Chapter Text
Ilya was waiting outside, alone and uncomfortably damp, for reasons he couldn’t put into words.
He was leaning against the wall of the clinic, like some kind of poster child for delinquents everywhere, smoking a cigarette and passing furious glances onto onlookers. Old ladies clutching walking sticks like weapons were scuttling past like crabs giving him odd stares and gossiping relentlessly to each other as they piled out of small, ugly cars.
He didn’t mean for his harsh eyes to fall over the Ottawan population, but his mind was overrun with what to say to the man he was stupidly enamoured with that he didn’t have the energy to change them.
After Chiron’s harrowing ordeal it was organised that he would be staying overnight at a bigger animal hospital in Ottawa, which Harris and Troy had driven him to. Ilya naively assumed that Shane would have a moment after saving the dog’s life where Ilya could apologise profusely and, hopefully, maybe, make out with him. Instead, Shane revealed he had another consult and another surgery before he was officially released from the day.
Even Yuna had gone with the others to organise Chiron’s overnight stay, so only Ilya was left at the clinic like some kind of lovesick idiot waiting for Shane to emerge.
Ilya found that strangely, he didn’t mind at all.
He’d talked to the nurses, got Dr Landry (or Rose, as she made him call her) a coconut Redbull and casually flirted with Becca. She’d found him hilarious, as most normal people did, and asked him to lift a few heavy boxes of deliveries around the clinic to the shocked expression of clients.. Now he was just waiting, and the drafts of an apology in his notes app were hot in his phone and warm on his tongue. He was ready.
“You know those things kill people, right?” He startled at the sound of Shane’s voice, whipping around to see he man stood next to him, back towards the wall, facing out onto the courtyard and the pharmacy on the other side. The dark green scrubs pulled at his arms and the stethoscope hung loose around his neck painted a tantalising shape of his chest.
“Live for long but boring time, or short and exciting, yes?” He countered, trying to weave a nonchalant edge into his voice as he felt Shane’s arm brush against his.
“I’d prefer if you lived a long, boring life,” Shane muttered, “not that I have any right to tell you what kind of life to live, obviously, I’d just…”
Ilya could see him looking up towards the sky and breathing heavily. He closes his eyes, as though the sight of Ilya is painful.
“I’d like it if you could live a long, boring life… with me.”
He took the cigarette from his lips and let the smoke drift into the cool air. “I could not, Shane. A life with you would not be boring, it would be the most interesting thing ever.”
He puts out the cigarette on the wall and turns to face the man, a mixture of relief and confusion is painting his features and the faint blush is making his freckles practically glow, even under the cloudy skies.
Ilya places a hand on his shoulder, watches his face as he slowly moves it up and up, past the junction of his neck and to his jaw where he caresses gently with his thumb. He watches entranced at the gentle pull of skin against the perfect bone. It’s witchcraft, how something so simple and obvious bewitches Ilya with such strange intensity.
“This is okay?” He asks.
Shane nodded, the pounding in Ilya’s head increases when he feels the motion through his fingers. He draws his other hand up to his waist, feeling the light curve of his body, and leans in.
The man’s lips are soft, but dry. Ilya doesn’t kiss chastely, he kisses with tongue and teeth and fervor, yet he presses his cold lips against Shane’s warm ones with a reverent respect he didn’t realise he was capable of. His hand moves back to cradle his head as Shane moves closer, putting both of his hands on Ilya’s hips to pull their bodies together. Ilya uses the hand on his jaw to tilt his head, so that their lips can slide deeper.
Shane makes a high pitched noise in the back of his throat, a sort of pleased whine, before they hear the clinic door clatter shut behind Shane. Ilya pulls Shane back as slowly as he think the situation permits, watching his dark eyes widen and expand as he takes in Ilya’s probably sappy expression.
“You two want a standing ovation or something?” Rose questioned with a scowl, already marching out towards her car. Becca pushed through the door as well, locking it with a pleased grin.
“Got one spare, Ilya?” She asked the man, who passed her a cigarette through long fingers. Shane looked slightly horrified and narrowed his eyes aggressively at the man he’d been kissing just seconds prior.
“Not my fault that I’m a nice guy,” Ilya defended with a toothy grin, Shane’s expression remained stony and for a moment Ilya’s heart completely froze, but then the other man leant sideways into him with a small smile.
“Thanks, love,” Becca wandered off with a cheery wave in the direction of her car, turning around just before the steps to offer the two a thumbs up.
When she’d disappeared Shane snapped back to Ilya, grabbing his waist and leaning in once again to smash his lips into the other man’s.
Ilya was now pushed up against the hard brick wall as Shane melted into him with candle wax, hot and luxurious against his hold.
He regrettably ran a hand through black hair, pulling gently to extract Shane from his space. The other man gave him an angry look dulled entirely by the adoration swimming in his eyes.
“What?” He questioned, muffled in his confusion.
“I think it’s best if we move this,” Ilya pointed out, turning Shane’s head slightly with a hand on the jaw to show him the small gathering of old people waiting outside the pharmacy who were ogling the men.
“Oh,” Shane muttered, scowling at the group who’d ruined his fun. Although making out with Shane Hollander felt like snorting stardust, Ilya knew that once Shane had escaped the haze of the kiss he’d be horrified with the thought of performing in such a lustful scene outside of his place of work. Ilya just smiled at his expression, taking his wrist to pull him away from the clinic and towards the road. Shane instinctively began to lead him towards an old beaten up range rover, one of the ones with bars on the top and peeling paintwork. He stopped a little short of the car, staring at Shane with a newfound sense of realisation.
“Hm?” Shane asked in confusion, tilting his head in a doglike way, “you good?”
Ilya had the belated realisation how far removed Shane was from his world, how different he was from the sports cars and expensive family SUVs that lined hockey players garages. He realised how much he loved him.
“Fine,” he offered a wide smile, feeling his cheeks ache with the force of it.
Shane opened the door for him, cackling at Ilya’s affronted scowl and the mutter of ‘I am not a princess, Hollander,’ before revving up the engine with a dangerous grating noise and an even more dangerous smile.
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Being driven by Shane felt disgustingly domestic. He felt inserted into the man’s life, as though he were wrongly injected with a needle into Shane’s existence, the thoughts made him feel tight inside until Shane rested a hand casually on his thigh and squeezed lightly. His smile tugged at his eyes when he turned to glance at him.
“I’m sorry,” Shane blurted out suddenly, “I didn’t mean to imply that you or any of your friends were stupid, it’s my own ridiculous experiences with stupid kids, not even real hockey players… and yeah, so please don’t… think you’re stupid.”
“It’s okay,” Ilya placed a hand over his, rubbing over knuckles with his thumb, “I was being stupid.” He pauses, forgetting the carefully drawn out apology and feels his heart yelp in panic. “I shouldn’t have been so annoying, I should’ve stopped. I’m sorry, Shane. I know that I made you uncomfortable. I’m so so sorry.”
He stops his manic babbling for a moment to inhale sharply, tears blooming like petals in his eyes. Shane stills next to him, hand not moving from being casually rested on his thigh.
“I’ll forgive you, for a price.”
“Anything.”
“A kiss?”
They pulled up at an intersection, Ilya leaned against the dash to press his lips lightly to Shane’s. He hummed with approval, leaning back and staring at the man’s soft smile. His hair was still messed up from Ilya’s hands, he fought the urge to destroy it even more.
“Who’s got Anya, then?” He asked with red tinged cheeks as they pulled away.
Ilya swiveled his head around in horrific realisation.
He whips his phone out of his pocket, noticing Shane’s entertained grin, and immediately checks the Cen’s group chat. There’s a photo, a damning photo, a horrendous and disgusting photo.
Anya with an ugly green cowboy hat placed crooked on her gorgeous ears.
He gasped, truly affronted. “The rookies have kidnapped my dog!” Because of course they had, they were probably feeding her cheap dog treats and running her wild, getting their grubby little hands all over her.
Shane just laughed, mocking him in this terrifying moment. The licensed veterinarian seemed deeply unconcerned about the dog’s welfare. “She’s fine then, where’s she at?”
Ilya began directions, winding down the old windows with a painful judder. When an awful noise emerged from the door, Shane just slid him a sly grin and shrugged casually like the imminent threat of his car collapsing wasn’t a problem. Ilya decided not to comment as they slid through the roads together.
🐾 🐾 🐾 🐾 🐾 🐾
Bood’s house felt oddly foreign when Ilya entered with a spare key with Shane following close behind. Nothing in the house had changed, but the handsome man who gently pushed at Ilya’s shoulderblades and the light tapping in his heart was enough to make the ordinary hallway feel like alien lands.
Bood was home, as well as a few of the WAG’s and the rookies, who had descended on the recently purchased massive television to watch something about gay mormons.
Anya launched herself off the couch like a furry bullet when she saw him, using Holmberg’s thighs as a human launchpad. She slid herself into Ilya’s legs and hopped around him making adorable little yapping noises as her ears flopped around with the excited movements. Then, she spotted Shane standing awkwardly behind the Russian in the doorway and descended on him. He chuckled at her as she attempted to leap further and further up his body, until he took pity and grabbed her midair to curl her into him and scratch at her ears.
The rookies had turned off the show and were looking at Shane with confusion, whereas Gen and Caitlin who were gossiping in the corner of the couch were fixing him with a glance that echoed Anya at dinner time.
Ilya took it upon himself to make the obviously needed introduction. “This is Shane, er, he is Yuna and David’s son. He saved Chiron’s life today.”
“Ilya!” The man hissed under his breath, balking at the sea of raised eyebrows in front of him. Lapointe, bless him, began a small round of applause that was soon taken up by the rest of the party. Ilya turned to see Shane’s face lit up in spectacular colours as he looked with horror at the scene in front of him.
“You want something to drink after all that, Shane?” Cassie offered with a warm smile once the appreciated murmurs had died down. She got up from the couch where she had been perched next to Bood, “god knows I need one with all these lot.”
“No, no thank you,” Shane threw up his hands with an anxious expression, “I’m driving.” She gave him a friendly nod and disappeared into the kitchen.
“Hmm.” Gen muttered, “I’m sure Ilya can drive you back after that whole ordeal.” She gave Ilya a scathing glance before whispering into Caitlin’s ear with dramatic fervor. The other woman glared up at Ilya before nodding at whatever she’d said in agreement.
“I would have heart attack trying to drive his ‘car’,” Ilya pointed out, feeling a sense of victory when Shane punched him lightly on his arm, the contact seeping into his skin and making him preen. God.
“At least come and watch these mormons,” Bood suggested, shuffling over to make room for the two men, “I think they’re fucking each other.”
“Little ears!” Ilya chastised as he sat down, guiding Shane, who was still clutching Anya like a lifeline, onto the couch.
“Anya can’t speak English.” Hayes muttered absently.
“The rookies can, barely.”
“Oi!”
Shane was watching with wide eyes but a small smile was taking over his face as he watched them bicker. Ilya pressed his leg further into his, their knees knocking together casually under one of Anya’s paws.
They nestled closer together as the noise raced around them like waves and Shane cackled and laughed at the jokes and made comments with Gen about the soda drinking mormons, and Ilya felt the rolling tides of joy as Anya pushed a wet nose into one hand and Shane held a loose grip on the other and rested soft hair on his shoulder.
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Later, driving to Ilya’s with Anya asleep in the backseat, a boring song was playing through the old range rover’s radio. A boring song was crooning from the speakers as Ilya wrapped his fingers through Shane Hollander's hair and kissed his gentle lips.
A boring song was weaving them together as Ilya poured his apologies into loving touches, and Shane wove his into the kindest hands Ilya had ever known.