wrinkled mouth. Shane is preparing himself mentally for a berating, for being asked if he thinks its appropriate to laugh when someone simply doesn’t understand a word. He’s spent nights reliving every moment, he’s made apology speeches to himself in the mirror.
“She will be okay, yes?” The Russian man seems to blurt out.
“Uhh.”
“It is normal procedure, correct? Small mortality rate, one to five in ten thousand?”
“Yes!” Shane blurted out, perhaps too eagerly, “it’s one of the most common veterinary procedures. Since Anya is young and in good health we expect no complications. Her bloodwork also came back all good, there’s nothing outside of the normal range that we need to be concerned about. On average, spayed and neutered animals also live a few years longer than intact animals, so overall this should make a positive impact on her lifespan.”
Oh my god.
Mr Rozanov only nods. “You will do the best for her, da? She is my baby. You will call after surgery to tell me how it goes.” His blue eyes seem so harsh under the waiting rooms strip lighting, but Shane’s been staring at them for so long he now sees the flicker of pain that crosses the Russians gaze.
“Of course, it’s clinic policy.” Shane tries to lace his voice with as much sureness as he possible could. He tucks his shaking hands behind his back, nobody wants a dud veterinarian operating on their animal.
“Oke.” Mr Rozanov picks the spaniel up from the floor and nuzzles into her brown head. “You be good girl for Dr Hollander, yes Anya?”
“Oh, it’s only Shane.”
Blue eyes searched him once again, “be a good girl for only Shane, Anya.”
With a final kiss to the bitches head he passes her carefully over to Shane’s waiting arms. He usually walks dogs up to the kennels, but seeing how Anya’s already locked on to Mr Rozanov as he steps away him carrying her is probably the easiest way to go about this.
His arms also brush against the other man’s as he takes hold of her, his arms are bare and tingle like an acid burn against the warmth of Mr Rozanovs jacket.
“Goodbye, moya malyshka,” he waves sadly to the dog as he leaves.
Anya struggles valiantly in Shane’s grip with whines that start breathy and soon deafen the man.
“Okay Anya,” he shushes her as she begins to howl. There’s a terrier on the floor who looks like he’s about to join in. “Tsh, tsh, Anya. It’s alright.”
He opens the doors up to John and Eleanor who immediately pounce.
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The surgery is, of course, a success. Rose is the one who adds the of course, in Shane’s opinion he could’ve moved a bit quicker with final sutures to reduce risk of any post-anaesthesia complications, but he manages to get it done before Rose has finished up with her scans. She calls his speed ‘fucking insane’, he always walks away with improvements doing laps in his mind. Like hockey warm-ups. Oh shit.
It’s comforting having a few staff just floating around while Shane makes the call. Rose is writing up notes on the computer about the dog, Olaf, who was scanned and Kiara is sitting next to her on the only chair in the room cradling the pom who’d had a few x-rays for a potential broken leg (it was a soft tissue injury). Eleanor is replacing the oxygen tank but is lingering in the room for the call.
“He’s just a hockey player,” Shane says to curb their expectant glances.
“A rich, famous hockey player. This isn’t the beer leagues we’re talking about,” Kiara replies, petting the pom’s head when it snuffles gently. Rose looks like she’s about to try the same with Kiara, her gaze is wrenched away from her notes towards the woman who’s grinning and focused on the pom’s tiny black eyes.
“This is a great opportunity for you to get a sugar daddy,” Eleanor agrees.
“Right! I’m calling him now, don’t say anything incriminating too loudly!”
“Landry,” Kiara jokes.
Shane watches his best friend brighten in a brilliant shade of red.
“This is vet?” Mr Rozanov’s voice comes through the phone, “how is Anya?”
“Hi, Mr Rozanov.” Shane begins, putting on his best ‘I did four years of schooling just for this’ voice. “Anya is all good, she’s awake now in the kennel. She will be taken for a walk soon. I’m just letting you know that you can pick her up from around four today, I’m sure she’ll be very excited to go back home.”
“No complications with the surgery?”
“It all went fine and dandy.” Rose chokes on her redbull. Fucking hell, did he just say that? “And she doesn’t seem to mind the stitches, which is always a positive.”
“Very good,” Mr Rozanov’s voice seems to deflate slightly, “I will be there at four. If anything goes wrong, call me.”
“Of course, Mr Rozanov. Goodbye, see you at four.”
“Thank you.”
Shane ends the phone call with hands so sweaty he’s worried they’re going to slip off the button. These landline phones are going to destroy him one day.
“Fine and dandy?” Rose screeches with laughter, “oh, we’re getting all western now are we, partner?”
“Oh my fucking god.” It becomes a mantra in Shane’s head. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard those words said in his entire life, he has no idea where that came from.
“He seems like a really sweet guy!” Eleanor croons. “He didn’t even mind that Shane got possessed by the spirit of Texas.”
“Alright,” Shane mutters, “I’m gonna go…”
“Go take your lunch,” Kiara suggests, “you’re back on consults in a few.”
He’d pretty much completely forgotten about the fact he still had half the day to get through, all his energy had been dedicated to worrying about what Mr Rozanov could possibly say.
“You’re seeing your parents tonight, aren’t you?” Rose mentioned casually, clicking through to show him his first consults.
If he thought his heart could take it, he’d be asking for a sip of her redbull.
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He meets a kitten called Elephant who’s having trouble urinating and a pregnant dachshund called Inky who needs a herpes jab. Both are sweet as anything, and the owners are happy to lead the conversation with bite-sized amounts of small-talk all relating to animals. It’s a topic Shane’s more than happy to leap on. He always has his hands on the animals, smoothing them down, checking their whole body. He can't quite tell if it's because he needs to do something with his hands, or if it's just been drilled into him. They both seem appreciative and both animals leave without leaving their mark on his hands.
He’s spraying down his table when Rose casually opens the door which leads into the dispensary with a small grin on her face and shifty eyes.
“What?”
“Do you want me to go and get Anya?” She replies with a sweet smile.
“Oh, oh my god.” He tries to use the mirrored window on the door to readjust his hair. Elephant had found refuge from his prying hands on his shoulders and had managed to give him bed head. “How did you know before me?”
She pointed to the monitor in the dispensary.
“You’re such a stalker.”
“I’m just keeping up with all our patients here, only Shane.”
“Oh my god, you heard that?”
Dr Landry just leaves with a sweet smile to go and get the spaniel from kennels.
She returns within a few minutes, something that Shane is immediately grateful for. He can almost physically feel his heart slow when he begins to inspect Anya all over, tapping the corners of her eyes to see her reaction, lifting up each foot and stretching them, curling her lips up to check the pinkness of her gums. Rose watches for a few seconds with a softer smile on her face before heading off to discharge the pomeranian, and to steal him back from Kiara.
“Okay, Anya,” he steadies his breathing, “you’re gonna go back to your dad now, Mr Rozanov.” It felt wrong to refer to Mr Rozanov as anyone’s dad, but that’s what he called every owner at the clinic. For some reason Mr Rozanov was filed away separately in his mind, a large brick wall distancing him from the other owners he saw everyday.
“You’re gonna be a good girl,” he continued, “of course, of course. You’re such a good girl.” And because Mr Rozanov signed the consent form for her to be fed and she was in the weight guides for her breed, he offered her some of the dried chicken liver that was kept as treats. She wolfed it down and then tried to jump down from the table onto the floor.
“No, jesus, Anya,” he muttered as he lifted her down, “please think about your joints.”
The spaniel did a few circles, Shane dropped the leash so she could sniff around the closed room while he waited anxiously. The ‘waiting’ tab was now mocking him, it was completely clear and all squashed up next to ‘inpatient’ which sat occupied with Olaf the pug.
‘Ilya Rozanov (Anya)’
He presses his hands into Anya’s fur for one last second of assurance.