Work Text:
Ottawa October 2018
SHANE
This game was going to be the undoing of him emotionally at least. He felt a familiar sting in his eyes as he leaned down for the face-off, glancing at Ilya across from him. His playful smirk in place. The confident glint in his eyes, as if nothing had changed. But everything had changed. Everything was about to change. Shane bit his lip, a little lost in his own thoughts. Ilya winked at him.
Shane lost the face-off. Despite the full ranks and the pressure he’d put on himself, he could barely contain his excitement about everything waiting to come their way, and he pressed his lips together, even tighter to suppress a wide smile. After he lost the puck he couldn’t grin like a crazy idiot, right? There were bigger things waiting on them both, better things, despite their hiding, they were closer than ever. Not only in mind, but also in space. Only a two hour's drive separated their teams. And the best part? Wherever this game was going, he and Ilya had two whole days together. At his Cottage. There wasn’t a better way to start the season. Absolutely impossible.
Ottawa's Centaurs lost their first game of the season, despite having Ilya as their star player. But reputations weren't changed overnight. And the Montreal Voyagers were a pretty strong team to beat. He should know. Maybe a little too confident he winked at Ilya, who looked at him for a moment, lost in time, before a wide smile split his face. But something seemed off. As if Ilya was a little dazed. Was he such a sight to behold? Shane thought, confidence rising, and maybe a little overthinking scratched at it. Why was Ilya dazed? He hadn’t much time to think, as he stepped from the ice.
A few days after their game the announcement for the Irina Foundation was lined up, and also their carefully worded update on their relationship as ‘close friends’. So in anticipation of getting maybe early in on the big news, that was still mostly a secret, the arena was packed. More Montreal fans than Ottawa, but they were here in greater numbers than he remembered. Louder. And probably as thrilled outward for Ilya, as Shane felt inside, despite the Ottawa Centaurs still losing most games, there were more fans. Probably for his boyfriend. Boyfriend, whenever he thought that, he would get all smushy inside.
It was a little overwhelming. Even more journalists were lined up to comment on the game they had played and wanted information about the big reveal.
About them. It wasn't a secret that Ilya and Shane wanted to announce something.
As he managed to dodge and answer questions he noticed that Ilya also got swarmed as soon as he stepped from the ice. But something seemed off about him. And it wasn’t him struggling to follow the english questions, he had got way better at speaking it. It was something else. His responses seemed slower, his stance a little less straight than usual. And his hand was gripping the hockey stick he leaned on so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
Shane thought it might be the anticipation. Illya had to talk about his mother, even though it wouldn’t be much. Maybe it was still the adrenaline coursing through his veins?
“What is it you two want to announce? There are some rumours about….”
Shane was torn from his thoughts as he forced himself to focus on the question. But his mind was still reeling. Something was off. He had to find out what it was, as soon as he was able to get Ilya alone.
In the locker room, he barely acknowledged his teammates as he showered quickly, pulled on some comfy clothes, and left with a few mumbled words of meeting someone regarding the announcement the next weekend.
Shane slipped out into the freezing air. He took a deep breath, his eyes scanning for familiar Russian curls shimmering under the streetlights.
There he was. Leaning against a wall, in a lone corner looking a little forlorn and… he was smoking. Shane was reminded of their first meeting so many years ago. Also out in the cold. Ilya smoking, and him awkwardly shuffling toward him. But something still was off.
“I thought you quit?” he asked with a small smile and a soft voice as he stepped even closer, Ilya looked up at him. His eyes were slightly unfocused. Dazed? A little glassy.
Ilya’s lips twitched and tried to get into that familiar smirk, but it didn’t quite get to that.
“I did.” His voice was a little husky as he blew the smoke into the cold air. Shane frowned at that and scanned the area. The journalists were probably all gone, until the announcement. His teammates focused more on themselves, driving back to Montreal and he was staying in Ottawa meeting his parents and brushing up on his speech for the Foundation, or so he told them.
Whenever Ilya smoked something was off.
“You okay?” Shane tried to keep it light, he didn’t want to look overbearing and they were still out in public. Ilya nodded once, looking at the burning cigarette, not into Shane's eyes.
“Of course.” Too fast of a response. It didn’t sound right, somehow. Shane stepped even closer and his brows shot up. As he got a better look at Rozanov. The smell of the cigarette burned in his nostrils, but there was something else that caught him off guard. Ilya smelled sweaty and that after a shower and out in the freezing air. And it… smelled not like his normal sweat, he should know. He loved Ilya's smell. This was sharper… sick.
He couldn’t ignore the signs, as he looked Ilya up and down, in the dingy streetlight.
There was a flush across Ilya’s cheekbones - maybe that was from the cold, but also he was russian, a fucking hockes-player who lived on the ice half his life, and he lived in Canada for more than a year now, he should be used to the temperatures. His forehead was damp and some curls clung to it and the hand not holding the cigarette seemed to tremble at his side.
“You’re shaking…” Shane said quietly, trying to force the worry out of his tone.
“I’m not.” Ilya didn’t even meet his eyes. His answer was automatic, almost defensive.
Before he could stop himself, he brushed his finger over Ilya’s cheek. Forgetting where they were. Quickly he withdrew his hand and brushed his hand against Ilya’s. The brief contact told him what was wrong, even though Ilya’s off behaviour and smell was telling enough already.
“It’s freezing and you're burning.”
“So?” Ilya shrugged, still not meeting Shane's eyes and he noticed that even though it was a small movement it wasn’t as easy of a shrug as it usually was, because he slumped even more against the wall like he needed it to hold him up.
Shit, shit, shit…. shit. This was anything but good. Shane felt his thoughts spiraling and he looked around even more alarmed. Then he saw the cigarette slip out of Ilya’s fingers.
Unease and slight panic rose their ugly heads and he took a deep breath to steady himself. Ilya needed him now. He could spiral later.
“We need to get you home.”
“Im fine. I can go on my own.” He pushed himself from the wall and swayed. Shane was by his side instantly. A hand on the Russian's waist, as he steadied him.
“You’re not fine.” This statement earned him a faint glare that entirely missed the usual heat behind it. Ilya was sick.
“I’m fine.” Ilya struggled in the hold for a moment and managed to stand, Shane pressed his lips together and this time lifted a hand to Ilya’s forehead, let his hand drag down to cup the side of his neck, his thumb brushing the hot skin of Ilya’s cheek. Before he broke the connection. Public. Shane focused on what was important and that was his sick boyfriend, but still….
“You’re burning up.”
Ilya’s eyes were unfocused and struggling to finally meet Shane’s gaze.
“How long?” He asked quietly as Ilya looked at him. A pause followed and he could see the gears turning in Ilya's head, how his gaze swayed, he didn’t want to look Shane in the eyes, as he finally said: “Since yesterday.” It was muffled and Shane sighed a heavy sigh.
“You skated like that? Played a game, letting yourself be interviewed ....” He shook his head. Unbelievable. But this was Ilya he was talking about. So… not so unbelievable. He almost chuckled at the stubborn man before him, but focused more on the urgent thing at hand. Shane had to get Ilya out of the cold. Ilya only shrugged again at the words, holding himself up a little better.
“It’s nothing. Just tired, tomorrow I will be fine.” Ilya mumbled and almost crashed against Shane as he tried to extinguish the cigarette on the wet concrete which was still slightly glowing. He steadied the man immediately, a deeper frown on his face.
“You almost collapsed on me. Right. Now.” Shane's voice was urgent now, earnest.
“Was imagination.” Ilya dodged, very badly so and Shane exhaled. Frustrated.
He held out his hand.
“Keys.” The commanding tone was all Hockey Captain and very concerned boyfriend and Ilya looked at him, for the first time this evening as if he really saw him.
“It’s just a cold, Hollander!” Shane's eyes almost caught fire at that and Ilya raised both eyebrows at him. The car keys were still not in his possession. He bit his lower lip. Ilya wouldn’t challenge him now, of all times, right?
“So pushing yourself beyond your limits, almost collapsing is just a cold?”
Silence followed that statement and Shane shifted Ilya in his hold, looking around. Nobody was here right now and he could see Ilya’s car. Slowly he steered the very silent, and very pliant Russian towards the vehicle.
“Look, Hollander… I didn’t want… this was the first game of the season and the Foundation….”, He trailed off and Shane felt his chest tighten. Ilya felt so warm beside him, unnaturally so. His boyfriend was always warm, like a fireplace… a comfy one, this here was a furnace in overdrive. He had to get Ilya into bed. Stat.
Slowly they worked their way towards the car, and it was concerning how long they needed.
“I’m not weak.” Ilya finally cut the silence that had been cold between them for a time that felt much longer than a few seconds. It sounded like a plea and Shane sighed again.
“I know.” He finally reached the car and held out his hand again.
“Car keys …” Ilya sighed, finally giving in, fishing around for the keyes in his pocket until he let dem fall into Shane’s open palm. Immediately he unlocked the car and opened the door, only to lean more into Ilya's space, to whisper to him: “You’re sick. Let me take care of you.”
The silence stretched between them. Ilya closed his eyes for a long moment and Shane was about to shove Ilya into the car seat, out of worry he could collapse on him right now, as he finally heard a whisper from him.
“Okay.”
ILYA
Ilya climbed inside, he felt sluggish and weak. Shane patiently waited until he was seated and shoved himself over Ilya to buckle him up. He smelled nice and the warmth he was emanating was so comfortable against himself… he wanted to hold him. His dark hair brushed his chin, as he slipped out of the car again and then he rounded the SUV as if he was followed by a horde of journalists.
“Why didn’t we have car sex?” Ilya mumbled a little out of it, as he breathed in the remnants of Shane’s scent. So close and yet so far.
“You are sick and only thinking about sex…” Shane shook his head. “Unbelievable.”
Silence spread between them.
“I will take you to the cottage.” He informed Ilya after a few moments, sounding like it was impossible to change his mind, after starting the car and carefully driving them through the late traffic. He was such a boring driver.
Ilya slightly tilted his head to look at Shane. His profile was so beautiful. His freckles only slightly visible in the dim lights.
“You don’t have to.”
“I don’t leave you alone in your house, if I can have you by my side. And also I have medication at home, do you?”
“No.” He slurred the word and even though it was a short word, the Russian accent was stronger than before. His head felt terrible. All clouded, a headache bigger than his ego working up his thoughts. At a snail's pace he tried to focus on the words Shane was saying.
“What?”
Shane leveled a look at him, as they stood on a red light. All serious and earnest. That would look really good, when he would put on his glasses, Ilya thought and licked his rough lips. They were dry and feverish and he suppressed a full body shiver.
“I said right now you’re mine to take care of.” Oh fuck. Shane focused on the road again and if Ilya wouldn’t be so sick, he would have searched for a secluded place to fuck Shane right now. Even though he felt still… like a burden. A sexy one, but a burden. He needed even longer for an answer. Ilya only noticed he had closed his eyes, as Shane was putting a hand on his knee, squeezing.
“Okay, Hollander.” He mumbled and blinked at the dark haired pretty boy next to him. His heart beat even faster.
“Wait with sleeping until we're home.” The concern in his voice was clear as day, and the gaze he got… touched on something very fragile inside him.
“Don’t.” Ilya mumbled and Shane frowned at him.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t look at me like I am weak… like I am breaking… like… I….” His voice weakened and he breathed out a long sigh. Shane squeezed his knee even tighter, then he held the car on the side of the road.
“You’re not. You are sick, and that’s not the end of the world.” Shane, always the voice of reason.
“I’m never sick.”
“Then I am proud to be of service to you, for your first time being sick.” Shane looked at him, a small smile on his beautiful lips. He reached for Ilya and slowly caressed his neck, buried his fingers reassuringly into the damp curls clinging to his skin, not caring how it felt… There was no pity in his eyes, there was only softness and the promise of understanding, steadiness and the best care a Ilya Rozanov could hope for.
“You’re not alone, Ilya.”
He leaned into Shane’s warm touch and closed his eyes.
SHANE
By the time Shane pulled into the driveway of his cottage, Ilya was barely awake. He drifted in and out of consciousness and Shane made sure he was still breathing.Squeezing his knee now and then and whispered reassuring words or updates when they would finally be home.
“Ilya.” Shane squeezes his knee again.
“Hmn?” The man beside him blinked sluggishly at him, his eyes a very glassy sheen on them.
“We’re home.” Shane unbuckled their belts.
“Can you walk?” It clearly took effort for Ilya to sit up and Shane rushed out to his side, wrapping his arm firmly around Ilya's waist, as he got out of the car, together they made their way slowly to the front door. The big, strong man beside him swayed dangerously and leaned heavily on him. Shane exhaled a breath after he fumbled out the keys and they got inside. It was warmer, but not warm enough for Ilya. It was quiet and homey. He flicked on the lights, closed the door and steered Ilya carefully to the couch.
Ilya nearly crashed down on the cushions and sluggishly braced his elbows onto his knees, as he tried to sit upright. And it clearly cost him some concentration. Shane furrowed his brows again, not the first time this evening and his thoughts raced. What would Ilya need? What was important first? He made a list in his head, sorted it through and brushed a careful hand over Ilya’s forehead as he stared down at him, grazed his fingers through the damp curls and smiled for a moment as Ilya hummed content. As far as that was possible in his state. He blinked up at Shane. His skin was hot, his eyes unfocused and glassy. He started shaking and Shane bit back a curse. He had like full body-shivers and Shane pushed down the panic. He had a plan, he would get through this. They were adults. And he was not a little helpless child who would call his mom. Not now at least.
“Okay… okay…” He breathed deep in and out. “I got this.” Shane whispered to himself and Ilya chuckled weakly.
“I’ll get you some medication for the fever, something to drink. Water and tea….” He mumbled and was out and about everywhere. At once. On the way to the medicine cabinet he lit the fireplace, cranked up the thermostat to get it warm and cozy for Ilya, then he fetched a glass of water, a few pills and set the electric kettle on. He rushed to Ilya again, who was still in the same position as he had left him.
Crouching down in front of him he held the pill towards Ilya. His gaze was a little unfocused, but he smiled at Shane, opened his mouth and Shane huffed as he placed the pill on Ilya's tongue.
Shane bit his own tongue at the display and as he saw how shaky Ilya’s hand were, as he tried to take the glass, Shane took a sip of the water himself, brushed a finger under Ilya’s chin, to tip his head back, so he could kiss him and let the water slide into his mouth. Shane broke the kiss, more a necessity than sensual and saw Ilya’s throat working.
His lips opened slightly, his breath hot against Shane’s face.
“More.”, Ilya whispered and Shane obliged, gave him one sip of water after another until he brushed Ilya's hair out of his face and placed the glass on the coffee table.
“I will pull out the couch and get some bedding. Here it’s warmer with the fireplace, and I fear I can’t get you up the stairs, Mr. Rozanov.”
“It’s alright…” Ilya mumbled still an unfocused look on him, but he also seemed kinda content as he tried to wriggle his way out of his shoes, still shivering.
Shane draped a blanket around Ilya and crouched down in front of him, getting rid of the shoes. Ilya’s feet were frozen clumps. Holy shit. Shane massaged them slightly and Ilya grunted.
“Is good…” Maybe it helped get some bloodflow back into them.
“I am right back.” Shane scrambled up again and gathered even more stuff for Ilya.
ILYA
He almost didn’t notice as Shane was back again. He was like a concerned mother hen and brought everything he could think of. Only one thing… the most important one he forgot.
After Ilya was out of his street clothes and had changed, with Shane’s help into some comfy, warm layers of the most comfy hoodie and joggers Shane could think of, lay on the pulled out, very soft couch, wrapped in blankets, shielded by cushions, with medication pumped into him and an almost too hot water bottle at his feet he only missed one thing.
“Shane.” His voice was firm and steady, entirely in contrast to his state, hoping it would attract what he wanted most… and if on command a familiar dark pair of eyes peered at him, almost out of nowhere, directly in front of him… there he was. Shane kneeling on the floor in front of the couch.
“Gimme kiss.” Ilya mumbled, as he weakly smiled. Shane smiled. Leaned in and gave Ilya a long sensual kiss. His lips warm and wet, his tongue lazy, comfortable. He tasted divine.
“Best medicine.” Ilya mumbled, his eyes bleary.
And Shane was not afraid of getting sick himself…. Such a good boyfriend. Finally the medication seemed to take effect as he slowly drifted into sleep. Then he felt a cold wet cloth on his forehead and frowned.
“I don’t need….. This….” He fumbled around a bit and tossed the cloth out of the makeshift bed.
“You need this, you're still having a fever!” Shane protested and folded the cloth again. Ilya stared at the cloth as if it had offended him, then he looked up at Shane who now stood at the side of the couch looking down at Ilya. He was still in his street clothes, he hadn't even taken off his shoes. Everywhere on the floor were wet footprints. He had forgotten about his clean freakyness for Ilya. He still felt like shit, shivering now and then, his skin felt too tight for his body, hurting wherever it touched something, but he knew it wouldn't hurt when Shane touched him. His heart ached…. Shane was such a cute boyfriend. Caring. Husband-matrial. Ilya smiled slightly and focused on Shane again, who still stood beside the couch, looking down, a little more concerned than moments ago.
“I don't need…. not this.” He weakly gestured around the room. To all the overbearing Shane so easily leaned into.
“What do you need?” Shane asked, worry edged into his face. Ilya looked up at him, tugged at his trousers. So Shane kneeled in front of his face again.
“I need you.” Ilya mumbled, as he looked into that warm brown of Shane’s caring eyes. He saw them almost melting at the words and all the tension left Shane immediately.
“You have done everything you can… besides giving me a healthy dose of Shane.” Ilya made some grabby hands at his boyfriend, who finally toed off his shoes, slipped out of his trousers and jacket, even his shirt and climbed under the covers behind him. Wrapped his arms around him and buried his face in his neck. Wrapped inside a Shane-blanket was the real medicine.
So close, so warm. Safe.
“Love you.” Ilya mumbled as he slowly drifted to sleep.
SHANE
“Love you, too.” Shane mumbled back and breathed in Ilya’s scent, it was still a little off, tinged with fever and medicine, but it was still Ilya. And he was there for him, in good and in bad times.
Ilya fell into a deep sleep, his breathing finally evening out. After a while Shane carefully reached out to his phone, to text his parents.Maybe they could fetch his car in the morning. Instead, he received an immediate offer for homemade chicken soup, fresh fruit, medicine and anything else they might need. And he knew he couldn’t decline. Dad would get his car and mom would fuss over them tomorrow…
Ilya shifted slightly, finally turning towards him. The big man in his arms squirming until he had full body contact with Shane again. Seeking warmth even in sleep. Gultily, Shane shoved his phone under a cushion and wrapped himself closer around Ilya. He pressed a soft kiss to Ilya’s lips before leaning their foreheads together, checking his temperature once more. It was still too warm, but better. Shane smiled faintly as he brushed his lips against Ilya’s again.
“You don’t have to be alone. Ever.” He whispered.
“You’re so loved here. Don’t ever be afraid of being weak.”
Shane knew Ilya wouldn’t hear him. But that was okay.