Chapter Text
Shane had planned the pregnancy down to the week.
That was the joke everyone kept making, anyway. Not that it was inaccurate.
Shane had spreadsheets. He had timelines. He had meetings with doctors and nutritionists and trainers and a frighteningly calm fertility specialist who had once looked directly at Ilya and said, “You should probably just trust your husband on this.”
The third trimester was supposed to land perfectly during the off season so Shane could avoid flying, avoid media appearances, avoid unnecessary stress, and ideally spend the last stretch of pregnancy resting quietly at home with his husband.
Instead, the third trimester was destroying him.
He was tired all the time. Not regular tired either. Bone-deep, miserable exhaustion that made him want to cry if he had to walk upstairs twice in one day. His back hurt. His hips hurt. His knees hurt. His ribs hurt. Sometimes his skin hurt for reasons nobody could explain.
Sleeping had become impossible.
He was exhausted enough to fall asleep sitting upright on the couch at two in the afternoon, but the second he climbed into bed his body forgot how to exist comfortably. He needed pillows under his stomach, behind his back, between his knees, under one arm, and occasionally beneath his feet because his ankles kept swelling.
And then he had to pee every forty-five minutes.
Ilya had stopped asking if he wanted help getting out of bed because the answer was always yes.
Shane hated that.
He hated needing help.
He hated not fitting into his clothes.
He hated the feeling of his body no longer belonging entirely to him.
Mostly he hated that he couldn’t control any of it.
The baby kicked constantly. Violently.
Apparently that was healthy.
Shane thought it felt like he was being attacked from inside.
“Your daughter is trying to escape,” he muttered one morning, glaring down at his stomach while standing in the kitchen.
“Our daughter,” Ilya corrected automatically.
Shane narrowed his eyes.
“She kicked my bladder six times last night. She’s your daughter.”
Ilya kissed the side of his head to hide his smile.
“Get away from me.” Shane said while leaning away as best he could without throwing off his center of gravity.
Shane was standing in exactly one spot in the kitchen because currently toast could only be eaten while leaning against the island near the sink. Not sitting. Not standing normally. Leaning.
Pregnancy had apparently turned him insane.
At least according to him.
Ilya personally thought Shane was handling things remarkably well considering he was growing an entire human being.
Still, the mood swings were terrifying.
Not dramatic exactly. Shane was not throwing dishes or screaming.
He just got intensely, catastrophically upset over things that normally would not matter at all.
Yesterday he had cried because the grocery store had discontinued one specific brand of strawberry yogurt.
Two days before that he had nearly had a breakdown because the fitted sheet came loose from one corner of the mattress from him turning over.
Last week he had become furious with Ilya for breathing too loudly while eating cereal.
“Sorry my lungs work, must be the lack of smoking. More, how you mean capacity.” Ilya had said.
Shane had glared at him with genuine hostility.
Now, watching Shane chew toast while looking close to punching someone Ilya decided silence was the safer option.
“You have dinner with your parents tonight,” he reminded gently.
Shane groaned. “I know.”
“You still want to go?”
“Yes.” Shane sighed heavily. “Mom already made reservations.”
“You can cancel.”
“No. They’re excited, want to see the baby. Everyone wants to see the fucking baby. Wish she would come out already so I wouldn’t have to be there.” Shane said poking at his stomach.
David and Yuna had become almost unbearably delighted about the baby. Yuna called daily. David had already assembled half the nursery furniture despite Shane insisting he and Ilya could handle it themselves.
Shane loved them dearly.
Right now he also wanted everyone to leave him alone forever.
“You okay?” Ilya asked quietly.
Shane looked at him for a long moment.
“No. Obviously not Rozanov. God.” Shane gave him a harsh side eye.
Ilya crossed the kitchen and wrapped both arms carefully around him from behind.
Shane melted immediately.
That was the other thing. He was clingier now. Not publicly. Shane Hollander would rather die than become publicly clingy.
But at home he wanted constant physical contact.
He wanted Ilya nearby all the time.
Usually one hand resting somewhere on him.
His stomach.
His hip.
The back of his neck.
Anywhere.
“You’re almost there,” Ilya murmured against his hair.
“Fuck that.”
“You’re doing amazing.”
Shane laughed weakly. “I can barely get up in the morning.”
“You are making person. I am here to make sure you get up. Is nothing.”
Shane leaned back into him harder. “I’m so fucking tired Ilya.”
“I know.”
“I slept maybe two hours today.”
“You napped this afternoon.”
“I did?”
“Very cute. All wrapped up like a little baby. My babies.”
Shane snorted softly despite himself.
———————-
Getting dressed for dinner took almost an hour.
Mostly because Shane hated everything he tried on.
The first shirt was too tight.
The second made him look “like a decorative throw pillow.”
The third apparently made his face look swollen.
Ilya did not understand how shirts affected facial appearance but wisely kept this opinion private.
By the time Shane was standing in only boxer briefs and glaring into the closet like it was withholding clothing on purpose, Ilya was beginning to worry.
“Maybe stay home,” he suggested carefully.
“No.”
“Shanya..”
“I already said we’re going.”
“You look tired.”
“I am fucking tired thanks for noticing.” Shane said while angrily searching for clothes.
Okay Ilya will admit that was probably redundant. Shane wants solutions not observations. Alright.
“You could wear sweatpants. Your parents love you no matter what.”
Shane stared at him like he had turned green. “I am not wearing sweatpants to dinner.”
“Okay.”
Eventually Shane settled on a dark navy maternity suit that had been tailored specifically for him.
It was elegant. Structured. Expensive. And very, very obvious.
The fitted jacket curved around the underside of his stomach while the matching pants stretched smoothly over his hips. There was absolutely no disguising the pregnancy anymore. Shane looked heavily pregnant.
Beautiful, Ilya thought instantly.
Shane looked unconvinced.
He emerged from the bedroom slowly, one hand pressed against his lower back.
“Well?”
Ilya looked up from his phone and forgot every language he knew.
Shane’s stomach looked enormous.
Not in a bad way. Just undeniably pregnant.
Full of him.
His hair was soft from the shower. His cheeks were flushed with irritation. The suit fit perfectly and emphasized every curve pregnancy had added to his body.
Ilya was obsessed with him.
Shane narrowed his eyes immediately. “That expression means something.”
“What expression?”
“That one.”
“You look good.”
“Good.”
“Yes.”
“Just good.”
Ilya sensed danger. “Very good. Most handsome man alive.”
Shane looked down at himself unhappily.
“I look huge.”
“You are pregnant.”
Ilya stood and crossed the room carefully.
“It is impossible for you to look bad,” he said honestly.
Shane looked unconvinced. “Ilya.”
“Yes?”
“Do I look enormous in this?”
This was obviously a trap. A deadly trap.
Shane was objectively enormous. He was carrying a nearly full-term baby. Pretending otherwise would be absurd.
But saying yes felt suicidal.
“…No.” Ilya lied immediately.
Shane squinted at him. “You hesitated.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely fucking did.”
“I was appreciating husband.”
“You think I look fat and you’re probably getting off on it. You-you..fuck whatever let’s just go.”
Ilya helped him button the jacket because Shane could no longer comfortably see the lower buttons himself.
That seemed to annoy him all over again.
“I hate this.”
“The buttons?”
“Needing help.”
Ilya softened immediately. “Shane.”
“Shut up I take it back.”
“You are thirty-six weeks pregnant.”
“Thirty-six and two days.”
“See? Worse.”
Shane huffed out a reluctant laugh.
Then he winced and pressed a hand against the underside of his stomach.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Shane.”
“The baby shoved her foot into my ribs.”
Ilya crouched automatically, palms spreading over the curve of Shane’s stomach.
“Tiny princess.” he informed the baby sternly. “Stop assaulting daddy.”
Another kick landed beneath his hand.
“Disrespectful already,” Ilya muttered.
Shane’s expression softened despite his discomfort.
Watching Ilya with the baby still undid him completely.
It had from the beginning.
Ilya looked so naturally protective now. So attentive. Like every instinct he possessed had narrowed entirely around keeping Shane comfortable and safe.
Sometimes Shane caught him staring with open wonder.
Like he still could not believe this was real.
Honestly, neither could Shane.
“Ready?” Ilya asked.
“Mhm.”
——————-
Dinner started well.
Too well, maybe.
Yuna immediately fussed over Shane the second they arrived at the restaurant.
“You’re pale,” she said.
“Mom.”
“Are you sleeping?”
“No.”
“You need more water.”
“I’m drinking water.”
David pulled out Shane’s chair before Ilya could.
“How’s my favorite granddaughter?”
“She kicked me in the bladder this morning,”Shane said flatly.
David grinned. “That’s gonna be a strong baby.”
Shane rolled his eyes but smiled.
The restaurant was quiet and upscale enough that nobody bothered them. People recognized Shane and Ilya sometimes now, especially after coming out publicly and getting married, but the novelty had faded enough that dinners were mostly peaceful again.
Still, Shane looked exhausted.
He shifted constantly trying to get comfortable in the chair.
Finally Ilya folded his own suit jacket and tucked it behind Shane’s lower back. Shane practically moaned in relief.
“Better?”
“Yes.”
Yuna smiled knowingly into her wineglass.
“You spoil him.”
“I have earned it,” Shane informed her.
Shane’s appetite was ridiculous lately.
He ordered enough food for three people and still stole half of Ilya’s fries afterward.
Nobody commented on it because the one time someone had jokingly said, “Eating for two?” Shane had looked ready to commit murder.
Now everyone simply watched him inhale bread with respectful silence.
Halfway through dinner Shane suddenly froze.
“What?” Ilya asked instantly.
“The baby has hiccups.”
David burst out laughing. “Hiccups? Like father like daughter.”
“It feels so weird.”
“Can I feel?”
Shane hesitated only briefly before nodding.
David leaned over carefully, hand against Shane’s stomach.
A moment later his entire face transformed.
“Oh my God.”
Yuna immediately leaned over too.
Ilya watched quietly while Shane endured being fussed over by his parents with surprising patience.
He looked tired. But happy.
There was still stress in the tightness around his eyes. Still discomfort every time he shifted positions.
But there was happiness too.
Shane caught Ilya watching him and mouthed help me while Yuna started discussing stroller options again.
Ilya grinned.
Shane glared.
Later, when dessert arrived, Shane abruptly looked horrified.
“What?”
“I forgot.”
“What?”
“I wanted cheesecake.”
“You ordered chocolate cake Дорогой.”
“I know that.” Shane glared like Ilya was an idiot.
“So order cheesecake too.”
Shane blinked at him. “Right.”
Yuna laughed softly. “Pregnancy brain?”
Shane covered his face with one hand.
He looked deeply offended.
Ilya rubbed his knee under the table.
“Cheesecake?”
“Yes,” Shane muttered.
“Okay.”
———————-
By the time they got home Shane was fading fast.
He looked exhausted.
The drive back had been mostly silent except for occasional complaints about his hips hurting.
Ilya parked in the garage and climbed out quickly to help.
Shane moved carefully getting out of the passenger seat, one hand braced on the door.
“Easy.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are about to trip here-“ Ilya moved to adjust Shane’s leg on the ground.
“I am not.” Shane swatted it away
“You can-”
“Shut up.”
Ilya kissed his temple to soften the insult.
Shane shuffled toward the front door while Ilya grabbed leftovers from the backseat.
A moment later he heard an angry noise.
“What?”
Shane was glaring furiously at the front door.
“What happened?”
“The lock won’t work.” Ilya blinked.
Shane was pressing the car key fob directly against the deadbolt.
“Shane.”
“What?”
“That is car key.”
Shane stared at him blankly. Then down at the keys. Then back at the door.
For one horrible second Ilya watched realization hit.
“Oh my God.”
“It’s okay.”
“I’m trying to unlock the house with the car keys.”
“Yes.”
Shane’s face crumpled instantly.
“Hey,” Ilya said quickly.
“This is so stupid.”
“No.”
“I can’t think straight anymore.”
“You are tired.”
“I used my phone flashlight looking for my phone this morning.”
David and Yuna, still standing nearby after walking them to the door, both started laughing.
Unfortunately Shane was too emotional to appreciate it.
“It’s not funny,” he snapped.
Yuna immediately stopped laughing. “Oh honey.”
“I’m serious. I can’t remember anything. I can’t sleep. I can barely move without help and now apparently I don’t know how keys work.”
“Shane,” Ilya said gently.
“No. It’s humiliating.” His eyes filled suddenly.
Fuck.
Ilya abandoned the leftovers immediately and crossed to him.
Shane pulled away from everyone and finally unlocked the actual front door with trembling hands. Then he disappeared inside without another word.
Silence settled heavily.
Yuna sighed. “He’s overwhelmed.”
“I know.”
“Don’t take it personally,” she said softly.
“I won’t.”
David rubbed the back of his neck. “I really was not laughing at him.”
“I know.”
“He’s just always so competent,” David said. “Seeing him frazzled feels strange.”
“That is because Shane believes he must be perfect at all times,” Ilya said dryly.
Yuna smiled sadly. “That started young.”
Ilya knew.
Shane carried responsibility like religion.
If he could not do something flawlessly, he considered it failure.
Pregnancy had stripped away his control piece by piece.
No wonder he was miserable.
“I’ll take care of him,” Ilya promised.
“We know.”